The Silent Witness

Alex’s gaze shifted. Another man was Officer Derek Jackstone, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He almost hadn’t recognized the man. Jackstone would do well if he ever tried undercover work. Put him in different clothing and he tended to blend in.

One of the other two men also looked vaguely familiar, but Alex couldn’t place him or the fourth man immediately.

The room they waited outside of served as the interrogation room. Alex had graced the insides before. He didn’t have to wonder why they were all being herded in there now.

“I’m going to take these cuffs off in a minute for the lineup, Coughlin, but just remember, one false move—”

“What lineup?”

“Shut up.”

Osher gave him another shove. All four men looked up. Jackstone took a quick step in their direction. He was a good cop. “Problem, Thad?”

“No problem. Right, Coughlin?”

Alex met Jackstone’s eyes. “Osher arrested me, but he won’t tell me the specific charge. He also won’t let me call my lawyer.”

Derek’s frown deepened. Osher scowled. “Plenty of time for that after the lineup.”

Alex spun around fast enough to make Osher back up again. “What lineup? I want to know why I’m being held.”

“You read him his rights, Thad?”

“Of course I did.”

“Osher’s never heard of illegal harassment,” Alex told Jackstone. “I think my lawyer is going to have to instruct him.”

“Take the cuffs off, Thad,” Derek said. “Mr. Coughlin isn’t going to cause us any trouble. Isn’t that right?”

“Not at all,” Alex told him pleasantly. “I plan to cause Osher here a great deal of trouble, but all of it will be legal, I promise.”

When Osher would have shoved him again, Jackstone quickly stepped between them.

“Back off, Derek,” Osher demanded.

“You’re letting him bait you, Thad. Let him go.”

“No way. I’m personally going to see this smart-mouthed punk is put away until he’s too old to hold a fork.”

Alex stared hard at Osher’s ruddy complexion. “Even if it means you have to manufacture evidence?”

Osher shoved Jackstone aside. He gripped Alex’s shirt-front. Coffee foully laced his breath. “I don’t have to manufacture anything, Coughlin. We’ve got an eyewitness to that shooting last night. That should put you away for a very long time.”

“That’s enough, Thad,” Jackstone said quickly. “Let him go and get those cuffs off him. We’ve got an audience, in case you forgot. The chief isn’t going to like this.”

Osher muttered a vicious oath, but he released the cuffs. Alex rubbed his chafed wrists openly, while trying to think back to the events of the night before. Eyewitnesses were notoriously unreliable, but what if this one did pick him out?

“Come on, Coughlin,” Jackstone said quietly. “Let’s get this over with.” He opened the door to the interrogation room.

“This is your idea of an official lineup?”

“We aren’t equipped with all the bells and whistles, but this will do,” the young officer replied.

“My lawyer’s going to be rubbing his hands with glee.”

Osher cursed again, but allowed Jackstone to lead Alex into the room. Alex heard the lock click on the door behind them. The room was empty except for a table and three chairs. One wall had a two-way mirror. Alex resisted the urge to make a childishly rude gesture in that direction. Instead, he sauntered over to perch on the edge of the tabletop.

He stared directly into his own face, careful to keep his features as expressionless as possible, while mentally reviewing his actions the night before. Who was their witness? And exactly what had the person seen?

The witness could be one of the shop owners who’d stepped out back, or a customer in the parking lot, or even someone in one of the apartments over the shops. None of the stores had rear-facing windows. Fortunately, that meant the witness couldn’t be Nicki. She’d been inside her shop all night, right up until the gunshots had sounded.

Alex frowned. Once he’d learned about her craft shop, he’d deliberately stayed away from that part of town. The last thing he could afford was the complication of running into Nicki Michaels again after all this time. But everything had changed last night with a single phone call. All his good intentions dissolved. He’d stood across the street and watched her move around inside her store while he remembered things that were better left forgotten.

“Stand up, Coughlin.” Osher’s voice came from a speaker on the wall in the corner. “Everyone needs to stand against the rear wall and face the mirror.”

Jake Collins frowned. So did one of the other two men Alex didn’t know. In fact, that man looked decidedly nervous. Alex paid him a little more attention, especially when he found himself sandwiched between Collins and the stranger. The man’s jeans were crusted with dirt and greasy stains. He smelled of motor oil and sweat and stale cigarettes. He had a working man’s hands. Dirt was caked under the split and broken fingernails. Alex wondered who he was and what he was doing here in Fools Point. A drifter? They didn’t get many of those here in town.

One at a time, Osher had the men take a step forward and stand in profile. Despite the fact that all of them had dark hair and were of a similar build, if someone had seen Alex in the alley last night, they weren’t going to be fooled by this charade. Most police forces didn’t bother with lineups any more. They showed victims or witnesses pictures instead, but Osher was making it blatantly clear who he wanted this witness to point out. Chief Hepplewhite had picked a bad week to take his wife into D.C. for medical evaluation.

Hepplewhite was a good cop. Smart, thorough, with no axes to grind. Osher, on the other hand, couldn’t find a clue if he was stepping on one. Alex stepped back and waited to be denounced. Minutes later, Osher’s voice filled the room again. This time, he sounded disgusted.

“Okay, let’s do it one more time.”

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. The witness hadn’t picked him out. But then, what had the witness seen last night? He was going to have to find the person and have a little talk.

“TAKE ANOTHER LOOK, Ms. Michaels. A good look this time.”

Nicki couldn’t do anything else. Her insides had twisted the moment the four men had walked into the room. Alex Coughlin, big as life and twice as sexy, had strolled over to perch on the edge of the table. He stared straight into her eyes. Suddenly, she was sixteen again and desperately in love.

He had to be almost thirty-four by now. And he still needed a haircut and a shave. She almost smiled. Then she realized her fingers were half-raised as if to stroke that cheek. She clutched her hands together as Sergeant Osher spoke to the men.

Nicki shook her head to rid it of the wash of bittersweet memories. This was hardly the time or the place.

“Ms. Michaels, you aren’t even trying,” Osher protested. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’ll protect you.”

She pulled her arm away from his annoying touch. “I’m not the least bit afraid, Sergeant Osher. But, like I told you, it all happened fast. It was very dark outside. I’ve complained to city hall about that broken streetlight behind the store several times. No one does anything.”

“Ms. Michaels, I know it was dark, but you were right there. You saw the murder.”

Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I can’t point a finger at anyone, I told you that. I never got a clear look at his face.”

At least she could say that and speak the truth. She had never seen the murder let alone the murderer’s face. In her heart, she knew it was Alex she’d seen running across the street. But that didn’t mean he’d pulled the trigger, despite what Ilona had said.

Nicki would go to jail herself before she’d make a positive identification of anyone. She’d given the police the description Ilona had passed on to her. That was as far as she was willing to go. Her mind refused to reconcile the Alex she had known with a man who could walk up to a car and kill someone in cold blood.

Her Alex had been tough. Ready to defend himself—or anyone weaker if it came to that. But he had never sought trouble. Of course, he hadn’t needed to. It always came looking for him.

She shrugged off that memory. She was now certain Alex had been across the street right before the shooting. If she was right, he would have had to run across the street the minute she started back to her office with the cash drawer in order to be in position to fire those shots.

Okay, it was possible. Barely. She didn’t want to believe it. Nicki chewed on her bottom lip. Anyone witnessing a murder would run away. That didn’t make Alex a killer.

Did it?

“Try, Ms. Michaels. Try real hard.”

She glared at the policeman and decided even if she had seen the murder with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have said so to this bully. Thad Osher made her skin crawl. She didn’t like the way he almost leered whenever their paths crossed. He seemed to think he was irresistible to women, but he made her feel dirty and undressed.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t say for sure.”

She stared at Alex. A pang of loss held her transfixed. She’d thought him unbearably sexy at nineteen. Cocky. Sure of himself. Running all over town on that secondhand motorcycle he’d bought. Refusing to let the scandal surrounding his father’s death touch him, despite all the whispers and pointed fingers. Alex had been bitter and angry as a teenager, but he’d never been anything but kind to her.

She’d never forgotten the day he’d picked wildflowers for her down by Trouble Lake. He’d talked about his dreams for the future. A future that hadn’t included a sixteen-year-old girlfriend, she’d finally realized. Back then, she’d been so sure he’d return for her one day. But he never had.

Osher brought his fist down on his thigh in a gesture of frustration. “Did you see the guy or not?”

She looked into his glittering eyes and wanted to run. Instead she squared her shoulders defiantly. “Badgering me isn’t going to change a thing, Sergeant. I told you what I saw. I’ve looked at your suspects. Now, I need to open my shop.”

He stood too close. Nicki decided he had mean eyes. She fought down an instinctive need to back away and held her ground. Sergeant Osher was the type to take advantage of any perceived weakness.

“You know, Ms. Michaels, once the word gets out there was a witness, that shop might not be a safe place for a woman like you.”

A trace of fear mixed with her loathing. “Are you threatening me, Sergeant?”

His eyes flickered. “Not at all. Call it a friendly warning. You’ll be a lot safer once the murderer is behind bars.”

“Then I suggest you find him.”

She half expected him to grab her arm as she stalked from the room, but he didn’t. She could feel twin spots of color on her cheeks as she strode quickly past Carolyn. The pretty receptionist, who also served as the police dispatcher, watched with a frowning expression of concern. Another time Nicki would have stopped to chat. Now, she just wanted to escape.

Nicki hung on to her haughty pose as she left the building and stepped into the wilting heat and humidity of the August sunshine. She was trembling with reaction, so furious she couldn’t think straight.

How dare he threaten her? Because no matter what he said, Osher’s words had been a threat. He was supposed to be a police officer. One of the men who protected the people. But he was the kind of man who gave policemen a bad reputation. How could his wife stand to be around him?

Nicki clung to her anger as she crossed the street and walked briskly past the General Store. Bianca Tooley waved to her from inside the post office a minute later. Nicki didn’t pause to talk with the lonely woman as she often did. All she wanted was the sanctuary of her safe little store.

Seeing Alex again had brought back all sorts of memories. Hot nights and even hotter kisses. He’d been the town’s bad boy and her first lover. And she’d cried enough tears to overflow Trouble Lake when he left. But Alex had never once looked back, just as he’d sworn. As far as she knew, this was the first time in all those years that he’d ever returned to town. He hadn’t even come home for his mother’s funeral. Was he here now because of his sister?

Ironically, Kayla was engaged to marry a D.C. police officer. And according to Mildred Kitteridge over at the General Store, the town council had approved Chief Hepplewhite’s request to hire more help. Alex’s soon-to-be brother-in-law was about to become the second in command of the Fools Point police force.

Could Alex really have killed a man in cold blood?

The question plagued her all day long as she taught a decoupage class, a knitting class, and two ceramic classes between waiting on customers. By the time the last brush had been cleaned, the last jar of glaze put away, and the large kiln loaded and turned on, Nicki was more than ready for an early night.

She ate dinner without tasting a bite. She was too edgy to settle down with her needlepoint project. Her cat stropped her leg in sympathy.

“Thanks, Ginger. If only Ilona would call so I could be sure she’s okay.” But the telephone remained obstinately silent.

Ginger parrumphed and butted her lightly. Nicki scratched behind the cat’s ears, then went to check the locks. She drew a tub of steamy water and added the new bath oil she’d been meaning to try. The scent really did remind her of gardenias.

Lighting several fat candles, she piled her hair on top of her head, selected a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and picked up her novel. She would read and soak and dispel these useless memories that had haunted her all day.

Less than twenty minutes later, she knew it was no use. She simply couldn’t keep her mind on the printed pages. The story deserved her attention, but thoughts of Alex kept intruding. He was a mature man now. Still cocky and full of swaggering confidence, and still irresistibly attractive.

Maybe Hope was right. Nicki was turning into a spinster. She’d even started talking to her cat. Smiling, she patted herself dry and pulled on her long satin robe.

“I wonder if other single women like satin lingerie and sleep in the nude, Ginger.” The cat raised her head inquiringly from the rug. Seeing no food in the offing, she curled again and closed her eyes. Cats had their priorities straight.

Nicki refilled her glass and settled down to watch the news. When she found herself almost nodding off, she turned off the TV and the light. Going to the front window that looked out over Main Street, she paused. Her heart began to pound. Was there someone standing in the shadows beside the appliance store once again?

Nicki stared so hard her eyes began to burn, but no one and nothing moved. It must have been her imagination. There wasn’t anyone there. Still, she remained standing for several more minutes just watching to be certain.

Feeling a bit foolish, she rechecked her door locks and headed for the bedroom. Maybe she and Ginger should get a dog. A large dog, like Spider, the Labrador retriever Bianca Tooley always kept at her side.

Good grief. Hope was more right than she knew. Nicki was turning into Miss Tooley.

Nicki tossed her robe over the nightstand and climbed into bed. Was Ilona safe? Had Alex Coughlin really walked up to a car in the alley and shot a man in cold blood?

Her last thought was that she hoped not.

The dream began with a memory. Alex’s soft kisses slowly awakened her passion. His arms held her, the way only his arms ever had. But now they were a man’s arms. Hard. Protective.

She was dreaming and she knew it, but she clung to the dream, not wanting to wake. She was on the brink of something wonderful. She tried to ignore the sense of wrongness that disturbed the dream and tugged at her half-conscious brain.

The creak of the floorboard next to her bed snapped her eyes open. Too late, she felt the presence inside the room. A hand came out of the darkness to clamp over her mouth.

“Don’t scream.”

Chapter Two

Terror gripped her. Nicki struggled, but she was pinned beneath the weight of her attacker, tangled in her sheet.

“Nicki, stop it!”

The low growl brought an instant halt to her struggles. Though she tried to make out his features in the darkness, she couldn’t. But never in a million years would she forget that voice. She stopped moving. Stopped breathing.

“Alex?”

“I think you broke my nose.”

The adrenaline seeped from her body. Badly shaken, she lay beneath him while a myriad of remembered emotions assaulted her. She selected anger and drew it on like a cloak.

How dare he scare her like this?

“Get off me!”

She shoved as hard as she could. Alex rolled away from her in the darkness. When she would have reached for the light switch, he stopped her, gripping her hand firmly.

“No lights.”

“Why not? What do you mean coming in here scaring me half to death in the middle of the night? Who do you think you are?”

“Your first lover?”

The words charged the silence with an arc of electricity that should have been visible to the naked eye.

“You bastard,” she said quietly.

“Not technically.” He stood up and sighed. “I’m sorry, Nicki. That was uncalled for.”

“Yes. It was.” She braced herself on her hands, halfway to a sitting position. “What are you doing here, Alex?”

In the darkness of the room, she sensed him rocking back on his heels. “Tonight? I need to know why Osher thinks you are an eyewitness to the murder last night.”

Hurt primed her anger, pushing aside all the other emotions. Even though it was too dark to make out more than shapes and shadows in the room, she covered her bare breasts with the sheet and sat up, suddenly all too aware that she was naked beneath the thin bit of linen.

“Why don’t you go ask him? He has my statement.”

The whistle of Alex’s pent-up breath was loud in the silent room.

“I’ve done all the talking with Osher that I plan to do. Talk to me, Nicki,” he coaxed. “Tell me what you saw last night.”

There had been a time when she would have told him anything. Everything. A time when she would have cheerfully lied for him or worse. But she wasn’t sixteen any more and he wasn’t the brash young Alex Coughlin she’d loved so desperately.

No. Now he was the brash mature Alex Coughlin. And that made him twice as dangerous.

“Get out of my house, Alex.”

“I can’t do that, Nicki. You were in your shop last night. You would have had to break speed records to get upstairs to your apartment before those shots were fired. That means you didn’t see the crime. Unless you opened the back door. Is that what you did, Nicki?”

“How do you know what I was doing last night?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said after a moment.

“I want to hear your version.”

He sat down on the bed, much too close to her. She could feel the heat of him against her hip right through the sheet. A heat she would have welcomed with open arms once upon a time.

“No games, Nic. This is too important.”

“I’d say so. A man died last night.”

“Yes. Now exactly what did you see?”

Nervously, she tugged on the sheet, aware that his eyes tracked the movement despite the darkness of the room.

“Why don’t you tell me what you were doing here last night. Tell me why you were watching my shop. Why last night when you’ve been in town for months?”

“You knew that?”

“That you were back?” She hoped he didn’t hear the pain she tried to bury deep in her heart. “Have you been gone so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to live in a small town, Alex? I knew you were back an hour after you breezed in on that motorcycle, acting like the world owed you big time. I can’t believe you’re still thumbing your nose at the police. I would have thought you’d have outgrown that phase years ago. Think your father would be proud?”

The carefully chosen barb struck its target. She heard his indrawn hiss. He reached forward suddenly and grabbed her forearms in a grip she couldn’t break.

The moment his rough palms touched her skin, her body seemed to go wild. The rush of sensual memories mixed with an undercurrent of new fear. Why had she pushed him? Ilona had described the murderer clearly. Alex fit the killer’s description right down to the clothes he’d been wearing.

“You always did have more guts than brains,” he said softly. “Let’s leave my father out of this. I haven’t got a lot of time right now. Tell me what you saw.”

Fear raised the hair on her forearms. Alex could kill her right here and no one would know. There wasn’t a thing she could do to stop him. The implacable hardness she sensed in him went deeper than she would have thought. Where was the young man she had loved so desperately? Didn’t any of him remain?

“I’m not telling you anything.” She refused to be cowed by Alex. Part of her didn’t believe he would harm her no matter how much he’d changed. But there was another part that wasn’t quite so certain.

“Stubborn. My God, you’re stubborn.” His hand stroked her cheek. The caress made her shiver. “But you’re still as soft as midnight.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

She didn’t want to respond to his touch, but it would have been easier to stop breathing. She stared into the darkness of his eyes and tried not to want him anymore.

“We aren’t the same people, Alex.” But the remembered feel of his hands on her was erasing time and stirring forgotten yearnings to life.

“Yes we are.”

His mouth descended, covering hers. Firm, hard lips demanded a response. For an instant, she yielded. Only, this wasn’t the kiss of her dreams, or even the kiss of her memory. This was an assault of raw, hard passion.

Nicki went still, even though her body clamored in instant recognition.

Alex broke away the moment he realized she wasn’t reciprocating. Rife with self-loathing, he leaned back, running a hand through hair that was already tangled and windblown from his ride over here.

What was he doing? For one crazed second, the exotic scent of her had driven him over some edge. He’d lost control in a way he hadn’t done since that summer all those years ago. One taste. One incredible taste, and it was fifteen years ago all over again. He wanted her with a longing that stunned him.

Alex stood and stepped away from the bed. Now he was the one who was shaking. He slicked his hands down his jeans, trying to still the crazy waves of desire that demanded more.

He’d always had excellent night vision, so despite the darkness, he saw how wide her eyes were. Wide and accusing. The sheet had slipped to reveal most of one rounded breast. She’d wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. She was still shaking as well, he realized.

“What do you want, Alex?”

The soft question lashed him with the barbs of her fear. He’d scared her.

Alex cursed. He felt dirty—like he’d never be clean again. The months of rough living were taking their toll. He was so tired of it all. Staring at her, he couldn’t help but feel he’d just soiled something important. The thought wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t afford to care, but he did.

“Thad Osher wants my neck in a noose, Nicki,” he said quietly. “He doesn’t care what he has to do to put it there.”

“Was it something you said?”

A tremor lay beneath her sweetly mocking voice. He hated knowing he had put it there. But he was secretly relieved that she wasn’t backing down. She had spunk. He should have remembered that about her. She never had backed away from anything. Not even when running with “that Coughlin boy” was the sort of reputation a nice girl didn’t want.

“Nicki, I’m sorry. I know you won’t believe this, but I’ve stayed away for good reason. In fact, I wouldn’t have come to see you at all if—”

“Gee thanks, that’s just what a woman wants to hear.”

“—you hadn’t begged me.”