Life After Dark: Book Two of the Dark Series

Chapter 128

~ Timoria: Maternal Instinct ~

"your love is better than chocolate..."

The music was loud in the otherwise quiet February morning. Birds flew away in surprise and fright, and as Laura made her way towards the farmhouse, she didn't blame them. A worried frown wrinkled her brow as she took note of Nikolas' unlocked Jag and the wide-open front door to his home. Placing her hands over her ears, she stepped cautiously into the two-story house. "NIKOLAS!" she called out as her eyes frantically searched for the source of the music.

With two large duffel bags swung over his shoulders, Nikolas bounded the staircase. He stopped as he saw his mother reach for the remote control. "Laura! No! Don't turn it off."

She nodded in response and gestured that she would lower the volume. He shrugged to tell her that her actions were acceptable. When he moved to go outside, she said, "Nikolas? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to my car. I'll be right back."

He left before Laura could stop him. She made a move to follow him, but the sound of her daughter-in-law's laughter rooted her to the floor. Dawn's laughter soon turned into a short monologue, and Laura was surprised to discover that the music had come from a video and not the stereo, as she had first believed. Nikolas' state of mind began to worry her, and she reached for the remote control again.

"Laura," Nikolas said as he re-entered the living room, "I told you not to." He crossed the room and took the remote from her. He rewound the video and became spellbound as Dawn's laughing face came into view. His brown eyes darkened as she grinned at the camera. When she began her monologue on how chocolate was her best friend, but Nikky was her love, he stood still and mouthed the lines with her. Laura's firm hand on his shoulder drew his eyes away from the television screen and to the worried eyes of his mother. "I'm fine," he told her.

Laura shook her head. "Nikolas, this isn't healthy. I know you're hurting, but watching videos of her..."

Nikolas covered her hand with his as he stopped the recording and pushed the power button on the remote. The television screen faded to black, and he gave Laura a gentle smile. "Really, Laura, I'm okay. I just wanted to hear her voice and see her. It helps me stay focused."

He squeezed her hand and then turned away from her. He left the room and this time, Laura followed him. "Focused? What are you focusing on, sweetheart?" she asked as he opened the door to the first floor's linen closet.

"On finding her, of course." Nikolas reached inside the closet and pulled out several folded sheets. After he had an armful, he turned away from the closet and went back toward the living room. With a deeper frown on her face, Laura followed him.

"What are you doing with those?" she asked as they entered the living room.

"I'm closing the farmhouse," he answered as he placed the large sheet over the sofa, loveseat, and chairs. "When we come back, I don't want her to find that I let her furniture go to hel- um...get dirty and so forth."

"Do you have a lead? Was a ransom note delivered?" Laura asked. This time, she followed him upstairs. As she passed the bedrooms, she noted that he had been very busy. The rooms had already been prepared for his departure.

"No, ransom note," Nikolas said. "I don't expect one, and the only lead I have is common sense. Helena is behind this. Once she's found, so will Dawn be."

His words were spoken with such quiet assurance that a chill coursed down Laura's spine. Momentarily stunned, she watched him in silence. He moved methodically around the room. He filled the small suitcase with the barest of his necessities. Once he was done, he zipped it closed and set it aside. He then reached for the larger suitcase and began to fill it with Dawn's things. When it was almost full, he paused and stared at the suitcase as if in deep contemplation. He removed a few items and then he left the room. He quickly returned with things for the baby and Laura rediscovered the ability to speak.