The Black Sheep's Redemption. Lynette Eason

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       He placed a finger on her lips. Her soft lips.

       He pulled back his finger and rubbed it with his thumb even as he said, “No need to apologize. Burke’s a pain with a loud mouth, but he’s harmless. The trick is to just ignore him.”

       She nodded and finished the trek up the steps. At the top, she turned down the short hallway that led to her apartment.

       Charles caught her before she got to the door. “Demi, I want to make something really clear.”

       “Sure, what is it?”

       He raked a hand through his hair. “The rumor is that Olivia and I were romantically involved.” A frown creased her forehead and he resisted the urge to smooth the shallow lines. “We weren’t. She was my children’s nanny and I trusted her with my children. She was a pretty private person, but I’d like to think we were becoming friends. There were no romantic feelings between us whatsoever.”

       Her eyes stayed locked on his for the longest time and he wanted to squirm under the scrutiny, but he didn’t. He just stood there as she decided whether she believed him or not.

       Finally, she smiled. “I believed you the first time you told me that. Tonight hasn’t changed anything.”

       Key ready, she reached out to unlock the door when Charles stopped her again, his hand on hers. “Wait a minute. It’s open.”

       Demi gripped the keys tighter and pulled back. “That’s weird.”

       “You probably just didn’t pull it shut behind you hard enough when you left earlier.”

       The doubt on her face said she wasn’t buying it.

       And after the night he’d just had, he wasn’t sure he was, either.

      * * *

       Demi stared at the door. “Maybe Fiona needed to get in for some reason.” But why? And why would she leave the door open? “The furniture was delivered last week. Maybe they had something else to bring up…or…or…something.”

       And what about Chloe, the stray cat she’d taken in the day she’d moved into the apartment? Chloe had followed Demi up the stairs and sat outside the door meowing until Demi had finally let her in. Chloe had made herself at home and some of Demi’s loneliness had dissipated.

       Had Chloe slipped out the open door?

       Worry for the cat and other emotions swept through her.

       Unexplainable fear.

       Breath-stealing panic.

       Something flashed in her mind. A clenched fist, a harsh yell. Pain lancing through her head. She blinked, raised a hand to her forehead, felt the scar.

       Then the image was gone, leaving a pounding headache in its wake.

       “Demi? What is it? What did you remember?”

       “Fear,” she blurted out. “Just a horrible fear, but I don’t know the source. I don’t know why!” She lifted a hand to her head and pressed as though she could push the headache out and the memories back in.

       He pulled her to him while she shook. His arms held her, comforted her. Offered her shelter.

       Swallowing, her breath hitched as she gathered herself and pulled away to face the door once more.

       “I’m okay.” Her hand reached out to push the door open. She appreciated Charles’s comforting presence behind her. “You’re probably right,” she said, hating the tremble in her voice, but unable to do anything about it. “I’m sure I just didn’t close the door tight.” From what she could see, all looked normal. Except…

       “Chloe?” she called softly. “Here, kitty.”

       Demi stepped inside for a better look in the kitchen. “Everything looks fine in here. But my cat usually greets me when I come in.”

       She moved to the small living area, Charles right behind her. It was just as she’d left it. The new couch hugged the far wall with the afghan Fiona had given her bunched up against one end. The coffee table held the latest book she’d been reading. Her morning’s coffee cup sat on a coaster on the end table.

       Normal.

       But where was Chloe?

       Her pulse slowed and her breathing evened out. But sorrow hit her. If Chloe was gone, Demi knew she would miss the cat who, for the most part, had been her only company in the evenings for the past week.

       She walked the few steps to the bedroom and peeked in. All looked fine. Just as she was about to check under the bed for the missing feline, her gaze landed on the closet door.

       It was shut.

       “What is it?”

       Charles’s voice in her left ear made her jump. He’d picked up on her sudden stillness.

       “The closet’s shut.” She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose.

       “And that’s a bad thing?”

       “It was open this morning when I left to take care of the kids.”

       Why could she remember that and not her last name? Regardless, she distinctly remembered leaving it open. Heart thudding, sweat broke out on her upper lip.

       Her front door had been cracked open. Had someone been in the apartment? Someone looking for something? For her?

      Go, get away. Run.

       Fear resurrected its head and cut off her breath. But why? Why did she feel this fear that seemed to come from nowhere? There had to be a reason. Why couldn’t she remember?

       “Maybe we should just leave,” she said. “Something’s not right here.”

       He placed a hand on her shoulder and the comfort it offered made her shiver. “Let me just check the closet for you.”

       “No!”

       And the images hit her again. A flash of blood, a heavy hand on her face. Someone screaming. Was that her?

       She gasped, her breaths came in pants and that sweeping fear that came from a place she couldn’t explain nearly consumed her.

       Shaking with the urge to flee, she stepped back never taking her eyes from the closet door.

       “Demi.” His gentle voice forced her gaze to his. Gulping, she saw concern, caring…a warmth that thawed the ice freezing in her veins. “Let me check,” he insisted. “It’s fine. Really. If someone was in there, I feel sure he would have made his presence known by now.”

       Pulling in a deep breath, she nodded. Then firmed her jaw.

       Walking to the end table, she picked up the lamp and stepped back to the closet door. “All right, I’m ready.”

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