Lynette Eason - The Black Sheep's Redemption

Worry for the cat and other emotions swept through her.

Unexplainable fear.

Breath-stealing panic.

Something flashed in her mind. A clenched fist, a harsh yell. Pain lancing through her head. She blinked, raised a hand to her forehead, felt the scar.

Then the image was gone, leaving a pounding headache in its wake.

“Demi? What is it? What did you remember?”

“Fear,” she blurted out. “Just a horrible fear, but I don’t know the source. I don’t know why!” She lifted a hand to her head and pressed as though she could push the headache out and the memories back in.

He pulled her to him while she shook. His arms held her, comforted her. Offered her shelter.

Swallowing, her breath hitched as she gathered herself and pulled away to face the door once more.

“I’m okay.” Her hand reached out to push the door open. She appreciated Charles’s comforting presence behind her. “You’re probably right,” she said, hating the tremble in her voice, but unable to do anything about it. “I’m sure I just didn’t close the door tight.” From what she could see, all looked normal. Except…

“Chloe?” she called softly. “Here, kitty.”

Demi stepped inside for a better look in the kitchen. “Everything looks fine in here. But my cat usually greets me when I come in.”

She moved to the small living area, Charles right behind her. It was just as she’d left it. The new couch hugged the far wall with the afghan Fiona had given her bunched up against one end. The coffee table held the latest book she’d been reading. Her morning’s coffee cup sat on a coaster on the end table.

Normal.

But where was Chloe?

Her pulse slowed and her breathing evened out. But sorrow hit her. If Chloe was gone, Demi knew she would miss the cat who, for the most part, had been her only company in the evenings for the past week.

She walked the few steps to the bedroom and peeked in. All looked fine. Just as she was about to check under the bed for the missing feline, her gaze landed on the closet door.

It was shut.

“What is it?”

Charles’s voice in her left ear made her jump. He’d picked up on her sudden stillness.

“The closet’s shut.” She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It was open this morning when I left to take care of the kids.”

Why could she remember that and not her last name? Regardless, she distinctly remembered leaving it open. Heart thudding, sweat broke out on her upper lip.

Her front door had been cracked open. Had someone been in the apartment? Someone looking for something? For her?

Go, get away. Run.

Fear resurrected its head and cut off her breath. But why? Why did she feel this fear that seemed to come from nowhere? There had to be a reason. Why couldn’t she remember?

“Maybe we should just leave,” she said. “Something’s not right here.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and the comfort it offered made her shiver. “Let me just check the closet for you.”

“No!”

And the images hit her again. A flash of blood, a heavy hand on her face. Someone screaming. Was that her?

She gasped, her breaths came in pants and that sweeping fear that came from a place she couldn’t explain nearly consumed her.

Shaking with the urge to flee, she stepped back never taking her eyes from the closet door.

“Demi.” His gentle voice forced her gaze to his. Gulping, she saw concern, caring…a warmth that thawed the ice freezing in her veins. “Let me check,” he insisted. “It’s fine. Really. If someone was in there, I feel sure he would have made his presence known by now.”

Pulling in a deep breath, she nodded. Then firmed her jaw.

Walking to the end table, she picked up the lamp and stepped back to the closet door. “All right, I’m ready.”

“What are you doing?”

“If someone’s in the closet, I’m not leaving you to fight him alone.”

The tightness along his jawline that never seemed to ease, finally did. He smiled and nodded. Then his expression turned hard again as he eyed the closet.

* * *

Charles walked to the closet and swung open the door, even as he crouched in a defensive position ready for whatever might come at him. A cat darted out, startling him.

His pulse pounded and he realized how tightly wound his nerves were. Of course after what he’d come home to tonight, it wasn’t a surprise. And then Burke’s confrontation in the alley…

He watched Demi set the lamp back on the table then lean over to snag the cat and hold her close. “Silly cat, how did you get locked in there?”

“Is the window open? Maybe there was a draft and it blew the door shut.”

Demi walked over to the only window in the small room and pushed back the curtains. “No. It’s closed.”

“Well the cat didn’t close herself in the closet.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It is kind of strange, I’ll admit, but maybe someone from the bookstore wandered upstairs, found your door and opened it to see what was behind it. Seeing that it was an apartment, maybe the person didn’t quite shut the apartment door well enough and the draft caused the closet door to shut.”

Demi lifted a brow at the weak suggestion. Charles grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not really buying that, either.”

Demi’s frown deepened. “I suppose something like that could have happened. But I’m pretty sure I locked the apartment door when I left earlier.” Reaching inside the closet, she flipped on the light switch.

He could see the sum total of her wardrobe. Four or five shirts. Three pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts and a sweatshirt and a light windbreaker. On the floor, there were a pair of sandals and some pink slippers. She wore her only pair of tennis shoes.

The sparse selection stunned him. He thought about his ex-wife and her bursting-at-the-seams closet. He’d always been tripping over her shoes that seemed to multiply daily.

And then there was Demi.

Charles felt his heart ache for the fragile-looking woman who’d been victimized twice in one night.

* * *

Demi saw the pity in Charles’s eyes and turned away from it. She wasn’t ashamed of her lack of material goods and she didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for her. Straightening her back, she firmed her jaw. Another look around confirmed what she’d originally thought. “Nothing’s missing.”

“You’re sure?”

For some strange reason, Demi felt like giggling. “Trust me, I’m sure. I have no jewelry, no fancy clothes, nothing. There’s nothing worth stealing.”

Charles’s stare made the back of Demi’s neck heat up. Ignoring the sensation and praying the flush didn’t spread to her cheeks, Demi looked around. “Everything looks fine. I guess no one was up here after all.” She frowned, not understanding how this could be when the closet door was shut. “I’ll ask Fiona if she came up here. If she didn’t, then—” she lifted her shoulders in a shrug “—I have no explanation.”

“Is there any reason someone would want to break into your home?”

“No.” She paused. “At least I don’t think so…I mean…” she stammered to a halt. How would she know? “I don’t really know.”

“Of course there is,” he muttered answering his own question. “Someone who might be mad that you’re working for me. Maybe this is just the beginning.”

Demi came to his side. “Stop it.”

He looked at her. She frowned at him and he could see the frustration in her eyes. Charles sighed. “You’re right. I don’t need to be having a pity party. But I hate to think of you being in danger because of me.” He paused. “Will you be all right to stay here alone?”