Quivering from head to toe, she gulped. Forced herself to keep it together. She had children to protect. She just prayed she’d made the right decision to let them sleep instead of grabbing them and hiding.
Please don’t let them wake up, she breathed silently.
Where were the police?
“Please God,” she whispered. Then wondered why she found herself praying. She didn’t know if she even believed in God. But she wanted to. Wanted to believe He would help her, keep her and the children safe.
Another few seconds passed as she stared at the front door.
Think, Demi, think!
A weapon. She definitely needed a weapon. All she had to do was keep him away from the children long enough for the police to arrive.
But what could she use?
She looked at the block of knives on the kitchen counter and shuddered. The heavy crystal vase would have to do. She grabbed it, ready to hurl it at the head of whoever dared come through the front door.
Then she heard the faint sound of retreating footsteps, moving as though they were in a hurry. She rushed on silent feet to the door and pressed her ear against it.
The distant sound of sirens reached her ears.
Help was on the way.
They must have scared him off.
Relief flowed through her and she nearly dropped the vase from suddenly weak fingers.
Then realized she still held the phone in the other hand.
Demi set the vase on the table, lifted the phone to her ear and said to the 9-1-1 operator still on the line, “The police are close. I can hear their sirens.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I think he left. I heard him run away.” Her sentences felt choppy, short. Like she was having trouble stringing coherent thoughts together.
“Don’t check, just stay where you are until the police get there.”
Demi didn’t bother telling the woman she had no intention of opening the door.
The first police cruiser with the Fitzgerald Bay logo on the side finally pulled up to the house.
An officer opened the door and climbed out, weapon drawn, gaze darting.
And then Demi spied Charles’s truck pulling up beside the officer.
Demi opened the front door and everyone froze as she stepped outside.
* * *
Charles saw his new nanny standing in the doorway and thought his heart would stop. When Owen had called to tell him Demi had dialed 9-1-1 because he had an intruder at his house, his only thought had been to get home and make sure everyone was safe. He couldn’t help the terrifying thought that he’d find Demi murdered in his house. Just like Olivia, his former nanny who’d been found dead on the rocks at the base of the lighthouse that was on his property. But Demi wasn’t dead. She was standing in front of him, safe and sound.
“Are you all right? The children?” He rushed to her, the limp he’d acquired while serving in Iraq not slowing him one bit. He took in every detail of her appearance. She looked scared and couldn’t hide the fine tremor he could see in her hands but, at first glance, she didn’t appear hurt.
Her frightened green eyes blinked wide behind her lenses. Her honey-blond hair lay in disarray as though she’d run her hands through it several times. His heartbeat didn’t slow.
She nodded. “I’m fine. The children are fine, too. They never woke up.”
Owen approached, followed by Charles’s other brother, Deputy Chief of Police Ryan Fitzgerald. Charles introduced them and Ryan asked, “Did you get a look at him?”
Demi shook her head. “I peeked through the blinds, but never saw anyone. He was mostly near the garage door. I did hear some popping sounds, though, and the motion lights never came on.”
Owen spoke to the officer next to him. “The garage is around the side of the house. Check it out, will you?”
“Sure.” The man’s badge read Mike Hughes.
Officer Hughes took off around the side as another patrol car pulled up. Charles groaned when he realized it was his baby sister, Keira, and her partner. Looks like the entire family had gotten the word. But Keira would be the worst. Even though she was the younger sibling, she’d want to mother him. Since Olivia’s death and the suspicion that had shadowed his every move, Keira’s mothering had turned to smothering.
She climbed from the vehicle, concern etched on her pretty features. “Charles? I was just getting ready to go off duty when I heard the address over the radio. What’s going on?”
“We’re just about to get to that,” Owen said.
“Tell me what I can do to help,” Keira offered. “Do I need to stay with the kids?”
“No,” Charles assured her. “Demi said they never woke up. They’re still sleeping.”
Keira ignored him and headed for the front door obviously needing to make sure of that for herself.
Officer Hughes appeared around the corner, a flashlight held at his side. To Demi, he said, “The popping sounds you heard were the lights being broken.” To Owen, he jerked his head toward the garage. “I think you need to come see this. And you might want to bring a camera—and another flashlight.”
Charles looked at Demi. She said, “I’ll stay here out of the way.”
He nodded and followed his two brothers and the officer around to the side where his garage was.
As he got a good look at it, he gasped.
In bold red letters, someone had spray painted across the landscape of his garage door.
MURDERER!
TWO
Demi took Officer Hughes up on his offer to listen for the kids. She and Keira followed everyone around to the side of the house to see what all the excitement was about.
She saw the garage door and flinched as though she’d been slapped. Her heart shuddered in pain for the man staring in disbelief at the vandalism. Who would do something like that? Demi hadn’t known Charles very long, just long enough to be interviewed and accept the job. She’d heard the rumors. Been privy to the whispers as she walked through town. People wondered how she could work for a suspected murderer. But after meeting Charles, Demi knew in her gut that he hadn’t murdered anyone. If she thought he was capable of that, she wouldn’t be working for him.
Owen stared at the vile accusation and looked ready to snap someone in two. The set of Keira’s jaw said she was right there with Owen.
“What’s going on here?”
