Chapter 4
* * *
Something awakened Daisy in the middle of the night.
She checked the clock. The witching hour…
three a.m. As a nurse, she knew interrupting the deepest hour of the REM cycle was harmful to getting enough rest. She laid in bed and tried to go back to sleep.
Then she heard a noise. In the living room.
She wished her son Liam hadn’t stayed overnight with his best friend.
Stop being a wimp. Go check it out.
She felt fairly secure living in a condo since her divorce. Though each home was an individual building, the next-door neighbor was close. And there was security patrolling here.
Sliding out of bed, scoffing at the fact that she kept a bat in her bedroom, she nonetheless picked it up.
She peeked first in her son’s room. Nothing.
She checked the back door in the kitchen—it was locked—then she went to the main living area.
She skirted the two herringbone couches and crossed to the foyer.
Checked the front door handle. What the hell?
The door opened. She knew she’d locked it.
Or thought she had. She closed it and threw the dead bolt, which she admittedly hadn’t been using regularly.
She was turning around when she saw the big closet in the entryway was partly open. Liam could have left it that way but she thought it was closed when she went to make sure everything was secure before going to bed.
She pulled that door open.
A howl blasted her in the face, sending her stumbling back. She hit her head on the foyer table and went down.
The howling continued.
Her vision blurred and her head hurt like hell. She laid there until her mind partially cleared. She saw a ghost…dressed in black with a huge white face and wide O mouth. Scrambling up, she raced back to the bedroom and grabbed her phone.
Rev. Nick Clayton was the last call she’d made today. Still panicky, she punched in his number.
He answered after the first ring. “Nick Clayton.”
“Nick. This is Daisy Taylor.”
“Daisy, what’s wrong? It’s the middle of the night and I can tell you’re breathing hard.”
“Can you come over here?”
“I’ll be right there. But tell me first, are you or Liam hurt? Should I call 911?”
“No, I’m safe. I—” She got choked up. “It might be something stupid.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She sat on the bed and tried to slow her breathing. When she calmed some, she got a robe out of the closet and slipped it on over her pink summer pajamas. She went to the kitchen and put on coffee. While it dripped, she paced and waited for Nick.
Finally, her phone rang. “Nick.”
“It’s me. I’m at the front door.”
Hurrying through the living room again, she reached the foyer and undid the locks she’d just secured. The sight of Nick made her eyes tear.
He took her hands in his. “I’m here now. Let’s sit.”
“In the kitchen. I’m making coffee. Sleep is out of the question.” She bit her bottom lip. “Oh, dear, you might want to go back to bed.”
“No, not now. I’ll have coffee.”
They sat at the oak table in the kitchen nook. “Tell me what happened.”
“This is going to sound crazy. I was asleep…”
When she finished, he said, “I’ll go check it out. Then we can have coffee.”
He left the room and she waited in the kitchen. He came back soon. “What’s in the closet is scary. Do you know who the artist Edvard Munch is?”
“Yeah. In college, I majored in medicine but had a minor in art history.” She thought for a minute. “The ghost is one version of The Scream, isn’t it?”
“It is. I’m going to ask you something and don’t get mad. Could Liam have done this?” A few weeks ago, she’d asked for advice about her son acting up.
“My God.” Her stomach pitched. “Would my own son scare me like that?”
“I hope not. But we don’t know if it’s Liam’s work.” He took her hand across the table. “Do you have art books here?”
“A lot them.”
“I’m not accusing him. And you shouldn’t either. But we need to know. I take it he’s not here.”
“No, he’s staying overnight with his friend. He’ll be back in the morning.” She waited. “Nick, there’s something else. The front door was unlocked. I was sure I locked it, but I never use the deadbolt.”
“I use mine all the time.”
“That’s a polite way of telling me I should. I will.”
He smiled. “So, are you thinking somebody broke in?”
“Yes. I am. There’s more that I haven’t told you. My workplace has had some bad things happen. Some of the specific practitioners have been targeted, and the whole collective in general has been on the receiving end.” She listed the incidents.
His green eyes widened. “Dear Lord in Heaven. That’s awful. I assume you’ve gotten the police involved.”
“Them and the FBI.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Why haven’t you confided in me about this?”
“Why burden you with it? You can’t do anything.”
“I can offer solace and prayers, Daisy.”
She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I should have told you.”
“Do you want to call the police now?”
“Yeah. Jeff Marshall, the captain on our case, seems to be up at all hours. I’ll phone him.”
He linked their fingers and put his other hand over them. “I’m going to wait for him to arrive, if it’s all right.”
Comforted by the contact, she gave him a weak smile. “I want you to.”
* * *
Juliet felt better when she woke up Sunday morning in Ryder’s guestroom. It was early, six a.m. but once she was awake she never could go back to sleep.
She slid out of bed and into another sweat suit she had in her bag. After using the ensuite bathroom, she walked through to the other side. The boys were sound asleep.
She followed the corridor from that wing out to the living space. Ryder’s bedroom was in another wing. For a minute, she stared down the hall. What she really wanted was to go down there and climb into bed with him.
But of course, she didn’t.
When she entered the kitchen, she saw he was there, standing at the window, his back to her. He was a tall man but solidly built as evidenced in his knit navy sweatsuit.
“Ryder, I’m up. I don’t want to startle you.”
He turned and she moved closer. His expression was intense. “Good morning, Juliet.”
“Good morning.”
“I made coffee for us.”
“Thank you.” She crossed to the massive island where the carafe sat and poured herself some into the mug he left out for her.
“Come sit.”
He joined her at the table. She caught his scent—he’d showered, and she could smell the soap and shampoo. He asked, “How do you feel today?”
“It was hard getting the restraining order on Joey, but I feel safer now. I wish my parents would do it, too.” The court had alerted her late last night that the order had been served. She needed to go to family court tomorrow to register it. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“The kids were fine with Bridget.”
“Yes. Like you, she played games with them the whole time.” She seemed thoughtful. “Ryder how does Bridget have a life outside of bodyguarding? Is she married. Kids?”
“Yes, to both. Unless someone tried to shoot me or my business associates or out of town guests, she’s pretty safe. And as far as I know, I’m not in danger.”
“That’s good.” She sipped her coffee. “So, I’ll be going home today.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I have to do it sometime.”
“What about the collective being under siege?”
“Nothing’s happened in two months. I—”
Her phone buzzed. She checked the ID. “Oh, no, I cursed us. It’s Jeff Marshall.”
“The captain investigating the incidents?”
“Yes.”
“Put it on speaker.”
She clicked a button. “Hello.”
“Juliet, this Jeff Marshall. I’m afraid there’s been another incident. We’re meeting at the collective in the common room at ten. Three of your colleagues are bringing their spouses but your boys shouldn’t be there.”
“Of course not. See you then.”
“Be careful, Juliet. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I will.”
When she clicked off, she looked at Ryder.
He arched a brow. “Seems like Captain Jeff has a crush on you.”
“I know. He’s very solicitous of me.”
Ryder leaned over, tipped up her chin and kissed her thoroughly. Against her mouth, he whispered, “He can’t have you.”
“Our relationship hasn’t gotten that far for you to have the right to say that.”
“It has on my side.” Glancing away, he sighed heavily. “Let me come with you today.”
“I’d like that.”
He picked up his cell. “I’ll call Bridget again. She can bring her boys to play with yours.”
* * *
When Juliet and Ryder walked into the collective common room, all conversation stopped. Juliet said, “I’ve been staying with Ryder since you called him, Finn. I love you all but you’re not entitled to question me about this.”
Finn got up to shake Ryder’s hand. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
“Also,” Juliet continued, “I got a restraining order against Joey. It’s already been served.”
Oliver rose too and kissed her cheek. “Good for you, honey.”
After taking off their jackets, Juliet introduced the rest of them. Elise Preston seemed to be about four months pregnant, Anabelle Baker sat so hers and Oliver’s shoulders were touching, Joe Larson and Scarlet held hands. Daisy and Heath occupied the other end of the table.
“Where’s Jeff Marshall?” Juliet again.
“Right here.” The captain walked into the common area.
Ryder studied him. Unfortunately, he was a good-looking guy, tall and fit, with a confident gait. Ryder respected law enforcement but he didn’t want this man anywhere near Juliet. And when the hell had he become the possessive type?
Everybody in the room tensed up when Marshall arrived. Ryder didn’t blame them. They were living under horrible circumstances.
Daisy leaned forward in her seat. “The incident happened to me. At least we think it was another one by the same guy.”
“Are you all right?” Juliet asked.
“Unharmed. But I was scared out of my mind.”
“What happened, Daisy?” Heath’s tone was solicitous.
She scrubbed her hands over her face. Her usually healthy complexion had turned pale and her eyes were bloodshot. “I’m afraid to tell you this because it might sound silly.”
“Marshall said no matter how small the incident was to report it,” Oliver reassured her. “Right Jeff?”
“Right. Go ahead, Daisy.”