Target (6 page)

N
ick heard the front door close quietly and bolted from his bed. He grabbed a pair of jeans and hopped into them on the way out of his bedroom.

The door to the room he'd given Aurelie stood open and a glance inside proved she wasn't there.

The luminous dial on his watch showed a little before five in the morning.

“Aurelie?” he yelled at the front door, knowing there was no way she'd hear him, particularly if she was well away by now.

She didn't have her car, but knowing her, she wouldn't be above spending what was left of the night in his Audi, just so she could be completely alone with her thoughts.

He wanted to find her in his car.

She hasn't hidden away in a car since we were teenagers.
“I hope you've gone into your second childhood,” he said aloud, shoving his feet into a pair of downtrodden boat shoes he kept near the front door in case he needed to go outside quickly, like now. Aurelie had been in a quiet mood ever since Matt Boudreaux shuffled them out of the police station through a back door, to avoid the people trying to hunt them down.

The bottoms of his shoes were worn thin and smooth and with his first step he slid on wet mud and only just stopped himself from falling.
“Son of a bitch!”
Rain fell. Not the fine, driving mist of earlier, but a downpour from a black sky quickly assaulted by a hurtling river of forked lightning.

His car was in the carport, right where he'd left it.

Empty.

The Oakdale Mansion Center was large, with satellites of condos, shops, business and professional offices ranged around the old mansion at its center.

Nick made himself stand still. He used both hands to push his dripping hair back and wipe water from his eyes and face. Nothing moved out here. “Aurelie?” he shouted, making a slow circle in place, keeping his fingers where he could repeatedly clear his eyes. Water sluiced from his bare shoulders.

What made her leave?

Could someone have gotten in and taken her?

A glance at Poke Around showed no suggestion of a light inside the shop windows.

Nick ran for the nearest exit to the street. His lungs burned as if they'd explode. Fear and quantities of inhaled rain destroyed his throat. He stared both ways but didn't see as much as a stray animal abroad. Who would be out in this if they didn't have to be?

Thunder rolled. The sound resembled the gathering roar of an avalanche.

When he got his hands on Aurelie he'd shake her till her teeth rattled. She was a runner with several marathons under her belt. Could she be in training? They used to run together before she went away.

Even Aurelie wouldn't run in this.

She wouldn't come out here of her own volition.

He dashed along the verge toward the back of the condos where he lived.

Water squelched beneath his feet and his jeans clung, wet and heavy, to his legs.

Maybe he was already on edge because…

He couldn't shake the idea that Baily might have died because she was mistaken for Sarah.

“Aurelie!” His eyes stung and blurred. “Aurelie!”

The killer could have decided to take Aurelie out next.

Shit, he needed help out here.

A deep bark startled him. He skidded to a halt, gasping through his open mouth.

Another bark, this one closer.

Nick bent over with his hands on his knees. He croaked out, “Sucker? She took the goddamn dog for a walk?”

“What are you doing, Nick?”

He didn't look up, didn't need to when he knew he'd found Aurelie. Or she'd found him.

“Nick. Talk to me.”

A large tongue traveled from his chin, over his mouth and nose to his forehead. Hoover snuffled at an ear then set about doing water-damage control all over Nick's torso.

Aurelie's laugh didn't amuse Nick. “Don't you ever do what you just did again,” he said. “Got that?”

“No.”

He straightened up, pausing long enough on the way to rest a hand on the dog's sopping head. Poor Hoover, he just did what came naturally.

The feelings Nick had for Aurelie weren't so gentle. They weren't gentle at all. He reached for her. “Dammit, quit fooling around. We can't afford to be careless. I'm telling you that, and Matt said the same thing. Don't you understand?”

“Calm down,” she told him. A hooded, snap-fronted rain slicker covered everything but the lower half of her face. A hand showed only when she pulled the hood back far enough to let her see him. “Would you rather I
didn't
take Hoover out? This is the safest time of the day. No one hangs around looking for victims this late…early. It's that sort of no-man's hour. Why don't you have clothes on?”

“I do,” he said through his teeth. “But I've always thought it would make sense to go naked in the rain so you wouldn't get any clothes wet.”

Aurelie giggled. “I bet your jeans weigh a ton.”

Hoover howled, raised his majestic head and bayed at a spot where a moon might have been.

“Shh!” Nick arranged his fingers into two sets of claws and jabbed them at the dog. “You'll wake up the neighbors, dammit. Inside. Now. Both of you.”

Inside entailed another slosh through the mud to retrace his steps.

Aurelie made sucking noises when she walked. A look showed the toes of rubber boots shining in a streetlight.

“Sorry I shocked you,” she said. “I didn't think, I just left. Hoover always goes between four and five. You could set your clock by it. I never need an alarm.”

“Holy…Are you saying you get up at this time every day?”

“Yes. I go to bed early. Works for me.”

“Wouldn't work for me,” he said.

“It doesn't have to.”

“It does if you're staying at my place. I don't want you out here on your own. I already told you that.”

“I'm not staying at your place, Nick. As soon as the rental office opens I'll look at the Quarters. If I don't like it there, I'll find something else. I won't disturb you this early in the morning again.”

“Sure,” he said, and gave Hoover a push. The dog had decided he needed to lean on someone while he walked. “Now I know you take risks like this, how much sleep do you think I'll get after four? No matter where you live.”

Hoover kept right on leaning.

They reached the entrance to Oakdale and turned right.

“Nick,” Aurelie said, “we're trying to pretend everything isn't falling apart when it is.”

“I'm not going to let that happen,” he said, and realized she wasn't sucking along at his heels anymore. He turned around. “What are you doing, Rellie?”

“Nothing.”

“Then do
something
. Get up.”

She sat on the curb with her head down. “Baily was so miserable she jumped off the building.”

“Hey, hey, I know.” He decided not to remind her that Baily might well have been pushed. “Let's get in and take a hot shower.”

She didn't answer.

Hoover waddled over beside her and set his rump down in a good inch of dirty water.

“Don't do that,” Aurelie said. “Now I'll have to put you in the bath.”

That was a picture Nick didn't want to contemplate. “He'll shake most of it off.”

“You talked to Matt on your own,” Aurelie said. “What did you tell him?”

“You asked me that on the way back here. I told you not to worry about it.”

“Why? Why be secretive? I've got questions I'd be a fool not to have. Did you tell him everything?”

He knew what she was talking about. “I told him very little. All that stuff from years ago doesn't affect him.”

“You do know that the truth about us could come out now? The dots could be connected and after that everyone's going to know we took Delia's name but that's all. They'll find out we aren't related to her and she'll be so hurt.”

He'd thought of that and just about every other likely eventuality. “What will help her the most is making sure she doesn't doubt our feelings for her. And showing her nothing's going to change. If it happens, which I doubt.”

“How do you think Billy Meche and Matt will react if they find out we didn't go to them with information about a big case like this?” She held the hood away from her face and looked at him.

“I can't think about that now.”

“We have to,” she said. “We need to be ready to deal with it.”

Lightning shot a single jagged bolt from heaven to earth.
Whap!
Straight down. Crackling followed, a bit like the invisible rocks-hitting-glass sounds at the end of a firework display. Only this display wasn't over. The thunder came quickly and Nick jumped.

He hauled Aurelie up, ignored a bass growl from Hoover, and moved them along as fast as possible. “You're getting hysterical,” he said. “Maybe
I'm
getting hysterical.”

“Whatever we are, it's better than crying, and I could do that at any moment. I'm running away—do you understand me? Running away inside my head. I haven't slept at all. Hoover didn't wake me up, I woke him up. I had to get outside and breathe.”

“Just you give yourself a chance to get some rest and settle down.”

“I'm scared, dammit. I'm so scared. You believe Baily was murdered, don't you? Matt obviously does.”

Another light display shot overhead and this time the night split open, or sounded as if it did, almost in the same instant.

“This isn't a good idea,” he said, keeping a firm grim on Aurelie's arm. “Come on, cut across the side. It's quicker.”

“You do think she was murdered and it could be because she was a bit like Sarah,” Aurelie said. “That would mean Sarah was supposed to die.”

“I don't know, and I mean that.” But only on a technicality. “Grab the dog before we go in. I'll get him into the mudroom.”

“Right,” Aurelie said meekly. “Sorry for the mess…and the nuisance.”

“You're not a nuisance,” he muttered.

“Yes, I am. Hey—” she poked his arm “—Sabine told me you wouldn't let her in to clean this week. Or last week. What's that about?”

Sabine was Delia's housekeeper, had been for years, and at Delia's insistence Nick had hired her for his place. “I haven't felt like having anyone in. I'll have her back once things settle down.”

“Wait.”

Nick barely heard her hiss at him through the storm. He drew her beside him and didn't ask questions.

She reached up and when he leaned closer, whispered in his ear. “That truck wasn't at the curb when I left.”

He looked and saw a light-colored pickup with a canopy over the bed. “No. Not when I left, either. There's someone sitting in it.”

“Let's stay out of sight,” Aurelie whispered, tugging on his arm. “They probably haven't seen us.”

The driver's door of the truck opened. “Hey, there,” a woman called. “Are you Nick Board?”

“Who is it?” Aurelie asked. “D'you know her?”

“I'm Nick Board.” He lowered his voice and added to Aurelie, “I doubt it. Who would—could be that woman who was being pushy at the police station. I've heard about writers doing things like this. They get desperate. You hear about things like that.”

“She could be dangerous.”

The woman pulled an umbrella and a purse of some kind, a very big, sacklike thing, from the space behind her seat. She struggled until the umbrella opened, shut the door and walked across the grass on the turned-inward toes of high-heeled shoes. “How nice of you to be up,” she said. “I thought I'd have hours to wait.”

“She's nuts,” Aurelie murmured.

“Ma'am,” Nick said. “It's too early for visitors. What are you here for?”

“Joan Reeves. Of course you're right.” She arrived in front of them and looked Aurelie over with a faint smile. “Dreadful weather.”

Thick blond hair waved past her shoulders. A short windbreaker over tight, cropped jeans—and worn with pale-colored, very high heels, put her instantly out of place in Pointe Judah. This lady had a landmark figure; it wouldn't be easy to forget.

“Should we know you?” Nick didn't attempt to introduce Aurelie.

Hoover, who had busied himself draining a puddle and ignoring the arrival of the stranger, chose that instant to deliver a few foghorn blasts.

“Oh, dear.” The woman took a backward step. “What is he?”

“A dog,” Aurelie said. “Quiet, boy. Good boy.”