knew all this and yet she hadn’t known his name until now, had never met him before today. For the past month she’d been haunted by visions of the handsome Nick Mead, visions that came from some unidentifiable force, visions that almost invariably came true.
She had no idea what force had brought him here to Cherokee Corners, but she didn’t want him here. She didn’t want him in town and she certainly didn’t want him under her roof. Danger…her brain screamed. His appearance here, the reality of him, made her head ache with dread.
But he was here…in Cherokee Corners, a guest in her bed-and-breakfast. Maybe he would only stay the night then be gone with the morning dawn.
Struggling up to her feet, a momentary wave of hope winged through her at this thought. If he left first thing in the morning, then it was quite possible she wouldn’t see him or talk to him again and maybe her terrible visions of him would cease.
An icy chill once again clutched her as she thought of the visions that had haunted her for the past month. The visions of making love to him wasn’t what frightened her, but each time, the vision ended with her stabbing him in the chest…stabbing him over and over again.
Chapter 2
As Nick unpacked his suitcase and hung his clothes in the armoire and dresser in the charming room decorated in various shades of blue, his thoughts weren’t on his surroundings but rather on the woman he’d seen briefly downstairs.
The antithesis of Dorrie, who had been sunshine and light, Alyssa Whitefeather had seemed like a woman cloaked in darkness.
Long, black hair had spilled down over her shoulders and her skin tones had been dusky, the cinnamon tones of Native American blood. High cheekbones had further attested to her heritage. Her eyes, dark blue, had been a shock, startling with their unexpected hue.
She’d been wearing a shapeless light blue sundress but it had been easy to tell that beneath the flowing material she was thin, but not without feminine curves.
As he took his toiletries into the adjoining bathroom, he couldn’t help but contemplate the expression that had taken over her lovely features in the instant she’d gazed at him.
Shock…stunned disbelief…it was as if she’d seen a ghost when she’d looked at him.
He stacked his personal items on the sink countertop. Shaving cream, razor, cologne, deodorant and a large bottle of aspirin marked the territory as his own for the duration of his stay, a stay he’d told Mary would be indefinite.
Maybe he looked like an old boyfriend who’d dumped her, or a cheating ex-husband. He knew for sure he’d never seen her before in his life. Nick had a knack for remembering faces. He wasn’t always great with names, but faces he never forgot and he was positive he’d never seen Alyssa Whitefeather before in his life.
He dismissed her from his mind as he returned to the bedroom and finished unpacking his clothes. When he’d emptied his suitcase, he turned to the briefcase. He walked over to a small table covered with a blue gingham tablecloth that sat in the corner with a window on either side.
He moved the vase filled with fresh-cut flowers from the center of the table to the top of the dresser, then set his briefcase on the table and opened it.
Inside were copies of files from the Cherokee Corners Police Department…the reasons he and his team had been requested to come to town. His two-man team would arrive tomorrow, the date when the chief of police, Glen Cleberg, was expecting them.
A serial killer was terrorizing Cherokee Corners, and after four murders, Chief Cleburg had finally called the FBI for help.
As a criminal profiler, Nick had seen more than his share of evil. As a man he’d tasted the horror of evil in his personal life. That particular horror had begun to fade with the passing of time.
Grief over Dorrie’s ugly death didn’t fill his every waking hour as it had in the days and weeks after her murder, but the rage had never left him.
He refused to allow the grief or rage to take hold of him now. He had a job to do here, and in order to do it to the best of his ability he had to remain unemotional and detached. In order to be successful he had to attempt to immerse himself in the life, the mind and the very evil of the murderer at work in this place.
One of the reasons Nick had decided to come a day earlier than his team was because he knew how important it was to get a feel for the town, for the people where a serial killer was at work. He liked giving himself a little time to soak up the local ambience before he dived into the task-force work.
With this thought in mind he opened the first file folder. He’d already read them all half a dozen times, but he’d continue to reread them until he had every fact, every piece of evidence and every nuance of the crimes completely memorized.
If his stomach hadn’t started protesting the absence of food, he probably would have sat at the small table in the corner of the room halfway through the night.
When he could no longer ignore the emptiness and rumbling, he looked at his wristwatch, surprised to realize it was almost seven o’clock.
As Mary had led him to his room, she’d given him a quick rundown on the bed-and-breakfast routine. Breakfast was served in the main dining room between the hours of six and nine in the morning.
The front door was locked at ten o’clock but the guests were given a key to the back door, where they could come and go as they pleased no matter what the hour.
The amenities that came with the room, not counting breakfast itself, were fresh flowers in the room daily, fresh-squeezed lemonade, sun tea and cookies every afternoon on the veranda and turndown service at night if requested.
At the moment Nick wasn’t interested in anything other than dinner. The burger he’d had at noon had been great, so he decided Ruby’s was the place for dinner, as well.
He left the of all the establishments on the street. The August heat created a rather unpleasant odor in the alley as he passed several trash bins that likely contained spoiled food.
He followed the alley around the square, noting entrances and exits as he walked. All four victims of the killer had been left at various points in the center square. The alley made an easy, accessible escape route for the killer.
When he reached the back of Ruby’s restaurant, he walked around the side of the building, from the alley to the front sidewalk and the door.
Ruby still stood at the cash register and her broad face beamed when he walked through the door. “Ah, a repeat customer. That’s a good sign,” she said.
He grinned. “It was a piece of great apple pie and I’m hoping you offer something equally as appetizing for your dinner meals.”
“You look like a steak man. We’ve got a great sirloin meal in the evenings. And you’re in luck, most of the dinner crowd has thinned out, so you can have your choice of a table or a booth.”
Nick quickly perused the place. “A table,” he said. The tables were in the center of the room.
“You got it.” Ruby left the register and grabbed a menu from a stack, then led him to a small table for two. “This all right?”
“Perfect.”
