Buried Memories. Carol Post J.

       THREE

      Blood.

      So much blood.

      It covered the woman’s body, seeping outward in an ever-expanding circle. She lay facedown on the floor, hand curled into a fist, as if she was spending the final moments of life in an angry protest against the void creeping over her.

      She drew in a final shallow breath. The fist tightened, then released.

      Nicki bolted upright with a gasp and pressed a hand over her racing heart. It was only a dream. One nightmare of many. This one was probably triggered by the visit from the two detectives and all the talk of her mother’s murder. The knife lying in the mulch might have played a part, too.

      She slid from the bed and bent to stroke Callie’s head, trying to shake off the final remnants of the dream. She was no stranger to nightmares. Scary movies triggered some of them, the evening news others. Growing up, she’d seen things no child should ever see, watched movies that would terrify the most hardened adult.

      But often her dreams held elements of the past—leering grins, sinister glances and whispered threats. Louie had landed a starring role in more than one.

      As she removed a T-shirt and shorts from the chest of drawers in the corner, her gaze slid toward the closet. She’d left the doors open last night. Shoes lined the bottom, and her clothes hung in organized sections, although packed in way too tightly. Lavender once again occupied his spot on the shelf.

      She hadn’t been able to bring herself to throw him away. So she’d bought a needle and some matching thread and set to work. Now, with the exception of dozens of tiny stitches crisscrossing his belly, he was back in the same condition he’d been in before the attack—one eye missing, pale purple fur matted and stuffing so compacted his head listed pitifully to one side.

      All these years, she’d held on to him. He was the only thing from her early childhood she’d managed to keep. She’d started out with a bin of personal belongings, but through the series of foster homes, one by one, the items disappeared. Some she accidentally left behind, but more often, other kids took them. Once someone tried to take Lavender. The foster mom had to pull her off the other child. The next day, she was on her way to another home with her beloved stuffed rabbit.

      Callie nudged her hand, letting her know she’d dallied long enough. It was time for a walk. And after that, breakfast. Like most dogs, she approached both with equal enthusiasm.

      Once showered and dressed, Nicki hooked up the leash. As soon as she stepped outside, uneasiness sifted through her. She scanned the yard, then shifted her gaze to the flower bed. Nothing was there, no threatening objects. She tried to shake off the apprehension. It was broad daylight. And Callie was with her.

      But finding her chef’s knife lying in the mulch Friday night had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. And although neither she nor Tyler had seen hide nor hair of the intruder in the day and a half since, tension continued to wrap itself around her body.

      She glanced toward Andy’s, then headed down her drive. Tyler was probably back inside, having long since finished Sasha’s walk. Maybe she should try to coordinate Callie’s walks with Sasha’s. She would feel safer, and the company was nice. Reconnecting with Tyler had been a pleasant surprise.

      But he was different from the boy she’d known long ago.

      Friday night, when she’d asked him about his military service, she could feel him shutting down. Her questions had been innocent. But he’d clammed up so tight she couldn’t have pried the information from him with a crowbar.

      He never used to be that way. During those balmy days, sitting in the tree in her backyard, sharing stories as daylight became dusk and finally darkness, there’d been no secrets between them. But those experiences had happened a lifetime ago. That Tyler was gone. Maybe that Nicki was, too.

      When she reached the road, she looked in both directions. She hadn’t gotten up as early as she did during the week. Maybe if she had, she could have avoided the nightmare. If that was the case, the extra hour of sleep hadn’t been worth it.

      She took in a deep breath and increased her pace to a jog, giving Callie the opportunity to work out some of that inexhaustible supply of energy. Yesterday after Tyler had finished his work at the inn, they’d made a run to Crystal River for materials. Today he had the day free and planned to tackle her bathroom vanity installation in the afternoon, as soon as she got home from church. Andy refused to work on Sundays. Tyler didn’t have any such compunctions.

      Callie skidded to a stop so suddenly, the leash jerked Nicki’s arm backward before she could halt her forward movement. She frowned down at the dog, who’d stepped off the pavement and was busy sniffing the ground. “A little bit of warning would be nice.”

      Nicki let her gaze drift down the street. A short distance away, a car sat parked against a patch of woods. When Nicki started moving again, the engine cranked up. The driver made a U-turn and sped away, heading toward downtown.

      Her chest tightened, and she tried to push aside the uneasiness. The driver was probably a lost tourist consulting a map, then discovering he was on the wrong part of the island. That was a logical explanation.

      Except for the break-in and the note and the knife left near her living room window.

      Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten close enough to make out the tag. Other than the fact that it was small to medium size and white, she couldn’t even say what kind of car it was. She wasn’t good with car models. She’d always been a truck girl herself.

      A few minutes later, she turned around and headed in the direction of home. Callie would keep going if Nicki let her, all the way to town. But long walks alone had lost their appeal. There were too many deserted stretches along Hodges.

      Back at the house, she opened the front door and removed Callie’s leash. The dog made a beeline for the kitchen, then stood watching her enter, eyes filled with eagerness. After opening a can and dishing up a generous serving of a smelly concoction named Savory Beef Stew, she poured herself some cereal and sat at the kitchen table.

      Yesterday’s mail was still piled at the edge. She’d been busy cleaning when she saw the mailman stop and hadn’t taken the time to go through it. Then she’d set to work on one of her stained glass projects until Tyler arrived to take her to Home Depot.

      She picked up the top piece and tore open the envelope. Central Florida Electric Cooperative. The charges were every bit as high as she’d expected. Summers in Florida were hot and it showed on the power bill. Of course, that was all she’d ever known. At least she had air conditioning, which was more than she could say for her early years.

      The next envelope contained a credit card offer, which she intended to run through the shredder. Beneath that was something from Chase. One of her credit cards was through them. But the page showing through the windowed envelope looked more like a letter than a statement.

      As she scanned the type, dread slid down her throat, lining her stomach with lead. Someone had applied for a credit card in her name, likely before she’d placed the fraud alert. She hadn’t gotten home till Sunday night. And she’d called them Monday morning. If her intruder had come in on Friday, he’d had two whole days to wreak havoc with her credit.

      She laid the sheet of paper on the table and sat back in her chair. She’d have to call Chase and cancel the request. This was what she’d feared the moment she saw her information spread across the table. One week had passed, and it was already starting.