In Her Sights (38 page)

He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around. One
eye at a time, he dried her tears with his shirt.

She met his gaze. “Why did it take this to see what’s been
there all along?”

He rubbed warmth in her arms and then pulled her against his
chest. He hugged her tight and held her a moment. It was nice. She pressed her
cheek to his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. Getting hugged
like this just wasn’t something she got a lot. She didn’t realize there was
that hole in her chest that was quickly filling.

He let out a big breath and caressed down her back. “That’s
just the way things work sometimes.”

“I never really had a connection to her. Why does it have to
be this?”

“I didn’t know her, but I’m sure there’s more. I’ll prove
it.” He grabbed a rag from under the sink, wet it, and cleaned her face. “If
you saw her this way, then you’ll see her without the blood, too.”

She shook her head. “I see myself all the time. I never see
a resemblance.”

“Because all you remember is the bloody memory.” He put the
rag aside and turned her back to the mirror. He traced her cheeks. “Same high cheekbones.
Same nose, same lips.”

She lifted a shoulder. “And I still just see me.”

He kissed her cheek. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Do
you want me to help?”

She shook her head. “I can manage.”

She got in the shower, rested her arms on the wall, and let
the warm water pour over her back. For just a second, she closed her eyes to
relax and let the tension fall away.

Instead of feeling comfort, she started getting flashes of her
mother again. Of that damn bracelet she wore. Why didn’t she recognize that
bracelet? Why didn’t Julia remember it?

Lexie knew what she’d have to do. She’d have to look at the
crime scene photos and see if it was there. And one day, she would. One day.
She shook her head, an attempt to clear her thoughts.

It didn’t work, only changed what she pictured to moments
before she’d opened that door. When she’d walked down that hallway toward her parents’
door.

She opened her eyes and reached for the shampoo. The image
of her in the hallway hit her again. The bathroom receded in the background,
and she felt nine. She shut her eyes in an effort to find focus, but it was no
help as she approached the door to their bedroom.

“Please,” she whispered. “Focus. Think of something else.”

But no, she kept seeing that damn door with a round brass
knob. Now her fingers were gripping the knob and pushing the door open. The
cold metal against her warm palm. Grabbing it with both hands to turn it.

She was forced to look as the door swung wide. Her parents’
butter-yellow comforter bed set was neatly made. Curtains blew in the breeze
and she swore she could feel warm air across her cheeks. The hardwood floors
glazed shiny so the light from the window cast a reflecting glow of itself. On
the nightstand stood a photograph she barely recognized of her parents on a
beach.

They looked happy in the photograph, the room looked happy,
she felt happy looking in her parents’ room for the first time in years. She
felt the smile tug at her lips, and the dream left as oddly and quickly as it
came.

She showered and entered the bedroom with her robe around her.
Clayton had taken off his black Addison’s t-shirt, leaving him in his white
undershirt. He sat on a chaise lounge by the floor-to-ceiling windows with his
elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. “Feel better?”

She nodded.

“Get in bed and get some rest. I asked Julia to get you
something to eat.”

She looked toward the hallway and bit her lip. She could do
it. And nothing. No nerves or dizzying feelings. Just confidence swam in her
veins and she stood a little taller. “I have to do something first.”

“Do you want my help?”

She shook her head. “No. You’re welcome to clean up. If you
want to stay.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

The answer was easy and she nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

The playful, happy expression on his face was priceless. “All
right. I’ll grab my other clothes from my car and be back.”

Knowing it might take her more than one try, she waited
until he was gone and his footsteps went down the stairs. She walked down the
hall, to the one wing of the house she hadn’t been able to face in years.

The white walls seemed extra harsh under the overhead bulbs.
The two small, marble lions sitting atop pillars on either side of the door
looked as fierce as ever. The air smelled of polish and cleaner. She paused at
the door. The dark wood and brass knob pushed a cold shiver over her, but she
had to do it.

When it came time to reach out and twist the knob, she just
couldn’t lift her hand. Couldn’t even force movement through her fingers. She
sighed and lowered her head, returning back to the security of her room.
Disappointment hit her hard. She thought she’d been ready. She’d been so sure,
but it was just too soon. She turned in the hall and was closer to her bedroom.

Where it was her space. With her things that were untouched
by tragedy and horrible memories. A place where she could walk in and not see
the massacre because it had never existed there. A warm room, scented with Clayton’s
cologne. A completely happy area. Like what she wanted her parents’ room to be.
She stopped and looked back down the hallway.

Her parents’ room had been completely redone. It wasn’t like
the bodies were still in there. Or the blood still puddled on the floor. There
would be no cloaked figure from her nightmares. She closed her eyes and rested
a hand against the wall as a wave of nausea passed. She needed to know. Needed
to see what was in there.

She was just a few feet away from her room and the curiosity
was eating at her so hard, her fingers shook. She crossed her arms over her
middle.

Just open the damn door and see what’s in there.

See if there was a picture on the nightstand. See if she would
even see the room, or if she would see her parents lying bloodied in crimson
pools. It’s not like she hadn’t seen it before. She returned and stopped before the door.

She took a full breath, in and out, and managed to reach for the knob, turn it, and push.

She shut her eyes. There was no creaking or anything. Just
the feeling of air in the room. The clean and polished scent, only stronger.

As a kid, it had often smelled of her mother’s lotion. Sweet
and vanilla. A pretty white bottle with a pump handle had been on her
nightstand. How many times had her mother paused by that end table and grabbed
enough lotion to moisten her hands, she couldn’t remember.

Lexie smiled and peeked with one eye, then a second. There
was nothing but the dark room. Bending over so she could reach in, she ran her
fingers along the cool, flat wall and flipped the switch to illuminate the
room.

The comforter over the bed was white and embroidered with a
flower design. Daisies, maybe. The curtains hung still, the window closed. The
floors looked as slick as the bedspread and curtains reflected in it from the
overhead lights.

Cautiously, she stepped in and took her time to make sure
the image didn’t change and her imagination wasn’t playing tricks on her. Only,
instead of the bottle of lotion on the nightstand, it was the picture from her
vision on the dresser.

She lifted the heavy silver frame and traced the swirling
design with her fingers. She had seen this picture before. It was a snapshot scattered
across the table with dozens of others straight from the photo shop. They were
from their last trip together. She vaguely remembered her mother saying she
would frame it and put it in the bedroom. She must have. And it must have been
there that night. Funny how she didn’t even remember the items set around the
room. Any time she thought of this room, she just saw her parents.

Lexie put the picture down, wondering about the bracelet
again. If she remembered the picture and here it was, did that mean the same
for the bracelet? She brushed a hand over the pretty threads of the comforter,
but didn’t sit.

On the dresser against the wall was a small, cherry-colored
jewelry box. One Lexie had peeked in often. She squatted, putting herself back to
eye level the way she’d been as a girl, and tipped up the lid.

Light and feathery music played. Nearly like rain. A smile
pulled through her, and she hummed the song as she stood, opening the lid all
the way. The box was empty. Before, it would have held watches and wedding
rings. Mom’s favorite earrings. Things she would have worn daily.

The music stopped and she closed the lid, taking the box
with her. She stopped at the doorway and took another glance back at the room.
For the first time in a long time, she liked what she saw. Course, there was
still so much more in here she needed to brave one day. The hallway leading to her
mother’s large closet with mirrors and sofas was just through there. Their
large bathroom. Dad’s smaller closet and all the ties that had hung in it.

She swallowed and shut off the lights, exited the room and
pulled the door closed behind her.

She slipped back in her bedroom and placed the music box on her
dresser at the base of the mirror. She dropped to a knee and cracked the lid. Music
hummed out and once again, she couldn’t resist it and sang along. On top of the
dresser was the emerald bracelet she’d worn earlier that evening. She dropped
it in the box and hummed as the music finished the tune. In a top drawer was
the small purple flower Clayton had given her that day at the park. She pulled
it from the small book she’d been pressing it in and added it to the box as he
walked back in her bedroom.

He held up a tray of food. “Hungry?”

“Starved.” With a smile on her face, she closed the lid.

THE END

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Author’s Note

I hope you enjoyed this new release
and are excited for more Mystery Romance from me. If so, tell all your friends!
I’d love that a lot. If you didn’t like the book, still tell all your friends!
One man’s trash is another’s man’s treasure.

I first started working on Lexie
around 2006 or 2007. I didn’t really have a vision for a story, but I wanted a
kick-ass heroine. I wanted someone confident and strong and she had to be
secretive. I started looking at characters, TV, and movies when I pulled
together Lara Croft and Batman. In that pairing, I was inspired to write Lexie
Olympia. While Lexie came together relatively easy, Clayton was no simple man
to pin down. He had to be strong and smart. Forgiving and charming. A
compliment to Lexie or she would drop him the moment she was bored.

Once Lexie and Clayton got together
and their histories started unraveling, I gave up writing a standard,
in-the-box romance. Big black moment of will they get together or not at the
end? Not for these two. Maybe in the future, but for now they need each other
more than anything.

Look for the next Lexie Olympia
Mystery,
Taking Aim
, in Fall/Winter of 2013. Before then, I have lots
more coming soon from Charely Colins. You’ve met Clark Russells, now it’s time
for a little shake up and excitement in his life in my 2013 series, Borrowing
Trouble:

Taken By Trouble (Feb 2013)

Here Comes Trouble (June 2013)

The Trouble With Danger (Oct
2013)

An excerpt is below. In the
meantime, check out Keri Ford’s current releases. It’s all sexy, country
contemporary romance! Stay tuned to my website for my latest news.

Uninhibited in Apple Trail,
Arkansas

Through The Wall

On The Fence

In The Hay

Making Her Nights

Satisfying Her Tastes

Chasing Her Trail

The Roughnecks

Rough Ride

Rough Play

Rough Tumble (November 2012)

Taken By Trouble – Excerpt

Sara Livingston dropped the garbage bag and bent to get a better grip.
Dragging ten pounds of trash over her customers’ cars wasn’t the best
idea to keep business. Sweat started down her temple and break time was calling
hard. It would be hers just as soon as she had this bag in the dumpster. She
stood and the cursed sound of plastic ripping took a jagged cut through the
still night.

“No!” But it was too late. Her cries pleading to Father Time
to stop right now went unheeded.

The world kept spinning. Her bag kept ripping. Contents
tumbled out across the ground. Glass pinged. Bottles rolled. Seconds of her
break time were snatched away with each clack, pop and shattering tumbling from
the bag. It took seconds until she was left holding nothing but black plastic
that crinkled and crackled in the wind. She tipped her head back, pulled her
hands to her hips and stared up at the sky.

“I hate you, Mercury Retrograde.” Not that she actually knew
a lot about Mercury Retrograde or anything about astrology besides she was a Pisces.
According to the customers though, Mercury was a massive PITA. At this moment,
with this humidity, full bar and shards of glass she had to spend her break
picking up, she could believe it.

She dusted her hands as she headed towards the backdoor for
the stacks of cardboard boxes just inside and a broom. At least outside, she
would still have her quiet.

Oh look, there was that silver-lining again. As crappy as it
was this time.

Somewhere in the parking lot car doors slammed and an engine
revved, interrupting her peace. Or out here cleaning would be mostly quiet time
anyway. There wouldn’t be any glasses with ice clinking that was supposed to be
a request for a refill.