The Silent Witness. Dani Sinclair

He was supposed to be a police officer. One of the men who protected the people. But he was the kind of man who gave policemen a bad reputation. How could his wife stand to be around him?

      Nicki clung to her anger as she crossed the street and walked briskly past the General Store. Bianca Tooley waved to her from inside the post office a minute later. Nicki didn’t pause to talk with the lonely woman as she often did. All she wanted was the sanctuary of her safe little store.

      Seeing Alex again had brought back all sorts of memories. Hot nights and even hotter kisses. He’d been the town’s bad boy and her first lover. And she’d cried enough tears to overflow Trouble Lake when he left. But Alex had never once looked back, just as he’d sworn. As far as she knew, this was the first time in all those years that he’d ever returned to town. He hadn’t even come home for his mother’s funeral. Was he here now because of his sister?

      Ironically, Kayla was engaged to marry a D.C. police officer. And according to Mildred Kitteridge over at the General Store, the town council had approved Chief Hepplewhite’s request to hire more help. Alex’s soon-to-be brother-in-law was about to become the second in command of the Fools Point police force.

      Could Alex really have killed a man in cold blood?

      The question plagued her all day long as she taught a decoupage class, a knitting class, and two ceramic classes between waiting on customers. By the time the last brush had been cleaned, the last jar of glaze put away, and the large kiln loaded and turned on, Nicki was more than ready for an early night.

      She ate dinner without tasting a bite. She was too edgy to settle down with her needlepoint project. Her cat stropped her leg in sympathy.

      “Thanks, Ginger. If only Ilona would call so I could be sure she’s okay.” But the telephone remained obstinately silent.

      Ginger parrumphed and butted her lightly. Nicki scratched behind the cat’s ears, then went to check the locks. She drew a tub of steamy water and added the new bath oil she’d been meaning to try. The scent really did remind her of gardenias.

      Lighting several fat candles, she piled her hair on top of her head, selected a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and picked up her novel. She would read and soak and dispel these useless memories that had haunted her all day.

      Less than twenty minutes later, she knew it was no use. She simply couldn’t keep her mind on the printed pages. The story deserved her attention, but thoughts of Alex kept intruding. He was a mature man now. Still cocky and full of swaggering confidence, and still irresistibly attractive.

      Maybe Hope was right. Nicki was turning into a spinster. She’d even started talking to her cat. Smiling, she patted herself dry and pulled on her long satin robe.

      “I wonder if other single women like satin lingerie and sleep in the nude, Ginger.” The cat raised her head inquiringly from the rug. Seeing no food in the offing, she curled again and closed her eyes. Cats had their priorities straight.

      Nicki refilled her glass and settled down to watch the news. When she found herself almost nodding off, she turned off the TV and the light. Going to the front window that looked out over Main Street, she paused. Her heart began to pound. Was there someone standing in the shadows beside the appliance store once again?

      Nicki stared so hard her eyes began to burn, but no one and nothing moved. It must have been her imagination. There wasn’t anyone there. Still, she remained standing for several more minutes just watching to be certain.

      Feeling a bit foolish, she rechecked her door locks and headed for the bedroom. Maybe she and Ginger should get a dog. A large dog, like Spider, the Labrador retriever Bianca Tooley always kept at her side.

      Good grief. Hope was more right than she knew. Nicki was turning into Miss Tooley.

      Nicki tossed her robe over the nightstand and climbed into bed. Was Ilona safe? Had Alex Coughlin really walked up to a car in the alley and shot a man in cold blood?

      Her last thought was that she hoped not.

      The dream began with a memory. Alex’s soft kisses slowly awakened her passion. His arms held her, the way only his arms ever had. But now they were a man’s arms. Hard. Protective.

      She was dreaming and she knew it, but she clung to the dream, not wanting to wake. She was on the brink of something wonderful. She tried to ignore the sense of wrongness that disturbed the dream and tugged at her half-conscious brain.

      The creak of the floorboard next to her bed snapped her eyes open. Too late, she felt the presence inside the room. A hand came out of the darkness to clamp over her mouth.

      “Don’t scream.”

      Chapter Two

      Terror gripped her. Nicki struggled, but she was pinned beneath the weight of her attacker, tangled in her sheet.

      “Nicki, stop it!”

      The low growl brought an instant halt to her struggles. Though she tried to make out his features in the darkness, she couldn’t. But never in a million years would she forget that voice. She stopped moving. Stopped breathing.

      “Alex?”

      “I think you broke my nose.”

      The adrenaline seeped from her body. Badly shaken, she lay beneath him while a myriad of remembered emotions assaulted her. She selected anger and drew it on like a cloak.

      How dare he scare her like this?

      “Get off me!”

      She shoved as hard as she could. Alex rolled away from her in the darkness. When she would have reached for the light switch, he stopped her, gripping her hand firmly.

      “No lights.”

      “Why not? What do you mean coming in here scaring me half to death in the middle of the night? Who do you think you are?”

      “Your first lover?”

      The words charged the silence with an arc of electricity that should have been visible to the naked eye.

      “You bastard,” she said quietly.

      “Not technically.” He stood up and sighed. “I’m sorry, Nicki. That was uncalled for.”

      “Yes. It was.” She braced herself on her hands, halfway to a sitting position. “What are you doing here, Alex?”

      In the darkness of the room, she sensed him rocking back on his heels. “Tonight? I need to know why Osher thinks you are an eyewitness to the murder last night.”

      Hurt primed her anger, pushing aside all the other emotions. Even though it was too dark to make out more than shapes and shadows in the room, she covered her bare breasts with the sheet and sat up, suddenly all too aware that she was naked beneath the thin bit of linen.

      “Why don’t you go ask him? He has my statement.”

      The whistle of Alex’s pent-up breath was loud in the silent room.

      “I’ve done all the talking with Osher that I plan to do. Talk to me, Nicki,” he coaxed. “Tell me what you saw last night.”

      There had been a time when she would have told him anything. Everything. A time when she would have cheerfully lied for him or worse. But she wasn’t sixteen any more and he wasn’t the brash young Alex Coughlin she’d loved so desperately.

      No. Now he was the brash mature Alex Coughlin. And that made him twice as dangerous.

      “Get out of my house, Alex.”

      “I can’t do that, Nicki. You were in your shop last night. You would have had to break speed records to get upstairs to your apartment before those shots were fired. That means you didn’t see the crime. Unless you opened the back door. Is that what you did, Nicki?”

      “How do you know what I was doing last night?”

      “You