Hidden (Nicole Jones #1)(27)
One catches my eye. A tall man, salt-and-pepper hair, all angles to his face, overdressed in an overcoat and black trousers. I stiffen. It can’t be. But then I realize it can. And even though it has been a long time, there is no forgetting that face.
He had said he was only the first one here. Now I know for sure he was not lying.
As I watch, Carmine Loffredo pushes the door open to Veronica’s gallery.
The driver’s door opens, and Steve climbs in, starting up the SUV.
‘You OK?’ he asks softly.
I have stopped crying, but my anxiety is no longer just about my house. Carmine Loffredo is here. On the island. This is whom he was waiting for. This is whom he’d warned me about. And Carmine has found at least one of my friends. It won’t be hard for him to find Jeanine. Steve. And finally, me.
While I want to rush to the gallery, warn Veronica, I do know Carmine won’t hurt her. He will merely use her and her penchant for conversation to get one step closer to me.
Steve still has no idea why I am upset, and within minutes we are past the harbor and the hotels and restaurants and up the hills and into the heart of the island. He finally pulls over next to a stonewall that snakes its way up and down and out of sight.
‘Tell me what’s happened,’ he said.
There is a stone in my throat, one that’s keeping me from talking. I shake my head until I feel his hands on my cheeks and he is forcing me to look at him.
‘What happened, Nicole?’ Steve’s voice is firm. He is not going to let me get away with not telling him.
I try to concentrate on why I ran to him in the first place. ‘My house,’ I manage to whisper, and then it comes out – everything I found when I got home from the beach. Steve is not touching me anymore. He is leaning back against his door, his usually bright eyes dark. ‘You left it like that?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, wiping my nose with the back of my hand, leaving a long streak of tears and snot.
Steve is nodding, and I can see he is thinking hard about something. Finally, he turns and puts the car into gear. We head back down toward town.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask, but I don’t really have to. I knew the moment I told him that he would take me to the police station. So when he pulls into the parking lot, I am not surprised. I don’t really want to do this; I can’t have the police probing into my life. But unless I tell Steve everything, I cannot say no.
I am still not ready to tell any more than I already have. So I go with Steve into the building and he demands to see the police chief, who happens to be having a coffee and doing something on the computer when we are brought into his office.
It’s not as though I don’t know Frank Cooper. We have had drinks together at Club Soda and we’ve played darts. You cannot live on an island this small and not know mostly everyone. But Frank Cooper, for the first time, will know that I have a past. That I have a past with a man who carries a gun. A man I’ve described as being FBI. Because that is going to come up. It’s inevitable.
‘Nicole’s place was trashed, and her bike was stolen,’ Steve tells Frank, his voice husky with anger.
Frank immediately stands up; his face clouds over with concern. ‘What happened?’
I tell him what I told Steve. How I came home from the beach and what I found.
Frank puts his hands on his hips. ‘It’s that guy, isn’t it? The one staying at the Blue Dory?’
For a second, I am thrown off. I don’t think I told anyone where he was staying, except maybe Steve. But it’s possible Veronica knew, since he’d commissioned the painting. I nod, despite my new suspicions. I cannot mention Carmine.
‘Zeke Chapman, is it?’ Frank says, going around the back of his desk and dropping down in to his chair, reaching for the phone.
I want to stop him, but I am unable to.
Steve squeezes my hand as Frank calls the Blue Dory and finds out that Zeke Chapman has not yet checked out.
‘Don’t mention this to him, Alice, OK? I’m going to be stopping by in a few, but I don’t want him to know.’ Frank thanks her, says goodbye and hangs up, standing up again and facing me. ‘I’m going over there. You stay here with Steve until I get back.’ He starts for the door.
‘Frank?’ Steve holds his hand up. ‘One thing: he’s FBI and he’s carrying a gun.’
Frank stops and looks from Steve to me, nothing in his expression giving away what’s going through his head. And then he finally speaks.
‘No, he’s not, Steve.’ He gives me an apologetic smile. ‘Nicole, I’m sorry I did this without talking to you first, but Veronica bugged me to check this guy out for you. You have to keep in mind that she was only looking out for you.’
I know what’s coming now. I pull my hand out of Steve’s and hold my hands in front of me tight so as to keep them from shaking.
‘I’m afraid Zeke Chapman isn’t who he told you he is. I don’t know who he is, but Zeke Chapman, the real FBI agent, died fifteen years ago.’
FIFTEEN
Steve is staring at me, and I am unable to look him in the eye.
‘Stay put,’ Frank says again as he leaves the office.
It is quiet for a few seconds before Steve says, ‘Nicole? What’s this all about?’ Steve is the only one I’ve told about having a relationship with him all those years ago. He is also smart enough to put two and two together: that I have been here for fifteen years and that when I knew him, it must have been before the real Zeke died.