Copper Lake Encounter Read online

  At the street, they stopped. “Which way?”

  Nev looked left, and then right, and then somewhere in between. “Does that path go to the river?”

  He glanced at the trail that opened onto the street between two houses. It had been used more years than he’d been alive by every soul who’d ever lived in the neighborhood, and plenty who hadn’t, to get to the Gullah. Grass stood no chance of taking root in soil packed hard as concrete by generations of feet. “It does. You want to see it?”

  “I do.”

  Turning toward his house, he whistled. A few seconds later, the screen door banged and Frank came running, tail wagging, tongue lolling out. He put on the brakes an instant before a collision seemed inevitable and gave Nev his best happy-to-see-her look.

  She scratched his head and patted his side, murmuring, “Hey, Frank. You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you?”

  Lucky dog.

  “I bet when you were little, you always wore frilly dresses and played with dolls and had a play kitchen,” Ty commented as they followed Frank onto the trail.

  “I love girly things. I do own some jeans, but dresses and heels make me feel...” Her gaze drifted, as if she were searching for the right word.

  He could suggest a few. Beautiful. Womanly. Sexy. But he was curious to hear her own word. He wanted insight into the way she thought.

  “They make me feel like anything could happen. Every day is special when I dress up, whether anything happens or not. And if the worst happens, well, at least they can say, ‘She left a pretty good-looking corpse.’”

  “Amen to that, darlin’.”

  A sudden gust of wind caught her laugh, wrapping it around him, mixing the faint scents of her with the fainter scents of the storm brewing on the horizon. Damn, but she was something when she laughed. Her entire self lit up from the inside out, making him feel lucky to hear and see it. He wanted to capture the moment. To experience it ten thousand times more. To keep it forever.

  Her smile slowly faded as they passed the less-worn path that led to his house and then approached a bend. Frank ran ahead, loping through the grass from one side to the other and back again, barking occasionally as if urging them on. When they made the turn, the Gullah would come into view forty feet ahead, the water quiet and undisturbed with a storm on the way. The trail split in two again a few yards beyond the fork, one branch curving to the south to run right along the top of the bank until it joined up with the jogging trail, the other winding to the right upriver through tall grass and taller pines.

  Lightning flashed in the dark sky, followed a long time later by a low grumble of thunder. She stopped, something entering her gaze. Worry? Apprehension?

  “Maybe we should go back.” That was definitely apprehension in her voice and in the flicker of a smile she flashed at him. “I do love the rain, but I find I’m not so eager to be out in a storm.”

  “We’ve got time before it reaches us.”

  Another unsteady smile. “Yes, but the bread pudding is probably about the perfect temperature for eating, and you certainly don’t want Frank to get caught in the rain. Just think of the mess he’d make in your house.”

  He watched her a moment before taking her hand. “Okay. Let’s go have some bread pudding. Frank, come on, buddy.”

  Retreating brought some ease to her expression, draining the tension from her fingers in his. She gestured around them with her free hand as the wind picked up again, lowering the temperature a few degrees, carrying the smells of the river. “I can imagine you and your cousins running through here barefooted with fishing poles like stampeding Black Friday shoppers.”

  “Barefooted, yes. Fishing poles, sometimes. Mostly we pushed each other in, then used the excuse to go swimming. Or we’d bring sandwiches and Granddad’s peanut butter cookies and play war, save the universe.”

  “Sounds idyllic.”

  “It was. For not having parents, I had a pretty good life.” He pointed ahead to his house, the back porch light shining yellow in the gloom. “From the time I moved in with Granddad, I knew I wanted two things—to become a cop and to buy that house. Like I told you, I planned for getting the job—or not getting it—but I didn’t figure I’d ever have a chance at the house. It had been empty for as long as I could remember except for the short time Anamaria lived there before she and Robbie got married, and everyone knew she wasn’t interested in selling. Too much history, her only memories of her mother...

  “Then one day, she called out of the blue and offered it to me, and at a damn good price. She said I was the one meant to live there.” She’d said it almost as if it were a pronouncement from the great beyond. A message from her dead mother? he’d wondered. Had Glory given him her approval? He hadn’t cared. He’d just been stoked to get the house he’d given up on.

  “You are a blessed man, Tyler Gadney.”

  He considered the people and things in his life—Granddad, their family, his friends and job, the house and Nev—and let go of her hand to put his arm around her waist and pull her near. “I know. And I’m grateful for it every day.”

  Chapter 8

  The bread pudding was delicious, as always, and the company exceptional, but it was time for Nev to return to the motel. The lightning was striking more often, the thunder booming sooner after each flash. She didn’t want to stir herself out of the big, comfy chair, didn’t want to say good-night yet to Ty and Mr. Obadiah, certainly didn’t want to go back to the motel, but she couldn’t take up residence here in Mr. Obadiah’s living room.

  Grow a spine, whispered a voice that sounded a lot like Marieka. You’re such a little girl.

  She was a little girl. Nev wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

  Well, maybe just a little.

  “Gentlemen, this has been a lovely evening, but I should get back to the motel before the weather gets any worse.”

  Grasping his cane, Mr. Obadiah levered himself to his feet. “Let me get you some leftovers to take back with you.”

  She fastened one sandal and then slid her foot into the other. “I appreciate that, Mr. Obadiah, but I don’t have a refrigerator or a microwave in my room.”

  “Aw, Ty’s got both.” He shuffled toward the kitchen. “He can take it for you.”

  “No point in arguing with him.” Ty extended his hand, pulling her to her feet. “Want me to follow you back?”

  That sounded awfully good—how could she ever feel unsafe with him around?—but she would have to face being alone in the room at some point. Might as well be sooner rather than later. “You don’t need to do that.”

  Predictably, he said, “I don’t mind.”

  “No, really, I’m a responsible adult.”

  “Can I see your cell?” When she fished it out of her purse, he tinkered with it a moment before showing it to her. He’d added his name to her contacts, preceded by an A so it topped the list. “My number’s here. If you need anything...” His look was intense, questioning, until she nervously nodded.

  The air was significantly cooler, the thunder significantly louder, when Ty walked her to the car. When she was little, nighttime storms had scared her, but her mother had refused to let her climb into bed with her and her dad. Marieka had taunted her—the wind’s going to blow you away and we’ll never find you—but YaYa had snuggled with her, telling stories, singing songs.

  Would she get a chance to snuggle in bed with Ty before she went home?

  He opened the car door and then wrapped his arms around her. It was like coming home. “You can leave your car here if you want, and I’ll take you back to the motel.”

  “Nah. Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re stubborn?”

  “Me? Oh, heavens, no.” She laughed and then flexed her fingers. Even his spine felt sexy. She was so hung up
on this guy.

  “Call me?”

  A nod was all she could manage because next he kissed her. It was short and sweet, a good-night kiss, but it could have curled her hair, and it set off fireworks that could have seared. Of course it ended too soon—the end of eternity would have been too soon—and he stepped back.

  Getting in her car and driving away were harder than she expected. It didn’t help that the storm broke before she made it back to River Road.

  Bad weather was the only time she didn’t love her pretty little car. With the occasional snow on the roads or the much more frequent rain, she would have preferred the weight and stability of a supersize gas-guzzling SUV.

  Peering through the windshield between wiper swipes, she made it safely to the motel, circled the lot and claimed the closest space—still a good ten spots from the room. With a breath for fortification and a futile wish for a pair of running shoes, she opened the door, climbed out and set off at a fast pace for the room. Water sluiced over her, soaking through her clothing, sending a shiver down her spine.

  As she stepped onto the sidewalk that fronted the rooms, she swore she could feel her hair springing out of control. “Wish you had an umbrella now, don’t you, Nevaeh?” she muttered in her best imitation of Marieka.

  Movement from the hallway that bisected the building and led to the rooms on the back side caught her attention too late. She tried to sidestep as someone came out of the shadows, head down, not looking. “Whoops, excuse me—”

  A hand grabbed her purse strap at the same time another shoved against her spine. Instinctively she tightened her hold on the bag, trying in vain to catch her balance. Shrieking, she hit the pavement, her grip on the leather making her attacker stagger to catch his own balance. He grunted, tugged harder and aimed a kick at her ribs.

  Nev screamed and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the worst of the blow. Somewhere in her panicked brain, a thought registered: For God’s sake, let him have the purse! But her fingers were clenched tightly, locked in a spasm of fear, and she couldn’t make them obey her brain’s order.

  A few rooms down, a door swung open and a man peered outside. “What the hell—Hey! Get away from her!”

  The pressure on the strap eased, and then the bag fell to the ground as the stranger ran off the way he’d come.

  Lying on her side, the rain pouring over her, still holding on to her purse, Nev squeezed her eyes shut. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you, thank you.”

  * * *

  She couldn’t stop shivering.

  Nev sat in the manager’s office, wrapped in a blanket, cradling a mug of hot coffee. It was a good thing the young man working the desk had filled it only half-full, or she would have sloshed it all over and scalded herself. She had enough aches as it was, her hair was corkscrewing around her head and her clothes were a mess. Things couldn’t get much worse.

  Then Kiki climbed out of a car parked right outside the entrance, wearing jeans and a yellow slicker. Lord, there were other detectives in this town. Why couldn’t she get one of them?

  “Are you okay?” Kiki’s question as she came through the door was brusque. Sympathetic wasn’t her style, Nev reminded herself.

  “I’m fine.” Except for the ache in her shoulder and the blood trickling from her knee. It was the same knee she’d hurt in her dream when the man had chased her at the river.

  Headlights flashed across the plate glass windows, and they both turned to watch as Ty climbed out of his truck and jogged the ten feet to the door. She felt the measuring look Kiki gave her, but she didn’t look back. Of course his ex-maybe-wanted-to-be-current-girlfriend wasn’t going to be happy to see him rushing to another woman’s side. Nev not only understood that; she empathized with her.

  His gaze brushed the desk clerk and the detective before landing on Nev. “Are you okay?” His voice held all the emotion Kiki’s had lacked as he crouched in front of her, laying his hand on her arm, taking in her bedraggled appearance.

  She forced a bleak smile. “At least I’m not a corpse.”

  A low chuckle escaped him. “But you still look pretty damn good.”

  And finally the shivers lessened and warmth returned to her fingertips and toes.

  Kiki cleared her throat. “You wanna let me ask my questions?”

  “Go ahead.” He moved to sit beside Nev, and the warmth spread.

  The detective had a lot of questions. Nev did her best to answer them. He came from the hall, grabbed my purse and shoved me down. No, I didn’t see his face. He wore a dark hoodie that was pulled forward and dark pants and running shoes. I saw them when he kicked me. I didn’t see his face or his hair. No, I’m not sure it was a man, but he was tall, taller than me, and strong. No, he didn’t say anything. He just grunted when he almost fell. If that man hadn’t come out of his room...

  The guy could have killed her. The thought made her go cold again.

  It seemed an eternity passed before Kiki was satisfied. She slid her notebook and pen inside her slicker and then stood with a sigh. “One last question, then you can get out of those clothes. Why the hell didn’t you let him have the bag?”

  Nev flushed. “At first it was just instinct. In the moment it took me to realize he was serious, I was already so scared, I couldn’t let go. I was curled up on the sidewalk, terrified, and this little voice was screaming let him have it! but my fingers wouldn’t do it. The only thing working on my entire body was my voice.”

  “Lucky it was. It was the screaming that got the other guest’s attention.” Kiki took a few steps toward the door and then turned back. “Piece of advice? I don’t know exactly what you had planned when you came here, but I’m sure this isn’t it. End this vacation early.”

  It was good advice, Nev was sure, but the idea of leaving now... Sure, she’d be leaving the danger behind, but she’d also be leaving behind all the lovely possibilities with Ty and Sophy, Daisy and Dahlia, and getting rid of the dreams once and for all.

  After Kiki left, the lobby was quiet except for the faint sounds escaping the desk clerk’s earbuds. Nev glanced at Ty, laid the blanket aside, raised one hand self-consciously to her hair and then smoothed her damp dress. “I appreciate your coming.”

  “Nothing could have kept me away. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

  The man who’d interrupted the attack had asked that; so had the clerk and Kiki. She gave the same answer. “No, I’m okay.”

  “You said he kicked you. Where?”

  “He was aiming for my ribs, but I rolled away. His shoe just grazed my side.”

  Wearing a grim expression, he stood, pulled her up and started toward the door. “Let’s get to your room.”

  It was only twenty feet from the office. Trying to project normalcy when nothing about her felt normal, she laughed. “I bet the poor people who run this place wish they’d never booked me a room in the first place. I swear, I’ve never had a run of luck like this in my life.”

  Ty’s only response was to hold out his hand for her key. She gave it to him, waited for him to open the door and turn on the lights, and then stepped inside. A blast of cold air set her teeth to chattering. Preparing herself, she walked in and headed straight for the garment bag in the small closet that contained all of her hanging clothes. She wanted to peel off this outfit, all the way down to her skin, and throw it away. She would never be able to look at it again without remembering those moments of sheer terror.

  A sound behind her made her turn. Ty had lifted her suitcase and her tote bag, still packed after the move from the previous room, and set them near the door. Now he came back, passing her and picking up the garment bag. “Get your computer out of the safe.”

  “But—”

  “You’re coming to my house.”

  Heavens, the suggestion held more appeal than anything shoul
d—just like the man who’d made it. At this very moment, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to stay close to him or anything she wanted less than to be in this room by herself—or facing another interrogation with Kiki. She’d played the victim enough already.

  “Ty—”

  He pointed one finger at her. “Don’t be stubborn, Nevaeh. Don’t make me call YaYa.”

  “You don’t have her number. You don’t even know her name.”

  His chastising look should have made her feel about six inches tall. Tapping the pistol on his hip, he said, “Detective, remember?” Then a bit of the tension eased from his face and shoulders. “Either you come with me, or I stay with you. And I’ll warn you, Frank gets real lonely in the house all alone at night.”

  Some of her own tension eased. “Okay. I wouldn’t want to cause Frank any undue distress.”

  “Don’t make me jealous of my own dog.”

  The idea—of Ty being jealous of anyone, of anyone being jealous over her—brightened her mood. Kneeling on the carpet to get to the safe scraped her raw flesh and brought back a few shudders. Shifting the weight to her uninjured knee, she keyed in the combination and then pulled out the computer. If it hadn’t been for her wince, she could have pulled it off, but Ty didn’t miss a thing. He was there to help her up, to shoulder the strap of the computer case, to walk her to the door in case she needed assistance.

  She waited at the door while he stowed her bags in the truck’s rear seat, and then he jogged back to escort her. He practically lifted her up into the seat, leaned in to fasten the belt and settled her purse on her lap. Then, for a moment, he just looked at her. As if he’d known her forever. As if she was special. As if anything could happen.

  Finally he touched her cheek, just below the tender place that had scraped the pavement when she’d fallen. “Sweet girl. Miss Nicey-Nice Nev.” His voice was just a whisper compared with the rain pounding, running down his face, saturating his clothes.

  She was mesmerized. She no longer felt the heat or the cold or the damp, clammy clothes clinging to her. She forgot her fear and her doubts, her self-esteem and maybe her good sense, as well. Or maybe she’d found it. He was the one, Anamaria had told him, meant to breathe life into her old house.