Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Nancy
I took a bracing gulp of coffee, finished typing the latest edits into Peter’s CD liner notes in my laptop, and closed the program. Moxie flung herself at my feet and writhed.
I picked up Moxie and buried my face in her long fur. She’d been feeling neglected. And now she had to spend yet another day alone while I went to clear the stuff out of Lucia’s kitchen.
I had not gathered up the strength to go back there and clean up the mess in the kitchen, not after my spine-tingling encounter with Liam Knightly, so I had my work cut out for me today.
I hadn’t asked my sisters to help, either. Not that they could’ve, despite all their brave words. Nell was working, as always, teaching classes all morning and waitressing all afternoon, and Vivi was working a craft show upstate. I had a million things of my own I had to cancel.
But the rock-bottom truth was, I preferred to see Liam Knightly alone.
Nothing got past Vivi and Nell’s sharp eyes. I didn’t want my curious sisters intercepting any smoldering glances or catching stray waves of throbbing sexual heat. They’d draw their conclusions and start to tease. Or worse, start to worry.
First order of business: what to wear? The jeans and T-shirt I’d thrown on this morning after my shower were perfect for cleaning, mopping and packing kitchenware, but they were utterly inadequate for being seen by Liam Knightly.
Moxie sprawled, purring and stretching, on a growing heap of rejects on the futon couch as I yanked item after item out of my closet.
I finally settled on a pair of snug, faded jeans and a tailored, dark blue cotton blouse, primly buttoned up, with just the last button undone, so that the luscious sapphire pendant at my throat showed, ever so slightly.
A glint of color, a flash of light. Crisp, businesslike, no-nonsense, but subtly feminine.
I fixed my hair twelve different ways. In a paroxysm of disgust, I fell back on my old emergency standby: slicked back with gel into a wet-looking braid.
I spritzed on hairspray to underscore the no-nonsense message of the tough hair.
Some cover-up under my eyes, a dash of brown mascara, and a dab of sandalwood oil to infuse the look with an air of sensual mystery. There. That should do it.
I stared into the mirror, wishing I could make the anxious crease between my brows disappear. What was I even trying to accomplish? A come-on, or a back-off?
Aw, hell with it. It was 8:20, and I was wasting the guy’s time with my crushed-out primping.
I perched my glasses on my nose, stuck my chest out, and gave myself a hard smile in the mirror.
Ta-da. I scooped Moxie into my arms and pressed my face into her soft fur.
“Time to scram,” I told her apologetically.
“Sorry, sweetie. I’ll make it up to you. ”
My phone buzzed. I almost ignored it, late as I was, but ingrained professionalism prevailed. Or obsessive paranoia, depending on how you looked at it.
I saw the display. Liam Knightly. Moxie plopped to the ground with a yowl as my arm went limp. I hit “talk.” “Hello?”
“Nancy? This is Liam Knightly.”
“Ah. Um, hi,” I stammered. “Are you already at the house?”
“Yes, and I?—”
“Oh, no. We must have crossed wires about the meeting time. I’m so sorry. I’m running a little late because of some?—”
“Nancy.” He cut her off, his voice grim. “There’s a problem.”
“A problem?” A creeping sense of icy cold began to spread its tendrils out to my belly and limbs. “What do you mean, a problem?”
“There’s been another break-in.”
Another break-in? “No,” I said, my voice high. “That’s not possible.”
“I was driving by on my way to breakfast to see if your car was there yet. I wanted to pass a broom through the place before you saw it, since Eoin and I tracked in a lot of mud yesterday. I saw that the door was open, so I thought maybe you drove a different car up. Then I looked inside.”
His eloquent pause chilled my blood. I was starting to shake. “And?”
“It’s been trashed,” he said. “Badly. I’m so sorry to tell you this.”
I was crumpling—on my knees, hands braced against the floor like it was trying to rise up and smack me in the face. My phone lay next to Moxie’s bowl of kitty crunchies. Fish-shaped pellets were scattered on the little black-and-white tiles.
The floor was cold against my hands. Liam Knightly’s urgent voice came through the phone. I let my butt drop to the floor so that I could support myself on one hand and picked up the phone again.
“Here I am,” I gasped out. “Sorry. Dropped the phone.”
“Jesus! You scared me! I thought you’d fainted. Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I croaked. “I just had, you know. A moment. Did you call the?—”
“The police? Yeah. They’re on their way. You were my second call.”
Unreasonable panic ballooned inside me into something monstrous. I saw Lucia’s body on the ground, her wide-open eyes, her livid face. “Don’t go in there!” I told him wildly. “Get away from the place! Right now! What if whoever did it is still inside?”
“I’ll be okay,” he soothed. “I won’t go in. I’ll leave it for the cops. They wouldn’t want me touching things or tracking though the crime scene anyhow.”
“It’s just a house.” The words made no sense, I realized, as they flew out of my mouth—and oh shit, now my face and throat were shaking. “It’s just a goddamn house! ”
“Yes, that is absolutely true,” he soothed. “Hey, Nancy? Nancy? Hey! Answer me!”
I tried, but my throat was shaking too hard. I made a wordless sound, just so he’d know I was still conscious.
“Nancy, give me one of your sisters’ phone numbers, okay? You shouldn’t be alone. I’ll call one of them for you. Give me the number.”
Oh, God. He thought I was losing my shit. Embarrassment stiffened my spine.
“No,” I said thinly. “They’re both busy. I’ll be out there as soon as I can.”
“No! You’re upset! You should not drive!”
“I will be fine. I’ll see you in an hour and ten, barring traffic.”
“Hey! Wait! Nancy?—”
I hung up on him and lurched over to the kitchen counter. The little espresso pot had a mouthful of powerful coffee left in the bottom. I poured it into a cup, cold though it was, and dosed it with sugar.
My cell began to tinkle. I checked. It was Liam again. No freaking way was I answering him now. Ten rings. A pause. Ten more. Silence. Take that, buddy.
Then, the chime of a text message. I opened it.
At least get a goddamn rideshare please do not drive yourself
Hah. Like I had hundreds of extra bucks to burn. Dream on, buddy.
I tossed on my jacket, legs wobbling. This news had taken all the starch out of me, but a secret warmth unfurled in my chest at the thought that he’d been worried about me. Awww. I cherished the feeling, silly though it was. Bossy though he’d been.
I spent the drive up to Hempton trying to calm myself down.
I tried to remind myself that it was just a deserted house.
A break-in was upsetting, yes. Expensive, a huge waste of time, a rotten inconvenience.
That was all. Nothing, in the grand scheme of things.
Lucia was no longer in that house. The very worst that could possibly happen had already happened.
This was nothing. Absolutely nothing at all, in comparison.
So why did I feel so scared?