Deceived (29 page)

“So, he’s been here again? Since the fire?” I pondered the question. “He took this, read it, and brought it back? Do you think he came here after he attacked me?” The questions mounted up. “Did he really think I’d come home? Why did he do that?” I pointed to the things on my dresser.

“I don’t pretend to know how he thinks, but it seems he’s spent a lot of time here. Probably waiting for you.”

He snuck a peek at me.

I tried to look as if I was hearing the details of a case instead of my life.

“You stayed away. I think that’s when he began to try to locate you. He wanted to know you so you’d be easier for him to find. Also, we made him mad. We faked a fire here when he hadn’t made one. We think that’s why he set the fire at my place.”

I gathered up the suitcases I’d come with and put everything back in them, all the while considering Nicholas’s theories. I traded some of my blue jeans and hoodies for Priscilla’s designer things. I didn’t think she’d mind. I also filled a bag with Pixie’s art supplies and some things she had kept on display. I knew Nicholas could get them to her. I stacked the bags on top of one another and then looked for Nicholas.

He was propped up on my bed reading the brown journal.

I wanted to die, but I sucked it up. That thing was probably state’s evidence or something. Now everyone would read it, including my father.

When I walked in, he sat upright and dropped the journal into a freezer bag. Then he removed a pair of plastic gloves I hadn’t noticed before.

“Everything looks the same except in here. I went around all the rooms. Nothing,” I said.

“He was interested in you, learning about you. Studying.”

I suppressed a gag. “You could’ve told me to be careful about what I touched.” I felt silly that I hadn’t thought of it.

“Your fingerprints are already everywhere. This is your place, remember?” He walked over to me and rubbed my shoulders gently. “Are you ready?”

“Sure.” I needed a hospital stay to recuperate from the humiliation, but that was a luxury I didn’t have.

Nicholas loaded himself down with bags and still managed to take me by my hand as we left the apartment. He stacked everything in the back of the SUV before helping me back into the passenger’s seat. I thought of Pixie and was thankful she’d gotten out when she had. Eternally grateful to Nicholas for insisting she go and for having a plan in place before she needed it. I hoped to send a note along with her things, if they’d allow it.

The engine hummed to life. I gave my apartment a final look over one shoulder as we drove away. My time at Francine Frances had been brief, but I’d miss it. Life changes always made me a little sad.

Nicholas had spoken with his team while I looked around the apartment. They were on their way. Once he knew the Reaper had spent so much time there, he knew there would be some clue left behind. Hanging around the way he had demonstrated the intensity of his obsession. He’d been literally waiting to kill me. The pretend fire didn’t stop him from thinking I’d be back. He just pulled down the crime tape and waited inside. I was all he’d thought about for years and now, he was so close. He was going all out to make his point. The Reaper wanted me dead. I wished I understood why.

He wanted to punish my father, but I didn’t know why he wasn’t stalking him. Yes, hurting me would be much worse for Dad. My dad would die for me, without a doubt, without a thought. No questions. There had been plenty of times over the years when the look on Dad’s face matched Nicholas’s. The memory sent a shiver over my skin. What had he seen that I hadn’t?

Did he know that the Reaper had gotten close a few times? Had the Reaper really planned to murder me as a child? That didn’t sound right. I was only six when it began. He couldn’t have been this angry with me then. I wondered what it was I had done recently that had pushed him off of the precipice he dangled from.

The next few days were a blur. I slept in offices and cars most nights. We ate takeout from cartons and hamburgers wrapped in paper sleeves. My muscles itched to run. My neck cramped from flat hotel pillows and duffle-bag headrests on the road. I didn’t feel mistreated. No one near me slept at all. Sara stayed with us in utter discomfort when she could have gone home. Nicholas lectured her about missing classes.

I worked through the conversation with Dad, angry from the lies and burdened by guilt. As much as I wanted to hate him, I didn’t think I would’ve acted differently in his shoes. His hands were tied. His load was far too much for anyone to carry. Still, I wished I’d been able to say goodbye to her. The gaping trench in my heart widened whenever I thought about what had happened.

Nicholas and his team worked around the clock tracking every possibility of a lead. Sara made the waiting easier. She taught me to play Spades, painted my nails, and complained about how hard it was for the women in her family to date. Guys freaked out when her dad gave them a tour of the house and included his medals for valor and gun closet. She said her brothers had it easy because no one worried about their safety. I wondered if my dad would behave the same way if things were different.

The group Sara called the Clean Team found dozens of cigarette butts on campus, but the pile that had been growing outside my apartment had disappeared. Our welcome mat was left with nothing more than ashes and stink. The butts they found in the bushes were being processed in a lab for DNA. The first few had already come back as matches for students. Other results were pending. Luckily it wasn’t all happening in the 70s or there would’ve been a lot more butts to go through. Since girls learned that smoking causes premature aging and wrinkles, the smokers in my generation were numbered. Still, I’d seen my share of smokers around campus. Davis came to mind.

By Wednesday, the team had done all they could for a while. Nicholas would’ve loved to join the ones who were tracking the Reaper, no doubt, but he was loyal to his assignment. He never left my side. That afternoon over lunch a new drama unrolled.

“I picked up your midterms from the school. Well, I had them faxed. You finish them and I’ll return them for you.” Nicholas avoided eye contact. “This isn’t your fault. We won’t let your grades suffer.”

He handed me a huge stack of papers, notes, and my texts. I’d conveniently left those at the apartment.

“I’m supposed to study?”

“Yes. You’re supposed to go on behaving as normally as you can. It makes it easier long-term.” He winked at me and added, “Witness protection can really mess a person up.”

“Don’t I know it.” I sighed and took the stack. Mom wouldn’t have wanted this monster to keep me from graduating. I’d put my life on hold too long.

“Have you talked to your dad yet about Thanksgiving?” He was still serious.

“I haven’t talked to my dad in over a week. We traded e-mails on Thursday and Friday, before all this started Saturday night. Normally we talk on the phone.” Whenever he asked for me, I refused to take his calls. I wanted to, but I wasn’t ready.

“Call him.” Nicholas flipped open his phone.

I gave him my best crazy face. “Uh, no way. Not on that thing.” I pulled my new phone from my jacket pocket. “Will this say my number when it comes up? Will he know it’s a new phone?”

He shook his head. “He knows everything, Elle. You’re under some serious surveillance. Like lockdown mode.” Right. I dialed. I waited for the ringing and teetered between being livid and being afraid. Special Agent Steven Smith had lied to me my entire life. He had left me wrestling an emotional mudslide on an hourly basis. The last time we talked was the same night I was attacked. Yet another thought I had trouble reconciling with reality.

Eventually, I was relieved of the debate. I got his voicemail. I left him a lengthy message about being sorry and needing to talk. I said he could reach me by phone or e-mail. The whole thing probably sounded a lot like “I’m doing swell, ramble, ramble, click.” I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm. Nicholas hid a laugh behind the sleeve of his shirt.

“Well, let’s go home!” Sara chirped.

Nicholas slapped the table and agreed. “Elle, is it too soon for you to meet my parents?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

We arrived in Bethesda, Maryland, at midnight. Nicholas’s entire family lived in Montgomery County, most of them in the same community. Sara had called ahead while Nicholas and I secured tickets at the airport. They knew we were coming—all of us. I’d have paid good money to listen in on that conversation. I was terrified of bringing Nicholas with me for two days at Thanksgiving. He and Sara acted as if it was no big deal to bring me home for an undetermined amount of time.

Headlights glistened on the rain-spattered streets. From the backseat of the new rental car they looked like the streets back in Ohio, except the houses were bigger. They were all homes the size of the old Victorian I’d loved in South Bend, but these homes were much newer. Most were made of stone and were mildly intimidating. The Victorian I’d loved had been colorful and inviting. It was like living at a bed and breakfast where you made your own breakfast.

I expected the commute to be much longer, but we pulled into one of the drives on the street with big houses. I got out and shut the car door gently, hoping not to awaken anyone inside.

“Nicky! Sara!” A woman ran at us in her robe and slippers across the wetted drive. Her arms opened wide. The twins came together and embraced her. I took a step backward.

“Come on, come on.” She pushed them toward the door and reached for me with her free arm. My eyes widened. The word
bewildered
came to mind.

She caught hold of my jacket and pulled me up to meet her. Nicholas managed to slip from her death grip and maneuver his way to my side. He smiled down at me before he kissed the top of my head. I sucked in a chestful of night air, and Sara giggled.

“Mama, this is Elle. I’m not sure what Sara hasn’t told you, but here she is.” He squeezed me against his side. He sounded proud. Proud of what exactly, I wasn’t sure. I thought I probably looked like a puppy might if it were adopted from the pound—just before execution. I was frightened, confused, and desperately grateful. I wanted to hide.

The woman was his mother. The word sank through the layers of my mind. I’d seen her in the dozens of pictures at the cottage. I didn’t know why she’d wait up for two Marshals. Of all people, they were prepared to get in safely. Later, I learned they all waited up every time “Nicky” came home. That night was twice the party because Sara had been away, too.

She pulled me to her chest. “Of course she is. Welcome to our home. You may stay here for as long as you’d like.” Then she pulled me back to get a better look. She squinted against the night. “Consider yourself part of the family.” The words stung my eyes, making me glad to be in the dark.

“Well, get in out of the cold, for crying out loud!” A man’s voice called from the front door. He held it wide to let two guys pass. They appeared to be my age.

“Jake, Drew, this is Elle,” Nicholas announced as they approached. They took turns lifting and twirling Sara before they made it over to me. Thankfully, they just shook my hand. The boys grabbed all the bags from the car, and the six of us moved toward the front door.

It was like a pajama party inside. In addition to his parents, two brothers, and the three of us, their older sister Olivia was there with her husband and two kids. Olivia and her husband were the only ones who weren’t in their pajamas, probably because they weren’t sleeping over. They had their own house ten minutes away.

The Austin home was brightly lit and fully decorated for fall. Garlands of silk leaves adorned the fireplace mantle, and pumpkins of every size sat on the hearth. The pillows on the couch and window treatments were brilliant hues of burnt orange. The centerpiece on the dining room table was a cornucopia of fall harvest. Three small white pumpkins finished the perfect look.

Thanksgiving at their house must’ve been phenomenal. I pictured my dad and me sharing a turkey breast and a few sides. It seemed pitiful in comparison. I loved my Thanksgiving memories anyway, small as they were. I appreciated my life, now more than ever, even if it was a lengthy series of lies.

“So, this is the one who stole your heart?” Olivia approached me and then embraced me without notice.

“This is Olivia,” Nicholas said. “My very nosy sister.”

“I’m your very observant sister, sweetie.” She patted his cheek.

“Would anyone like coffee?” his mother asked from behind me. “You guys must be hungry, too.” She stood in the kitchen on the other side of an island filled with food. “Help yourself, kids.”

“What can I get you?” Nicholas whispered to me, turning us toward the kitchen. He pulled out a chair at the island. I sat.

“Nothing.” I was busy freaking out inside. No time to eat.

“Yeah?” He picked up a plate and filled it with a croissant, a muffin, and a tiny bowl of fruit. He set down the plate in front of me and winked.

A smile crept over me. Everyone watched.

Nicholas sat beside me with a heaping plate of food and two cups of coffee. He set one next to my plate and began to chat with me as if we weren’t in a fishbowl.

“I warned you. Our family is crazy.”

I couldn’t speak. I fought back a lump in my throat. Serial killer or no serial killer, I was as happy as I’d ever been. My eyes scanned the scene, taking in the rooms, the people, and the family. It was perfect.

“Nicky,” his mom interrupted our low conversation. “Be sure to show her around the house before you show her to your room. Make sure she’s comfortable. Don’t just leave her.”

I remembered the first night I stayed with him at the cottage. He had walked me into every room, showing me all the switches and detailing everything for me. He was a complete gentleman. I was by far the luckiest girl in America.

After a few minutes, he led me around their home. It was even bigger than it seemed from the driveway. I’d thought it was a one-story home, but it was two stories. Because the house was seated on a hill, the rear of the house was twice as tall as the front. The fully finished basement let out to a large yard and some water. We were on Fenwick Island. A stack of black inner tubes leaned against the patio doors and a dock sliced into the dark water.