There had been a time when her internal radar was on full alert whenever she encountered someone she didn’t know or ventured into some sections of her former neighborhood. It was as if blocks were parceled out like land grants for different gangs, and the unspoken word on the street was that you entered at your own risk. But she wasn’t living there, hadn’t been for years, yet her life was threatened on an idyllic island almost a thousand miles away.
Kayana had called her cynical. And she was. She’d spent half her life wanting to better herself and live in a place where she didn’t have to install three or four locks on her front door to thwart intruders or carry pepper spray to repel a would-be-attacker. There was one good thing she could say about her old neighborhood. No one had ever attacked her or offered her drugs.
Cherie reached home, tapped the remote device under the visor to raise the garage door, and drove in. She waited for Reese to park his vehicle in the driveway and follow her into the garage before pressing the keypad to close the garage door.
“Don’t move,” he ordered in a quiet voice. “I want to check the house before you go in.”
Cherie wanted to tell him she doubted if anyone had broken into her home. However, she was too emotionally drained to argue with him. She needed a cup of tea and a warm bath before she got into bed. Hopefully, she would sleep long enough to forget how close she’d come to being strangled.
Reese returned, and she stared at him as if he were a stranger. He’d removed the hat that had covered his black, cropped straight hair. She forced a smile. “All clear?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Cherie took off her coat, hanging it and her crossbody on a peg in the area outside the kitchen, Reese following suit. Then she tapped a switch that turned on the trio of pendants over the breakfast bar. “I’m going to wash my hands before putting on some water for tea. Would you like some?”
Reese set the bag with the Seaside Café logo on the floor near the refrigerator. “Before you do that, I’d like to take a look at your neck.” He cupped her chin, gently raising it. He smothered a curse and slowly shook his head. “The bastard deserves a real ass-kicking, and I’d like to be the one to give it to him.”
“No, please,” she said quickly. “There’s been enough violence. After my tea, I’m going to take a bath and then go to bed.”
“I’ll wash my hands and make the tea while you get some ice for your neck.”
Cherie nodded. She wanted to tell Reese that she was safe now and that he could leave because she needed some space to process what she’d just gone through. That she feared if he stayed she would weaken and beg him not to leave her. She’d always prided herself on being strong and able to face any situation, whether good or bad. She’d acquired an overabundance of confidence in her thirty-four years that had given her what she needed to navigate the road called life.
* * *
Reese found the half-bath and stared at his reflection in the mirror over the vanity. When he’d checked every room in the house before allowing Cherie to enter, he was awed by the meticulous furnishings in the house. The shades of blues and greens on the walls, with pale contrasting trim, gave the spaces a zen-like feeling. Everything, from the bed dressings to the area rugs and accessories like table and floor lamps, had him wondering if Cherie had employed the services of a professional interior decorator. Even the framed black-and-white photographs of plants and flowers lining the wall going up the staircase to the second story added an inviting and homey touch.
From the first time he’d spied Cherie talking to Bettina outside the house that had belonged to Jeremy and Katherine Murphy, she’d intrigued him. And then when he was able to see her up close, he’d found himself completely enthralled with the dark-haired, hazel-eyed beauty.
He’d also discovered that he was no different than some of the other residents of Coates Island who were gossiping about the young woman who had purchased the Murphy house rather than one of the condo units. She’d become an anomaly because most home sales were attributed to retirees, like the Murphys and Graeme Ogden. He, Derrick, and Kayana Johnson were a few of the exceptions.
Derrick had moved back with his pregnant wife to help his mother run the Seaside Café. Kayana returned years later to assist her brother after their mother retired. And Reese had returned, after ending his military career and following his grandmother’s passing, to move into the house she’d willed him and join the sheriff’s department, where his older cousin was the current chief.
At forty-two, he’d had a valid reason for returning. What, he mused, was Cherie Thompson’s reason or excuse for moving to Coates Island? Was she running from something or someone? Did she know the man who had attacked her? Or had she done something to someone, and they’d ordered an attack on her as retribution?
The questions were a jumble of confusion in his head as Reese washed and dried his hands on a cobalt-blue towel; he hoped to find some of the answers once the perp was questioned. He walked out of the bathroom, retrieved his cell phone from his jacket, and sent a text to his cousin, saying that he was going to be delayed and that Cherie Thompson’s name should be left out of the arrest until he questioned her about her knowledge of the attacker. He didn’t have to wait long before Parker replied:
Copy that.
Reese found Cherie leaning against the countertop with a bag of ice wrapped in a dish towel pressed against her throat. He knew she was in pain, yet she’d attempted to put on a brave face. “How is it feeling?”
Her smile was more a grimace. “Better.”
He approached her and took her hand that held the ice. The marks on her throat were bright red. “Do you have anything in the house for pain?”
“No. I usually don’t keep drugs in the house.”
“I’m not talking about medical marijuana, Cherie.” Her face flushed with his mention of marijuana. Had he hit a sore spot? Had she been involved with a drug deal that had gone bad and she’d had to leave home and hide somewhere remote? “Don’t you have any over-the-counter pain medication?”
“Yes. It’s in the upstairs bathroom.”
“Do you want me to get it?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll get it.”
Reese registered the resignation in her voice. He realized she’d been traumatized and knew this wasn’t the time to question her about her attacker. “I’ll stay with you until you drink your tea and take your bath. I’m going to leave because I have to work the twelve-to-eight shift. But I promise to be back tomorrow afternoon and will check in on you. I’m off in a couple of days, so if you need me to run errands or help you cook, then I’m your man.”
Cherie blinked slowly. “You cook?”
