Page 54 of K-9 Prime Target

“Is what you’re suggesting legal?” Lily asked.

“It’s not illegal to have friends over to my house,” Nina said. “And we don’t want any guns. And no violence unless it’s necessary to defend yourself. If Nicholson comes here, he’s trespassing and violating a restraining order and the terms of his parole. We’re only intent on keeping him here until the sheriff takes him away.”

“What if he hurts Nina?” Raz asked.

“It’s not going to get that far,” Liam said. “If we can’t detain him without the risk of someone getting hurt, we’ll let him go.”

“What a waste,” Brian said.

“Maybe not,” Liam said. “I’ll have a camera set up to take photographs. I can give those photos to the sheriff to prove he’s violated his parole.”

“One of us could try to follow him if he leaves,” Anders said. “If we can find out where he’s staying, we can give the sheriff that information, too.”

Nina relaxed a little. The idea of trapping Nicholson didn’t sound so far-fetched and risky now.

“One thing to keep in mind,” Liam said. “This person might not be Nicholson. It might be someone else entirely, even someone you know.”

“You mean, like a local?” Renee asked.

“Right,” Liam said. “So if you see someone like, say, Derek from the gyro truck, approaching Nina’s house, don’t assume he’s innocent. No one should be here without Nina’s invitation.”

Everyone was looking at Nina, so she nodded. She had agreed to this, as long as Liam didn’t directly accuse Derek of wrongdoing.

“Derek from the gyro truck?” Raz asked. “I know he has a major crush on Nina, but do you think that means he’s her stalker?”

“So you know about his attraction to Nina?” Liam asked.

Renee laughed. “He moons after her like a puppy dog, but he never does anything.” She glanced at Nina. “Does he?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think Derek is my stalker, but at this point, we can’t eliminate anyone.”

“When are we going to do this?” Anders asked.

“Monday night,” she said. “Liam is going to spend the weekend and Monday morning he’ll make a show of getting ready to leave. Monday afternoon, he’ll drive away, hide his car behind a storage facility not far from here, then slip back.”

“We don’t think the stalker will risk showing up in daylight,” Liam said. “During the day I’m here with Nina and Sky. I think he’s much more likely to attack when Nina is alone. So those of you who are interested in participating can slip over here one at a time after your shifts on Monday. A few of you can hide in the house, but the rest of you will have to be outside, so come dressed for that.”

“Don’t feel bad if you’re not comfortable participating,” Nina said. “I appreciate you all so much, just for being here tonight to listen.”

“Are you kidding?” Chase rubbed his hands together. “I wouldn’t miss this.”

* * *

“Nina! Have you seen my passport? I can’t find my passport!” Liam stood in the open front door of Nina’s house Monday afternoon, shouting back into the living room like some sixties sitcom clueless husband. If Nicholson was anywhere within half a mile of the place he was bound to hear.

“It’s in the front pocket of your backpack!” Nina shouted, on cue. She grinned at him. He had spent an hour yesterday taking things in and out of the car, making a big show of carrying out a large suitcase.

Now, at 3:00 p.m. on Monday, he was pretending to leave for the airport. Nina came to the doorway, and they exchanged a showy kiss, then he moved to his car while she stood on the doorstep, waving goodbye.

He forced himself to keep his speed down as he drove away from the house. In his mind, this was the riskiest part of their plan—this half an hour when Nina was truly alone. She had agreed to spend the time locked in the bathroom, knife in hand, Sky and Angel by her side.

He drove a mile toward town, then turned down a narrow side road and snaked up a hill to a driveway almost hidden in the trees. From here he made his way to a line of storage sheds and parked RVs and boats. He parked the SUV behind the last shed, scanned the area for any sign that someone was watching, then grabbed his backpack and darted to the cover of the shed.

He had practiced this run Saturday evening. It had taken him exactly thirty-two minutes to get to Nina’s back door, which included crawling the last two hundred yards, hidden by a snowbank he had purposely shoveled around the backyard, on the pretense of making paths for the dogs.

A little over half an hour later, he let himself in the back door and locked it again behind him, then hurried to the bathroom. “I’m home,” he said softly, as he turned the knob to open the door.

Nina grinned at him. “I knew it was you by the way the dogs were wagging their tails.”