Текст книги "In Close"

Автор книги: Brenda Novak

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 13 страниц) [доступный отрывок для чтения: 6 страниц]

“Of course. That’s why I went to the police.”

But there was no record of her contact with the sheriff’s department. Claire would have to ask Myles if he knew anything about it. “If you weren’t scared before, you should’ve been then.”

“I was. But I was married at the time and didn’t feel so vulnerable. As the days, months and years passed, and she got everything she wanted, I realized I wasn’t at risk. She doesn’t consider me a threat. If what I knew could hurt her, she would’ve been in prison long ago.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve stayed here.”

“Where would I go?”

“You have siblings elsewhere in Montana.”

“But this place is all I know. And my children’s father works for the fire department. Scott wouldn’t let me take them away even if I wanted to move.”

Claire counted the rotations of the fan. The steady swoop sounded like a propeller circling in her head. “So you’re telling me she doesn’t have to worry because you have no proof those emails ever existed.”

April sat as straight as the chair. “The police should’ve confiscated her computer. But they didn’t.”

“No copies, like I said.”

Her gaze fell to the table. “No copies. Just what I can remember, what I told you.” Her eyes lifted to meet Claire’s. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Claire said, and fled the house before the tears welling in her eyes could roll down her cheeks.

But she couldn’t lie to herself quite so easily. Maybe she didn’t want to believe April had hacked into Roni’s computer and read such damning correspondence. But if what she said wasn’t true, how did she know Tug was sterile?

This time he was going to turn her away. No matter what.

Yesterday when he left her salon, Isaac had made the decision not to have any more contact with Claire. Her problems weren’t his problems. He wasn’t even sure why he’d been getting so involved. After a random two-day photo shoot in the mountains, he’d come home determined to avoid the emotions she evoked in him, which he could only do by avoiding her.

But an hour after he walked through the door, she stood on his stoop with tears streaking her face, looking as if her world had just come to an end. He wanted to ask what was wrong, what had happened. He could tell it was something significant. But he couldn’t allow himself to be drawn in again. He was done hanging on, regretting, hoping, craving.

“I found the money under the mat. There was no need to return it. I got the haircut. But thank you,” he said, and closed the door.

He hadn’t given her the chance to say a word. Part of him hoped he’d made her mad enough to knock again. Shouting at each other would be better than this oppressive silence. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe. But she didn’t make a second attempt. He heard nothing until her car started. Then a new wave of regret washed over him, and it was all he could do not to fly out of the cabin and flag her down.

He would have, if he’d thought it would help either one of them.

But it wouldn’t. He had to be more realistic about his own shortcomings. If sex was all there was to a relationship, he could give her that. He’d done it before. But not love. He didn’t know how to give love, or be loved. His own mother hadn’t even been able to love him.

He let his breath seep out as the sound of her engine dimmed. The temptation was over. She was gone.

But no sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he grabbed his keys and went after her.

As much as he’d tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself he didn’t care, he did. He had to know why she’d been crying.

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16

“Where were you Thursday night?”

Claire was cutting Carrie Oldman, one of the eight women in her book group. She’d already received a message from Carrie, as well as Laurel and one other friend, wondering why she didn’t show, but she’d been too caught up in everything else to respond. “Um, I was…not feeling well,” she finished lamely. Even if she was sick, it would be unusual for her not to call. Rarely did anyone miss their meetings. But that was the best answer she could conjure up on the spot.

Carrie frowned into the mirror. “Are you better now?”

“I’m not contagious, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

“You seem…a little out of it.”

Claire kept her attention on the short bob she was creating out of Carrie’s long, straight hair. With all the thinning and breaking as Carrie aged, she definitely needed a change. But it’d taken a year to talk her into this new style. And she’d chosen today of all days to go for it.

“I haven’t been getting much sleep,” Claire said. But that wasn’t everything. It was what April had said during their discussion yesterday that weighed so heavily on her: You mean the part about Tug being infertile? You didn’t know?

The drape rustled as Carrie brought her hand out to scratch her nose. “I’m really worried about you. We all are. You know that, don’t you? Once it was obvious that you weren’t going to come, Laurel hardly said a word the rest of the night.”

Claire would be able to reassure Laurel tonight. They had that date, which she didn’t want to go on. “I’m fine. Really. You guys need to quit worrying.”

Carrie’s hand came out again, this time to loosen the fastening of the drape. “You were just a little sick? That’s all it was?”

“That’s right.”

She looked slightly hurt. “But we called, and when you didn’t answer, a couple of us came by. You weren’t home.”

Claire hurried to shore up the lie. “I must’ve walked over to Leanne’s.”

“Your car was gone, so we knocked at Leanne’s door. She said she hadn’t seen you.”

“I guess I saw her later, after I got back.” Claire gave a laugh she hoped didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. She really didn’t want her association with Isaac to get out. She had to come to terms with too many other things first. “I drove over to my parents’. You know how it is when you feel sick. Sometimes you want someone else to take care of you.”

Uncertainty flickered in Carrie’s eyes. “Oh, you were at Tug and Roni’s.”

She hoped they hadn’t checked there, too. Claire wouldn’t put it past them. She loved every member, but a few of them didn’t know how to mind their own business. Of course, the same could be said about most people in Pineview. “For a while.”

“So what happened yesterday?”

“Yesterday? Nothing. Why?”

“Ellie saw your car at April’s house.”

Her heart began to thump but Claire kept cutting.

“We didn’t think you and April were friends,” Carrie added. She had a sweet way about her, but she was better at wheedling information out of a person than almost anyone else in town.

“We’ve never had a disagreement,” Claire said.

“So…you were there? You went to April’s?”

Shit… Sometimes her hometown drove her crazy. “Roni had a photo of April’s nephew she wanted me to drop off.” Maybe if Carrie thought Roni already knew about the visit, had even requested it, there’d be nothing scandalous to report. Claire preferred to keep that visit, and what she’d learned, to herself until she figured out who and what to believe.

Seemingly satisfied, Carrie’s piqued expression cleared. “I get it. Of course she wouldn’t want to deliver it herself. They’re still not speaking.”

“I’m not sure they ever will.” Considering what April thought, Claire doubted it…?.

Carrie lowered her voice. “April thinks Roni caused her father’s death. Divorces are difficult, but suicide…that’s an individual choice.”

Perhaps. But Roni could be more culpable than she let on—for April’s father’s suicide and Alana’s disappearance, not that Claire wanted to accept that. She had too many positive memories of her stepmother taking her back-to-school shopping or planning her birthday parties or snapping pictures of her in her prom dress.

Instead of answering, Claire pretended complete absorption while measuring the hair on either side of Carrie’s face. “Looks straight,” she murmured, and backed away. “How do you like it?”

Carrie’s smile was more hesitant than Claire would’ve liked. “It’s…going to take some getting used to.”

She looked darling, much better than when she’d walked in, but familiarity counted for a lot. Claire just hoped Carrie did get used to the change, and that her ultraconservative husband would react favorably. She couldn’t deal with a disgruntled client today, not one who was disgruntled over an improvement. “I think the new look takes five years off your age.”

She perked up. “Really?”

“Definitely.”

The bell jingled over the door. As Claire removed Carrie’s drape, she turned to welcome her next client, but it was her sister.

“Where’d you go last night?” Leanne demanded without the courtesy of a greeting. Obviously, she was still angry.

A trickle of unease went through Claire. She didn’t want another confrontation with her sister, especially with Carrie listening in. If her parents or David’s parents learned she was seeing Isaac, they wouldn’t be happy. They’d remind her of what happened last time and she’d probably end up in another argument with them. “Funny you should ask. Give me a minute so we don’t hold Carrie up,” she said, and turned back to her client. “That’s twenty-five dollars, as always.”

Leanne’s displeasure hung over the room like an over-cast sky. No doubt Carrie could sense it. She kept glancing at Lee as she wrote her check. “Here you go.” She seemed about to linger, no doubt hoping to hear their conversation. But Claire walked her to the door.

“It was great to see you, Car. Sorry I missed book group but I’ll be there next week.”

Carrie’s eyes darted back to Leanne. “You should come, too, Lee. This week we’re reading Room by Emma Donoghue. It’s a really intriguing story.”

“I have no interest in books.” Leanne said it as if she had no interest in the group, either, which she didn’t. Claire had invited her before. She said she’d have plenty of time for book groups when she was old and couldn’t do anything more “fun.”

Perhaps some of the members weren’t the most interesting people in town—a few were downright stuffy—but reading helped Claire keep her mind off David, and knowing she had a deadline made her more focused on getting through each book. Without that, she’d lie in front of the TV every night missing her husband, something she did far too often as it was.

“Thanks again.” Claire held the door.

Since she was cornered into leaving, Carrie finally nodded. “See you Thursday.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung shut. “I’m expecting another client,” she said. “So if you’ve come to start an argument, I’d appreciate it if you waited until I’m off. You might get your workshop all to yourself every day, but I have to maintain a professional atmosphere.”

Leanne maneuvered the chair to face her. “Quit trying to delay this. No one’s here now, and it won’t take you more than a second to explain why you never came home last night—again.”

“If what you do is none of my business, then what I do is none of yours, right?”

This wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. Her mouth opened and closed twice before she found words. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“That’s all.” If she didn’t offer a lie, Leanne couldn’t catch her in it later.

Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “Are you seeing someone, Claire?”

“No. Stop it.”

“You are, aren’t you? It’s Isaac Morgan! You’ve gone back to him.”

Claire wasn’t surprised she’d guessed, not when she’d seen his truck in front of her place twice—and it had stayed there all night one of those times. But it was important to downplay her and Isaac’s relationship, or the whole town would start buzzing with the news that David’s widow was having sex with her former lover.

“He’s a friend. That’s all.”

“A friend who spends the night with you?”

Denying it wasn’t going to work. Even if she could convince Leanne, Leanne wasn’t the only one who knew they’d been together. Rusty did, too. And other people might have seen her get into Isaac’s truck when he picked her up on the street. Isaac wasn’t the boy next door; he had a reputation. No one would believe they were hanging out together as mere friends.

Which left Claire one option—to confront all questions with absolute transparency. If she admitted to a romantic involvement, there’d be less for the curious to ferret out and, she hoped, the scandal would blow over more quickly.

“Yes, actually. Friends with benefits,” she said. “You’ve heard of that, right?” Of course she had, but Claire didn’t want her to think she was trying to get away with less than the truth.

“Everyone’s heard of that, except maybe the ladies you see on Thursday nights. Some of them grew up in the Big Band Era. So you’re not really…dating.”

“Nope. Just sleeping together.” And their encounters generally included some force-feeding, but no one would care about that. It wasn’t sensational enough. “Does that answer your question?”

Leanne gaped at her. “Do you realize who he is, Claire?”

“I know he’s amazing in bed. That’s all that matters at the moment.”

“But just a couple nights ago you were warning me not to ruin my reputation. Now you’re going to sew a giant F on your chest? Be the talk of the town? Even when Isaac tries to be discreet, people pay too much attention to him. He’s a celebrity around here, for crying out loud.”

Claire angled her chin in a belligerent fashion. “You said you don’t mind gossip. Maybe I decided to take a page from your book.”

They glared at each other—until Leanne broke the silence.

“Claire, listen. I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so close to the edge. I know what happened with Mom really did a number on you, but you’ve always been strong. I guess…I guess I figured you could move on if I could. Losing her wasn’t easy on me, either. But…I feel responsible for this, as if I pushed you into his arms. We haven’t been getting along and that hasn’t left you with anyone you can really talk to. But I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Claire didn’t want to hear this. She bent over her desk to count the number of clients remaining on the schedule. Already dead on her feet, she wished she could just crawl into bed.

Fortunately, her workday ended at four, only two hours away. Maybe she’d have time for a nap before the big date. “Come on, you’re overreacting. What do you think he’s going to do to me?”

What he’d done to her before, of course. At least Leanne wasn’t asking about April. The book group ladies must not have mentioned seeing her car there when they went to Leanne’s house. It could get back to her eventually, but it wasn’t now and that was a small blessing. Maybe with such big news as her involvement with Isaac hitting the gossip scene, that tidbit would fall by the wayside completely.

One could hope. She’d didn’t want to hurt Roni.

“You’re kidding!” Leanne said. “Isaac Morgan’s a bona fide heartbreaker, and no one knows that better than you. And now you’re on the rebound. He’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

God, even her hard-drinking sister could plainly see what was in store. Still, Claire wouldn’t acknowledge the danger. If she did pay a price for her actions, she’d suffer without letting anyone know, unless, of course, that price included pregnancy. But she’d deal with that if she had to. “I won’t get hurt. He’s just a friend, a way to break up the monotony.”

Leanne slid her tongue over her teeth. “He’s got to be more fun than that geriatric book group you’ve got going.”

“Those ladies aren’t geriatric.”

“Half of them are over seventy.”

“So? They’re nice.”

“I’m not talking about nice. I’m saying they can’t give you the same kind of thrill.”

“No woman can.”

“Not very many men, either,” she said with a conspirator’s laugh.

Claire didn’t find that comment funny. The appreciation in her sister’s voice jammed a shard of fear into her chest. “Wait a second. You’ve never been with him, have you?” The question alone made it difficult to breathe. Say no. Please say no, or I’m going to be sick right here…?. She’d heard the vehicles that sometimes came and went in the night, but she usually didn’t get up to see who was driving. She didn’t want to know. Not knowing made it easier to pretend Leanne didn’t entertain as often as she did.

Her sister winked at her. “I’m not the type to kiss and tell.”

There was no time to push for more. Selina Spangler had walked in for her cut and color.

Myles King got up and closed the door to his office almost as soon as Isaac arrived. “I’m glad you came by. Rusty Clegg asked me to have a word with you.”

Isaac removed his sunglasses. The drive to Libby took thirty minutes, and the sun seemed especially bright today. “Rusty already told me to back off, if that’s what you’re intending to do.”

“Rusty was upset by your conversation, which is why he asked me to intervene. David meant a lot to him.”

“David meant a lot to many people. That’s one of the reasons I believe you owe it to Pineview to confirm that he died the way we think he did.”

Myles didn’t take even a second to respond. “I’m not sure I’ll like what you have to say any more than Rusty did.”

Great, not only had he been tipped off, he’d been prejudiced. Refusing to let that upset him, Isaac took the seat across from Myles. If he was going to get anywhere with Les Weaver, he needed the sheriff’s help. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “Murder one is a serious accusation.”

“Not only that but I don’t want to get the whole community up in arms until I have proof. David’s parents have been through enough, losing him the way they did, and at such a young age. Claire has been through enough, too. She still hasn’t recovered. All you have to do is look at her to know that.”

Which was why Isaac thought it was time to intervene. “You don’t think I’ve considered what you’re saying?”

The sheriff’s chair squealed as he pulled it away from the desk so he could sit. “I guess where I get confused is this—what’s your interest in the situation, Isaac? Why are you getting involved?”

His interest was Claire. Now that she was back in his life, he wanted to be sure she achieved the resolution she needed. But he also knew how quickly everyone would doubt him if he said he was trying to do a good deed. No one would believe it was that simple. Although he hadn’t landed himself in trouble in years, they’d treat him like he was the big bad wolf coming to blow down the poor widow’s house.

The people of Pineview had tolerated—more kindly than some towns would have—an abandoned child in their midst, but they possessed very long memories. They would never let him live down his past. “Someone’s got to make sure it is what it appears to be. Might as well be me.”

“That’s it? That’s all there is to it?”

“That’s it.”

Myles swiveled back and forth as he mulled over Isaac’s response. “But I’m not convinced there’s any connection between David’s death and Alana’s disappearance,” he finally said.

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Do you have any evidence to support your opinion?”

Clasping his hands loosely between his legs, Isaac leaned forward. “No evidence. Yet. But I’ve come across some interesting coincidences.”

Myles opened a notebook. “I’m all ears.”

“First of all, David was researching Alana’s death and was raising enough questions to negate the argument that she ran off. What he was doing would eventually lead to police involvement, which made someone very nervous.”

“I’m supposed to take what you say David was doing on faith?”

“You don’t have to. It’s all in the files.”

“What files?”

“The case files.”

Now Myles was really skeptical. No longer the open-minded listener, he leaned forward. “And how would you know anything about the case files?”

“Somehow, David got a copy of them before he died. They had to have come from your office so I initially thought Rusty must’ve provided them. But when I spoke to him, he denied it and seemed completely unaware that David was even pursuing the mystery.”

Someone knocked on the door, a deputy, but Myles hollered that he’d be out in a few minutes. Then his eyes shifted back to Isaac. “You haven’t mentioned how you know he had any files.”

“Claire found them at the studio the night she was pushed down by that unknown assailant. They had his writing all over them.”

The sheriff dropped his pen. He was beginning to catch on. “Why weren’t they there when I searched?”

“Because I’d already taken them. She was afraid she’d lose them otherwise. They contained information she hadn’t been privy to before. Some progress David had made, like I said. And some conflicting testimony and facts that didn’t quite jive with what she’d been told. Things law enforcement kept from her and the press.”

“Like…”

Was this a test? “Leanne’s absence from school on the day in question.”

His mouth flattened into a thin line. If it had been a test, he’d just passed. “Then you’re right. That had to come from my office. But I have no idea how.”

Isaac couldn’t help him there. “All I know is what I saw.”

The chair creaked as he rocked back. “David having copies of what’s in our files doesn’t mean he was killed because of it.”

“That’s not all I’ve got to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“I went to see the man who shot him.”

At this Myles straightened. “In Idaho?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re damn serious about all of this.”

“I am.”

“And what did you learn?”

Isaac pictured the polished, wealthy lawyer. “He’s a far cry from any hunter I’ve ever met. And he’s not exactly a stand-up guy.”

“You gathered that from one meeting? How long were you there?”

“Not long. He brushed me off as soon as he could, but not before he gave me some song and dance about how devastated he was by what he’d done.”

“Which you didn’t believe.”

Isaac stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “I did at first. He told me he was so traumatized he couldn’t hunt anymore, that he’d got rid of every gun he owned because he can’t bear the sight of them.”

Myles steepled his fingers. “Any man would feel that way.”

“But it was a lie. He still has a whole cabinet full of guns. I could see them from his backyard.”

“They could belong to a friend or family member.”

“They were inside his house. And there was something else that struck me as odd.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s a bankruptcy attorney.”

“That makes him a bloodsucker, not a murderer,” Myles joked.

“But how many bankruptcy attorneys do you know who’ve witnessed a client shoot himself to death?”

Myles got to his feet. “This happened to him?”

“He said it did—right in his office.”

“Why would he tell you that?”

“He thought it’s what motivated my visit.”

“Shit.” Turning, he stared through the slats of the blind.

Isaac stood, too. “So now you have someone who’s accidentally shot a man while hunting and who’s also been involved in another unusual death.”

“Suicide isn’t murder,” he argued, but he didn’t sound nearly as unfriendly or unconvinced as he had when Isaac first arrived.

“Maybe it wasn’t suicide,” Isaac suggested.

Myles blew out a sigh. “I admit these coincidences are odd, but…the suicide must’ve checked out.”

“If the police did their homework, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get a look at their findings. The details might shed some more light on Les Weaver.”

No response.

“Come on, all I’m asking is that you poke around a bit. Learn how and why someone died in his office and figure out whether or not he had any connection to Pineview. He claims he came here alone, for the first time, without knowing a soul. A check of his phone records for the months leading up to David’s death would tell us if he was having regular conversations with anyone in this area. And if he was…”

“We could have a killer on the loose,” Myles finished.