Kate Collins - Sleeping with Anemone

“I finally dove under a truck, but Blondie found me there, too. That’s where I left the second headband. Then I saw one of the garage doors coming down, so I ran for it. I tossed out my last headband just before the door went down, like Indiana Jones did. I guess that’s when the woman gave up, because she didn’t come after me.”

“We need to get you down to the station,” the deputy told Tara. “You can visit more with your aunt afterward.”

“No, wait!” Tara cried, clinging to me. “I didn’t tell you the most important part. Those creeps thought I was you . They called me Abby. That means you’re in danger. You have to come with me so the police can protect you.” Tara turned to the officer. “You’ll keep her safe, right?”

The deputy replied tactfully, “We have one of the kidnappers already, Tara, and we’re tracking down the other one right now, but if your aunt wants to ride with you, that’s fine. We’ll need to talk to her, anyway.”

“Tara’s parents will be here any minute,” I told the deputy. “They’ll want to go with her. Tara, Marco will bring me. We’ll follow you there, okay?”

Tara finally nodded and released her grip on my arm. I walked to the door behind them, watching as Kathy and Jordan jumped out of a squad car and ran to sweep up their daughter in a group hug, making me all teary-eyed again. I whispered a quick prayer of thanks that it had worked out all right, then headed toward Marco.

“Feel better?” he asked, putting his arms around me.

“Relieved that Tara’s okay. Do you want to go with me to the sheriff’s office? They want to see me.”

“Sure. I’ll ask one of the deputies to drop us at the Expo Center so we can get my car. So, tell me what Tara said.”

“We were right, Marco. The kidnappers were after me. The blonde must have seen you and Tara come out of the concert hall and assumed she was me. Tara got away from them before they realized their error, and when they recaptured her, they taped her mouth shut before she could tell them.”

“They captured her twice and she was able to escape both times?”

“Can you believe that? Before she got away the second time, Tara heard them arguing about where to take her. The blonde was angry that the guy had driven them to the warehouse. She thought they should go where they couldn’t be heard. What does that sound like to you?”

“Like they had murder in mind.”

A shiver raced up my spine as Marco echoed my own thoughts. “Someone really has a grudge against me, Marco, and who could that be but Raand?”

We picked up the Prius and drove to the sheriff’s office, where I was interviewed for nearly an hour by two detectives. One of them, Adrian Valderas, was a good-looking Hispanic man a few years older than Marco. The other, T. J. Maroni, was a seasoned officer with big brown eyes, a heavy-duty mustache, and an infectious smile, who seemed far too easygoing to be a homicide investigator.

I told the detectives about the letters I’d received, the burning brick, the trashing of Bloomers, the attempted kidnapping of Nikki and Jillian, and my reasons for suspecting that Nils Raand was connected to those incidents. I directed them to Sergeant Reilly of the New Chapel police for information on the evidence he’d collected on the case.

“Anyone else you can think of who might have reason to want to harm you?” Valderas asked.

“No. It has to be Raand.”

“You’re sure about that?” Maroni asked.

I thought for a moment. “I guess I did help put a few felons behind bars.”

Valderas readied his pen. “How many are we talking about? Two? Three?”

“More like seven.”

They both gaped at me. Valderas said, “You helped convict seven felons?”

“Make that eight. And they were all involved in murders.”

Valderas was speechless. Maroni pointed at me. “I remember reading about you in the newspapers. You’re the florist. Old man was a cop with the New Chapel PD. Am I right?”

I nodded demurely.

“Are any of these convicts out of prison?” Maroni asked.

“I doubt it. They received long sentences.”

“Any of them have family members who might be holding a grudge?” Maroni asked.

“The ones who had family, no. They were relieved to hear the guilty verdicts read.”

Maroni said, “Okay, Ms. Knight, one more thing and then you can go home. These protests against the dairy farm-got any more planned?”

“No.”

“Terrific. I’m sure Sergeant Reilly has already said as much, but my advice to you is to lay low. If someone has put a contract out on you, let’s not give him any opportunities.”

A contract? I shuddered, imagining snipers on the roof waiting for me to step outside.

“Thank you, Ms. Knight. We’ll keep you informed of our investigation.”

When I was finally released, it was well after one o’clock in the morning, and my elation at finding Tara had turned into fear for my own safety mixed with sheer exhaustion. I was so tired that as Marco and I walked to his car in the parking lot behind the sheriff’s department, I glanced at the rooftop only twice to see if I was about to be sniped. Okay, three times, but that last time I could hardly keep my eyes focused.

“If you don’t mind,” Marco said, starting up his engine, “I’m going to stop by my place and pick up a few things.”

I yawned. “What kind of things?”

“Clothes.”

I cocked one eye open. “Clothes?”

“So I have something clean to wear in the morning.” He glanced at me. “Until we know for certain that you’re out of danger, I’ll bunk down at your place and spend as much time as I can with you. No one is going to harm you on my watch. Okay?”

“I hate to keep inconveniencing you.”

“Keeping you safe isn’t an inconvenience, Abby.”

I smiled and leaned my head against the headrest. What a guy to have in my corner.

Marco’s apartment occupied the second floor of a two-story white colonial in a quiet neighborhood of older homes, with big shade trees dotting the front lawns, one-car detached garages in the back, and sidewalks cracked by tree roots.

“That’s strange,” Marco said as we pulled up to the curb behind my Corvette. “Rafe’s home. He’s supposed to be working at Down the Hatch until two in the morning.”

Hmm. Rafe was home. My car was there… “How does Rafe get to work?”

“I’ve been taking him. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering.” And sighing in relief. I stopped to give the bright yellow hood a loving rub and got a thick smudge of dirt on my glove. “I’m sorry you’re so dirty,” I whispered, gazing through the window on the passenger side.

“Are you talking to your car?”

I scoffed, which was always better than telling an outright lie.

Upstairs, we found Marco’s youngest brother, twenty-one-year-old Raphael Salvare, sprawled on the sofa, watching a movie on TV. Rafe was a younger version of Marco, dark hair, dark, sensual eyes, olive complexion, and trim build. He was slimmer than Marco, but every bit as engaging.

“Hey,” he said, grinning at me. “What’s up, Hot Stuff? Where have you two been?”

I flopped down on one of Marco’s cushy blue recliners and closed my eyes. If Marco wanted to tell him about the kidnapping, fine. I was too beat.

“Why aren’t you at the bar?” Marco asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Rafe said. “I need to talk to you about that.”

Uh-oh. I opened my eyes just enough to watch as Marco hit the remote’s OFF button and sat down on the sofa, forcing Rafe to swing his legs to the floor and sit up. “Talk.”

“Now?” Rafe whispered. “You’ve got your lady here, bro.”

“Abby doesn’t mind. Why are you home?”