Authors: Rochelle Alers
Dana couldn’t pull her gaze away from the typed report prepared by a medical examiner twenty-two years ago. He listed the cause of death as two bullet fragments lodged in the frontal lobe and one in the neck, which had severed an artery.
One entry in particular got her complete attention. Alicia Nichols was pregnant at the time of her death—estimated gestation period: twelve weeks.
Tyler had guessed correctly. Alicia was pregnant when she was murdered
.
Burying her face in her hands, she tried bringing her fragile emotions under control. Harry Nichols’s strident voice invaded her thoughts:
How can you still do it now that I have proof?
Now Dana knew what the proof was. Her father had found out his wife was pregnant—by another man.
If it wasn’t Harry’s baby she was carrying at the time—then whose was it? She read the report over and over until she’d memorized every typed word.
Lowering her hands, Dana sat on the slider, staring out into nothingness with unseeing eyes. The sun had passed over, indicating it was late afternoon. It was time she went home. And it was also time she told Tyler of her suspicions. Her period was more than ten days late. What surprised her was that Tyler seemed oblivious to her physical condition.
A slight frown appeared between her eyes. They hadn’t made love in more a week. She was usually in bed and asleep when he slipped in beside her, and when she woke up the space beside her was empty.
She stood up at the same time the tiny phone in her purse rang. Retrieving it, she answered the call, her heart racing uncontrollably when she heard Tyler’s voice.
“Come home, Dana.”
“What’s the matter, Tyler?”
“Now!” His voice reverberated in her ear.
Her temper exploded. “Don’t yell at me!” The words were forced from between her teeth.
He cursed. Words she couldn’t understand—violent curses in Spanish.
“Tyler, talk to me—in English!”
“Dana, baby. Please come home.”
She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay. I’m on my way.”
Her heart was pumping so fast she felt light-headed as she locked up her grandmother’s house and walked to her car. Her hands shook, and it took several attempts before she was able to turn the key in the ignition.
It was Thursday, his late night at the clinic. Why was he home? The whys followed her as she tried to stay under the speed limit. The last thing she needed was to be stopped for speeding.
She turned off onto the private road leading to her home. The word slapped at her.
Home
. The large house overlooking the Mississippi was her home, yet she spent more time at her grandmother’s house than in her own house. She only stayed when there was a delivery of another piece of furniture; other than that, she stayed away.
She hadn’t notified her boss that she wouldn’t be
returning to her position at the
Chronicle
, or her landlady that she would come and clean out her apartment. All of her energies were focused on clearing her family’s name. And if she did prove Harry Nichols hadn’t murdered her mother, what would it change? It wouldn’t bring him or her mother back.
She’d come back to Hillsboro to bury her last surviving relative, and had fallen in love with a sexy, passionate, patient man, marrying him within two weeks of their meeting.
Now, she was certain she carried his child beneath her heart—a child who would carry on the bloodlines of generations of Nicholses and Suttons. The spirits of Harry, Alicia, and Georgia were still alive in her and in her baby yet to be born.
Tyler was waiting for her when she pulled into the garage. One look at his face told her something was wrong. She got out of the car, quickening her pace until they were face-to-face. Lines she’d never seen before were etched in his forehead and alongside the length of his thin nose.
“What is it?”
He stared at her for a full minute. “Come in and I’ll show you.” She followed Tyler into the house and into the library. “Sit down. Please.”
She sat on the love seat facing the flat-screen television mounted on the wall. Her gaze followed his fluid stride as he walked over to his desk and picked up a white business-size envelope. He returned to where she was sitting, handing it to her.
“I found this pushed through the slot in the door after someone called me at the clinic telling me I should go home and pick up a package that should be of great interest to me.”
Dana stared at the envelope. There was nothing written on it. “What’s in it?”
Tyler drew his lips back over his teeth. “Open it and find out.”
Staring at the envelope, she turned it over and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Her eyes widened when she read the cut-out letters glued haphazardly on the paper:
DOC—TELL YOUR WIFE TO STOP SNOOPING OR YOU WILL END UP LIKE NICHOLS
.
Dana stood up, the paper falling to the floor. “What’s going on, Tyler?”
His eyes widened until she could see their raven depths. “You tell me, Mrs. Cole.”
Her fingers curled into tight fists, her nails biting into the tender flesh of her palms. “You think I have something to do with that piece of garbage?”
Closing his eyes, Tyler breathed in and out through his mouth, struggling valiantly not to lose his temper. He opened his eyes, staring through her. “I don’t know what to think right now. I wanted to show it to you before I call Billy Clark. I wanted to give you the opportunity to open up to me before the law gets involved.”
Her mind refused to register the significance of his statement until he picked up the telephone, asking the operator to connect him to the sheriff’s office.
Picking up the tiny purse she’d left on a side table, she threw it at his head, missing him by inches, the contents spilling over the floor. “How dare you!” she screamed uncontrollably.
Taking two long strides, Tyler caught her wrists, tightening his grip when she attempted to free herself. “I dare, Dana, because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She tried pounding his chest. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“Didn’t you read it? Really read it? It’s not an invitation to a formal dinner party. It’s a death threat.”
Her brow creased in worry. “Death threat?”
“Yes, baby. It says
you will end up like Nichols
. It’s not specifying which Nichols—Harry or Alicia.”
Tyler led her back to the love seat, sitting and pulling her down beside him. “I need you to tell me what you’ve uncovered about your mother and father before Billy gets here.”
“Not much.”
“You say not much, but someone else probably thinks you’re close to uncovering the truth. Which means Harry did not kill your mother, and that the murderer is alive and living in Hillsboro.”
“You were right,” she began. “My mother was pregnant when she died. She …” Her words died on her tongue when the phone rang.
Tyler got up to answer it. The natural color drained from his face, leaving it a sickly yellow under his tan. Dana rose as if in a trance.
“What is it?” she asked as he ended the call.
“Billy says he has a warrant for my arrest. He says one of my patients claims I raped her.”
Dana felt the room spinning, but she didn’t faint. She refused to faint. Reaching for Tyler’s hand, she held it in both of hers.
“No, no, no.” She didn’t recognize her own voice. She held him until the doorbell rang. It was then she stood up and walked with her husband to the door to meet Billy Clark.
The news of Tyler’s arrest had everyone shaking their heads. People stood around in small and large groups, discussing what they believed was the truth: Twana Singleton had come to the clinic late one night, complaining of pains in her abdomen. Even though Dr. Cole said it was after hours, he agreed to see her.
He waited for her to undress, and then he forced himself on her. She only came back a few days ago because she suspected she was pregnant. He pretended he didn’t know her because his nurse was present. But then he confirmed that she was pregnant. He told her because he was married she had to get rid of the baby. Twana broke down, crying pitifully because although she’d been raped, she didn’t believe in abortion. There were at least five people in the clinic’s waiting room who overheard Twana tell Dr. Cole to stay away from her, that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.
Dana longed to tell the ignorant gossipers that Tyler would never agree to see a patient without a nurse present, that he would never rape a woman.
Billy Clark had apologized profusely when he had to read Tyler his rights. But he’d spared him the humiliation of handcuffing him. Dana had called Eugene Payton even before Tyler was in the police cruiser, asking him to represent her husband. Eugene had instructed her to meet him at the Greenville Court, and to make certain she brought her checkbook.
It took less than four hours, but after being arraigned, Tyler was released after Dana posted a fifty-thousand-dollar bond. She’d written a check from the account she’d set up with the proceeds of her inheritance.
Tyler was home, but he hadn’t returned to the clinic. The judge had ordered him not to return until after a grand jury heard the charges against him.
She and Tyler were married, living under the same roof, but they could’ve been strangers. Tyler moved out of the bedroom, preferring instead to sleep in his library. She waited for him to finish in the kitchen
before she entered to prepare her own meals. Whenever their gazes met, Dana felt his enmity radiating from the depths of his coal-black eyes.
After three days cooped up in the house, she felt as if she were the one under house arrest. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she headed for the lower level. The fish she’d prepared the night before had triggered an uncommon thirst.
Walking into the kitchen, she didn’t see Tyler until she heard his sudden intake of breath. He was sitting in the dark in the breakfast room. Rising slowly to his feet, he glared at her. There was something so menacing about him standing there in his bare feet, his chest bare and the three-day stubble darkening his cheeks. A pair of drawstring sweat pants rode low on his narrow hips. It was apparent he’d lost weight.
“When were you going to tell me, Dana?”
She stared at him as if he were a stranger. “What?”
He moved closer, literally stalking her, but she refused to move. Tyler Cole had to know he couldn’t intimidate her.
Reaching out, he placed his hand over her belly. She looked at his hand before tilting her chin. “How did you know?”
A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’m a doctor, and I’m your husband. I happen to know your body.” His hand moved up over the lace on her nightgown to cradle a breast—one that was fuller, heavier.
He quickly calculated the last time Dana had had a menstrual flow. “You should give birth before the end of March.”
She placed her hands over his. “I wanted to tell you, Tyler, when I realized I hadn’t gotten my period, but it was never the right time.”
Vertical lines appeared between his eyes. “What do you mean about the right time? Despite what’s going
on in our lives at this very moment, it is the right time.” Closing her eyes, she smiled the most beautiful he’d ever seen.
“I knew if I told you, you probably would’ve tried to stop me from continuing my project.”
“You’ve got that right.”
She opened her eyes. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“You’re very close to uncovering the truth, baby. Very, very close, or someone wouldn’t be working so hard to destroy my career and my reputation. The only way they can hurt you is through me.”
She touched his mouth with her fingertips. Seconds later her mouth replaced her fingers. “I came down here because I want a glass of water,” she said.
“Sit down. I’ll get it for you.”
She moved to chair and sat down at the same time a loud popping sound exploded in the air. One moment she was sitting. Then she sprawled facedown on the floor, Tyler’s weight bearing down on her.
“Tyler!”
“Don’t move, baby.”
“What was that?”
“Someone just shot at us through the window.”
“No!”
“Don’t panic. I’m going to try to get to the telephone to call the police. I don’t want you to move.”
She squirmed under him. “Tyler!”
“Don’t move!”
“Whoever it is will see you.”
“No, they won’t. I’m going to crawl into the bathroom.”
“What the hell do you want to do that for? There’s no phone in the bathroom!”
“Yes, there is. I left one of the cordless in there.”
Raising her head slightly, she tried to see his face.
“What were you doing with a telephone in the bathroom?”
“Don’t ask, Dana.”
She lay motionless while Tyler eased off her body and slithered along the floor in the direction of the bathroom. A small scream escaped her parted lip with the sound of breaking glass.
Dana lost track of time as she lay on the cool tiles. Without warning, the track lights over the sink went dark. “Tyler! Where are you?” She’d whispered, but her voice sounded unusually loud in the stillness.
“I’m here. The police are coming.” His hands roved her over body, searching for her hand. “I’m going to get you upstairs where it’s safer.”
“No, Tyler. I’m not going to leave you here alone.”
“I’m going to be all right.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I have a gun in the library.”
“What are you doing with a gun?”
“I’m going to get it and pop whoever the hell it is that’s shooting at us. I’m going to count to three, then I’m going to pick you up and sprint for the staircase.”
Dana hesitated. She didn’t want to leave Tyler, didn’t want him to leave her. But she had to trust him, enough to believe he would protect her, keep her safe. “Okay.”
Tyler breathed out a sigh before he began counting. He hadn’t expected Dana to cooperate. “One … two … three.”
Gathering her in his arms, he adjusted her weight, and then moved quickly across the kitchen. A barrage of bullets smashed windows, slivers of glass spraying walls and floors like confetti.