Buried Memories. Carol J. PostЧитать онлайн книгу.
had an awful temper. Whenever I was home, I’d stay in my room and sneak to the kitchen to get something to eat once he and my mom were passed out.”
She closed her eyes, events she’d tried hard to forget bombarding her. “Once I made the mistake of taking the peanut butter to my room. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed me into the wall. When my mom tried to stick up for me, he turned on her and beat her to a bloody pulp.”
She suppressed another shudder. At the time, she’d thought it was her fault. Now she knew better.
“You haven’t heard from him since that night, right?”
“No.”
“He was picked up near Ocala the morning after your mother was found and jailed on drug charges. Ended up doing fifteen years. But he was never charged with the murder. He had an alibi, albeit a shaky one, and although he was a suspect, we were never able to find enough evidence to convict him. Two weeks ago, another woman was stabbed to death. She’d recently ended a rocky relationship...with Louis Harmel.”
Nicki nodded, a cold numbness spreading inside her. Maybe her mother’s killer would finally pay for his crime. But how long would it take? And what would she go through in the meantime? How many memories would have to be dredged up before it was all over?
“Do you have any contact with your sister?” Granger’s words cut across her thoughts.
“No. We were separated after our mother was killed.” And even before that, they hadn’t been close. They’d shared a room—a dinky space hardly big enough for the two twin beds and single chest of drawers. But Nicki hadn’t taken much comfort in her sister’s presence. No matter how terrifying the sounds coming from the next room, Jenny had never let her share her bed.
“Six months ago, I hired a private investigator to find her,” Nicki said. Although the dysfunctional home and five-year age difference had kept them from being close, she’d thought of Jenny often over the years. Now Jenny was the only family Nicki had left.
“Are they making any progress locating her?”
“Yes and no. Three different times, the investigator has gotten leads, but every time he gets close, she disappears. It’s as if she doesn’t want to be found.”
There was probably a good reason. A criminal background check had turned up a hefty list of arrests. Nothing too serious. Just a bunch of petty stuff—forged checks, shoplifting, possession of marijuana, disorderly conduct. And likely plenty of other stuff waiting to catch up with her. No wonder she kept running.
“We’ve had the same experience. We haven’t been able to get close enough to explain what we want with her.”
“My guy is going to keep trying.” As long as she had the money. Her inheritance had allowed her to start the search and would enable her to keep it going for some time. “He’s making it clear to everyone he talks to that it’s her half sister looking for her, not law enforcement.”
Nicki hoped the message would eventually reach her. At least she was pretty sure that was what she wanted. Twice the investigator had asked her if she wished to continue, his tone heavy with doubt both times. Jenny’s life was a mess. She’d stayed in the foster care system until she aged out and had never known the love of a real family. Nicki didn’t even try to deny what she might be getting herself into seeking a relationship with her long-lost sister.
But she couldn’t turn her back on her. Yes, Jenny was messed up. But Nicki had been pretty messed up herself when Chuck and Doris Jackson chose to look past her faults and love her anyway. She could do no less for Jenny.
Granger stood, and his partner closed the notebook and followed suit. He extended a hand to shake Nicki’s, then handed her his business card. “We’ll be back in touch. Meanwhile, if there’s anything you remember that you haven’t told us, please give us a call. It doesn’t matter how insignificant it seems.”
She walked them to the door. “I will. And if you happen to find her, you’ll let me know?”
“We will.”
She watched them walk toward the sedan, then closed and locked the door. It was too late to go to church. Wednesday night services started at seven, and it was already seven-twenty. She crossed the room to sit on the couch, the same spot she’d vacated earlier. Callie approached and rested her head in Nicki’s lap.
Was Louie the one who’d killed her mother? Any number of men could have done it. But from everything she remembered, he seemed the most likely. He had the worst temper. And it wasn’t just that. He seemed to radiate evil.
She shuddered again and reached for the remote. An evening of brainless television held a lot of appeal, the opportunity to lose herself in someone else’s life for a short time. She let her head fall against the padded back of the couch and closed her eyes.
She’d spent the last two decades trying to forget.
Now they needed her to remember.
* * *
Tyler emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp but free of drywall dust. He’d hoped the days would be a little longer. It was Friday, and all week, Andy had been ready to call it quits by seven o’clock. Tonight it had been even earlier. Nine years Tyler’s senior, maybe Andy was slowing down. Or maybe he’d been thinking about Joan’s cooking and couldn’t hold out any longer.
Tyler drew in a slow, fragrant breath. The scent of baking roast beef that had plagued him since he stepped onto the front porch wrapped around him again, and his stomach growled. When he entered the kitchen, Andy was already there, helping Joan cut up salad ingredients.
She smiled over one shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. You guys messed me up coming home early.”
The doorbell rang, cutting off his response. Leaving them to their meal preparation, he made his way to the front door. When he swung it open, Nicki stood on the porch, Callie next to her. A smile spread across her face and lit her eyes, sending an odd warmth straight to his core.
“I was walking Callie and saw you guys were home.” She shifted her weight and cocked her head to the side. “You said you like to stay busy. How would you like to do a few projects for me?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“Several things. When you get a chance, stop by and I’ll show you what I’m looking for.”
He stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him. “I’ve got almost twenty minutes till dinner. And if I’m a few minutes late, I’m sure Joan and Andy will save me some.”
Nicki walked several feet down the driveway, then cut across the yard and into the woods. She glanced back at him, grinning. “Shortcut.”
“Yeah, I found this one myself.” It was the same route he’d taken Monday morning after seeing her to her door.
When they reached her yard, she pulled a set of keys from her pocket. “I used to not worry about locking up if I was just stepping outside for a few minutes. Now if the house is out of sight at all, you can be sure it’s locked.”
“That’s a good idea.”
He followed her into the house. Before Monday night, he’d made an assumption based on the simple block exterior. But on the inside, the place looked like something out of one of Joan’s home decor magazines. A leather sectional sofa wrapped around an oak-and-glass table set on a wrought iron base. A marble-type floor tile in varying shades of brown and beige met three walls the color of Dijon mustard, the fourth a deep burnt orange. Two curio cabinets held a variety of figurines, and a floor lamp with amber globes bathed everything in a warm glow.
“This looks great.” Whatever projects she had in mind, they probably didn’t include this room.
“Thanks. The prior owners made some updates but never finished. I like the floor tile, but they’d painted all the walls a boring off-white.” She grinned