A Time to Live (4 page)

“I will,” Josh said.
“Come on, Michael.”

Michael nodded and followed Josh, his heart aching with grief.

They left the sheriff’s office and trudged slowly down the street toward Michael’s truck.

“I’m sorry, man,” Josh said.

“Thanks,” Michael replied numbly.

Josh sighed and Michael shot a glance at him.
“There’s more isn’t there?”

Josh nodded.
“You know the sheriff is pretty good at keeping details of ongoing investigations under wraps, but he did tell me one thing....”

“What?”

“I...you’re not going to like this, Michael.”

“I know, Josh.
I don’t like anything about this, so tell me.”

“There are rumors that the FBI is sending a profiler from Denver.
They think this is the work of a serial killer.”

The breath squeezed from his lungs and Michael’s vision went dark.
Fortunately, they had reached his truck and he staggered against it.

“Michael?” Josh asked, gripping his shoulder.

“God,” he choked. “They can’t think....I mean...they believe....”

Josh nodded slowly, his expression grim.
“The women all match a similar profile. Blonde, petite, beautiful, with light colored eyes.”

“And all of them I knew.”
He sighed. “How can they think I did this, Josh? Anyone who truly knows me would realize I could never hurt a woman.”

Josh shook his head, thinking for a long moment.
“Michael, don’t you have a friend in the FBI?”

He nodded slowly.
“Rick Stover, he was the lead agent who hired me to track Taylor on that endangered species case. He has some Native blood too.”

“Now this makes more sense.”

“What does?”

“The sheriff was actually complaining about the FBI sticking their nose into this.
He was not happy about the fact that you made friends in high places. I think your friend got wind of the situation and wants to make sure you don’t get screwed in the deal.”

“I can only hope, Josh. God knows I’d never ask Rick to stick his neck out for me.”

“Yeah,” Josh replied with a smile. “Even when you should.”

Michael shook his head.
“At least there is one good thing about this. If this truly is the work of a serial killer murdering the women in my life, he just ran out of victims.”

Josh shrugged, staring at the ground and toying with a rock with the tip of his boot.
Finally, he looked up. “You okay to drive?”

“Yeah.
I need to get home and find out how badly they trashed my place.”

“You want some help?”

“Thanks, Josh, but no. I’ll be okay.”

“Call me if you want to talk.”

Despite his agony, his lips tugged upward. “Is that Doctor Starwell speaking?”

Josh chuckled.
“No, Michael, just your friend.”

“Thanks, Josh.”
They shook hands. Michael watched him walk away, then unlocked his truck and quickly left town.

A short time later, Michael opened the door to his home and froze.
Everything had been destroyed. Overturned furniture, ripped upholstery, open cabinets, broken chairs, and shattered glass, was all that was left. His gaze traveled to his paintings. They had been slashed beyond repair. He moved to his studio and his heart withered. Even his paints had been emptied over the floor, canvases ripped, nothing remained intact. He walked woodenly to each room, finding similar destruction.

This place...this home...had been all that his parents had left for him.
Michael paused in the bedroom, seeing his mother’s hope chest shattered and its contents ripped to pieces. The law had not only invaded his home, but destroyed it. The deputies had not been looking for evidence, they only wanted to send him a message.

Michael sank to the floor, touching the broken pieces of wood.
He understood the message all too well.

Rage burned within him and he abruptly stood, hurrying out the door.
Out back he found the aviary undamaged and sighed in relief to discover his hawk, Cetan, unharmed. He fetched his gauntlet and retrieved the hawk, then walked purposefully toward the thick woods.

From his vantage point on the forested hill, Michael spotted two vehicles parked in front of the old Stafford place.
Emma Desalle and Nicole Matthews looked around the cabin.

“Is Desalle completely insane?” he muttered to Cetan as she perched on his arm.
Her talons gripped his heavy gauntlet.

The raptor ruffled her feathers as if agreeing with him.

Michael knew full well the awful stories Desalle had to be telling. Yet she brought Nicole to the Stafford place - the one place as close to his as a next door neighbor could get. Michael’s lands and the Stafford’s ran side by side. Of course, out of all the places, Stafford land was prime. That he could understand.

He glanced down
as a white wolf trotted from the woods and sat beside him. The creature looked up with amber eyes. Dakota had been Anpa’s littermate - the only two out of the six to survive because Michael had found them after Taylor shot their mother. Now Dakota, like Michael, was alone.

“Should I go scare the hell out of them?” Michael asked.

The wolf yipped a negative.

He shrugged.
“You’re right, Nicole was kind to Anpa.”

Yet, he thought of the incident in the café this morning and allowed himself to smile broadly, something he never did in public.
Nicole was a feisty one to dare stand between him and flattening Rod. Most of the time, Michael ignored Rod and the rest of Taylor’s gang, but today he had been ready for bloodshed. Anpa’s death had been nothing more than a waste that robbed him of a dear friend and Nicole’s kindness should not have been rewarded with cruelty. That’s why he apologized to her. He had acted like the beast people thought him to be.

Yet something about Nicole puzzled him.
Her personality was vibrant but she worked to squash it. He sensed something...odd...something he could not define.

Perhaps it was something of the city still clinging to her.
Michael knew, last night, she had come from a large one. Still, he could not decide what made her so unusual...and so provocative. He shook his head. He knew better than to get involved with women. After Joanna, he had learned his lesson.

“It appears we can no longer hunt on Stafford land,” Michael said with regret.
“But as long as she stays out of my way, I’ll be happy.”

The hawk screeched and flapped her wings.

“Yes, Cetan. We have delayed too long. The hunt awaits.” He turned and faded back into the forest.

****

Nikki sat a box in the middle of the dust filled living room. “Sign here, here, and here,” she muttered. The paperwork had been beastly, but because of it, she moved in right away.

Emma had been right, the place was beyond ‘fixer.’
Nikki had some serious work to do.

“I’d better get started,” she said.
She was determined to spend the night. Nikki pulled out a notepad and pen to list all the improvements she needed to make.

When she finished she had a daunting list indeed.
The roof leaked in more places she cared to count, along with water damage to the floor and walls. The stairs to the second floor were rotted, the wiring threatened to start an electrical fire, the water pipes had burst, some windows were broken, the storm shutters hung on shattered hinges older than she was, and the front and back door wouldn’t keep the wind out let alone a person.

Fortunately, there was a large wood-burning stove in the kitchen, still in great condition but it needed cleaning.
It was large enough to warm the north side of the house. The kitchen joined the living room in an L shape around a soot blackened stone hearth, but she found the chimney clear. To the left of the hearth were the stairs, under which was the door to the basement. Risking her neck, Nikki ascended the stairs and found a nice potbelly stove to heat the three bedrooms up there.

Outside overgrown pine and oak trees hovered menacingly over the roof.
Weeds and dried brush pushed against the house, causing a serious fire hazard. She would have to get a chainsaw and brush-hog at least, and she didn’t want to even think about the old barn out back.

The first thing she needed was water and electricity.
Nikki didn’t mind roughing it for a couple days, but a hot shower was a hot shower.

She made a list of everything required for the two projects and drove back to town.

Michael discovered himself coming to the wooded rise every morning for the past week. He just wanted to see if Nicole had abandoned the project, he told himself. But every morning, he smelled the scent of a hearth fire heavy on the crisp winter air. And every morning, he saw Nicole taking more supplies into the house.

He had to admit he was impressed.
From her clothing and vehicle he guessed she had money. Michael expected her to hire contractors to complete the repairs. That was all he needed, more people traipsing around his woods. But to his surprise, he saw her doing the work. Only once he saw an electrician and then a plumber, but they didn’t stay very long.

The buzz of the saw and the blows of the hammer echoed for quite a distance.
Apparently, Nicole knew what she was doing.

The wolf next to Michael whined impatiently and he took the not so subtle hint and left his vantage point.
It was time to hunt again.

****

Nikki surveyed the completed stairs with satisfaction, expertly flipped the hammer in her hand, and returned it to her tool belt. At least she could now ascend and descend without taking her life in her hands. She had been sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor in front of the hearth, but planned to finally buy a bed and drag it up to the bedroom.

She sat back on the large antique couch she had purchased and closed her eyes.
She was exhausted. Since the chemo, her stamina had never returned. It was late afternoon and an icy gust of wind whistled through the house. A storm was on the way.

“Next project, insulation and weather-stripping,” Nikki muttered.
The roof still leaked. She had patched the worst of it, but it needed a brand new one. That was something best left for summer, but with winter fast approaching she feared it wouldn’t wait.

Her stomach rumbled loudly and she groaned.
“But I’m too tired to move.”

It rumbled again.

“All right, we’ll do it your way.” Nikki hauled herself up and into the kitchen. She had started a pot of chili to slow cook all day. It should be finished soon.

Nikki shivered when another blast of wind moaned around the house.
Glancing out the window, she noticed it was already quite dark from the storm. Shadows of whipping tree branches moved eerily against the sheer curtains. Lightning flashed repeatedly, as bright as a strobe, and thunder rolled through the valley, sometimes rattling the dishes in the cupboards.

Nikki pulled out a flashlight, candles, and hurricane lamps and put them on the table in case the electricity went out.
She couldn’t remember ever experiencing a thunderstorm this intense in L.A. Hoping to slow down the cold draft, she moved to close the curtains.

As Nikki approached the window, a shadow caught her eye and she blinked, thinking it another tree limb.
But it moved again and Nikki recognized the definitive shape of a man. She leaped backward, sucking in her breath and fighting down a coughing fit.

Lightning sparked and the shadow vanished.
Fear coiled through Nikki as her gaze snapped from window to window. She spotted a short length of two-by-four in the corner and grabbed it. Who would be lurking around her house? Another thought calmed her fear slightly. The house had stood vacant for years, perhaps someone only now realized it had been purchased.

But on a night like tonight?

Lightning cracked again and the power flickered out, leaving her in darkness. The muted gray glow from the windows rapidly turned darker with the intensifying storm. She stepped back and picked up the flashlight, but did not turn it on, her gaze never leaving the windows. Every moving shadow made her heart pound harder. But at a second window, a larger shape caught her eye.

The man was still there.

Nikki remained frozen, her heart thudding painfully. She prayed she wouldn’t start coughing.

Suddenly, the shadow disappeared from the window.
Nikki forced herself to wait for what seemed like an eternity, but saw nothing more. Gathering her courage, she hefted the two-by-four, and slowly opened the door.

Lightning crackled.
The huge outline of a man in the frame almost made her scream. She sucked in her breath and took a step back. Abruptly, she was forced to fight down another coughing fit. Instinctively, she lifted the two-by-four higher.