But there was a part of her that remembered her reaction to the nightmare last night. She’d thought she was getting better, but that bout had been almost as bad as the days right after it happened. Was she actually fit for duty right now?
It had been worse, somehow, seeing Nash’s response. When it was just her, she could minimize the whole thing, talk herself down. But there was no escaping that he’d been legitimately worried. Quite apart from the fact that she’d scared the hell out of him with her screaming, he’d been wound almost as tight as she was, worried he’d say or do the wrong thing. He’d needed to comfort, and it had taken everything she had not to just crawl into his arms and stay there the rest of the night. But she viewed that the same way she viewed alcohol. A prospective crutch.
It was one thing to explore the chemistry between them, to let him distract her while she was here—if that was still on the table after last night. It was quite another to let him in at her most vulnerable. Because her time here was temporary.
Realizing Robert was still staring at her, Rowan finished slapping some turkey between two slices of whole grain bread and spread a thin layer of Miracle Whip over the whole thing. “I’ve got a job, Unk. And for now, that’s taking care of you.”
When Nash opened his door to Rowan a week later, he took one look at her and asked, “Beer, hug, or chocolate?”
She winced. “All three?”
Poor baby. “That I can do.” He pulled her in, liking that she hesitated only a moment before resting her head against his chest. He wanted to get his mouth on her again, but that wasn’t what she needed just now, so he kept things G-rated and rubbed slow circles on the small of her back. “How’s our patient?”
“Cranky. Oh my God, so cranky. He’s worse than my partner’s toddler when she doesn’t get a nap. Not that I blame him. If I had to give up fat and salt, and wasn’t allowed to do anything, I’d be cranky, too. I made turkey burgers for dinner last night, and I thought he was going to throw it against the wall.”
Nash leaned back far enough to look down at her. “You haven’t tried shoving the heinousness of turkey bacon on him, have you? Because that shit is a crime against food.”
“Do I look suicidal?” She stepped away and eyed him. “Do you really have chocolate?”
“Well, technically, it’s chocolate with peanut butter. I’ve got those Reese’s Christmas trees.”
Longing flitted over her face. “You are a god among men.”
Laughing, he grabbed her hand and towed her back to the kitchen. “C’mon. We’ll get movie snacks before we sit down with the camera footage. How’s Chief Grumpy doing otherwise?”
“A little better. Jonesing to do more than he is. The incision is healing well, and he hasn’t had any signs of infection. But I think he expected to be further along after a week out of the hospital.”
Retrieving the candy, he changed directions and headed for the living room. Rowan made no move to tug her hand free, and that pleased Nash enormously. He hadn’t been happy to hold a girl’s hand since high school. They sat on the sofa, in front of the laptop he’d hooked up to the TV on the wall.
“I assume, since you haven’t mentioned anything, that everything’s been quiet?”
“Nary a peep. If it was someone from my home department, maybe it was a one and done and they headed home. It’s not like most people have the vacation to burn to just hang out here and harass me.”
“Could be,” Nash agreed. But he felt better that they had eyes on the house. Hitting a few keys, he brought up the program that managed the cameras.
“How many hours of footage do we have?”
“It’s not that bad. They don’t run continuously. There’s a motion detector. If something moves, then it kicks on.” He checked the status. “Looks like one of them went down sometime last night. Might need to check the batteries in that one, but we’ll watch the footage first.” A few more keystrokes, and both feeds filled the screen.
They sat back, unwrapping the candy and noshing as they watched the local wildlife parade by. Deer. A fox. Several raccoons. A possum. Even an armadillo.
Rowan sat forward. “Wait, look. The door just opened. Jesus, someone’s been in the house! Slow it down.”
Nash did as she asked. The dark figure slipped out of the front door and moved with a shuffling gait down the steps. “That’s weird. It’s like he doesn’t know what he’s doing or where he’s going. There’s no effort at stealth at all.”
“I think it’s a woman. Look, small stature.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
They watched as the woman neared the camera. Rowan’s hand tightened on his, and the both held their breath, waiting to see if they’d get a face.
The angle was terrible, but she walked right up to the camera, close enough to catch the vacant expression and unfocused eyes before she reached out toward the camera and the screen went black.
“What the hell? It’s…”
“Me,” Rowan said. “I don’t understand. I didn’t go outside last night. Except, obviously, I did.”
“It looked like you were sleepwalking. Do you have a history of that?”
She shook her head. “Not since I was a little bitty kid. I haven’t sleepwalked in years.”
“That you know of.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you been sharing your bed with anybody in the past few months who could verify? Sleepwalking can be aggravated by stress. You’ve been under plenty. It could be you have been and ended up back in your bed by morning, not to be any wiser. I had a guy in my unit who’d wander all the way down to the mess hall and sleep eat. He’d still be back in bed by PT.”
Unease rippled over her face, and she released his hand, reaching for more chocolate. “Sleepwalking always freaked me out as a concept. I mean, what’s to stop you from walking into traffic? Sleep…anything seems like a bad, bad idea in the household of a cop with guns.”
Given her nightmares, that was a terrifying concept. “Fair point. But you weren’t armed, and Robert keeps his weapons in a gun safe.”
Nash considered what he knew of the situation, going over the night of the vandalism in his head. “That night I came over for dinner, before Robert came home, I walked up to the house on the opposite side of the truck. The paint could’ve been there and I wouldn’t even have noticed.” Rowan frowned, but he continued. “There was paint on your hoodie. If you’re sleepwalking, you could’ve done it yourself and not even known.”
She angled toward him, but somehow, it felt like she’d put a mile between them. “So you think I’m crazy.” The tough girl mask was in place, but Nash could see the fear beneath. This was so clearly her fear. And why shouldn’t it be, under the circumstances?
“I think you’re stressed. And understandably so. Could any of the other harassment you experienced have been something that happened while you were sleeping?”
Her answer was a quick, vehement shake of her head. “No.” But she didn’t quite meet his eyes as she said it.