Kingdom by the Sea (Romantic Suspense) (5 page)

With
a short laugh he nodded.  “Yeah, right.  It's definitely been interesting.”

“Thanks
again, Michael.”

“I'm
just glad you're okay.” 

“Thanks
to you—look, I know it's a cliché to say 'I owe you my life' but in this case,
it's true.”

Michael
shook his head as if to shake off the praise before it began again.  “Anyone
would've done the same thing.” 

“Give
me a break.”  Nicole tilted her head doubtfully at him.  “Do you live in the
world?” 

“Well...you’ve
had a rough night, so I’m not gonna argue with you.” 

“And
thanks again for coming to the station.  I know it was a pain.”  Maybe Alyssa
was right; maybe she
did
have over-thanking issues.  “It didn't seem
like your favorite thing to do.”

“I
just don't like cops that much,” he admitted.  But didn't elaborate. 
Maddening!  Again, she began to wonder why he was so private about himself—but
then she caught the illogic of her own thinking.  If blabbing one's thoughts,
feelings, and whole life story to total strangers was an expected matter of
course, that was a pretty disturbing social commentary. 

“Even
though my brother's a lawyer,” Michael threw in then, surprising her with a
personal detail after all. 

“Your
brother's a lawyer?  That's funny, my sister goes to BC Law.  She's
twenty-five,” Nicole added.  “So...how old are you?”  Now she was just fishing.

“Coming
up on thirty.”  He said it with a trace of a sigh, like he couldn't quite
believe it.  “Well, I should let you get to sleep.  I'll wait till you get
inside,” he said, motioning toward her front door. 

Before
heading up the walkway, Nicole said, “Thanks again—I don’t know what I would
have done if—”

Michael
cut her off gently but finally.  “No problem.  I was in the right place at the
right time.”  His modesty was oddly captivating. 

Once
she was inside, she locked the door and slumped against it with a sigh.  What a
surreal night!  It was almost as if her sister had predicted it with her overly
cautious warnings. 

She
supposed a part of her was still in shock, but mostly she was grateful—for
small towns with well-meaning “busybodies,” and for Michael King, who had come
out of the shadows and saved her.  That being said, there was no way she could
stay in
Chatham
. 

It
was still hard to fathom, but she really could have been killed tonight. 
Quickly, Nicole suppressed the thought before it could open a Pandora's box of
upsetting scenarios. 
No
, she thought, shaking her head and hopping up
the stairs.  This just wasn't the place for her.  Of course she appreciated her
inheritance, but her life was in
Boston
.  She'd made a mistake coming
down to the Cape by herself with the intention to staying for awhile; her
parents would be much better suited to handle the details of Nina's house. 
Gwen was itching to take over everything anyway.  And Anthony knew about real
estate... 

It
would almost be doing a disservice to her inheritance
not
to have her
parents take the reins.

As
she began to gather up her things in the guestroom—with the idea of taking a
bus back to
Boston
the following morning—she was uncomfortably aware of
herself.  How much she was rationalizing, how determined she was to run back
home.

The
pace of her packing slowed until, finally, she paused.  Eyed the surroundings
in the room—the blanket chest, the fireplace, the candlesticks on the
mantle—and she thought about Nina.  As if exhaling, her body thumped down on
the edge of the bed. 

Nicole
sat for a few pensive moments.  The thought continued to circle in her mind. 
Her aunt had
wanted
her to do this—to be here, to come here.  Aunt Nina
had specifically entrusted
her
.  What had Nina's note said?  “You'll
know what to do.”

How
could Nicole just run away like this? 

Suddenly
Linda's sentiment echoed in her mind, too, almost like a taunt.  How Nicole had
not spent much time with their aunt toward the end—which, of course, was when
it counted the most.  How Nicole had been Nina's “favorite.”  As it was, Nicole
didn't feel she particularly deserved this inheritance.  But if she picked up
now and didn't see this through, it would almost confirm just how un-deserving
she was.

So
that settled it.  She would stay to finish what she had set out to do when she
arrived in
Chatham
three days ago.  And hey, if she thought about, she was
probably safer now than ever.  Besides the deadbolt locks on the front and back
door, and the burglar alarm, she would also have Michael King right there on
the water, at least for a couple of days.  He might be enigmatic, but at least
she knew he wouldn't hurt her. 

With
her mind made up, Nicole set her half-full bag aside.  She climbed up toward
the pillow, slipped under the covers and sighed into sleep, hoping she had made
the right decision.

***

The
following day, Michael woke up to rapping at his cabin door. 

With
a growl, he rolled over and slowly came to; he barely had a chance to rub his
eyes open before another rap sounded.  The interior of the boat was dark except
for a thin beam of white sunlight that cut through a crack in the window
shutters. 

Even
half-asleep, Michael sensed who it was.  Who else would ride up to his boat and
come on board?  He dragged his ass out of bed, ambled over and pulled on the
door.   

Yup—just
as he figured
.

“Good
morning,” said the taller of the two officers and gave a salutatory nod.  “Zack
Hyat,
Chatham
Coast Guard. 
And this is Officer Jones.” 

Michael
said hi and offered each a hearty handshake. 

With
a community as small as this and an unfamiliar boat docked on the water, it
would only be a matter of time before the Coast Guard paid a visit.  But Jesus,
this was pretty damn efficient.  What was it, seven fucking A.M.?

“How
are you doing today?” the short one, Jones, asked.  Jones looked like a
straight-up rookie, twenty-four tops.  Both men sported the same crew cut and
bleach-white shirt.

“We
heard about what happened last night,” Hyat said.

By
seven fucking A.M.? 

Still,
Michael concealed his irritation.  “Did they ever end up catching the guy?” he
asked, as he rubbed the last traces of sleep out of his eyes.

“Not
yet,” Hyat replied.  “We think he stole a motorboat.  We found it stalled out
on the water late last night.  We think he probably took it, then ditched it,
swam to shore.” 

Nodding,
Michael’s face was neutral.
 
“Well, I appreciate you letting me know. 
Hopefully he'll turn up soon.”

“Right,”
Jones chirped in agreement.

Zack
Hyat added, “If he does turn up, I hope it's not anywhere near Miss Sheffield. 
She doesn't need another scare like that.”

Curiously,
Michael angled his head.  “Oh, do you know Nicole?” 

“I
haven't met her yet,” Hyat admitted.  “But I’d heard she moved into the Nina
Corday house.  So I understand you've got some engine trouble,” Hyat said,
changing the conversation.

“Yeah,
I'll be up and running in a couple of days.”

“Well,
at least you got a perfect time of year,” young Jones piped in.  “The water's
bluest in October.”

Then,
with an affable smile, Hyat asked, “So when's the last time you were boarded by
the Coast Guard?”

That
gave Michael pause for a moment.  “Is this an official check?” he asked
casually.

With
a shake of his head, Hyat kept his tone just as light.  “No, no.  Just wanted
to make sure you're good to go...you all set for PFDs?” 

“Two
on board,” Michael said, referring to his life jackets.

“Radio's
working okay?  In case of an emergency?”

“Everything's
working but the engine,” Michael said with a brief laugh.  “You're more than
welcome to come inside,” he offered, stepping back a bit from the door to widen
their view of the interior.  Both stayed on deck, but glanced inside—eyed the
radio and dash straight ahead.

Just
then Hyat's belt radio sounded.  From the garbling, Michael was able to gather
that there was a search-and-rescue in progress.  In response, Hyat said to
Jones, “We’d better head out.  Nice meeting you, Mr. King.”

“Michael.”

“You
take care.”

Soon
the two officers were back on their own vessel and zooming away, sending white
ruffles of water out furiously behind them. 

***

Todd
Finn drove slowly down
Arlen Road
and couldn’t help rolling to a stop. 
Pensively, he sat, parked across the street from the
Chatham
police station. 
He didn’t know the local policemen well, just enough to wave a neighborly
hello, but he’d never thought much of cops.  Always strutting around with
bravado, so sure of themselves.  Yet, they always seemed to miscalculate the
big cases.  As far as Todd could see, law enforcement often “solved” major
cases after the bad guy had already confessed the whole thing, right before
killing himself. 

That
was about the
time the police swooped in to throw a press conference and claim all the
credit.  If the taxpayers were really lucky, the most incompetent detective on
the force would even land a book deal.

As
Todd’s bitter rant wandered, his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. 
There was one
Chatham
police officer, in particular, who would benefit from
some humility.  So sure of himself, this man was.  But Todd was way ahead of
him… 

Todd
Finn might never be a man who swaggered.  Maybe he didn’t exude bravado, or have
looks or youth to speak of.  He didn’t have a uniform, a siren, or even a gun. 
But
… Todd had a plan.

“You
sound pretty calm considering what happened last night,” Alyssa told Nicole,
then placed an order to someone else in the background.  Something with the
words vanilla, cream, maple, Chai, and praline.  Whatever it was sounded
lovingly autumnal and sickeningly sweet.  Then she came back on the line.  “Are
you sure you're okay?”

“I'm
fine,” Nicole told her again, walking toward the fridge.  Only when she leaned
down did she feel a tangible reminder of the attack.  Wincing slightly, she
touched the tender spot on her neck.  The soreness had been worse when she
first woke up.  She had soon discovered a deep pink bruise just above her
collarbone.  “It was the most random thing.  The local police even said that
the crime rate is practically nonexistent.  They said the guy would have to be
long gone by now.”

“Why?”

“Because
there's no way he could 'blend in' around here.”  Nicole had already relayed
how heart-stoppingly ugly her attacker had been. 

“I
see your point,” Alyssa agreed.  “Especially if law enforcement is aware of
him, too.”

“I
get the feeling this is their only case.”

“
No—
two
shots of maple syrup, one of the vanilla—” 

“The
police think he was just some coked up vagrant anyway,” Nicole added.

“Hmm. 
Coked up vagrant,” Alyssa repeated.  “I know
I
feel comforted.” 

“I'm
just comforting like that...”

“Well,
thank God that guy came along when he did, but, Nicole, you have to be more
alert.”

“I am
alert,” she said, though her conscience protested the claim.  Last night on the
beach, she had been so in her own world, she hadn't even heard Michael's dinghy
approaching the shore before she was attacked.  Assuming it was a motorized
dinghy—she must not have been paying attention at all.  There was really no
excuse to have not even heard the dinghy. 

“No! 
I said
steam,
not cream—”

“I
just love having conversations like this...” Nicole remarked with mock
appreciation.  “It's so special...”

“Sorry,
I'm just...hang on...”  During the brief pause, Nicole assumed that Alyssa was
paying for her drink.  When she came back on the line, she said, “Okay.  I'm
set now.  You have my complete attention.”

“You
called
me
,” Nicole reminded her.

“Now
what were you saying?  Wait—oh, this isn't
hot...
” Alyssa moaned. 

Nicole
rolled her eyes.  “I'll talk to you later, okay?  You know, after you've got
the guy who made your drink in tears.”

“You
mean the
barista
?” Alyssa said mockingly.

Nicole
had to laugh at her sister's tone.  “Don't be a bitch...” 

Alyssa
laughed, too.  “Fine.  I'll drink it, but I'm not a happy camper.”