Page 18 of Nica (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #17)

T he silence in the car was deafening. Gabe gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he maneuvered through the quiet streets of Shiloh Springs.

Beside him, Nica sat with the bouquet of roses in her lap, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the small card that had arrived with them.

“You’re sure you’ve never seen that quote anywhere else?

” Gabe asked, glancing at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

Nica had been quiet from the moment she’d climbed into the front seat beside him.

She’d wanted to leave the flowers behind in the library, but Gabe figured it would be better to bring them along, in case Rafe wanted to check them out, maybe see if there was a way to trace them, either from the card or calling the florist. Maybe even take fingerprints, though he doubted that would do much good. Too many people handled the vase.

Nica shook her head. “It’s word for word from my journal, Gabe. The one I keep in your nightstand.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Nobody else should know those words. It’s my thoughts, my feelings, put into words. I feel like I’ve been violated. Dirty.”

The thought of someone invading his home—their own private space—made Gabe’s blood boil.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the surge of protectiveness and rage that threatened to overwhelm him.

They’d only been married for three months.

Three less than blissful months because of their secret elopement, which thankfully was no longer a secret, that now felt tainted by this invisible threat.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, reaching over to squeeze her knee. “Rafe will know what to do.”

“I hope so.”

As they pulled into the parking space in front of the sheriff’s office, Gabe noted Nica’s hesitation.

She’d always been independent, stubborn even.

Never backed down from anybody or anything, yet now she seemed almost defeated.

Going to her brother for help wasn’t easy for her.

But the roses changed things. This wasn’t just about someone following her anymore; this was about someone violating their privacy, their sanctuary.

“Ready?” he asked, turning off the engine.

Nica nodded, clutching the bouquet like it might somehow yield answers if she held it tightly enough, the card still gripped tightly in her hand.

The sheriff’s office was quiet for a Thursday afternoon.

Dusty nodded at them as they walked in, rising to his feet when he spotted Nica.

He started to smile, but it faded as he studied Nica’s face.

Gabe knew Dusty was a friend to Nica, somebody she’d known ever since he’d moved to Shiloh Springs.

He sighed, realizing again that the people of Shiloh Springs loved their Boudreau princess.

They’d known all along something he’d discovered more recently, how special Nica was.

“He’s in his office,” Dusty said, jerking his thumb toward the back. “Just finishing a call.”

Rafe looked up as they entered, his expression transforming from casual interest to concern in an instant. He stood, his six-foot frame towering over Nica as she approached his desk.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes immediately darting toward Gabe.

Gabe gestured to Nica, letting her take the lead. She placed the bouquet of roses on Rafe’s desk.

“Someone sent me these today,” she said. “They were delivered to the school around noon.”

Rafe frowned. “And that’s bad because…?” He looked at Gabe. “Didn’t come from you, Doc?”

“No,” Gabe said firmly. “But that’s not the problem. Show him the card, Nica.”

Nica hesitated a long moment before handing the small card to her brother. “Before you read this, you need to know it’s something I wrote in my private journal. Something personal and intimate, from a day when I was feeling insecure, having…doubts.”

“ Sometimes I wonder if Gabriel really sees me, or just the version of me he wants to see. ” Rafe read aloud, his brow furrowing. “Pretty words. What’s the issue?”

“Those words,” Nica said quietly. “Like I said, they’re from my private journal. One that no one has ever read except me. A journal I keep in Gabe’s nightstand drawer. A locked drawer.”

Rafe’s expression hardened instantly. “You’re absolutely certain?”

“That it’s from my journal? Word for word,” she confirmed.

“For the record, I’ve never read her journal. I understand and respect Nica’s need for privacy.” Gabe took her hand, squeezing it, noting it was ice cold.

Nica leaned her head for a second against his shoulder, before straightening to look at her brother.

“There’s more. There’s been a man I’ve been seeing around town the last week.

I’ve noticed him several times, like at the gas station convenience store, or outside Gracie’s Grounds when I stopped for coffee.

I honestly didn’t pay much attention to him.

I mean everybody gets the feeling of being watched occasionally, and I just thought I was being a little paranoid. ”

Gabe watched as Rafe’s posture shifted, becoming more alert, more professional. This was the sheriff now, not just Nica’s older brother.

“You’ve seen him over several days and you said nothing?” He looked at Gabe. “She ever mention this guy to you?”

“I didn’t know anything about him until she called me about the flowers.”

“I’m pretty sure I spotted him at the farmer’s market on Saturday, too,” Nica added.

“I asked Mrs. Henderson at the library about who delivered the flowers. She didn’t recognize him as being from the local florist, but her description matched him perfectly.

Average height, dark hair, dressed in dark clothes. ”

“There’s something else,” Gabe interjected, unable to keep silent any longer. “Nica’s noticed things being moved around in both our apartments. Small things, subtle, not obvious enough that I even noticed—but she did.”

Nica nodded. “At first, I thought I was imagining it. A book out of place here, a picture frame shifted there. A missing earring.” She sent Gabe an apologetic glance, because they’d had a fight about the earring.

“I found a window unlocked at my apartment.” She leaned forward.

“Rafe, you know how I am about locks. I check them obsessively before I leave and before I go to bed.”

Rafe sat back in his chair, his expression grave. “Why didn’t you call me immediately about the window?”

“Because I felt like an idiot,” Nica admitted.

“I thought maybe I’d forgotten just that once.

There’s been so much going on. Gabe and I kept separate apartments, keeping the big secret from the family.

I could have forgotten to check one time.

But these flowers…with my own words staring back at me… it scared me.”

Gabe placed a protective hand on the small of Nica’s back. “We think someone’s been in both our places, Rafe. Put the pieces together and it’s obvious she’s being targeted, and I’ve got a pretty good idea why. Wish I could say who, but I haven’t figured that out—yet.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze analytical as he processed the information. “Have you noticed anything else unusual? More frequency in the phone calls or a change in the tone of them? Emails? Social media messages?”

Gabe felt a chill run down his spine. The phone calls. Of course. He’d only made the connection to them this morning.

“Rafe, you know about the calls I’ve been getting,” he said quietly.

“The caller began leaving messages referencing my life in San Francisco. My medical career at Stanford. There was no rhyme or reason attached to the calls. Always from a blocked number. The caller uses some kind of synthesizer to distort his voice, where it sounds mechanical. I’ve tried having the calls traced, but they come from either a blocked number or from burner phones. ”

Nica turned to him, surprise evident in her eyes. “You never told me that.”

“I told you about the calls,” Gabe reminded Nica, his voice tender. “I didn’t tell you I was trying to track them, because so far we’ve hit a stone wall. I promised no more secrets, and meant it, sweetheart.”

“Doc, these calls, do they mention Melissa Carpenter?” Rafe pressed.

Gabe hesitated, the weight of his past pressing down on him.

He hadn’t told Nica’s family everything about why he’d left California.

They knew he’d had a difficult time at his previous hospital, but the details…

the accusations…those he’d kept to himself.

Only Nica knew the full story. Well, that wasn’t true.

Rafe knew the bare bones about what happened with Melissa, because he’d done a thorough background check on Gabe when he’d moved to Shiloh Springs.

Douglas knew too, because Gabe had discussed the calls with him.

“Yes, she’s usually the focus of the calls.

Like I said, at first they were hang ups.

But for the last week or two, the caller has been gloating about how he’s going to make me pay for the death of Melissa Carpenter and all the other patients that died under my care.

” Gabe’s voice trailed off as he remembered the gut-wrenching guilt he’d felt with each name.

Even knowing he’d done nothing wrong, had treated the patients to the best of his abilities, losing even one patient hurt.

Nica’s hand found his, squeezing tightly.

“Are we thinking this could be the same person who tore up the clinic, left the spray-painted message with Melissa’s name on the wall?” Rafe leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“Could be,” Gabe whispered. The memories flooded back—the accusations, the whispers in the hallways, the doubt that had crept into the eyes of colleagues he’d worked with for years. He didn’t want the same thing to happen here in Shiloh Springs that happened at Stanford.

“You’ve had time to think about this. Any idea who might be wanting you to suffer? Family member, husband, lover?