Desperate Strangers Read online

  She nodded, for a moment speechless by the flood of longing inside her. She headed for the stairs thinking she now had a new reason to want her memories back as soon as possible. When that happened, she knew Nick would take her to bed.

  Chapter Five

  Nick climbed the stairs fifteen minutes after Julie. How could she be so trusting as to want him in her bed when she couldn’t remember anything about him?

  And now that he’d kissed her, he wasn’t sure how long he could stay strong against her obvious desire for him. It had been years since he’d had sex and there was no question that he was intensely drawn to Julie.

  He’d love to have her in bed, with her dark hair splayed across the pillow and her body sleek and naked beneath his. It would just be a sexual release for him and nothing more. His love for his wife would always fill his heart to the point that there wouldn’t be room for anyone else. His grief and rage over losing Debbie would always keep his heart firmly closed.

  The problem was that his lies to Julie had been too good. She’d believed him hook, line and sinker. It was only natural that she’d want to kiss her fiancé. It was only natural she would want to make love to the man she intended to marry and spend the rest of her life with. How long could he put her off and not give in to his own crazy desire for her?

  Thankfully, he didn’t have to pass Julie’s bedroom to get to his own. He used the bathroom across the hall from his room to brush his teeth and then returned to the room he’d been using while here.

  It was a nice bedroom, decorated in shades of cool greens and white...the colors to soothe and calm. But as he climbed into bed, he had a feeling nothing could calm him tonight.

  All day long his emotions had been all over the place. He’d awakened both anxious that she’d regained her memories with sleep and nervously wondering if Brian’s murder would be reported. The anxiety had shifted to fear when he’d realized not only had it been in the newspaper but there had also been a witness who had seen somebody running away.

  He’d held that emotion in check and had actually managed to relax while Julie was napping. The minute she’d walked down the stairs, a new tension had struck him...the nervous energy of a man pretending to be what he wasn’t.

  When he’d mentioned the redbud tree in his yard, he hadn’t expected the rich, raw rage and the anguish of loss that had momentarily swept through him.

  Now, as he tried to get to sleep, the final emotion of the day was desire. Kissing Julie had been a huge mistake. Her lips had been soft and warm and oh, so inviting. It would have been so easy to just let himself go to her room and have sex with her.

  It wasn’t just that mysterious sexual draw that enticed him. She had a wonderful sense of humor. She also had a softness of spirit, just a hint of vulnerability he suspected had been with her before the accident and the troubling phone call.

  The phone call. Was it possible it had been nothing more than a wrong number? Some sort of a sick prank? The caller hadn’t mentioned Julie by name. Still, he couldn’t dismiss the signs of some sort of altercation in her living room. What was that about? So many questions with no answers.

  And how soon might a police officer knock on this door after finding him not at his house after somehow connecting him to Brian’s murder? Was it even possible something like that could happen?

  Had he dropped DNA while he’d stood there panting and staring at Brian’s body? Would Officer Brown have questions for the man who’d been wearing a hoodie in the middle of July just down the street from a murder scene?

  With too many questions whirling around in his head, he finally fell into a troubled sleep. The nightmares began almost instantly.

  * * *

  HE WALKED ALONG a deserted highway and just ahead a neon sign flashed with the words Don’t Tell. The building looked like a motel and he desperately needed a motel. He’d been walking this highway at night for years and he just wanted to rest.

  When he reached the structure it was, indeed, the Don’t Tell Motel. With a sigh of relief he entered the lobby. It was dark and dank, a layer of smoke swirling in the air. A man stood, his back to Nick, at the registration desk. “Got your room all ready for you, Coach,” he said. “Room seven.”

  He turned around and it was Brian McDowell, his throat torn open and bleeding, the V in his forehead oozing blood. Nick reeled backward in horror and ran outside.

  He raced to room seven and threw open the door. Debbie was on the floor next to the bed, broken and bloody. “No,” he screamed in rage. Before he could reach Debbie, her features transformed into Julie’s.

  * * *

  HE SNAPPED AWAKE, his body bathed in sweat and his heart thundering madly. He panted as if he’d been running for miles and it took a moment for him to orient himself.

  He jumped out of the bed. Just a dream. No, a nightmare. He wiped his hand through his sweaty hair as his body began to cool off. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 5:30 a.m.

  Normally he would be up around six. There was no point in trying to sleep again. Besides, if he did, he feared the nightmares might find him again.

  He grabbed clean clothes from the closet and then silently crept into the bathroom across the hall. Hopefully, a quick shower wouldn’t waken Julie.

  Instead he took an unusually long shower, hoping to rinse the last of the nightmare from his mind. It had left him feeling unsettled and on edge.

  Once he was dressed, he crept quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen where he got the coffee started.

  Waiting for it to brew, he moved over to the window and stared outside. Dawn’s light was just barely peeking over the horizon.

  Julie’s shift at the pawn shop started at nine and she wouldn’t get off work until five. He knew what he needed to do during the long hours of the day.

  He needed to touch base with Jason Cook and Matt Tanner, the other football coaches who worked with him at the high school. With practices starting in ten days, he needed to let them know he might not be participating in the sessions, at least initially, due to a personal crisis. Julie’s continued amnesia had become his crisis the minute he’d told her the first lie.

  Still, even if he didn’t attend the practices, he could swing by his house and grab the DVDs of last year’s games. He could then work on new plays that hopefully would keep the team winning games through the coming year.

  He turned away from the window, poured a cup of coffee, then carried it to the table where he sat. It was ludicrous that he was thinking about football games when there were so many other, much bigger, issues going on right now.

  Hell, for all he knew there might be a knock on the door at any time. A police officer could take him in for a lineup where a witness could positively identify him as the man seen running from Brian McDowell’s on the night of the murder.

  Or Julie’s memories could suddenly return and she could call the police on him because he’d lied to her and she’d realized she didn’t know him at all.

  He both wanted and dreaded her regaining her memories. He wanted it for her, so she wouldn’t feel so vulnerable and afraid living in her own skin. He dreaded it for him, not knowing what might happen when the truth finally came out.

  Of course, he’d never tell anyone that he was at McDowell’s house that night. Nobody would ever know he’d carried a gun, pulled on a ski mask and adorned gloves with the intention of murdering the man. That was a secret he would take to his very grave.

  Another question whirling around in his mind...since somebody else had murdered Brian, did that mean nobody would kill the man who had raped and murdered his wife?

  Nick tightened his hands around his coffee cup as the familiar raw rage swept through him. The survivors group he’d attended had talked about all the stages of grief.

  He’d sat at those meetings every other week for months and had been unable to understand how anyone wh
o had lost somebody to a violent crime ever moved past the stage of anger. He embraced the anger. He couldn’t move into acceptance until he got his vengeance.

  “Good morning.” Julie walked into the kitchen clad in a short, lightweight, pink robe. Her hair was slightly tousled from sleep and a warm smile played on her lips.

  Where Nick’s stomach had clenched with his rage, it now tightened for an entirely different reason. Her scent eddied in the air, that light floral smell he found so wildly attractive.

  “You’re up early,” he said, grateful his voice didn’t betray any of the anger that had gripped him a moment before or of the swift desire her presence had stirred.

  “So are you,” she replied. She walked over to the coffeemaker and reached up in the cabinet to retrieve a cup. The action gave him a tantalizing view of her long, bare legs.

  “Did you sleep well?” She poured her coffee and then sat in the chair opposite him.

  “It was a toss-and-turn kind of night,” he admitted.

  Her smile faded. “I’m taking up too much of your time and energy. I’m sure you have other things to do besides babysitting me. I’ll be fine here alone, if you want to go back to your house.”

  She wouldn’t be fine. The slight tremble in her voice let him know the last thing she wanted right now was to be there all alone. “I’m right where I need to be,” he replied. “However, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bring over some football DVDs to study when you’re at work.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Besides, I love football. Did I ever go to any of the high school games?”

  He shook his head. “You were always scheduled to work at the shop on game nights.”

  She sighed. “And even if I had asked for the night off, Dad would have told me no and given me a big lecture about how the business was more important than anything else in life.” She took a sip of her coffee and then continued. “I swear he’d be perfectly happy if I never got married or had children. That way, I’d never have any distractions from the shop.”

  “Did you ever think about doing something else?”

  She frowned thoughtfully. “I always thought I’d like to be a nurse or even a nurse’s aide and work in a doctor’s office, but it wasn’t in the cards for me.”

  “That’s an admirable profession. You’re still young, you could go to school and make that happen. Maybe your dad would initially be unhappy with you, but I’m sure he’d eventually get over it.”

  “Maybe,” she replied, although her tone held no real conviction. “In any case, this morning you get your first exploration of the famous Peterson Pawn shop.”

  “I’m definitely looking forward to it.” He liked it when he could make her smile. Her lovely face was meant for smiling. “Still, you would make a great nurse.”

  “You really think so?” Her smile widened and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

  “Definitely. You have a calm, easy way about you that most patients would welcome.” It was true. Despite everything that had happened to her, she had a softness that was appealing.

  Her cheeks grew an even deeper dusty shade of pink. “Thank you. And now I’d better finish this coffee and head back upstairs to get ready for work.”

  At eight thirty they left the house. Julie had exchanged her robe for a pair of black slacks and a black T-shirt with Peterson Pawn in bold white letters across her chest. On her feet were black-and-white sandals that exposed her pink-painted toenails.

  “Are there other employees besides the family members?” he asked as they left the cul-de-sac.

  “A few, although Dad doesn’t trust any of them and always thinks they’re either stealing items or skimming money from the registers.”

  “Are they?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I keep the books and there’s nothing that would make me think anything improper is happening.” She gave a dry laugh. “At least, that’s the way I remember things.”

  “No more flashes of memory since yesterday?” He cast her a quick glance. The morning sunshine loved her features, casting them in a golden glow.

  “None.” She sighed. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous about going back to work.”

  “Julie, you’re missing a lot of memories. I’d expect you to be nervous about anything and everything,” he replied. “And you did say that in that flash of memory you were in the pawn shop and you were afraid.”

  “I’m not even sure if that was a real memory or just some sort of strange anxiety about going back to work.” She released another deep sigh.

  Before he could stop himself he reached over and touched the back of her hand. “Everything is going to be okay, Julie.”

  He quickly drew his hand back. He shouldn’t touch her. Her skin was so soft and warm, and he liked touching her way too much.

  He had to stay focused on the truth of the situation. He’d told her everything would be okay and it would be as long as she didn’t regain her memories and nobody killed her for “telling.” Everything would be fine as long as no witness could positively identify him and he managed to forget the horrifying vision of McDowell’s bloody dead body.

  * * *

  “WELCOME TO MY WORLD,” Julie said as she unlocked the front door and led Nick inside the pawn shop. Directly to the left of the door stood a life-size suit of armor and on the right was a full-size skeleton holding a sign that read Shoplifters Will Be Prosecuted.

  “Quite a welcoming committee,” he replied with a laugh.

  She relocked the door behind them. “I told you my father likes a little bizarre with the usual pawn items.”

  The faint simmer of fear was back inside her. Was it because she was missing her memories or due to something else? She couldn’t know. She turned on the lights to further aid the sunshine that danced through the large front windows.

  To the left were shelves of computers, monitors and televisions. To the right, musical equipment was on display for purchase. In between were the oversize items for sale. There were lawn mowers and leaf blowers, compressors and all kinds of tools.

  Along the back wall stood glass jewelry display cases and the registers. Behind those was a glass-enclosed office and a back room where the customers weren’t allowed.

  “It’s pretty much the way I always thought a pawn shop would look, just a lot bigger,” Nick said.

  “Wait...you haven’t seen the other room yet.” She tried to shove away the niggling sense of anxiety that had been with her since she’d dressed for work that morning.

  She watched Nick’s expression as she led him into the connecting room. Stunned surprise lit his features just before he released a pleasant rumble of laughter.

  “This looks more like Ripley’s Believe It or Not! than a pawn shop,” he exclaimed.

  She gazed around, seeking any changes that might have happened over the last ten months that she couldn’t remember. The stuffed, five-legged calf was still there. As were the fat, seven-foot, resin genie seated on a pillow and an equally large, smiling penguin with a belly that opened and closed.

  There was also the half dozen antique slot and pinball machines and the unusual artwork hanging on the walls.

  Nick walked over to a plaster pink-and-white giraffe and then turned back to look at her. “Where does your father find these things?”

  “He doesn’t. They mostly find him. Once word got out that he was open to buying and selling almost anything, people started contacting him about unusual items. Come on and I’ll show you the office.” Her nerves slowly began to calm as she realized nothing much had changed in the shop.

  The office was right next to an outer door in the back room, which held various items on shelving. “All the stuff up front is for sale and the things back here are being held for people to reclaim after they’ve pawned them,” she explained. “We also own the building next door that we use to hold all of our p
awned things.”

  “Quite a large operation.” Nick looked at her for a long moment. “Are you feeling better about being here?”

  “Somewhat better.” She smiled. “I’m sure as the day goes on, the last of my nerves will completely disappear.”

  Still, even just saying those words, she jumped at the sound of the front door opening.

  “Hello?” a familiar deep voice called out.

  Julie instantly relaxed. “Joel.”

  She greeted the big, burly man with the slightly shaggy brown hair who would share the workload with her that day. “I’d like you to meet my fiancé,” she said.

  “Your daddy told me you got a touch of some crazy amnesia, but he didn’t mention anything about you getting a fiancé.” He smiled at Nick and offered his hand for a shake. “Hope you intend to take good care of this lady,” he added after the two men had shaken hands.

  “I do,” Nick replied.

  “She’s one fine woman and deserves only the best,” Joel replied with a warm smile at her.

  “And I have the best,” she said with conviction. “Nick, if you want to, you can head on out. It’s almost time to open the front doors and I’ll be fine here with Joel,” she said.

  “Walk me to the door?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Of course.”

  “Nice meeting you, Nick,” Joel said as they headed for the front door.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Nick asked when they reached the door and the two of them stepped just outside.

  “I’ll be fine. Joel and I have always been great working buddies,” she replied. She frowned. “Unless something happened between us that I don’t remember. But everything seemed okay when he came in.”

  “I thought maybe I’d pick up a couple of chicken breasts to grill tonight when you get home. I figured we should enjoy the slightly cooler temperatures and the deck while we can.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.” Although most of that crazy simmering fear had eased, there was still a little bit left.