than living in a cage until the cops finally figure out who set the bomb.”
Royce was silent for a long moment before he spoke in a hushed tone. “Tell me you’re not thinking about tracking down this killer yourself.”
She didn’t respond.
“Damn it, Lacey. You’re a reporter. You’re not a cop.”
“I tracked down the head of al Adar when the US government thought the man was dead.”
“Different situation. You weren’t his target, for one thing.”
There was a knock on the front door. “I have to go, Royce. I’ll call you later.”
She hung up the phone and walked to the front door, sneaking a peek through the security lens. Jim Mercer stood on the other side of the door, dressed in a brown leather bomber jacket, his hair ruffled by the cold wind moaning in the eaves outside.
She unlocked the door and opened it. “You’re early.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Is that a problem?”
“No, of course not. I just mean, you’re not late.” She forced a smile, acutely aware that the past two weeks had done a number on her social skills. “Come in. I’ll show you your room and you can get settled before I have to leave.” She closed the door behind him, careful to lock the dead bolt.
He stopped in the middle of the foyer and looked around. “This place is great. How old is it?”
“I think it was built in the eighteen nineties. Something like that. It was updated in the sixties or seventies, I think, but Marianne and Toby were planning to renovate the place with its history in mind. You know, try to match the styles of the Folk Victorian era even while they updated the plumbing and electrical.” She led him into the large family room. “They did take down a couple of walls to make this place more open concept, but the hardwood floors are all original, and so are the window trim and the crown molding.”
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
Katie turned at the sound of his voice, staring at him with a look of sheer delight. “Hey!”
Jim grinned back at her. “Hey there, Katiebug!”
She ran toward him, her chubby legs churning, and tugged on his jeans until he put down his duffel bag and picked her up. She patted his cheeks and again said, “Hey.”
“She’s usually so shy,” Lacey murmured, not sure her niece’s crush on her new nanny was such a good idea. What if Jim didn’t work out? What if another person disappeared from Katie’s life?
But what could she do? She needed help with her niece, someone to take care of the little girl while she continued her investigation into her sister’s death. Better that it be someone Katie liked than someone she didn’t, right?
Jim tucked Katie into the crook of one arm and picked up the duffel bag with the other. “Kids like me,” he said with a shrug, nodding for her to continue the tour of the house.
She took him through the kitchen to the narrow hallway that led to the first-floor master bedroom. She had been staying there because it was close to the nursery, although for the past two weeks, Katie had been sleeping in the bed with Lacey.
She thought it might be better for her to move to one of the other bedrooms downstairs and let Jim have the bedroom suite. Katie could move to the nursery next door, and he’d still be close enough to go to her in the night.
“This is your room,” she told him as she opened the door and led him inside.
He looked around the large room, his brow furrowed. “This is a nice room.”
“It’s technically the master suite, but it’s next door to the nursery, so...”
He nodded, understanding. “You’ll be upstairs?”
“No, the upstairs hasn’t really been renovated yet. There are a couple of other bedrooms on the first floor. I’ll take one of those.”
“Of course. Whatever you want to do.” He turned to look at her. “How are you doing? After the ambush, I mean.”
“I’m fine,” she said with a firmness she didn’t quite feel. Despite her determination to show no fear, the most recent attack had rattled her nerves almost as much as the car bombing had, despite the fact that neither she nor Katie had been hurt. Maybe because it had come out of the blue, in a place she hadn’t expected to face danger. She had almost convinced herself that the bombing had been a onetime act of violent rage. A venting of hate and anger, perhaps, emptying a twisted soul of the unspeakable darkness inside him.
Much easier to deal with the idea of a psychotic outburst than to contemplate the idea that someone had deliberately set out to kill her in cold blood, driven not by emotion but rational if diabolical intent.
Jim set the duffel bag on the floor by the bed, bouncing Katie lightly in the crook of his arm. “I’ll unpack after you get back home,” he said, turning to look at Lacey. “Any idea how long you’ll be out? So I know whether to start calling around to find you if you don’t show up on time.”
She couldn’t decide if she found his words irritating or endearing. As she’d told Royce Myerson, she didn’t want a bodyguard. She didn’t want her movements tracked or to be trapped inside this farmhouse, afraid to stick her head out the door for fear of having it lopped off.
At the same time, she couldn’t deny a sense of relief that she now had someone around who cared whether or not she came back home safely. Someone to call in the cavalry if things somehow went wrong.
“I should be home by eleven at the latest.”
“If Katie and I need you, we can reach you by phone?”
“If it’s an emergency.”
“Listen, I know you’re not looking for a bodyguard, and I don’t imagine you care to tell a virtual stranger where you’re going and who you’re seeing, so I’m not going to ask you to tell me that.” Katie had started wriggling in his arms, so Jim set her on the floor, not missing a beat. “But could you leave that information somewhere here in the house so that I can find it if you don’t get back on time and I can’t reach you?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You mean so the cops will have somewhere to start looking when you call it in?”
His brow furrowed. “Well, I hadn’t planned to put it quite that bluntly.”
She smiled. “It’s a smart idea. I’ll leave the address where I’ll be on the message board in the kitchen. Will that work?”
“That works.” He returned her smile, and she felt an unexpected twisting sensation in the center of her chest. Damn, he was awfully cute when he smiled. She didn’t need to start thinking about him as a tall, attractive man instead of her niece’s nanny. Definitely needed to nip that in the bud.
“There are some jars of peas and carrots in the cabinet,” she told him, leading him back to the kitchen. “And some creamed chicken in the fridge. She likes her food lukewarm. Not hot, not cold.”
And
