Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Olivia woke in the dark.
Exhaustion made her head feel like it weighed twenty pounds.
She rolled over and checked the time on her phone.
Six fifteen. She’d slept a whole fifteen minutes later than usual.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to go back to sleep.
But her brain rejected sleep. It wanted to see Nicki.
Again. To watch the rise and fall of her chest. To hear the breaths roll in and out of her body.
To make sure the worst thing Olivia could imagine hadn’t happened.
She rolled again to face the window, where the faintest hint of light signaled the coming of dawn.
Next to her, Lincoln said, “It’s pathetic. Even when I want to sleep in, I can’t.”
“Same.” Olivia sat up and perched on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to check on Nicki.”
She rose. After she left the warmth of the bed, a chill swept across her bare arms. She reached for a sweatshirt and tugged it over her head.
They hadn’t gotten back to the house until nearly four a.m., and Olivia had stayed awake until Nicki had showered, donned a clean pair of pajamas, and crawled into bed.
Nicki had been sleepy—normal sleepy, not unconscious sleepy.
She’d seemed mostly coherent, although her memory was still hazy.
The doctor had said she might or might not remember much from the night before.
Olivia knew some women who were drugged sometimes struggled with panic attacks and disjointed flashbacks.
But she kept this information to herself.
If Nicki had those symptoms, then they’d deal with them.
There was no need to create unnecessary anxiety.
Nicki’s discharge instructions were to hydrate and sleep.
Despite the doctor’s assurances that she should be fine, Olivia worried.
She’d never had children of her own, but her family was a tight one.
She had good relationships with all her nieces and nephews, but she and Nicki had always had a special bond.
Their similarities in personality had often exasperated Stephen and his wife.
She’s more like you than either of us, he’d said practically since the day Nicki was born.
Where Stephen and his wife were quiet and reserved, Nicki was outgoing, bold, and fearless.
Like herself, Olivia admitted.
She’d asked Nicki to leave the guest room door unlocked.
Now she eased it open a few inches and was instantly relieved at the sound of her niece’s soft snoring.
She exhaled fully for what seemed like the first time since Nicki had texted her the night before.
The knot of anxiety behind her sternum loosened, and she quietly closed the door.
When Nicki woke, they’d discuss whether to call her parents.
She was an adult. The decision would be up to her.
If Stephen asked a specific question, Olivia wouldn’t lie, but one of the reasons she was so close to her nieces and nephews was that they knew they could come to her to talk about anything.
She would keep their confidence unless it was a drastic matter that involved their safety.
The extended family could be gossipy, but Aunt Olivia did not have loose lips. She had their backs.
Lincoln was in the kitchen already, dressed in his running clothes. “I started the kettle for you.”
“Thank you.” She crossed the room as he straightened and slid her arms around his waist.
He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “She’s OK?”
“Sleeping hard.” Olivia pressed her head to his chest for a few seconds, then released him. Looking up at him, she read the signs of exhaustion in the bags and dark circles beneath his eyes. “You really want to run today?”
“It’ll wake me up.” Lincoln lived by the move it or lose it motto.
He exercised as if it were a religion and ate mostly organic foods.
She couldn’t complain. He was in incredible shape, currently highlighted by his running shorts and snug athletic T-shirt.
He ran circles around men half his age. A quick rush of warmth spread through her.
She wouldn’t do anything about that in her immediate state of exhaustion, but maybe later . . .
Lincoln started for the door. When he opened it, Olivia heard the tweeting of birds.
“Enjoy,” she said.
“I highly doubt that I will.” He chuckled and closed the door behind him.
A wisp of steam swirled from the kettle. Olivia made a cup of green tea, then changed into yoga pants and took her mat outside into the small backyard.
Sunrise warmed the brick patio. She moved onto a small patch of grass and unrolled her yoga mat. She loosened up with sun salutations, then moved through a flow of stretches, balance poses, and inversions.
The patio door opened and closed. She heard Lincoln lifting the cover of his cold plunge tub. His face contorted for a few seconds, then smoothed into an uncomfortable but resigned expression as his body adjusted to the shocking temperature.
Olivia shuddered and went into the kitchen to restart the kettle.
Just watching him made her cold. For a second, she was transported back to the dank cellar where she’d been imprisoned.
A dark space, the creeping chill settling into her lungs, the smell of damp and mold.
She wheezed, lungs tightening, asthma threatening to flare.
The water in the kettle boiled, yanking her out of the flashback and bringing her back to the present.
She focused on her next few breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, steadily, until the tightness in her chest eased.
Would those flashbacks ever end? Yoga helped, but Olivia would much rather they not happen at all. It was a helpless, out-of-control feeling that she hoped Nicki would not experience.
She brought two cups of tea out onto the patio.
Lincoln’s timer dinged. Despite his proclamations about how great the ice baths made him feel, he didn’t waste any time climbing out of the frigid water.
Shivering, he reached for the thick spa robe she’d bought him for his birthday.
He’d stripped down to compression shorts before using the tub, and his skin was coated with goose bumps.
After wrapping the robe tightly around himself, he accepted the tea.
She could feel the change in season on the morning breeze. A quick check of her weather app confirmed the approaching weather shift. Storms and a thirty-degree drop in temperature were forecasted over the next twelve hours.
She stuffed her phone into the thigh pocket of her yoga pants. “There’s a cold front coming in.”
Lincoln wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a companionable squeeze. Through the thick robe, his body emanated cold like an ice cube. “Winter is coming.”
She chuckled at the Game of Thrones reference, but for her, the steady encroachment of winter did feel like an attack.
Since her kidnapping, the struggle felt more intense, with the chill and gloom reminding her of the belowground prison she’d been kept in.
She closed her eyes and turned her chin to the sun, letting the warmth on her face banish the memories.
Then she carried her mug and mat to the glass door, which Lincoln opened for her. “I’m going to check on Nicki again.”
“The ER doc said she just needed to sleep it off.” Lincoln turned in to the primary bedroom suite.
Olivia continued to the guest room. She didn’t relax until she cracked open the door, peered around it, and heard Nicki breathing one more time. Relieved, she went to the bedroom. Lincoln opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “What’s your plan for the day?”
She hadn’t forgotten about Zoe, but Olivia’s priorities had been temporarily reshuffled. Now that Nicki was no longer in danger, Olivia would return to finding her friend.
“I’m not leaving Nicki today, but I have plenty to do: continue reviewing the Evan Brown case, take a second pass at Zoe’s iCloud files, and follow up on the Hamilton case. What about you? Do you have work?”
“No. The active part of our investigation is complete, and Lance can handle the reports and paperwork,” Lincoln said.
“While you get back to finding Zoe, I’d like to dig into Cody’s life and background.
If necessary, I’ll pull in Lance’s mom to do a deep dive into Nicki’s date.
This morning, I plan to check in with Officer Tuckey.
I’m going to figure out who poisoned Nicki and how they did it. ”
“Thank you.” Olivia kissed him. Splaying a hand on his chest, she felt him shiver. “You know how important she is to me.”
He kissed her back. “I never had any kids of my own, but Lance, his wife, her little girls, Nicki . . . They all feel like they could be mine.”
“I know exactly how you feel. There’s more than one way to build a family. Love and trust mean more than a family tree, and a blood relationship doesn’t guarantee an emotional connection.”
“I investigate plenty of people with toxic families,” Lincoln agreed.
Thirty minutes later, they returned to the kitchen for breakfast. The rustle of fabric drew her attention to the hallway. Nicki walked toward them. Despite some puffiness and paleness, her eyes were clear.
“Hey,” she said.
Olivia felt the smile pull at her cheeks. Relief was a powerful emotion. “Do you want some food?”
Nicki frowned. “Not yet.”
“Coffee?” Olivia mentally ran through a list of Nicki’s favorite foods. “I could make you a latte and a breakfast sandwich.”
Nicki shook her head and placed a hand on her belly. “Sadly, I don’t think I can stomach coffee yet. Not sure about food either.”
Lincoln set a glass of water in front of her. “You need tea?”
Nicki nodded and slid onto a stool at the island. “Tea sounds good.”