Seeing Red (32 page)

And then Nate would leave and go back to his mysterious life.

That thought settled like a damp fog on her mood. Mysterious life. He’d lied under oath.

She didn’t know him at all.

A commotion down Broad Street caught Ellis’s attention.

Shouts rose. Several people ran toward the center of the street. Traffic stopped.

She heard someone yelling for a doctor. Without another moment’s hesitation, she hurried toward the crowd. She wasn’t a doctor, but she was well trained in first aid.

As she shouldered her way through the group of people, she said, “I have some training—”

The instant she saw the unconscious man lying on the pavement, her words died and her heart jumped in her chest.

Oh, dear God.

She fell to her knees next to Lorne Buckley. He was older, his hair now silver, but it was definitely him.

She realized she was staring at his face, not assessing his injuries.

Someone took off a suit jacket and laid it over Buckley’s chest. The pavement was very warm. Good for shock.

“Mr. Buckley? Can you hear me?” she asked. Even as she did, she noted the blood trickling from his left ear and his nose. It was clear his leg and possibly his arm were broken.

She leaned over his nose, listening for breathing.

There was so much noise around her that she couldn’t tell. She checked his carotid pulse with shaking fingers. Slow. Weak.

Airway. Make certain he has a clear airway. Don’t move his neck.

Once she focused on what she needed to do, her shaking subsided. She worked quickly and confidently, instructing others in how to help.

It seemed an eternity before she heard the wail of an approaching siren. Then, within seconds, a paramedic was there and took over.

She stepped back. As she watched, her heart began beating too fast and her shaking returned.

Poor Mr. Buckley. Such a kind man.

Suddenly it felt very personal again. Ellis turned away from what the paramedics were doing, her stomach feeling like she’d swallowed broken glass.

Several people around her were describing what they’d seen. Buckley had been crossing the street in the middle of the block, and a car had hit him, throwing him several feet in the air. The car hadn’t stopped.

“He landed just like a rag doll.” She heard one woman’s quivering voice say. “He hit his head on that truck bumper and bounced off on the way down.”

Ellis backed away, bumping against the jumble of onlookers as they gave accounts of what they’d seen.
A sedan. No, it was a two-door. Beige. Silver. White. Someone was in the passenger seat. The driver was alone in the car. It was a woman. It was a long-haired man.

The swirl of activity and noise around Ellis made her dizzy. She leaned back against a car fender to steady herself. Much to her selfish shame, the words racing through her mind were
Now there’s one less voice of reason, one less person in Nate’s corner.

The Friday afternoon traffic crept out of Charleston. It stacked up on entrance ramps and clogged bridges. Ellis wished she had Nate’s Hummer; she could just plow her way through.

It seemed wrong, running off from Buckley’s accident like she had. It felt disrespectful. Not that she had anything to offer the police; she hadn’t witnessed the accident. And she couldn’t afford to get tied up in Charleston, not when the police were looking for Nate.

She swallowed dryly. God, she wished she’d been able to talk to the prosecutor.

Every time she blinked, she saw Buckley sprawled on the pavement, his limbs jutting in unnatural angles. She sent up a swift prayer for Buckley’s recovery.

An accident. It was just an unfortunate accident. There was no way Buckley’s hit-and-run was related to what was going on with Nate and Alexander. That was just too big of a stretch.

Wasn’t it?

Things were stacking up against Nate. If she could somehow put Alexander and Kimberly Potter together at the same place and time, it’d be a good start. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought to take the photographs of Hollis Alexander to Seaside in the first place.

The farther she got from the city, the lighter traffic became. It was running like water over a spillway by the time she reached the bridge to Belle Island. Even so, her grip remained tight on the steering wheel, and her nerves were twisted like bomb-blasted steel.

When she reached the entrance to her neighborhood, Sam wasn’t in the guardhouse. The Gator wasn’t in its usual parking spot. She really wanted him to go with her to the condo. She waited for two minutes. Still no Sam.

She used her card and went through the gate. She couldn’t waste any more time. It was broad daylight; she’d be cautious.

She dialed Nate’s new cell number on her way into the complex. At the first ring, she disconnected. Nate hadn’t called her. Maybe there was a reason. With the police looking for him and her uncle having called every governmental agency he could think of with who knows what kind of accusations, there was a possibility of someone listening to either her or Nate’s calls.

She’d wait. Nate would find a way to get in touch.

When she pulled into her drive, she parked in the center of the pavement, away from places someone could be hiding and grab her as she exited the car. Before she opened the car door, she gave a good look around. She locked the doors when she got out.

As she rounded the corner of her building, heading toward the stairs, she gave the shrubbery wide berth. She studied her surroundings carefully, watching for any hint of movement.

Climbing the last flight, she debated whether or not to get out her gun.

Too risky. She might hesitate. She trusted her self-defense instincts would be quick if someone tried to attack her. If they had a gun . . . Well, she most likely didn’t stand a chance either way. Not, she assured herself, that it was an issue at all. Her door was undisturbed. Her alarm wasn’t screaming.

She slid her key in the lock. If the warning beep on the alarm didn’t start immediately, she’d cut and run.

She swallowed dryly and turned the knob.

The door opened.

The familiar chirping started. She had thirty seconds to disarm the alarm, or it would automatically call the police.

She locked the door behind her and walked past the keypad, ignoring its high-pitched demand. Thirty seconds was plenty of time to check the condo to make certain she was alone here.

The kitchen was clear.

The living room was clear.

The hall bath’s shower curtain was open as always. Bath and closet, clear.

The spare bedroom and closet were clear. Since there wasn’t a bed, there was nothing to hide under.

She entered her bedroom. No one.

Closet and bathroom, clear.

She quickly poked and swatted at the shower curtain. With an extended arm, she swung it open at the end of the tub. Clear.

She took a fast glance under the bed.

Just a pair of dirty socks.

She hurried to the control pad next to her bed and shut it off just as it was beginning to dial the police. Then she sat on her bed, feeling like she’d just run a marathon.

After checking and finding no new voice mails on her home phone, she stopped in her bathroom to wash her face before she left for Seaside Apartments again. The sticky humidity had left a salty film on her skin. All of her skin.

A three-minute shower would give her the lift she needed to go out and beat the bushes again. It was after six. She thanked heaven for daylight savings time. She had a good two and a half hours before dark.

As she pulled off her sandals, she reached behind the shower curtain to get the water going.

Her phone rang. Nate?

She stripped off her top as she ran to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Ellis? What’s the matter? You’re out of breath.”

Damn. “Oh, Rory, I was just leaving . . . had to run to catch the phone.” She wished she hadn’t answered.

“I was just calling to see how you are.”

“I’m fine. You know me, Cautious Clara.”

“Ellis, I want to see you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” This was not the time to talk about their relationship. It had taken her weeks and weeks to make the decision to break up with him. Everything was too nuts now for her to make a sound decision about the two of them.

He was silent for a moment. She could hear his frustration in his breathing. It almost made her relent.

“Your dad’s in the hospital,” he finally said. “There’s a crazy man after you. I think you should stop being so stubborn and let me stay with you.”

She stepped out of her capri pants and realized the knees were black from where she’d knelt on the city street. A little shiver ran down her arms.

“I really appreciate your worrying about me. But between my six locks, my alarm system, my pepper spray, my brown belt, and the gun my dad’s making me carry, I’m perfectly safe.”

“Dammit, Ellis!” Rory yelled. Then his voice slid low and as hateful as she’d ever heard it. “He’s with you, isn’t he?”

“No one is with me.”

“You owe me better than this, Ellis.”

She did. She knew she did. They’d been together for a long time. And, whether he believed it or not, she hadn’t come to her decision easily. Why couldn’t he see it was best for both of them to be apart? At least for a while.

“I
am
alone, Rory. And I’m fine. Now, I really have to go.”

“Wait, Ellis, I’m sorry.” His voice was pleading. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Good-bye, Rory.” She hung up, just a little thankful for his rare spate of anger. It made her see things more clearly. She had been fooling herself. She’d thought she and Rory got along because they were alike. But it wasn’t that at all. Rory was like too-soft meringue. He folded and melted into himself when he should stand strong—when she
needed
him to stand strong, stand up to her.

Another thought came on the heels of that one. Had that been the reason she’d gone out with him in the first place? Because she’d known she could win a war of wills?

“Ugh.” These were thoughts for another time. She threw off the rest of her clothes on the way to the bathroom.

Then she slipped inside the shower curtain and pulled it closed behind her.

She turned toward the spray . . . and screamed.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-FOUR

E
llis jumped backward, lost her footing, and fell, hitting her elbow on the tub edge and her head on the tile surround. Her eyes stayed fixed on the nude doll dangling from the showerhead. Its green eyes were open. Its brown hair dripped water. A small screwdriver protruded from its throat. A pair of Ellis’s panties hung from the screwdriver.

This was no child’s baby doll. It was a slender twenty-four-inch, anatomically correct version of a Barbie, with no detail left to the imagination. A pervert’s plaything.

Ellis lay there under the pelting water, gasping. Her right arm tingled like a son of a bitch. Feeling her head with her left hand, she located a goose egg already forming.

How in the hell had he gotten in here? The alarm hadn’t been tripped. The door was still locked.

Her feet slipped and slid as she pushed herself to a sitting position.

The phone rang and her heart tried to stick itself to the underside of her brain.

She shut off the water with her foot.

The phone kept ringing.

Ellis pulled herself out of the tub, dripping water everywhere. She grabbed a towel and held it to her chest, then reached for the phone.

Putting it to her ear, she didn’t say anything, dread choking her. She braced herself for Alexander’s disturbing distortion of her name.

“Ellis? Ellis, are you there?”

“Nate! Oh, my God, Nate! Where are you?”

“Outside your front door. Let me—”

She dropped the phone and sprinted for the door. Her wet fingers slipped on the dead bolt. When she got the door open, she hurled herself into his arms.

“He was here! He was here,
inside
.”

Nate’s arms came around her. He lifted her feet off the ground and stepped inside the door.

He held her with one arm and pulled his handgun. “Where?”

“Not now. He’s gone.” She clung to him. “I don’t know how he got in. The alarm was still on.”

Nate kicked the door closed behind him and put his gun away. “While you were in the shower?”

At that moment, she realized she was wet and naked. His hands were on her bare back. The towel was pressed between them.

“
Oh.
” She released her hold on him and tried to gather the towel around her. “No, while I was gone.”

He grabbed the towel ends and pulled them to meet on her back. Then he held her close again. “You were supposed to stay here.”

“I had things to do,” she said defensively.