Retribution Boxed Set (Books One and Two) Page 4

  She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the episode that had taken place between her and Xander Secrist. At first, he seemed like such a pleasant person, coming to her rescue in the coffee shop. Even when he’d followed her outside, he’d seemed okay. He was definitely her type. But she couldn’t possibly consider starting a relationship right now.

  Plus, he’d been so reluctant to take no for an answer. Like weirdly so. She glanced over her shoulder for the millionth time to make sure he wasn’t following her.

  The well-lit sidewalk was clear.

  Maybe his efforts really had been because he’d liked her. She couldn’t deny she’d felt the spark of attraction, too. Every time he’d focused on her, the energy humming through her body had spiked. His height, the nice build of his body had all attracted her. Not to mention, he wore a suit. Her favorite fantasies began with her slipping a tie from her lover’s collar.

  If he’d have come along even a week ago, she would have been thrilled he’d flirted with her. Things had changed. If she survived this ordeal, and she prayed she would, then she could think about something as normal as dating.

  As she approached her apartment building, she recognized Janie sitting on the front steps. Her friend sat with her head resting against the railing, her eyes shut.

  “Janie?” Nicole said as she reached her friend. “Are you okay?”

  Janie opened her eyes, her lips struggling to smile. “I’m fine. Long night at work last night, and I’m just gearing up for another round.” She nodded, inviting Nicole to sit next to her. “Paul is on a rampage, and it’s quieter out here.”

  “I understand.” Her boyfriend was an unmitigated jerk. She’d talked to Janie about leaving him before, but her friend tried to explain how she wasn’t ready. That kind of reasoning didn’t make sense to Nicole, but she respected her friend’s choices. “You know you could come up to my apartment.”

  “No. I really am on my way to work.” She glanced at her watch. “Five more minutes and then I’m off.”

  “Okay. But you know you’re always welcome.”

  “I know.” She turned her attention to Stormy. “Come give me a kiss, cute little puppy, before I have to go to work.”

  Stormy gave her cheek a slobbery kiss, earning a laugh from Janie.

  Nicole talked to her friend until she left, and then she started up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, Stormy happy to walk dutifully beside her. Weariness set in before she reached her floor. How did something like this happen to a person? In the movies, yes. In real life, no. Normal people did not get accused of crimes they didn’t commit.

  Of course, she knew that wasn’t always the case. She’d heard the horror stories of those who’d been freed after twenty years of incarceration when someone had finally been able to prove them innocent.

  A wave of nausea rolled through her. There were no go-backs, no giving those people back what had been stolen from them. If she were convicted, she could face twenty-five years in prison.

  That was a lifetime.

  She entered her apartment and removed Stormy’s leash before she sank onto her couch feeling dizzy, her heart thundering in her chest. In twenty-five years, she’d be fifty-six. Nearly a senior citizen. There would be no marriage for her. No babies. The best part of her years would have been spent inside a tiny prison cell.

  She wouldn’t survive it.

  With a shaking hand, she reached up and pushed her bangs out of her face.

  She’d always been good at keeping her chin up despite life’s vicious turns. But at this moment, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get off the couch again.

  Chapter Five

  The time had come to quit hiding from life. Nicole had spent the past five days cleaning, watching TV, and living in the shadows. She hadn’t gone out except once when she was desperate for groceries. She’d donned dark sunglasses and a ball cap. Thankfully, no one had bothered her.

  Today, she had a meeting with her attorney to bring her up to speed on what had transpired. The police still considered her their number one suspect, and Mr. Barton wanted to clarify a few things. Plus, he’d finally obtained a copy of the security video she’d requested.

  She dressed in non-descript clothes that wouldn’t attract attention, but as she’d picked out her outfit, she considered everything with an eye as to what might make her appear more innocent. Somehow, she had to convince the world she hadn’t taken that money.

  She took the bus and arrived at the offices of Taylor, Hunt and Barton a good twenty minutes before her scheduled time. It seemed strange to be using public transportation again. Everything in her life had changed the day she’d been taken in for questioning and subsequently lost her job.

  Inside the building, she rode the beautiful mirror-plated elevator to the top floor of the high-rise in downtown Portland, and stepped out into the richly-appointed brown and bronze waiting room.

  “Nicole Camden here to see Mr. Barton,” she said to the young male receptionist.

  He glanced up at her from his computer screen, his clear gray eyes assessing her from behind black-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Barton is with another client. If you’d like to take a seat, he should be with you shortly.”

  Nicole forced a half smile and nodded. She hated being constantly judged. She sat next to a large palm, grateful for the partial cover it gave her from the secretary’s condemning eyes. One would think with the number of questionable clients visiting the office, she wouldn’t seem like such a spectacle.

  A few minutes later, the door to one of the inner offices opened, and Riley walked out. As he neared her, he caught her surprised glance and matched it with one of his own.

  “Nicole?”

  She stood, her lips curving into a warm smile. It had seemed like forever since she’d seen him, and a friendly face from a person who knew her and wouldn’t judge her was a welcome relief. “Riley.” She walked forward and hugged him.

  He hugged her back before releasing her. “How are you doing? I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  She didn’t blame him for not calling. He still had his job at First Freedom, and it wouldn’t do either of them any good if he was seen with her. It might even cost him his job. “I’m okay. It’s been tough, but I wanted to thank you for helping me by sending Mr. Barton.”

  Riley nodded over his shoulder indicating their mutual attorney. “He’s a great guy and a very smart man. If anyone can keep you out of this mess, he can.”

  “I have a lot of confidence in him. He really seems to know his stuff.” She considered her friend for a moment. “What are you doing here? You’re not in trouble, too, I hope.”

  He shook his head. “Boring family business. My dad asked me to drop by for a second.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’d ask you to lunch today, but I have to get back to work. How about next week?”

  The look in his blue eyes seemed sincere, and she wished more than anything she could spend the day with him. It would do her a world of good to have someone to talk with. “I’d love to.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you. We could even do dinner or something.”

  “That would be nice.” She might have to insist on takeout to spare him the embarrassment, but it would be good to see him again. Plus, she could get the scoop on what was happening back at the office and find out if people really believed she’d stolen all that money.

  Mr. Barton looked as impressive today as he had the first time she’d met him. He welcomed her into his luxurious office. The massive dark wood desk and beige-colored walls were accented with minor splashes of red in a painting and in the pillows that rested on a dark brown leather couch. A warm, spicy scent caught her attention and drew her gaze to a reed atomizer resting near the back of his credenza. Even the smell of his office was rich.

  “Have a seat, Nicole.”

  She smoothed her dark gray pants as she sat across the desk from him.

  He pulled out a large file with her name typed on a label at the edge. She want
ed to cry. How could someone who’d led such a quiet life have a file that size? What could he possibly have in there? “Have you found anything that can help me?”

  He glanced up, and she realized the salt and pepper of his hair extended to his brows. “I’m still studying their so-called evidence with a magnifying glass, looking for a loophole. I don’t think they’ve got a chance in hell of proving you guilty. Everything is circumstantial.”

  She scooted forward to the edge of her chair. This was the best news she’d had in a long time. “Explain exactly what circumstantial means. I mean, I think I know, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  He laced his fingers together in front of him and placed them on the oversized desk. “Circumstantial evidence is where everything they have against you makes you look guilty, but none of it is solid evidence that proves guilt.”

  “That’s good, then.”

  “Short of there being no evidence, it’s a good thing.”

  “Can I see the video? I’d like to know exactly why they think it makes me guilty.”

  “Absolutely.” He opened the file and then frowned. The papers inside snapped as he flipped them, the lines on his forehead deepening. He picked up the phone. “Where is the disc that was in Ms. Camden’s file? He paused. “It’s not here now.” Another pause. “Then I expect you to locate it or get another copy from the police immediately.”

  He hung up the phone, irritation ruffling his usual smooth demeanor. “I’m embarrassed to say that we seem to have misplaced it. My assistant is working on it right now.”

  Her spirits sank. She couldn’t help but feel the one thing that made her appear guilty might also prove she wasn’t, and now she’d have to wait even longer to view it. There had been at least one other person in her area that night—the actual thief—and it was quite possible the video might show someone besides the two of them, someone who might have witnessed the thief. It didn’t even have to be a person on her floor. Anyone, anywhere in the building. “Have you watched it?”

  “I did earlier this morning.”

  “What did you think?”

  “Besides the fact that it places you at the scene, not much.” He seemed to commiserate with her.

  “Did the police say anything else?”

  “I know they’re still investigating, and like I said earlier, you still appear to be their number one suspect.”

  “My aunt thinks I should hire a private investigator. She said if the police are solely focused on me, then they’re not looking for the real thief.”

  He waved away her concerns. “I don’t know that an investigator is necessary at this point. You haven’t been charged yet.”

  “Still, wouldn’t it be better to take a proactive stance? If the police aren’t looking at anyone else...”

  “I’m not going to argue if you think it’s necessary. My assistant can give you the name of a man I highly recommend for the job. We’ve worked well together on cases before.”

  “Do you know how much he charges? She really needed to find a job.

  Mr. Barton’s expression grew vague. “That would be something you’d need to discuss with him. But if you’re going to go through with this, you should give him a call. In fact, I think I have his number in here.” He clicked his computer mouse a few times before writing a name and number on a piece of paper and handing it to her.

  She sighed, frustrated and confused. “I don’t really know what to do at this point.”

  The dimples in his cheeks creased as he smiled. “Try not to worry, Nicole. The police won’t press charges until they believe they have enough evidence against you. Right now, you’re sitting pretty.”

  He might be right, but “pretty” didn’t stop people from treating her as though she was a criminal.

  * * *

  Nicole snagged a newspaper and stopped by her mailbox before she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Loud, angry voices met her as she reached the landing on the second floor. She paused, her hand on the cold, metal railing. The sounds reverberated from Janie’s apartment.

  She cringed, hating that her friend agreed to live under such conditions. More than likely, Paul was drunk again. It didn’t matter that it was barely past two in the afternoon. Janie would probably have bruises again tomorrow. More yelling, his and hers, reached out to her, and Nicole left the staircase, heading toward their apartment. She should mind her own business, but she couldn’t.

  The cursing continued until Nicole knocked on the door. Then everything went quiet.

  A moment later, Janie opened the door a crack. “Nicole.”

  “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  Janie bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “It’s Paul again. He’s…it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Are you sure? I feel like I should call the cops.” She wanted Paul behind bars where he couldn’t hurt anyone.

  Janie’s eyes flew wide. “God, no. That will only make everything worse.”

  “Who is it?” Paul asked, sounding drunk and irate.

  “Come stay with me,” Nicole suggested. “Give him time to cool off.”

  She nodded. “I might. Later. Really, I’m okay.”

  Nicole accepted her statement and backed away. “Call me,” she mouthed, holding her hand to her ear as though it was a phone.

  Janie closed the door before she could say anything else.

  She waited in the hall for several minutes to make sure things weren’t going to escalate again. Between her being accused and what her friend was going through, it seemed the whole world had gone mad. Janie might say everything was all right, but in Nicole’s opinion, it was never okay to treat the person you supposedly loved in that manner.

  When she was satisfied her friend wasn’t in danger, she continued to her floor.

  The moment she reached it, the real bombshell exploded. An officer not much older than her stood outside her door with Stormy restrained by an animal control pole. Stormy jumped when she spied Nicole, and the officer subdued her with a jerk.

  That pissed her off. No one had the right to go into her house and stress her dog. She marched down the hall. “What the hell is going on here?”

  The officer straightened, his hand near his weapon. “Take a step back, miss. We have a warrant to search the premises.”

  She swallowed, his uniform and weapon intimidating her, but she wasn’t about to show it. “I’d like to see that warrant.” Not that she’d know what to look for or understand any of the lingo. But if they were going to harass her dog, she wasn’t going to make it easy.

  He handed an official looking paper to her. She glanced over the document, noticing that it had been signed by a judge.

  She narrowed her eyes at the officer. “You might have a warrant to search my house, but you have no right to hurt my dog.”

  Stormy whimpered as though in agreement.

  “Sorry, ma’am. The dog has to be restrained while the search is conducted. This protects our officers and your dog.”

  “Can you at least take that thing off her? Her voice cracked as she made her request. “I’ll get her leash and keep her with me.”

  Her pathetic plea must have appealed to the kinder side of him. “Where’s the leash?”

  A tiny amount of hope sprang to life. “Inside that first closet.” She pointed toward her door.

  “Carlton. Get the dog leash out of the closet by the door and bring it here.”

  A black officer with a bald head appeared at the door with Stormy’s leash in hand. The first cop nodded at Nicole, and the other officer handed the leash to her.

  “Thank you,” she said to both men as she took it and hooked it to Stormy’s collar. Her dog growled as the first officer removed the restraint from her neck.

  Nicole tightened the leash around her hand and walked to the end of the hall where she sagged to the floor to await the officers’ rape of her apartment. Stormy licked her cheek, but it didn’t help to ease her fears. Dank smells seeped up from the old carpet
, and she wished she could run away and hide from the misery that had become her life.

  She placed a call to her attorney, only to have Mr. Barton tell her he would complain to the courts that he wasn’t notified, and that she should let them complete their investigation. If she was innocent, there was nothing to fear.

  A half hour into her wait, her phone rang. She lifted her head off her knees and pulled the phone from her purse. Aunt Claire. She could not let her know the police were ransacking her apartment.

  She sucked in and released a ragged breath before she answered.

  “Nicole.” Her aunt’s voice sounded frantic and relieved at the same time. “I haven’t heard from you all afternoon. You were supposed to let me know how it went with the attorney.”

  She searched for an answer. “I think it went well.” Honestly, the more she thought about it, the less certain she was. “He doesn’t seem too worried.” She glanced down the hall at her open door and the officer waiting outside. Boy, had he been wrong. “He seems to think they won’t find anything other than circumstantial evidence and that there’s not enough of that to charge me.”

  “What was on the surveillance video?”

  “I didn’t get to see it. My attorney misplaced it.”

  A few seconds of silence hovered between them. “Are you sure he’s a good lawyer?”

  “Yes, I think so. It was just a misunderstanding or something. He’s supposed to let me know when he has it.”

  “Do the police have any other leads?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then I’m not convinced of anything. It’s an election year. Everyone wants arrest and conviction rates up to make them look good.”

  Nicole was about to argue with her politically savvy aunt and say that busting her wouldn’t help anyone’s campaign, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. A conviction of a ten-million dollar thief would certainly make headlines.

  “Have you found a private investigator yet?”

  She hadn’t. As she’d left her attorney’s office, she’d made a quick phone call to the investigator he’d suggested and inquired about rates. The amount was staggering to her. She supposed if she’d tossed out Mr. Barton’s name, he might have given her a better rate, but even half the quoted amount would sink her. She might have to rely solely on her attorney to protect her, not that he could do much unless her case reached the legal system.