Manhunt (19 page)

Michael could feel the heat rising under his collar, spreading over his ears.

“No way. We agreed, Wes. I’m trusting you to protect her from all this. Don’t do this. Don’t betray my trust. It won’t make a difference anyway.”

Wes stood up, not willing to get into an argument with him. “The hell it won’t. You’re going to need all the help you can get, Michael. You still want me to represent you?” Michael bit his lower lip, clearly still furious, but nodded his head. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow at the arraignment, then.”

Wes walked to the door and rapped his knuckles on the glass. Deputy Slader appeared a minute later and let Wes out before taking Michael by the elbow and leading him back to his cell. He uncuffed Michael and closed the door, pausing for a moment before deciding to speak.

“My kid sister used to live in California. She was in an abusive relationship. Refused to let me help her, no matter what he did to her. I let my fear of losing my badge and her insistence that she could handle him keep me from flying out there and beating the shit out of him. One night, she called me to tell me she was leaving him, asking for a place to stay. I bought her a ticket and waited for her at the airport, but she never got on the plane. She must have told him she was leaving, because he flew off the handle. He stabbed her 32 times, then shot himself in the head. I will regret not taking action sooner until the day that I die.”

Michael looked around, thinking,
Okay, here’s the good cop. Where’s the bad cop?
But the clenched jaw and white knuckles reflected the painful sincerity in the deputy’s eyes.

“He’s lucky he shot himself. It was a much easier death than the one I’d have delivered to him.”

Michael’s jaw was slightly agape. He had no response to that, except that he knew exactly how he felt. Michael thought better of voicing that aloud, though. He just nodded his head respectfully. The officer returned the gesture and opened the main door, effectively ending the odd, but no less comforting commiserating.

Chapter 17

Once Nikki found out she wasn’t going to be able to see Michael right away, she curled into a ball and slept the rest of the day and most of the night, letting the dark depression drag her into a deep slumber. Around 3 AM, she woke up in a cold sweat and couldn’t stop shaking. She had no idea what she had dreamed about. What she did know was her body physically craved Michael’s arms around her. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, imagining they were Michael’s. Her mind tried to recreate the sweet smell of his breath as it teased her neck when he spooned her from behind, the weight of his arm on her side as he hugged her close to him, the feeling of his leg pressed between hers...

A sob burst from her throat even as her core became warm and tingly remembering the way the hair on his thigh would tickle her naked sex when they snuggled. She started rocking her hips, pretending she was grinding on him, pressed tight against her. Nikki’s hand started to slide down to the source of the ache, only to jerk it away in self-loathing as she threw off the covers and jumped out of bed.

How could she possibly be thinking about touching herself, feeling pleasure at a time like this? She was angry at herself for even considering it. It was just that she missed him so much, it consumed her. No longer feeling even remotely tired, she grabbed a shower and tip-toed downstairs to find something to distract her. She stopped on the stairs to take in all the pictures there, now remembering the stories behind many of them. She reached out and caressed Michael’s cheek on one of her favorites, which happened to be positioned next to a copy of the one Sophie had given her before they left that first night. Nikki felt a special attachment to that photo now, and was saddened it had been left behind when they were running from the hotel. She was half-tempted to steal the duplicate, but thought better of it and dragged herself away. Standing in a stairwell for hours, staring at pictures of Michael was not going to do anything to get her mind off of things.

Nana met her at the bottom of the staircase, and lay by her feet when she plopped on the couch. There wasn’t a thing on television besides infomercials. She didn’t know how to work their stereo system, and was afraid of it blaring if she turned it on.

A scan of the kitchen and pantry proved helpful, and she decided to bake up some banana bread. She was excited she remembered the recipe. They were sure to have company over the next couple of days. Perhaps she’d be able to take some to Michael when she saw him later today after the arraignment and his psych exam.

Although she hated that Michael had insisted on not letting her argue the kidnapping charge on his behalf, she was happy she didn’t have to go through a psych exam too. She wasn’t altogether certain she could pass one at the moment.

The familiar stirring of the batter with a wooden spoon was soothing. She’d picked up the trait from Olivia, who had filled the hours where Nikki visited Michael, only to have him avoid her, by teaching her how to bake. There was something comforting in the repetitiveness, the stirring, the kneading of dough; the smells in the kitchen and the flour in her hair helped her breathe easier. So much so that, when Christian stumbled down the stairs, still half asleep but letting his nose lead him to the kitchen, she asked him if he minded running her to the grocery store, which was open 24 hours.

“You sure you want to do that, sugar?” Christian seemed concerned. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Nikki wasn’t sure she could take all the good-natured but nonetheless nosy questions she was bound to get from her coworkers. Or, was it former coworkers? Still, her craving for the catharsis that baking provided won out. It was the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps she could get lucky and avoid running into anyone.

“I’m sure. It’ll do me good to get out for a bit. Focusing on baking is a lot easier than fretting about everything else.”

“If you’re sure; I just don’t want those fucking reporters chasing you around like some used-up pop princess. I’ll have to hurt somebody.” Christian scowled. She hadn’t even thought of that, but she wasn’t going to let them stop her, either.

“I have no doubt you’ll protect me. You give off a great ‘you won’t like me when I’m angry’ vibe,” Nikki teased, using her best Bruce Banner impression.

Christian chuckled and pulled her into a hug. “All right, sugar. Whatever your heart desires. Just give me a few to brush my teeth and throw some jeans on.” He kissed her on top of her head and let her go, heading back for the stairs. “While you’re waiting, you could cut me a slice of that banana bread. You know how I love your banana bread, fresh out of the oven...”

“With peanut butter, not too thick so it melts. I remember.”

Nikki smiled and it felt so odd. She was definitely going to bring Michael some banana bread. Hopefully it would bring a smile to his face too. Maybe she’d even bring some for the guys at the station. Nikki’s smile faded as she worried about how Michael was getting along there. He’d had a few bad experiences with the police as a teenager; a cop roughed him up a bit when he got caught skipping school and got mouthy with the officer, for one. Another had tried to plant fabricated evidence on him to pin something on Christian once. Ironically, it was one of the few times Christian was actually innocent. The officer in question was let go, but it didn’t curb the sour taste in Michael’s mouth anytime the conversation drifted towards the police or the legal system.

Nikki had no more time to think about it, though, since Christian was now bounding down the stairs, looking downright formidable in his tight black jeans, even tighter black t-shirt, his black leather riding jacket and steel-toed boots. He was clearly trying to send a message, and that message was “Back the fuck off.”

“Come on, sugar. I’m gonna get you enough supplies to keep you baking for the next six months. Especially if you promise to make me those cupcakes I love. You know, the green ones?”

Nikki had no idea what cupcakes he was talking about. She wondered if it was an amnesia thing or a Christian thing.

“You know, the Nixon ones?” he clarified.

Nikki laughed as she remembered. “You mean the Watergate cupcakes? The pistachio flavored ones with the green frosting?”

“Yup! Them ones!”

“You got it.”

Christian noticed the car following him as soon as he pulled onto the main road. It wasn’t hard to spot, sitting right by his drive with its lights on, despite the fact it was only 4:30 in the morning. Sure enough, the moment Christian got out of the car and started walking to the other side to let Nikki out, a gangly young guy in wrinkled clothes jumped out of an old Rabbit and started taking pictures and asking questions. Nikki shaded her eyes from the repeated flashes with her forearm and Christian gave the man a lethal glare before shoulder bumping him forcefully as they passed. The kid was smart enough to not follow them in.

Once inside, they both took a deep breath and relaxed. Christian grabbed a cart and Nikki walked beside him. The building felt only vaguely familiar, despite the fact Christian told her she worked there before. Luckily, it was a light crew and they didn’t run into anyone who knew her as they meandered up and down every aisle, a couple more than once, until Nikki was certain she had enough to keep her busy for a while.

When they were checking out, the night manager came out of an office off to the side and hollered at them. “Nikki!” He had a slight limp, but it didn’t keep him from jogging as he made his way over. Her breath caught in her throat. Not quite fear, but it was definitely uncomfortable once again being in the situation where she couldn’t remember someone who clearly knew her. She looked to Christian for support, but he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. You don’t know me, do you?” Nikki shook her head regretfully. “I’m Chuck,” he said, undeterred. “I’m the night manager here. I always let you in so you could start in time to have all the breakfast pastries and rolls ready before the morning rush.” He dug a card out of his apron pocket and handed it to her. “We took the liberty of putting you on medical leave. When you’re ready to come back, your job is waiting for you. We all miss your smiling face. Besides, bakery sales have plummeted since you’ve been gone,” he chuckled nervously, “although I’m sure baking is probably the last thing on your mind at the moment.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing over at the conveyor, which the checkout clerk was filling with baking supplies. “Or maybe not. You know, Nikki, you always called the kitchen here your sanctuary. It might do you good to get back in it,” he implored hopefully.

“Maybe you’re right, Chuck. Give me a few days to get back on my feet and I’ll be sure to give you a call. Give my best to everybody, won’t you? Even if I don’t remember them, the fact that they’re obviously so supportive means the world to me.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll be looking forward to your call, Nikki. Mr. Jefferson,” the man nodded curtly, not able to hide the fact that Christian scared him a little.

Nikki chuckled at the fact this man knew Christian’s name, even if Christian had no idea who he was. Nikki wondered if she and Michael had inadvertently made everyone close to them famous, or if his reputation just preceded him. Having every Joe Schmo know who Christian was the minute he walked through their door could not be good for his business, whatever that was.

After they unloaded bag after bag of baking supplies, filling up one whole section of countertop and half the kitchen table, they sat down to share a quiet cup of coffee while they waited for Sophie to wake up. Nikki glanced over at the twin cabinets, remembering the last time she was there staring at them. She was so frightened and confused then. Looking back on it now, it seemed so silly that she had doubted the three people nearest and dearest to her world.

After Sophie woke up and groaned about not being allowed caffeine while she was pregnant, griping it was just plain mean of them to ‘rub it in and taunt her’ by drinking it in front of her, she dutifully downed her orange juice and rushed to get ready. Nikki tried to convince her it was unnecessary for her to go, but Sophie wouldn’t give in. She was determined to be there, for Nikki and for Michael.

They drove to the courthouse in silence, each dressed as if they were attending a funeral. Which was, to some degree, how it felt. Wes called Christian to confirm that the judge hadn’t sealed the courtroom and that they would be allowed to attend the arraignment. Because of the unique infamy of the case, there was a possibility the judge wouldn’t allow anyone in. It would be a good thing in a way, because it might put a damper on the media frenzy, but Nikki would rather face an army of paparazzi than miss an opportunity to see and support Michael.

And an army of paparazzi was exactly what she faced as they exited the car and slowly made their way through the crowd, up the stairs to the courthouse. Why do courthouses always have a ton of steps to get to them? Nikki thought absentmindedly. Is it meant to intimidate you? Because it’s working.