Tonight You're Mine (10 page)

As she neared Jesse, she expected him to bolt. If only she had a leash, she thought in frustration. But she didn't. “Jess, I'm going to pick you up,” she said cajolingly. “I'm going to take you to Shelley, where you belong. Now be a good boy and don't you dare jump out of my arms.”

Normally Jesse rebelled at being lifted, but miraculously he held perfectly still. She stooped, wrapped her arms around his small body, and clutched him to her chest. With one look back, she saw the Doberman sitting calm and watchful on the sidewalk, its muscular body gleaming beneath a streetlight.

When she got inside, she placed Jesse on the floor, closed and locked the front door, and went to the window. The Doberman was gone.

She found Shelley sitting on the side of her bed, crying. “Mommy, I'm sorry to be late.”

Nicole sat down beside her. “I know, honey. I shouldn't have yelled. It was stupid, but sometimes grown-ups act stupid when they're scared. I've been so worried, honey. So has Jesse. He's been biting his nails all evening.”

This elicited a teary smile from Shelley. “No he hasn't.”

“You're right. He's too vain to ruin the manicure he got at the vet's last week.” The dog jumped up on the bed, climbed on Shelley's lap, and licked her on the chin. “Did you have a good time today?”

“Lunch at Planet Hollywood was fun although Daddy didn't like it too much. I knew he wouldn't but I love it there.” Shelley cocked her head. “I think I want to be a movie star, Mom.”

“You're certainly pretty enough.”

“But I won't do nude scenes.”

“I'm glad to hear it. Grandma would have a heart attack.”

Shelley giggled. “Anyway, Daddy was grouchy at Planet Hollywood, but he got real happy when Lisa met us at Sea World.” Shelley stroked one of Jesse's long ears. “Mom, I don't like her.”

“You barely know her.”

“But I still don't like her. She talks to me like I'm
six
.”

“Maybe she hasn't been around children very much.”

“She was a kid once.”

“Yes, but as you get older, childhood dims. You forget what you knew at six and what you knew at nine, almost ten.”

“I still don't like her,” Shelley maintained. “She's always hanging on Daddy's arm and talking to him and I never get to say anything. And you know what else? In front of people she kisses him all the time
right on the mouth
!”

“Well, young lady, you know about mouth-kissing from
NYPD Blue
.”

“Yeah, but that's just pretend kissing. Besides, there aren't a million people laughing like at Daddy and Lisa.”

“I'm sure there weren't a
million
people
laughing
at Daddy and Lisa.”

“Well, maybe not a million, but lots. They were smiling, and they weren't
nice
smiles. They were making fun.” Shelley let out a huge, gusty sigh and rolled her eyes. “I was
so
em
bar
rassed!”

Nicole couldn't help smiling although she agreed this was inappropriate behavior between Roger and Lisa in a public place and in front of a child. Now she had one more grievance against Roger for today's performance.

“How about the party?”

“That was even worse! The food was yucky and that woman from Vietnam told stories about people starving and babies dying. It made me cry.”

“I'm sorry, sweetie.”

“But Daddy didn't want to leave. Lisa did. Nobody would talk to her. They acted like they didn't want her there, but Daddy still wouldn't go. Then the man whose house we were at said Daddy'd had enough to drink. Daddy got mad and we left. I don't think his friends like him anymore, Mom.”

Nicole hugged Shelley. “Today didn't turn out just like you wanted, but at least you went to Planet Hollywood and Sea World.”

“Yeah,” Shelley said disconsolately. “But I sure wish Daddy was the way he used to be.”

So do I, Nicole thought sadly.

Long after Shelley had finally fallen asleep, Nicole sat curled on the couch, thinking about the day. Who had been sending her father letters marked “Personal” for months and why had they apparently thrown him into a tailspin? As hard as it was to believe, she might have entertained the notion that perhaps he'd had an affair and was being harassed by the former mistress. But that little scenario was ruined by the final letter, the letter he'd set on fire, the letter containing a photo of Paul Dominic.

Paul. Her father had disliked him. He believed the suave man of the world had seduced his daughter, who in his mind was still around thirteen years old. He thought Paul was merely dallying with her while he was spending time in San Antonio. Most of all he blamed Paul for leaving Nicole unprotected, for not walking her to the car where Magaro and Zand waited. But he'd blamed himself too for not keeping a closer eye on his daughter.

Fifteen years ago. Such a
long
time. Who would be tormenting her father with reminders of Paul after all those years? And
why
? What had Clifton done? He was the gentlest man she'd ever known.

Finally, she wondered what Paul Dominic had to do with all this. He'd vanished fifteen years ago. He was presumed dead.

But she would swear she'd seen him at the cemetery. Could he have been sending her father the letters? For what reason? Clifton Sloan might have disliked him, but he had nothing to do with Paul's fate. Although he was briefly considered a suspect himself, the police proved he wasn't even in the city when Magaro and Zand were killed. Still, he'd never accused Paul publicly or privately of the murders. In fact, he'd told her he believed the original theory that Zand and Magaro had been killed by a cult, therefore the strange hoods on their heads.

Finally, she wondered what on earth was going on with that beautiful, strange Doberman? Who did it belong to and why did it keep turning up, almost as if it were watching her?

The phone rang. Nicole glanced at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Who would be calling at this hour? Roger with another tirade? No. He'd be passed out by now. Maybe her mother with an attack of late-night blues.

She picked up the receiver of the cordless phone beside the couch on the second ring before it awakened Shelley. “Hello?”

“That man who calls himself your husband won't dare talk to you so cruelly again,” a slightly familiar, smoky-voiced male said softly. “Tonight I'll give him a warning. But if he continues,
chérie
, I will kill him.”

1

Shelley was eating toast, her good spirits renewed after last night's scene, when the phone rang. Nicole picked up the receiver and before she could even finish her “Hello,” Roger shouted, “Just what the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I believe I'm having breakfast with my daughter,” she said coolly, although she could feel the hot blood of anger rush to her cheeks. Shelley had heard her father's loud, angry voice and sat wide-eyed, her toast suspended in midair. “What's the problem?”

“What's the problem?” Roger repeated in a saccharine voice. “You know damned well what the problem is.”

“Sorry, but I haven't been gazing into my crystal ball this morning. Why don't you just tell me?”

“Okay, I'll play along. Four slashed tires and a smashed windshield, that's the problem!”

“What?”

“You heard me, dammit!”

“Yes, I heard you, but I don't understand. Please stop cursing at me and explain.”

“What's to understand? I went out to the car this morning and found your handiwork.”

“
My
handiwork!”

“Yeah. Did you think I wouldn't guess? You wanted to get back at me for taking Shelley out with Lisa and then getting her home late, but I think you went a bit far, don't you?”

“You think
I
damaged your car?”

“Certainly. Who else could have done it?”

“Since I'm the only criminal in San Antonio, I understand your logic.” She sighed gustily. “Roger, you really are losing it.”

“No,
you're
losing it. I know you're furious because I don't want to be married to you anymore and that I've found love with a gorgeous woman
fourteen years younger
than you.” Nicole mentally began counting to ten. “However, those are the facts. You have to accept them.”

“Roger—”

“Look, Nicole,” he said in a softer voice, “I understand your hurt and resentment, but if you don't get your emotions under control and you keep up this kind of behavior, then I'll be forced to get a restraining order.”

Nicole's breath came shallow and fast. “Roger, I have no desire to be anywhere near you. Now you listen to
me
for a change. Don't you dare ever call here again with a lot of wild accusations or
I'll
be the one getting a restraining order.” She slammed down the phone.

“Mommy, what's going on?” Shelley asked timidly.

Nicole had completely forgotten that the child was sitting there listening to the furious exchange. She and Roger
had
to stop these destructive scenes in front of Shelley.

“Somebody banged up Daddy's car and he blames me.”

“
You?
Is he really mad?”

“Yes, but he's probably just—” Hungover, she started to say, but caught herself. “Grumpy. He doesn't really think I'd do something so mean. In a few hours, when he's feeling better, he'll be sorry he said all those things.”

“Maybe. Mom, what's a ‘straining order'?”

“Nothing you have to worry about.” She walked over and kissed Shelley. “You don't have to worry about
any
of this. Daddy's car is insured. The insurance company will pay for the damage, he'll get the car fixed, and then he'll be happy again.”

“But will he ever come home? Will things ever be like they used to be?”

Nicole hesitated. There was no point in lying, in building false hopes. “I don't think so, honey. But that doesn't mean you and Jesse and I can't be happy.”

“I guess not,” Shelley mumbled disconsolately.

Later, as Nicole drove Shelley to school, she tried to say something cheerful, but all she could think of was Roger's battered car and the voice on the phone saying, “That man who calls himself your husband won't dare talk to you so cruelly again. Tonight I'll give him a warning. But if he continues,
chérie
, I will kill him.”

The only person who had ever called her
chérie
was Paul Dominic.

2

Bobby Vega placed a valuable clay pot carefully on a shelf and looked out the front window. “Plenty of people on the River Walk today.”

“All the better for us,” Carmen said. “I feel lucky today. I'll bet we do over a thousand in sales.”

“You're dreaming. What I see are a lot of lookers and few buyers.”

“Do you have mind-reading powers I'm not aware of?”

Bobby turned. “No. They just have a look about them. They're the tourists who buy T-shirts, not our kind of merchandise.”

Bobby was only a couple of inches taller than Carmen, with a square build that made him seem stocky. His face was pleasant, although it bore little resemblance to the poster-boy cuteness he'd been known for in his teens and early twenties. He had not aged well, his dimples turning into furrows, too many lines cutting horizontal paths across his forehead, his eyes narrowed by eyelids whose once sexy droop at the corners had turned into definite sags. He was thirty-seven, but he looked ten years older.

Carmen's youthful face grew serious. “Bobby, you're worrying about the business, but we're doing all right.”

“ ‘All right' isn't what I had in mind for us. We're too cramped in the house since my father had to move in and we can't afford anything bigger.”

“We're at the store all day and Jill is at school. Things are only crowded at night. Besides, much as I hate to say it, your father will probably be in a nursing home by this time next year.”

“Crammed into a ward because I won't be able to afford a private room for him. Then there's Jill.”

Carmen frowned. “Jill! What's wrong with her?”

“College. How are we going to afford it?”

“The same way a lot of kids do—college loans. Besides, with her grades, it's likely she'll get a scholarship.” She went to her husband and placed her hands on his shoulders. “What's wrong today?”

“It always bothers me when I have to bring Dad to work because his ‘baby-sitter' didn't show up and he can't be left in the house alone.”

Raoul Vega's Alzheimer's was a constant source of sadness mixed with irritation to Bobby. The man who had started this shop, who had once been a maker of exquisite jewelry, now often had trouble remembering his granddaughter's name or how to make coffee.

“Well, cheer up. Things could be worse. At least we're happy together and your papa is doing fine for the time being. He's going over the inventory right now and doing a good job. How would you like to trade places with Nicole?”

Bobby turned and walked back to the shelves, rearranging the pieces he'd just arranged. “How's she doing?”

“Not too well.”

“Lots of tears and dramatics and leaning on friends who have their own problems, no doubt.”

Carmen looked at him so sharply her dangling silver earrings swung. “Where did
that
come from?” Bobby shrugged. “For your information, Nicole is doing none of that. However, I did have an interesting conversation with her yesterday.” Bobby didn't answer and Carmen continued. “She was looking at some newspaper clippings she kept about the time of her attack.”

“You were looking at them with her?”

“Yes. Do you know Nicole had completely forgotten that you were with The Zanti Misfits?”

“Really made my mark, didn't I?”

“Bobby, that's not my point. Nicole said she's always felt you don't like her. I told her
I'd
noticed you usually seem uncomfortable around her, reserved.” She waited for Bobby to answer, but he'd begun straightening paintings. “Anyway, we wondered if maybe you thought she
did
remember that you were with The Zanti Misfits and believed she held it against you that you'd been friends with Zand and Magaro.”

Bobby finally looked at her, his dark eyes defiant. “I was never friends with Magaro. Ritchie was another matter.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “So Nicole thinks I'm cool around her because I'm afraid she holds the rape against me?”

“Actually, I thought it. Is it true?”

Bobby sighed. “Carmen, what's the big deal about Nicole this morning?”

“It's not a big deal. It's just that she
is
my best friend. I'd like for my best friend and my husband to get along.”

“Have Nicole and I ever had an argument? Have I ever been rude to her?”

“Come on, Bobby, you know what I mean.”

Bobby finally abandoned the paintings and walked toward her. His hair was mostly gray, but he dyed it black. He brushed a lock off his forehead. “Frankly, I don't think about Nicole that much, just like she doesn't think about me. Hell, she didn't even remember that I was the drummer in what would have been one of the top bands in the world.”

“
Might
have been,” Carmen corrected. “You know how unpredictable show business is. The band might not have caught on.”

“I don't believe that,” Bobby said fiercely. “We would have been great, still going strong.”

Carmen lifted her hands in defeat. “Bobby, you can't possibly know what would have happened. But you do know
one
thing. The failure of the band was the fault of Ritchie Zand.”

“Because he was murdered?” Bobby demanded, growing angry.

“Because by raping Nicole he set in motion a chain of events that
got
him murdered.”

“He had an alibi for that rape.”

Carmen looked at him in disbelief. “Oh, Bobby, not even
you
can believe he and Magaro didn't rape her.”

“Okay,” Bobby said reluctantly. “He was getting loaded a lot in those days. Maybe he
did
have sex with her.”

“Have
sex
with her? He
raped
her. He and Magaro would have killed her if they'd gotten a chance, and I'm glad Paul Dominic killed them.”

Bobby stared at her. “You always hated Ritchie because you thought he and the band were taking me away from you.”

Carmen blinked at the venom of his words. Then she answered quietly, “I didn't hate the band. I hated Zand and Magaro. They were changing you, getting you into alcohol and drugs and—”

“And groupies. Let's bring it up
one
more time, Carmen. I screwed around a little. I was young and those were wild days. But I
loved
you. I
married
you.”

“You married me because I was pregnant.”

“I don't want to talk about our dead son,” Bobby said crisply.

“Neither do I. But would you have married me if The Zanti Misfits hadn't fallen apart?”

“Sure.”

“I wonder,” Carmen murmured doubtfully as Bobby turned to greet the first customer coming in the door. “I really wonder.”

3

Nicole sat up in bed, pillows piled behind her. Day after tomorrow she had to return to the university and she was reviewing notes for her Major American Writers class. Wednesday they would begin on Herman Melville. Now she had to compose an introductory lecture that wouldn't put everyone to sleep. She began, as always, writing in a spiral notebook on her lap. Tomorrow she'd switch to her computer.

She was only on the third paragraph when a huge yawn threatened to unhinge her jaw. She looked at the clock. Midnight. Maybe she should just give up for tonight and hope sleep would infuse her with inspiration.

She gathered up her notes and notebook and carried them to the dresser. Then she turned off her bedside lamp, flipped on the dim night-light she'd never slept without for fifteen years, and crawled into bed.

Almost immediately she felt as if she were drifting, hovering in a huge candlelit room where “Rhapsody in Blue” throbbed from huge stereo speakers. “So you liked it,
chérie
?” a deep, gentle voice asked as intense hazel eyes gazed into hers.

Strident barking pulled her from the dream world. “No,” she mumbled as the music, the deep voice, the intense hazel eyes drifted away. “No, please…”

Suddenly Jesse was on her bed, yipping shrilly, turning in circles. Nicole shot into a sitting position as the dog leaped off the bed, ran to her window, and stood on his hind legs, barking, spraying the glass with saliva. Nicole looked at the window and drew in her breath. The wolf's head stared directly at her.

With a calmness that later surprised her, she reached under her mattress and retrieved the key. The soft glow of the night-light allowed her to unlock the drawer of her bedside table without fumbling. She took out her loaded gun and aimed straight at the window.

In a flash the figure disappeared. She jumped out of bed and joined Jesse at the window, kneeling beside the dog. The weak bulb in the outside light illuminated enough of the yard for her to see someone tall heading for the back fence.

“Mommy, what
is
it?”

Simultaneously, Nicole turned to look at Shelley and slid the gun beneath the bedside table. “Apparently our werewolf is back.”

“
What?
” Shelley quaked.

Nicole held out her arms and Shelley rushed to her. “It's just a person wearing a mask, remember? Your window blind was down, but mine wasn't, so he came here.”

Jesse still barked frantically, jumping at the window, fully prepared to tear apart the intruder. “Settle down, Jess,” Nicole said as she and Shelley watched. When the person reached the back fence, he grabbed a rope and began climbing up the fence. He topped it and reached for a branch of the live oak. “So that's how he did it the first time,” Nicole said. He climbed into the tree and began his descent, disappearing from their view behind the fence. “Well, there he goes.”

But in a moment a shout pierced the night. It was so loud, they could hear it from behind the closed window. Then came the sound of a dog barking. A
big
dog who'd obviously cornered the intruder. In a moment Nicole saw a form climb back up the tree and huddle in the branches.