Nikki stared at him for a moment. “Tom. Are you telling me you think his death wasn’t an accident?”
“No—the opposite, in fact. The most likely scenario is accidental drowning, but that’s why I’m being cautious. I don’t want to get tunnel vision or jump to any conclusions before we have all the facts. But I also can’t ignore what people are telling me.”
“People other than Dr. Wingate?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Dessie told me she’d also had some concerns about Dr. Nance’s recent behavior. She said he almost always had a drink out on the porch before dinner. Or sometimes he’d take a dip in the pool. Lately, though, he’d go straight to his study and close the door as soon as he came home from the clinic. Sometimes Dessie would have to knock several times to get his attention. When she asked what he was working on, he told her he was trying to put together a puzzle.”
“A puzzle? What did he mean by that?”
Tom shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Like I said, I’ll go over and talk to Dessie again later, see if she knows anything about the journal. Maybe she can help clear up a few other questions, too. She was pretty upset when we talked yesterday.”
“We’re all upset.” Nikki had been so distraught she’d imagined someone standing in the backyard, watching her house.
“It’s got to be especially hard on her,” Tom said. “She’s not only lost a friend, but also her whole way of life. Not much call for live-in housekeepers in Belle Pointe.”
“I’m sure Dr. Nance left provisions in his will. The two of them were always close.”
Tom pounced. “How close?”
“What exactly are you asking?”
He picked up a pen and fiddled with the cap. “I think you know what I’m asking.”
Nikki gaped at him. “Dessie and Dr. Nance? You can’t be serious.”
He tossed aside the pen. “They were all alone in that big house, night after night, year after year. Neither of them attached. Human nature is what it is, Nikki.”
“She had her own place over the garage. Besides, she was at least twenty years younger than he was.”
“So?”
“You’re way off base. I was in that house a lot as a kid. Sometimes I’d help Dessie cook and clean for a little spending money. When I was finished, I’d sit out on the porch with Dr. Nance while he told the most hilarious stories about his med school days. Dessie would serve us sweet tea and gingersnaps. Sometimes she’d linger to hear one of his yarns, but I never sensed anything remotely romantic between them.” Nikki gave him a dubious look. “Is this still your way of making sure you don’t overlook anything? Because it sounds a lot like grasping at straws to me. You can’t possibly think Dessie had anything to do with Dr. Nance’s death. She was devoted to the man.”
Tom answered her question with another question. “What do you make of Adam Thayer?”
“I... What?” He’d caught her by surprise.
Tom didn’t seem to notice her stammering hesitation. He plowed on without waiting for a response. “According to Thayer, Dr. Nance called him early last week and asked him to come to Belle Pointe. He said something strange was going on down here. Something dark.”
“I know. Adam told me the same thing.”
He lifted a brow at her use of the man’s first name. “Like Dr. Wingate, he was worried about Dr. Nance’s mental state. Three people voicing concerns about his behavior can’t be dismissed out of hand.”
Nikki nodded. “It’s just so distressing. After everything Dr. Nance did for me, how could I have let this happen? How could I have talked to him last week and not sensed something was wrong? If I’d been more attentive, maybe he’d still be alive.”
“Don’t take that burden on yourself,” Tom advised. “People hide things. Sometimes even from themselves.”
She smiled forlornly. Yes. She knew all about keeping things hidden.
IT WAS A strange turn of events, Adam decided. Nikki Dresden had been on his mind all morning as he’d worked around his grandmother’s house. She was still on his mind when he’d taken the boat across the lake to search for the embedded bullet in the pine tree and then later when he’d driven into town to replace his phone. Now, as he approached the front entrance of the county sheriff’s office, there she was in person. Head slightly bowed, her brow furrowed.
Deep in thought, she walked out the door and bumped right into him. She quickly stepped back, looking unaccountably flustered. In the split second before she moved away, he could have sworn he smelled the scent of roses wafting from her hair.
What struck him more forcefully were her eyes. They were a deep, rich brown. No gold or green flecks, just dark, fathomless pools. He could see a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and a tiny indented scar at her jawline. Not perfect, not beautiful, and yet, like before, he found her enigmatic. Dangerously intriguing.
“I’m sorry,” they both said at once.
“No, it was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Her cheeks colored as she self-consciously tucked back her hair. She wore it loose today. The ends turned under at her shoulders, gleaming like a raven’s wing in the sun. She got a good look at him then, her gaze taking in the cut above his eyebrow and the bruises on his cheekbone. “What happened to you?”
“Let’s just say I ran up against a tank.”
“A tank?” Her gaze dropped to his taped knuckles. “That must have been some collision.”
He didn’t comment. “I’m glad I ran into you this morning. You’re just the person I’ve been wanting to see.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Hesitation? Curiosity? “What about?”
“I’d like to talk to you about Dr. Nance, if you have a minute.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the
