Carla Neggers - Night’s Landing

When he fell in beside her on the way back to the house, he didn’t relax. He remained tight, rigid. Sarah picked up her pace. “I figured since you’re an official federal law enforcement officer, you’d need a warrant to search Ethan’s cottage. I had a feeling he was going to bolt.”

“You knocked on his door, you realized he was gone, you slipped inside and had a look.” He glanced at her. “You’re impulsive. You said so yourself.”

“You watched me from the bathroom window?”

“I got to the back door just as Brooker got to the front door. If he’d tried anything-”

“You were there. Thanks.” She smiled. “I think.”

“Sarah…”

She looked out at the lush spring grass, the azaleas and roses, the first vegetables poking up in the garden, the river glistening in the morning sun. She thought of her father and Granny sitting out on the front porch when she and Rob were kids. Her mother cutting flowers in the garden. “It’ll never be the same here.”

“Sarah, listen to me-”

But she ran inside, suddenly not wanting to hear what he had to tell her. She wished she could close up the house, shutter the windows, hide-stop time. Stop Nate from telling her anything else that she didn’t want to hear.

Only she’d never been one to run from the truth.

She waited for him in the front hall.

He entered the house slowly, and when she saw his expression, the air went out of her. “What? What’s happened?”

“Collins called while you were in the cottage. Juliet Longstreet was pulled into a car at gunpoint early this morning. She escaped by jumping out into traffic.”

“Is she okay?”

“Scrapes and bruises. She was almost roadkill.” He managed a half smile. “Leave it to Juliet to jump out of a moving vehicle.”

“If it was her only chance-”

“It was. She was unarmed, out for her morning run. The car got away. There were two attackers. One up front, one in back. The one up front had blond hair-that’s all she remembers.” He paused, his gaze connecting with hers. “The one in back was dark haired with a slight foreign accent.”

Sarah tightened her hands into fists and sank against the wall. “It can’t be-Nate, it just can’t be the man I saw in the park, the man I saw in Amsterdam-”

“Tell me what happened at the museum, Sarah. Everything. Start to finish.”

“Nothing ‘happened.’”

“You flew in from Scotland, Rob flew in from New York?”

She stared at an old framed map of Tennessee on the wall opposite her.

“Rob was there first?” Nate prodded her.

She nodded. “He got there a few days ahead of me. I came in for the weekend. I was finishing up my documentary and totally preoccupied, but we don’t get many opportunities to be together as a family. I felt I had to seize the moment. I arrived on Friday. Saturday morning, we did a canal tour like every other Amsterdam tourist. Saturday afternoon, we went to the museum. Rob and Dad don’t linger. My mother and I do. Especially my mother.”

“Where were you and Rob staying? With your parents?”

“Yes. They’ve rented an apartment on one of the canal streets.”

“They went on the canal tour with you?”

“That was the whole idea. We did everything together. It was a great few days. Amsterdam’s a beautiful city, especially in the spring.”

“Then lunch?”

He wasn’t in a mood for distractions. Sarah stood up from the wall. “We had Dutch pancakes at a restaurant near the museum.”

“Recognize anyone there? Did your parents talk to anyone?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. We walked over to the museum from the restaurant. It was fairly crowded-we just did the Dutch collections. We didn’t run into anyone or speak to anyone until we got to The Night Watch.”

Nate leaned against the wall, studying her. He bit off a sigh. “Sarah-Christ-”

“As I’ve told you, Rob and my father had already moved ahead to the antique Delftware.” She spoke briskly, stating the facts. “My mother can take forever with a painting. The crowds got to me, and I wandered into an adjoining collection. That’s when the man I thought I recognized in the park spoke to me.”

“What did he say?”

“He just talked about the painting. Something about how he was surprised that the old paintings of Amsterdam didn’t look all that different from the new paintings of Amsterdam. I think he was trying to be funny. Then he left. I moved on to another painting. I was getting a little impatient for my mother to join me so we could go find Rob and my father. I finally went back to The Night Watch and found her talking to another man.”

“Nicholas Janssen,” Nate said softly.

“I didn’t know. He was handsome, well dressed, silver haired. I didn’t think much of it.”

“Did he see you?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Your mother-”

“She didn’t mention him. I didn’t mention him. There was no reason.” She looked off, remembering that day. “My mother was a little distracted, but nothing that concerned me. She wasn’t sweaty or upset or put out-or excited and happy. I assumed she’d met an acquaintance.”

“What did you do after you caught up with your brother and father?”

“We finished up at the museum and walked back to my parents’ apartment on one of the canals. It’s a long walk, but it was a beautiful afternoon. We took our time. My father does well, but his stamina isn’t what it used to be.”

“How old is he?”

“Seventy-eight. And my mother’s fifty-six.” With a burst of energy, Sarah moved into the kitchen. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. My mother is not having an affair with Nicholas Janssen or anyone else.”

Nate followed her without comment.

She turned on the water in the sink and filled a teakettle. “The people who make judgments about my parents based on their age difference don’t know them. They’re devoted to each other. It doesn’t mean my mother’s not aware that she’s more than twenty years younger than my father and likely to outlive him.”

“Back to Janssen. Did your mother ever mention him? He was in the news when he skipped out?”

“No. And I didn’t see the news reports on him, or didn’t remember them if I did.” She set the kettle on the stove, her movements tense, jerky. “Given the number of people my parents know, it’s probably to be expected one’s turned out to be a fugitive.”

“Your mother’s attractive?”

His question took Sarah by surprise, but she tried not to be defensive. “Yes, I think so. Other people do, as well. What’s that got to do with anything?”

He eased onto a stool, those blue eyes never leaving her. “Probably nothing.”

“Anyway, you’ve seen pictures of her. There are some on the mantel and there’s one in your room.”

“Three. As far as I can see, she’s downright beautiful. Collins will get a sketch together of the men who attacked Juliet. They must be close to completing something on the guy you saw in the park. We’ll see what happens.”

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

He shook his head. “Any of those fried pies left?”

“One.”

“We can split it.”

“Damn right, Deputy. I don’t get fried apricot pies that often.”

He got to his feet and came around to her at the stove, caught her by the elbow. “Your parents will be all right. So will Rob. So will you.”

“You can’t know that.”

He smiled, the incisive eyes not so hard now. “Why the hell not?” He kissed her softly, reminded her of their lovemaking yesterday before dinner. “Good thing I’m off duty.”

“There’s no such thing as an off-duty fed. Rob says that all the time.”