Against the Sky (5 page)

As Nick drove the SUV along the lake road back to his house, he glanced over at Samantha. She seemed different up here, weighed down in a way she hadn't been in Vegas. She was just as pretty as he remembered, with her long, bouncy, nutmeg curls and soft pink lips, just as sexy with her petite figure and perfect curves.

Just catching a glimpse of her sitting next to him reminded him of the hours they had spent in bed and made him want her. Arousal slid through him as he thought of their single brief kiss at the airport, which led right back to thoughts of them in bed.

But he hadn't invited Samantha all the way to Alaska just for sex. Hell, he wasn't sure exactly what had possessed him to e-mail her that morning. They were totally unsuited. Samantha was a city girl, born and bred, through and through, completely out of her element in Alaska. Now that he saw her surrounded by rugged mountains, sweeping forests, and vast expanses of water, he could see how poorly she would fit into a life up here.

Where the hell had that come from? He wasn't planning to marry the woman, just get to know her a little, maybe spend a little more time making love to her.

He shouldn't have invited her. Now he had to find a way to entertain her for two whole weeks.

Nick inwardly sighed as he turned the car into his driveway, pressed the garage door opener, and waited for the door to slide up. As he started to pull inside, he spotted Mary George, Jimmy's aunt, standing on the porch at his front door.

He stopped the car and rolled down the window. “Hang on, Mary, I'll be right there.”

Next to him, Samantha sat up a little straighter, her gaze going to the woman on the porch. “Who's that?”

“Her name's Mary George. She lives in a house down the way.”

“She's . . . umm . . . very pretty.”

“She is, yes.” In her late twenties, with her tilted eyes, mocha skin, and above average, statuesque figure, Mary was more than just pretty. She was exotically beautiful. But neither of them had ever felt the spark of mutual attraction. Their only connection was Jimmy.

“Her nephew does odd jobs for me,” he explained. “His dad recently died. Mary's his guardian.”

“I see.”

Her tone, one he hadn't heard from her before, had him turning in her direction. For the first time, he felt a ray of hope that things would improve between them. “Mary and I never clicked. I don't exactly know why.” He grinned. “I hope you're jealous.”

Samantha's eyebrows shot up. “No, of course not.”

“Too bad,” he teased, making her laugh for the first time since she'd gotten there. “Come on, I'll introduce you.”

Nick parked the Explorer and led Samantha into the house, reminding himself to come back for her luggage after he'd talked to Mary.

He wondered why Mary was there. He'd only met the woman a couple of times, at some of Jimmy's youth hockey games, and of course he had spoken to her at the funeral. Because of Jimmy's size, the kid played with the thirteen-to-fourteen-year-old Bantams, instead of the eleven-to-twelve-year-old Pee Wees.

He thought of the boy whizzing over the ice, a natural at the sport. Mary had always been good with the kid, doing her best to fill in for his deceased mother, Cora, Mary's older sister who had died when Jimmy was six. From the photos Nick had seen, Cora had been even more beautiful than Mary.

He crossed the living room to the front door and pulled it open, invited the woman into his house. “It's good to see you, Mary.” He tipped his head toward the petite woman who had walked in behind him. “This is a friend of mine from San Francisco, Samantha Hollis. She flew up for a visit.”

Mary just nodded. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt while Samantha wore leggings and a sweater. “It's nice to meet you, Samantha.”

“You, too, Mary.”

Her black eyes returned to Nick. “I'm sorry to bother you, Nick, but I'm looking for Jimmy. He's been gone all day. I know it's Saturday, but he usually checks with me before he takes off on his own. He must have woken up early. He was already gone when I got up to fix breakfast and I haven't seen him since.”

“I saw him this morning before I left for the airport. He was fine. He's probably off fishing somewhere with one of his friends.”

Mary glanced toward the window. “Probably. Being out of the service area would explain why his phone goes directly to voice mail, but . . .”

“But he's only twelve and you're worried just the same.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Maybe you should call the police,” Samantha suggested.

Nick cast her a glance. “State Troopers this far out, but it's a little too soon for that. Jimmy knows these woods, and even when his father was alive, his dad worked all the time. Jimmy's been on his own a lot. He'll probably be home by dark.”

“I'm sure you're right,” Mary said. “We're really still getting to know each other, at least as more than just aunt and nephew. I know how upset he's been about his dad. Then a couple of hours ago, Duke came home and Jimmy wasn't with him. They're usually inseparable.”

“Duke is his dog?” Samantha asked.

Mary nodded. “A golden retriever. Jimmy loves that dog and Duke loves him.”

“Sometimes dogs get bored,” Samantha said. “If Jimmy and his friends were fishing, maybe Duke got tired of waiting and decided to come on home.”

“Samantha works in the pet-grooming business,” Nick explained. “She knows a lot about dogs.”

Samantha smiled. “Mostly I'm in marketing. But I work in the shop so I'm around dogs a lot.”

“I hope you're right. The thing is, Jimmy hasn't been himself since his father died. I want to help him get through this, but I can't seem to find a way to reach him.”

Nick thought about the story Jimmy had told him, how he had convinced himself that his dad had been murdered. He wasn't about to mention that to Mary. He and Jimmy were friends. The kid trusted him. Nick didn't want to lose that trust. He made a mental note to have another talk with the boy, see if he had his head on straight about his father's death.

“Have you considered any sort of therapy?” Samantha asked Mary. Nick caught the concern in her voice. She had shown that same kind of concern for the man who had accosted her when Nick had been in the process of pounding him into the carpet. It was an admirable quality, maybe part of the reason he had asked her to supper that night.

“Maybe a psychologist could help him cope,” Samantha finished.

“I've suggested it,” Mary said. “His father left money in trust for Jimmy. There's enough to pay whatever a doctor would charge. So far I haven't been able to convince him it's a good idea.”

“Maybe you just need to give him a little more time,” Samantha said.

“I'll call him tonight,” Nick added, “ask him if he wants to go fishing in the morning.” He looked over at Samantha, hoping she wouldn't mind. “We could go early, be back before you even woke up.”

Her features softened. “I think it's a good idea. With his father gone, having a man to talk to is bound to be good for Jimmy.”

An idea struck. “Maybe you'd like to come with us,” Nick said. “We'll be taking out the aluminum boat. Once you get the hang of it, fishing's really a lot of fun.”

Samantha didn't look all that excited about it. “I think the two of you should go by yourselves. Give you time for some man-talk.”

“Maybe you're right.” He turned back to Mary. “Tell Jimmy I'm going to call. We'll set something up for tomorrow.”

Mary nodded. “Okay. In the meantime, if you hear from him—”

“I'll have him call you, then send him straight home.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“No problem. Jimmy's a good kid.”

“Yes, he is,” Mary said. She headed for the door, stopped and looked back as Nick pulled it open. “Nice to meet you, Samantha. If you get some time, our house isn't that far away. I've usually got a pot of coffee on.”

Samantha's smile seemed to come easy. “Thanks, I might just take you up on that.”

Mary walked out the door and Nick closed it behind her.

“She seems really nice,” Samantha said.

“I think she is. She's single and only in her late twenties, but she stepped right up when Jimmy's father died. It can't be easy turning into an instant mom.”

Samantha's gaze went toward the window, her pretty brown eyes following Mary up the hill toward home. “No, it can't,” she said softly.

 

 

Crammed into the back of some rusty old rattletrap car, Jimmy lay on his side, his knees up under his chin, his wrists and ankles bound with duct tape, a piece of tape stretched over his mouth. His eye was swollen nearly shut, his lip split and throbbing.

The two men who had forced him into the trunk had taken his jacket and the brand-new Reeboks his aunt had bought him at the mall last week.

Jimmy shivered. It was dark in the trunk, and with his arms bound behind him, he could barely move. His jeans were damp and he was freezing. The trunk smelled like dead fish.

Fear slipped through him. After he'd gone to see Nick that morning, the men in the car had picked him up on his way to the bus stop not far from his house. Though he'd put up a pretty good fight, they were bigger and stronger. The next thing he knew he was bound and gagged, tossed into the trunk, and the car was driving away.

Jimmy knew why they had taken him. Using some of the money he'd earned from Nick, he'd been riding the bus into Anchorage after school a couple of days a week and again on Saturday, hanging around the office building on “C” Street where his dad had worked.

He'd been searching for the man his father had been arguing with the day before he died. Jimmy hadn't seen anyone he recognized, but if the argument was about business, the man must have worked with his dad, or been one of his clients.

Two days ago, Jimmy had ridden the elevator up to the tenth floor of his father's office. He had talked to his father's secretary, had asked her about his dad, asked her if his father had been upset about anything lately. Maybe she had told someone he'd been there asking questions. A chill shivered through him. Now these men were going to kill him.

The car speeded up and cold air swept through the rusted-out parts of the trunk, sending a chill over his skin. Jimmy struggled against the tape around his wrists, fought to break the hold on his ankles, but the binding didn't even budge. He'd been in the trunk all day, rolling around inside as the car made a series of stops.

During the day, the vehicle had been parked somewhere for hours before the men returned and started the engine again. He had no idea where they were taking him, or any idea what the men would do to him when they got there.

Dread slithered like a snake down his spine. Someone had murdered his dad. He was sure of that now. These men had come after him because he'd been asking questions, trying to find out who'd killed him. They were probably going to kill him, too.

Jimmy closed his eyes. He wondered if anyone would ever find his body.

He wondered what his dad had discovered that had made the men so mad.

“You don't need to worry,” Nick said to Samantha. “Jimmy's a kid. He's just gone off somewhere and time's slipped away from him.”

“If he was my son, I'd call the authorities.”

Nick flicked her a glance, saw something in her face. “Something happened to you. What was it?”

Samantha glanced back out the window. If she wanted to get to know Nick, it was only fair that he get to know her.

“I lost my older sister when I was ten. Danielle was twelve. She disappeared when she was walking home from school. They found her body two weeks later. She'd been murdered.” Samantha swallowed, tried not to think of the way her parents had walked around like zombies, unable to sleep, unable to talk without crying. How she had felt physically ill and so desperately alone.

“Did they catch the guy?”

Samantha shook her head. “No.”

“I'm sorry, Samantha. Being a cop, I've seen what that kind of loss can do to a family.”

“It was a terrible time. I still don't like to talk about it. But we stuck together, became even closer as a family.”

Nick flashed on the young girl in Anchorage, one of three who had been murdered by a serial killer. He remembered her long, golden-blond hair, matted with dried blood where she lay on the floor. Remembered her parents' terrible grief. The case had played a major role in his leaving the force.