Don't Close Your Eyes (20 page)

Natalie shivered dramatically. “And when Jane comes back and Mrs. Rochester has burned down the mansion?”

“Oh, yeah! And poor Mr. Rochester is blind!”

“I see the Port Ariel Jane Eyre fan club is alive and well,” Nick laughed. “I’m sorry, honey, but you’ll have to watch it on the little-bitty TV set.”

“Sheriff Meredith, I could stay with Paige until you get back,” Natalie said.

“It’s Nick and we couldn’t impose. I’m sure you have things to do.”

“Actually, I don’t. I’d like to stay and watch Jane Eyre with Paige.” And he remembers you as the woman who shot up the local dance hall with a gun you were carrying illegally, Natalie thought. Very reassuring. She felt ridiculous for suggesting he entrust his daughter to her when there was a murderer on the loose. “Of course, I understand your wanting her to be with you, though,” she stumbled. “I didn’t mean to interfere—”

“I love Paige’s company, but I’m going to be busy,” Nick said suddenly. “If you’re sure you don’t mind staying, I would appreciate it and I know Paige would, too. I don’t want to spoil the movie for her.”

“Great!” Paige burst out.

Amazing, Natalie thought. Maybe he didn’t think she was a nut after all.

“I’ll be home by ten,” Nick promised. “Keep the doors locked.”

“Oh, Daddy, I always do,” Paige said. “I’m going to fix popcorn. And Cokes. Or 7Up. Or whatever you like, Natalie.”

“Sounds terrific.” Natalie looked at Nick. “I’ll take good care of her. You go do your duty. We’ll be here suffering through the trials and tribulations of a nineteenth-century heroine and loving every minute of it.”

It was 10:45. He’d told Natalie he’d be back by ten. Would she be mad?

“Nick Meredith, you act like you’re married,” he said aloud. “Natalie is not your wife. She’s some woman you barely know. Probably shouldn’t even have trusted after that dumb stunt she pulled at The Blue Lady. If she’s mad, you never have to see her again.”

He hoped she wasn’t mad.

When he unlocked the front door and walked in, he saw her curled into a corner of the couch hugging an oversized pillow and watching Street Life. Her sandals lay on the floor and her long hair hung in a sloppy braid somewhere near her right ear.

“Natalie?”

She jumped, then smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid I was somewhere between waking and sleeping. The movie ended at ten and Paige was worn out. She and Ripley are in hypersleep.”

Nick laughed. “I take it you two had quite an evening.”

“We did indeed. Before the movie we played the piano.”

“You actually got her to play?” Nick asked.

“Yes. She said she hated her lessons, but I taught her a few songs. She has talent.”

Nick smiled. “Both the piano and the talent come from her mother.”

“I think she doesn’t like her lessons because the teacher concentrates on classical music. It isn’t her favorite. Afterward she got out her boombox and we danced and sang to

some songs she does love. Did you know she’s a closet rock star?”

“I’ve had hints.”

“So was I at her age. I’ve promised to give her a few guitar lessons, if you don’t mind.”

“You play the guitar?”

“Yes, since I was younger than Paige.”

“Guitar lessons,” Nick said thoughtfully. “Maybe they would spur her musical interest the way the piano doesn’t. I don’t have an ounce of talent myself, but I’d hate to see hers go to waste just because she’s playing the wrong instrument.”

“It’s not the instrument—it’s the type of music. ‘Fur Elise’ doesn’t inspire her,” Natalie told him. “She’d prefer something more modern. Anyway, after our concert we played beauty shop. She’s practicing her French braid.”

Nick grinned. “Judging by the looks of your hair she needs more practice.”

“Don’t tell her that. She said this was her best braid yet.”

“Good Lord.”

“She’ll improve.” Natalie reached up and began untwining the long, shining strands of her hair. “During the movie we ate approximately five pounds of popcorn. After the movie she was determined to stay up until you came home but her eyelids were drooping. She’ll sleep late tomorrow.”

Nick looked troubled. “Was she still frightened about the murders?”

“She stopped talking about them. I’m sure she’s still afraid, though.”

“She and the rest of the town. It’s been one hell of a day.”

Natalie stood. She wore faded jeans and a pale green tee shirt. “You look tired,” she said, slipping her slender feet into the sandals.

“So tired I’ll never get to sleep.”

“I’d suggest a drink but alcohol makes you sleepy, then wakes you up in the middle of the night. May I fix you some warm milk?”

“I would love some warm milk, but after the evening

you’ve put in with my daughter, I certainly can’t ask—”

“You certainly can,” she said briskly. “Warm milk coming up, on one condition.”

“And that would be?”

“You get milk, I get information.”

“About the murders?”

“Yes.” Sensing his reluctance, Natalie said, “Sheriff Meredith—Nick—I knew these people. Tamara was one of my closest friends. Warren was her husband. This is all striking pretty close to home.”

He sighed. “Okay. You deserve information. Just give me a few minutes to unwind.”

Nick followed Natalie into the kitchen and took mugs from the cabinet while she got the milk. “Sit down before you fall down,” she directed, putting the full mugs into the microwave. “Do you like cinnamon in your milk?”

“I never tried it, but it sounds good. I feel like living dangerously tonight.”

She smiled. “I guessed you were a risk-taker.”

When he took a sip of warm cinnamon-flavored milk he said, “That’s great. I didn’t know what I’d been missing for thirty-six years.”

“My mother used to fix milk this way.” Suddenly she laughed. “Once she read some silly article that said nutmeg had the same effect as LSD, so she rushed out and bought some for herself, sprinkled it in milk, and gulped it down. She looked so disappointed when nothing happened.”

Nick stared at her.

“Let me explain Kira to you,” Natalie went on. “I was never allowed to call her Mommy—only Kira. Her parents lived in San Francisco. They were artists, very successful and very bohemian. Their son Peter was straight as an arrow. He and my father met in medical school. Unlike Peter, Kira was even more unconventional than her parents. She and my father were a total mismatch. I still don’t understand why she married him and had me. Maybe Dad and I were an experiment for her. Anyway, when I was six she took off. She was supposed to pick me up at school. She didn’t show.

Lily’s mother took me home. The house was empty except for the dog. Three hours later when Dad got back from the hospital, he found a brief note in the bedroom saying she was sorry but she had to explore her inner self or some such nonsense. She said she’d be fine and in touch with us soon. Soon turned out to be six months. She was in California. She’d joined a commune, she called it. I think it was really a cult.”

Natalie tossed Nick a lighthearted smile, but he saw the pain behind it. “She’s still floating around from group to group, man to man. I hear from her a couple of times a year. I haven’t seen her since I was twenty-one. She actually came to Columbus to talk me out of going into veterinary medicine. She said it was plebeian and that I should pursue my music. I ignored her.”

“That’s sad,” Nick said, and immediately felt foolish. The woman had poured out her heart and all he responded with was “That’s sad.” He tried again. “Back in New York I ran into cases of neglect and desertion by parents all the time. I got almost used to it, but then I never knew the people involved. It seems almost unbelievable to me when I think of my own mother, though. She had seven kids. Didn’t believe in birth control. My dad worked two jobs and Mom was a waitress, but things were still tough. She didn’t have a lot of free time, but what she had she devoted to us. And my own wife Meagan … well, she was a great mother. A wonderful, loving mother. I wish she could have seen Paige grow up,” he ended, feeling his throat muscles tighten. He took a sip of milk and sat rigid-faced when it wouldn’t go down.

“Paige was lucky,” Natalie said softly.

Nick nodded and managed to swallow. “Meagan died two years ago. That’s why we left New York.”

Natalie looked at him, clearly expecting him to go on with more details. But he hadn’t discussed Meagan’s death since it happened. A few people in Port Ariel knew that he was a widower. He’d never told anyone here how he had become one.

Natalie lowered her gaze and said casually, “It’s tough on a little girl to be without a mother—”

“Meagan was murdered.” The abruptness of the statement startled Nick. Natalie raised her eyes and the words began spilling from him. “She was working on a doctorate in English at N.Y.U. and had almost finished. One evening I came home and she was ecstatic. She’d done great on a general exam and wanted to celebrate with champagne. I offered to go to the liquor store, but she said I looked beat. The store was only a block away.”

He looked down, lines digging into his forehead. “Just as she was paying for the champagne, in came a couple of punks with guns. The clerk had to play hero and go for the owner’s gun under the counter.” He drew a deep breath. ‘The punks started shooting. Two people were injured slightly. The clerk took a bullet in the head and died instantly. They got Meagan in the abdomen and the neck—the carotid artery. She lived four hours.”

“Nick, I’m so sorry.”

“If only I’d gone for the champagne. Instead I was sitting at home with my shoes off watching television while my wife—”

“You couldn’t possibly have known what would happen,” Natalie interrupted firmly. “Certainly she’d gone to that store before and there weren’t any robberies. It was a random event. You can’t control the world.”

“More’s the pity.”

“It’s a pity, but it’s also a fact.” Natalie added hesitantly, “Paige never said a word about what happened to her mother.”

“She never does and it really worries me. I don’t want her to dwell on her mother’s death, but she won’t discuss it at all. I know she thinks about it constantly, though. They were so close. She adored her mother,” Nick said raggedly. “For five months after Meagan’s death I went around in a haze, furious one minute, lost in grief the next. I even got this weird silver streak in my hair.”

He paused and drew a deep breath. “Then Meagan’s sister

Jan started making noises about getting custody of Paige. That scared the hell out of me. There I was single and with a high-risk job. Not an ideal father, and Jan’s husband has powerful contacts in the New York judicial system. So I pulled myself together and decided I had to get Paige out of New York, away from the memories, away from the threat of Jan, away from the danger of the city because if I lost her, too …”

Nick laughed mirthlessly. “I started looking frantically for jobs in small places. Someone I knew who vacationed here every summer told me about Port Ariel. I came and looked it over and discovered I could get on the police force. It seemed like a miracle, even if I had to work for Sheriff Purdue. Then came the election. I ran and to my amazement, I won. I thought I had it made. I was the sheriff of a beautiful little town. I’d made a home for my child in a safe haven, or so I thought.”

“Port Ariel usually is a safe haven.”

“I guess I was just lucky enough to move here and become sheriff when all hell is breaking loose. People are looking to me for answers.”

“And you’ll find them.”

His dark blue eyes were anguished and the scar on his forehead turned dead white against the tanned skin. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes,” Natalie said sincerely. “Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

Nick studied her oval face, the fine skin, the intensely dark eyes with that beautiful slight slant. She not only looked lovely, she looked calm and intelligent and full of good sense. He suddenly felt astounded that he’d told her not only about Meagan’s murder, but also his anxiety over his daughter’s safety and her refusal to discuss her lost mother. Natalie had sat there with her warm milk and cinnamon, her soft husky voice, her tranquil manner, and elicited his darkest memory and his deepest fears. “Well, I’m a laugh a minute, aren’t I?” he asked dryly.

“You’re tired and worried.” She smiled. “You’re human.”

“I don’t think the citizens of Port Ariel want a human for a sheriff right now. They want a superhero.”

“Can you blame them? They’re scared.”

“You don’t seem scared, even after your visit to The Blue Lady.”

Natalie flushed. “Can we please forget that appalling lapse of good sense? I’m not usually such a fool. And for the record, I’m just as scared as everyone else.”

“And you’re also full of questions about the murders.”

“Maybe now isn’t the time for me to be asking questions.”

“Because I sound like I might blow into a million pieces? I won’t. I never do. And it might help me to talk about all of this. Actually I have a few questions of my own.”

Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Quid pro quo? You trust my assessments even after our meeting at The Blue Lady?”

“No one shows perfect judgment all the time.” Nick smiled. “Not even me.”

“I’m glad you can be forgiving. Okay. What can I tell you?”

He leaned forward. “Did you know Warren Hunt was involved with Charlotte Bishop?”

She shook her head. “Lily can’t—couldn’t—stand him and I think she suspected affairs, but she never mentioned anyone in particular. Frankly I’m shocked to hear about him and Charlotte.”

“Why?”

“Warren was a nice-looking man, a professional, but Charlotte was beautiful and rich and fresh out of a marriage to a gorgeous television star. Warren Hunt seems a bit mundane for her.”

“I thought the same thing. About Warren being boring after what she’s used to, not about Paul Fiori being gorgeous.” She made a face at him. “So you have no idea how long they’ve been seeing each other?”

“Certainly not when Charlotte was in California. The affair must have started after she came back to Port Ariel just a few months ago.”