Buried Memories. Carol J. Post

the glow of red-and-blue lights shone from the end of the road, Tyler raised his brows. “I’ve only been here a few hours, but when I used to come here as a kid, it was a pretty quiet place. I wonder what’s going on.”

      “That would be me. Someone broke in to my house while I was gone.”

      He frowned, the concern on his face obvious in the light of the moon, which had once again made an appearance. “Is anything missing?”

      “I haven’t been inside yet.” But considering the creep had had all weekend to clean her out, the possibilities weren’t looking good.

      “That’s probably smart. I hope it isn’t too bad.”

      “Yeah, me, too.”

      A cruiser pulled into the driveway, and the siren stopped midsqueal. The door swung open, and Amber Kingston stepped out. Amber was the newest member of the Cedar Key Police Department and among the group of people who’d taken Nicki under their wings from the moment she’d arrived in town.

      “You had a break-in?”

      Nicki nodded. “I left midafternoon on Friday and just got home, so no one’s been here all weekend.” Andy had agreed to collect Saturday’s mail, and her friends Allison and Blake had kept Callie. She hadn’t seen a need to have anyone keep an eye on the house.

      Amber’s attention shifted to Tyler. “And you are?”

      “Tyler Brant.” He jammed a thumb toward the house next door. “Andy’s brother.”

      Amber gave a sharp nod before moving up the drive. “Let’s see what we have inside.”

      Nicki started to follow, but Tyler’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

      “Are you okay? I can go in with you if you’d like.”

      She hesitated, then shook her head. She didn’t need anyone to prop her up. She was just overtired. She’d made the harrowing drive home on too little sleep.

      But all the excuses in the world couldn’t stave off the sense of vulnerability that had swept over her the instant she realized someone had come into her house. There were things inside those four walls that couldn’t be replaced at any price, because they’d belonged to the two people she’d cared for more than anyone in the world. Two people who’d taken a foster kid with a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas and shown her a love that wouldn’t quit.

      She squared her shoulders and forced a smile. If there was one thing life had taught her to do well, it was to stand on her own two feet. “Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

      He opened his mouth as if ready to argue, then reached up to jam his fingers through his hair. No longer in the military buzz cut she would have expected, it rested in soft layers, light brown or dark blond—it was hard to tell in the moonlight. “Let me know if you need anything.”

      She watched him lead the dog toward the road, a sudden sense of nostalgia sweeping over her. She had friends, close ones, but Tyler knew things about her no one else did. There’d been no pretense for either of them. Could they pick up where they left off and renew the friendship they’d had so many years ago? She wasn’t the same person she’d been then, and after the horrors he’d lived through, he probably wasn’t, either.

      She turned and, with Callie trotting beside her, led Amber toward the carport. She might as well get it over with.

      “This is where he got in.” She pointed at the door. “Looks like I’m going to need some work done on the doorjamb.”

      Amber removed her pistol from its holster. “I’m going to go in and clear the place, make sure no one’s hiding inside. You might want to wait in the truck.”

      Nicki coaxed Callie up into the seat for the third time that evening. A few minutes later, Amber stepped back into the carport, her expression somber.

      “You’ve got a little bit of a mess.” She held up a hand. “Nothing major.”

      Nicki followed her into the house, her insides settling into a cold, hard lump. She reached to unhook the leash from Callie’s collar, then changed her mind.

      “I’d better close her up.” Her house had become a crime scene. She didn’t need the dog traipsing through and destroying evidence.

      She opened the door leading into the laundry room, then filled a bowl with dry food. Callie dove in right away. That would keep her occupied for a few minutes. After a couple of pats on the dog’s back, Nicki pulled the door shut and stepped into the kitchen.

      It was the same as she’d left it two days earlier. The living room, too, appeared untouched. Two curios held thousands of dollars of figurines—Swarovski, Lenox and Armani—all undisturbed. A sliver of the tension eased. The intruder apparently wasn’t interested in electronics, either, because the big-screen TV and pieces of accompanying equipment still occupied their cubbyholes in the entertainment center.

      Which meant the mess Amber had referred to was in her bedrooms. The guest room she’d chosen for herself, leaving the large master bedroom to function as a combination hobby room and office.

      As soon as she stepped into the hall, she gasped. The open door at the end revealed her wooden work table covered with papers and files. She closed the distance at a half run.

      All of her tools and materials for making stained glass were where she’d left them, but both file drawers were all the way open, the majority of the contents removed and strewn across her work area. Her bulletin board hung above the table, her to-do list pinned in the center. The first three items were crossed through. The remaining four, she’d assigned time frames for completion. Organization in the midst of chaos. But the sense of control it usually gave her had evaporated the moment she stepped into the room.

      She reached for one of the files on the table. Amber’s voice stopped her.

      “Don’t touch anything. I’m going to try to lift prints.”

      Nicki let her hand fall to her side but scanned the items. Lots of papers lay on top, pulled from their folders. One stack was the paperwork from the sale of the Crystal River house, an hour from Cedar Key. It had belonged to her parents. Seven months ago, they’d taken early retirement to see the country and reward themselves for all the years of hard work.

      Some reward. They’d been headed toward a picturesque small town in North Carolina when a tired trucker had crossed the center line. And she’d been left with a three-bedroom house on five acres and a great big hole in her heart.

      Next to the Crystal River sale documents was the paperwork from the purchase of the Cedar Key house. And beside that was the file from opening her account at Drummond Community Bank upon first moving to Cedar Key. Her income tax forms were also there, along with some credit card statements.

      All of her personal information was right out in the open—her name, address, Social Security number, date of birth—everything needed to steal her identity.

      “You’d better file fraud alerts with the credit reporting agencies.” Amber’s voice was soft but filled with worry.

      She nodded and followed Amber from the room, an emptiness weaving through her. She’d come to Cedar Key to regain her footing after life had kicked out one too many of her foundation blocks. The quaint town’s peace and tranquility had gone a long way toward mending the tattered pieces of her soul. And she wasn’t going to let this break-in take that away.

      She squared her shoulders and started down the hall. Before she’d gotten very far, Amber stopped her with a raised hand.

      “The intruder did some damage in this room, too. I’m hoping you can shed some light on what’s going on.”

      During her mad rush to her work room, she’d hurried right past her bedroom without even looking inside. Now something in Amber’s tone sent dread showering down on her. Could anything be worse than what she’d already witnessed?

      Amber