Then she realized her fingers were half-raised as if to stroke that cheek. She clutched her hands together as Sergeant Osher spoke to the men.
Nicki shook her head to rid it of the wash of bittersweet memories. This was hardly the time or the place.
“Ms. Michaels, you aren’t even trying,” Osher protested. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’ll protect you.”
She pulled her arm away from his annoying touch. “I’m not the least bit afraid, Sergeant Osher. But, like I told you, it all happened fast. It was very dark outside. I’ve complained to city hall about that broken streetlight behind the store several times. No one does anything.”
“Ms. Michaels, I know it was dark, but you were right there. You saw the murder.”
Stubbornly, she shook her head. “I can’t point a finger at anyone, I told you that. I never got a clear look at his face.”
At least she could say that and speak the truth. She had never seen the murder let alone the murderer’s face. In her heart, she knew it was Alex she’d seen running across the street. But that didn’t mean he’d pulled the trigger, despite what Ilona had said.
Nicki would go to jail herself before she’d make a positive identification of anyone. She’d given the police the description Ilona had passed on to her. That was as far as she was willing to go. Her mind refused to reconcile the Alex she had known with a man who could walk up to a car and kill someone in cold blood.
Her Alex had been tough. Ready to defend himself—or anyone weaker if it came to that. But he had never sought trouble. Of course, he hadn’t needed to. It always came looking for him.
She shrugged off that memory. She was now certain Alex had been across the street right before the shooting. If she was right, he would have had to run across the street the minute she started back to her office with the cash drawer in order to be in position to fire those shots.
Okay, it was possible. Barely. She didn’t want to believe it. Nicki chewed on her bottom lip. Anyone witnessing a murder would run away. That didn’t make Alex a killer.
Did it?
“Try, Ms. Michaels. Try real hard.”
She glared at the policeman and decided even if she had seen the murder with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have said so to this bully. Thad Osher made her skin crawl. She didn’t like the way he almost leered whenever their paths crossed. He seemed to think he was irresistible to women, but he made her feel dirty and undressed.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t say for sure.”
She stared at Alex. A pang of loss held her transfixed. She’d thought him unbearably sexy at nineteen. Cocky. Sure of himself. Running all over town on that secondhand motorcycle he’d bought. Refusing to let the scandal surrounding his father’s death touch him, despite all the whispers and pointed fingers. Alex had been bitter and angry as a teenager, but he’d never been anything but kind to her.
She’d never forgotten the day he’d picked wildflowers for her down by Trouble Lake. He’d talked about his dreams for the future. A future that hadn’t included a sixteen-year-old girlfriend, she’d finally realized. Back then, she’d been so sure he’d return for her one day. But he never had.
Osher brought his fist down on his thigh in a gesture of frustration. “Did you see the guy or not?”
She looked into his glittering eyes and wanted to run. Instead she squared her shoulders defiantly. “Badgering me isn’t going to change a thing, Sergeant. I told you what I saw. I’ve looked at your suspects. Now, I need to open my shop.”
He stood too close. Nicki decided he had mean eyes. She fought down an instinctive need to back away and held her ground. Sergeant Osher was the type to take advantage of any perceived weakness.
“You know, Ms. Michaels, once the word gets out there was a witness, that shop might not be a safe place for a woman like you.”
A trace of fear mixed with her loathing. “Are you threatening me, Sergeant?”
His eyes flickered. “Not at all. Call it a friendly warning. You’ll be a lot safer once the murderer is behind bars.”
“Then I suggest you find him.”
She half expected him to grab her arm as she stalked from the room, but he didn’t. She could feel twin spots of color on her cheeks as she strode quickly past Carolyn. The pretty receptionist, who also served as the police dispatcher, watched with a frowning expression of concern. Another time Nicki would have stopped to chat. Now, she just wanted to escape.
Nicki hung on to her haughty pose as she left the building and stepped into the wilting heat and humidity of the August sunshine. She was trembling with reaction, so furious she couldn’t think straight.
How dare he threaten her? Because no matter what he said, Osher’s words had been a threat. He was supposed to be a police officer. One of the men who protected the people. But he was the kind of man who gave policemen a bad reputation. How could his wife stand to be around him?
Nicki clung to her anger as she crossed the street and walked briskly past the General Store. Bianca Tooley waved to her from inside the post office a minute later. Nicki didn’t pause to talk with the lonely woman as she often did. All she wanted was the sanctuary of her safe little store.
Seeing Alex again had brought back all sorts of memories. Hot nights and even hotter kisses. He’d been the town’s bad boy and her first lover. And she’d cried enough tears to overflow Trouble Lake when he left. But Alex had never once looked back, just as he’d sworn. As far as she knew, this was the first time in all those years that he’d ever returned to town. He hadn’t even come home for his mother’s funeral. Was he here now because of his sister?
Ironically, Kayla was engaged to marry a D.C. police officer. And according to Mildred Kitteridge over at the General Store, the town council had approved Chief Hepplewhite’s request to hire more help. Alex’s soon-to-be brother-in-law was about to become the second in command of the Fools Point police force.
Could Alex really have killed a man in cold blood?
The question plagued her all day long as she taught a decoupage class, a knitting class, and two ceramic classes between waiting on customers. By the time the last brush had been cleaned, the last jar of glaze put away, and the large kiln loaded and turned on, Nicki was more than ready for an early night.
She ate dinner without tasting a bite. She was too edgy to settle down with her needlepoint project. Her cat stropped her leg in sympathy.
“Thanks, Ginger. If only Ilona would call so I could be sure she’s okay.” But the telephone remained obstinately silent.
Ginger parrumphed and butted her lightly. Nicki scratched behind the cat’s ears, then went to check the locks. She drew a tub of steamy water and added the new bath oil she’d been meaning to try. The scent really did remind her of gardenias.
Lighting several fat candles, she piled her hair on top of her head, selected a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and picked up her novel. She would read and soak and dispel these useless memories that had haunted her all day.
Less than twenty minutes later, she knew it was no use. She simply couldn’t keep her mind on the printed
