And now he was out…not because of Nikki, but because technology had caught up with the crime and DNA testing had suggested there might have been another murderer, that the case against LeRoy Chevalier was much weaker than originally thought.
Nikki shuddered. She remembered the lifeless eyes of Chevalier as he’d sat in the defendant’s chair, never showing any emotion, not even when the photographs of his girlfriend and her two dead children were shown to the jury. Not even when the one surviving boy had testified and shown his brutal wounds.
So, he’d served only a few years of his life sentence. So much for justice.
She continued to turn the pages. There were no further snapshots of Sean Hawke, and those of Andrew suddenly ceased altogether. In the remaining few pictures the faces that the camera caught after that Christmas had lost their sparkle, the smiles seemed forced, the images sober.
Nikki had kept the card from Andrew’s funeral and it, now fading, was pressed into the album. How gruesome, she thought now, removing the faded card…a few lines dedicated to his brilliant, if short, life. Nikki felt the same old sadness steal over her as always when she considered how tragically his life had ended. Such a waste. She wadded the damned reminder in her fist, then shoved it into her purse rather than leave it in the trash for her mother to find.
A floorboard in the hallway creaked and she heard her father’s quiet cough. Hastily she shoved the album back into the drawer and turned just as Big Ron, backlit by the corridor lights, filled the doorway. In his hand he held a gun.
Her heart nearly stopped.
“I thought you might want this,” he said as he came into the room.
“A pistol? You thought I’d want a pistol?”
“To protect yourself.” He handed her the small caliber Colt.
“Is it loaded?”
“Yes.”
“Damn it, Dad, this is scary.”
“The safety’s on. It’s not cocked.”
“I hope not. Dad, I don’t think this is a good idea. In fact, I know it isn’t! I don’t even have a gun license.”
“You know how to shoot.” He wrapped her fingers around the pistol’s grip and the cold metal felt surprisingly familiar. “At least, you did. I took you bird hunting. You were a good shot.”
“That was about a billion years ago. With a shotgun.”
He chuckled. “Don’t make me any older than I am. Besides, I took you with me when I went target shooting. You used a handgun.”
“I’m really not into weapons, Dad. I’m not gonna run around with a loaded pistol in my purse or strapped to my leg like you do.”
He grinned widely, lines bracketing the sides of his face. “I’ll have you know that I don’t keep any guns in my purse. Now, promise me you won’t print that.”
“Very funny.”
“But this isn’t, Firecracker,” he said, turning sober again. “This business with the Grave Robber is serious. Keep the pistol or let me find you something you’re more comfortable with.”
“No. No more.” She had images of her father handing her a semiautomatic weapon with clips, or one of those ammunition belts that the bad guys wore in all the old Spaghetti Westerns he watched. “This will do just fine, but let’s unload it.” She did just that, taking out the bullets and dropping them into her pocket.
“What’re you going to do if you’re attacked? Pistol-whip the guy?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” The gun was suddenly heavy.
“I’ll sleep better knowing you’re protected.” He offered her another, weaker smile. “Be careful, Nicole. Your mother and I…we love you and we sure as hell don’t want to lose you.”
Her throat closed and tears burned the back of her eyelids as he gave her a bear hug. The scents of cigar smoke and whiskey, a combination that had been a part of him for as long as she could remember, clung to him. “I love you, too, Daddy.”
“You’re a good kid.” Releasing her, he walked into the hallway and she heard the stairs moan under his weight as he made his way to the den.
Nikki sank onto the edge of the bed and held the unloaded pistol in one hand. She hated the thought of it, was radically against handguns in general, but with the Grave Robber breaking into her apartment, she did need to protect herself.
She slid the Colt into her purse.