In Close
“Wow, you really are chasing this thing again, aren’t you,” he finally said.
Draping her arm over her eyes, she sank back onto her pillow. “I have to, Dad. For whatever reason—for a lot of reasons—I can’t let it go.”
He didn’t respond right away, but when he did she could tell that something had changed. “Fine. You do what you have to, honey. And I’ll support you in it.”
Claire threw the covers aside and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
Those four simple words subdued the sinking feeling that had settled in when she woke up. He wouldn’t relent if he’d killed Alana. He’d keep fighting to stop her. His past reluctance had troubled her all these years, so being able to move forward with his blessing meant a lot. “Why the change of heart?”
“What happened last night scares me. I lost your mother. I don’t want to lose you.”
When Claire’s chest constricted, she knew his feelings toward the investigation had been a bigger problem for her than she’d ever wanted to admit. “Leanne said it was my fault for going there in the first place.”
“You should be able to go to your mother’s studio without feeling you might get hurt. Maybe it was a freak encounter, or an attempted robbery. I got off the phone with the sheriff a second ago. He said there’s nothing to indicate it’s more than that, since whoever it was just shoved you and ran off. But…the fact that it occurred at Alana’s studio has him worried, and me, too.”
“You think it might be related to the past?”
“Everyone does, although there’s no proof. You didn’t get a look at the guy?”
“No.”
“Concentrate, honey. Can you remember anything about him? His height? His weight? Maybe some detail about his clothes or his smell?”
She wished she could, but it’d happened too fast. “No, nothing.”
“What about his car?”
“I didn’t realize he had a car, Dad. I didn’t see anyone behind me on the road, didn’t hear a vehicle approach. He must’ve followed at a distance and parked too far away.”
“The sheriff said Isaac Morgan came to your rescue.”
Again, Isaac’s passionate kiss, his hands on her body and his erection pressing against her legs flashed through her mind. Just when the memories of their nights together had grown tired and dim, she’d gone and created a fresh one. “Yes.”
“How do you know he didn’t shove you to begin with?”
“Because he’d have no reason to do that. And it’s not who he is.”
“He never liked that you ended up with David.”
He could’ve stopped it if he’d cared enough. “Believe me, that was no skin off his nose.”
“But he watches you. I’ve seen him do it.”
Her father had never mentioned this before. “What are you talking about? When does Isaac watch me?”
“Whenever. He can’t keep his eyes off you. At the bar. At the café. At the grocery store. Anywhere you both happen to be.”
That was because of their history. She watched him, too. She could feel his presence before she even saw him. “Trust me on this. It wasn’t Isaac. What we had didn’t mean anything to him. You know how he is with women. Anyway, the attack on me might’ve turned into more than just a shove if he hadn’t come running.” How else would he have gotten that terrible gash in his chest?
“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s awfully convenient that he was right there.”
“He lives close by.”
“Not close enough to hear anything. And…Claire?”
“Yes?”
He seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say next.
“Dad?”
He sighed. “It’s so hard to know what to reveal and what not to reveal.”
Claire gripped the phone tighter. “There’s something you haven’t told me?”
“It’s not directly connected to Alana going missing. I’m sure of that. But…I’ve often debated whether it would make things easier on you to know. And now that you’ve asked… I don’t want this eating away at you, sending you down the wrong path.”
“Tell me.”
“You asked about Leanne being out of school for three hours on the day your mother went missing.”
A hard knot formed in Claire’s stomach. His manner worried her. “Yes?”
“That did happen.”
Leanne had just denied it. Initially, he’d denied it, too. “Then why’d you say—”
“The question took me off guard,” he broke in. “I’m so used to protecting her, so used to minimizing the damage caused by that day, it’s become instinctive to lie about it.”
Claire swallowed hard. “I don’t understand. There must be a reason you’d say she was out of school and keep saying it.”
“Yes. And if you’re going to pursue this, you need to know what it is.”
Whatever “it” was sounded pretty ominous. She took a shaky breath. “I’m listening.”
“It wasn’t your mother who was…involved in some way with Joe Kenyon.”
“Who was it?” Claire could barely make herself heard, but she must’ve spoken loudly enough because he responded with the name she’d suddenly guessed he was going to say.
“Leanne.”
“That can’t be true,” she said. “Leanne was only thirteen at the time. If…if Joe was molesting her, he should’ve been punished. Why would you lie to keep what he did a secret?”
“Because he didn’t molest her. What happened wasn’t his fault.”
Claire stared at the carpet, studying the large flowers as if tracing them on paper. “That doesn’t make sense. He was at least seventeen to eighteen years older than she was.”
“But she had a thing for him. You remember Katie, don’t you?”
How could she forget Katie? Her sister’s best friend had been almost as hard to put up with as Leanne. “Of course. She lived next door to Joe until her family moved during her and Leanne’s junior year.”
“That’s right. I guess—” his words fell off but he seemed to marshal the resolve to continue “—I guess Leanne was coming on to him.”
Sickened, Claire covered her mouth and spoke through her fingers. “How does a thirteen-year-old girl come on to a thirtysomething man?”
“I can’t talk about it. I…won’t talk about it. It’s too upsetting to me, and I’d rather keep the unflattering details private, for your sister’s sake. To be fair to her, that was a long time ago, and…and sometimes girls get themselves mixed up in stuff like that when they’re discovering their sexuality. Or so I’m told,” he added in a mumble.
Claire had never even been tempted to come on to a man nearly two decades older, but…she decided to give her sister the benefit of the doubt.
“Just know that she was young and confused and tried to…entice him,” he went on.
“And you’re sure he—” Her throat closed up. After swallowing, she began again. “Did he act on what she offered him?”
“No.”
“He might have done more than you think. Maybe that’s what instigated…her interest.”
“He had proof when he called us, Claire.”
Claire couldn’t help thinking of Leanne in that nightgown. She’d assumed her sister’s promiscuity stemmed from the accident, but this made her wonder if it’d started at a much earlier age. “What kind of proof?”
“A video she made for him.”
Gross… Claire couldn’t bear to think about it. But she still needed the answers she’d been searching for from the beginning. “So…what does Leanne’s being out of school on the day Mom went missing have to do with any of this?”
“It was that morning Joe contacted us with the…news. Your mother was so upset when she heard it, she called me in tears. I’d dropped her off after having a cup of coffee and a doughnut with her, had just arrived at the gun shop, so I asked her to wait until I could get off work, told her we’d deal with it then. I couldn’t leave. I had nobody to watch the store. Walt was out of town and depending on me, and Don Salter, who could’ve replaced me, wouldn’t answer his phone.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts or his emotions or both before continuing. “But apparently she couldn’t wait. She marched down and signed Leanne out of school so she could talk to her before you were home.”
“And what did Leanne have to say?”
“She denied the whole thing. So Alana took her over to Joe’s, and he showed them the tape.”
That was why Leanne had never mentioned being out of school. She didn’t want to admit she’d made a pornographic video at thirteen, which she used to solicit a married man. Claire also understood why Tug had kept quiet all these years. But how had Joe and that tape and Leanne’s behavior affected the investigation into Alana’s disappearance? It must have hampered the sheriff’s ability to do a thorough job with everyone being careful not to say too much about the day in question.
“Why hasn’t Joe told anyone?” Claire asked. “Like one of the investigators you hired?”
“Because he’s a good man.”
If what she was hearing was true, Claire had to agree. He’d tolerated a lot of talk, been convicted of committing adultery with her mother in the court of public opinion, and yet he’d never stepped forward to point a finger at Leanne. That certainly changed how she thought of him.
Now she could explain some of those “inconsistencies” listed in that file. But what did that have to do with her mother’s disappearance? Or were the incident with Joe and the kidnapping two separate items?
“So…Mom took her back to school?” Claire remembered there being some confusion about that in what she’d read.
“No. She was crying too hard. She’d had a terrible fight with Leanne. You can imagine what it must’ve been like after they left Joe’s. So I closed up and took Leanne back to school for her. I thought it might help your mother to have some time alone.”
“When was that?”
“I can’t remember exactly. About one o’clock, I think.”
But the log said Leanne hadn’t signed in until two. “And Mom was…”
“At the house. That’s where I left her.”
“And she was fine?”
“As fine as could be expected, under the circumstances.”
That meant Alana had gone missing between one and three-thirty, when she and Leanne got home. “That’s why you were so worried when I called that day.”
“Yes. I was worried before you called.”
This made sense, but what about the previous sightings of her car at Joe’s house—if those reports were true? “Thanks for telling me.”
He lowered his voice. “What are you going to do with the information? Roni, even Joe’s wife—they don’t know, Claire. I don’t want it coming out. It would really hurt Leanne and could cause problems for Joe.”
Obviously, he felt that being honest with her had betrayed her sister. They’d always been close. “Nothing. For now,” she told him.
“Leanne’s your sister.” The caution in his tone suggested she should protect the secret as well as he had. But if everyone was protecting this secret or that secret, how would the sheriff’s department ever get to the bottom of what had gone wrong?
Claire felt she owed Leanne a lot. They were sisters, as her stepfather had just pointed out. She understood how the slightest upset could throw Leanne into a tailspin, especially since the accident. But did those considerations outweigh the hope that full disclosure and absolute honesty might bring Alana back—or catch the man who killed her?
7
Working for himself made it possible for Isaac to accept only jobs that excited him. It also enabled him to do a lot of projects on spec. He often edited his own footage and created pilots and trailers, which his agent submitted to various film and television producers. For the print photography side of his business, he had a different agent who sent his pictures to various magazines internationally, as well as book publishers. He’d recently sold a coffee-table book, which would be a collection of some of his finest photographs.
He loved what he did. He could get lost in editing and refining his films and photographs for hours. After Claire had married David, his work gave him something he could devote himself to full-time so he wouldn’t have to dwell on his personal life—what he’d thrown away when he rejected Claire. His career also meant he was gone a lot, so he didn’t have to be constantly reminded....
But somewhere along the line, all the flights and airport transfers and taxis and hotels had begun to wear on him. Traveling so much started feeling more like drudgery, like running away, than career advancement. Which was why he’d decided to take an extended break. It wasn’t as if he had to go anywhere. He was in the middle of several projects he could finish right here, like the Alaskan sled dog series he was working on. He had plenty of footage from last winter when he’d gone to live with a family of Eskimos in northern Alaska. He was pretty sure he’d be able to sell it to his friend at Nat Geo. Michael had bought a lot of pictures from him in the past, had been a fan since his first spread in National Geographic, back when Michael had worked for the magazine, before he joined the TV network.
But today Isaac wasn’t making much progress. He couldn’t concentrate. He kept glancing over at the files he’d brought from Alana’s studio, wondering who had attacked Claire and why, whether David had been killed in an accident or on purpose, and if he should air his suspicions or keep his mouth shut. He’d hoped Leland would be able to convince him he was way off base, but Leland’s response to his call had only left Isaac more unsettled.
He drummed his fingers on the desk while staring at a frozen image of Kitbohn, the leader of the pack of dogs he’d become so close to last winter, on his computer screen. Something about the accident that had killed David wasn’t as it seemed. Leland obviously believed it, too, and yet he hadn’t sounded the alarm.
Why? Surely, he was in a better position than Isaac to do so.
He was probably holding off for the same reason Isaac was: no proof. Isaac didn’t want to stir up any drama, or hurt Claire by dragging her through more of the same crap she’d already been through. He’d caused her enough pain when she’d told him she loved him and he couldn’t reciprocate.
David’s death, even Alana’s disappearance, wasn’t any of his business. He prided himself on staying out of matters that didn’t concern him. He had enough to deal with in his own life.
So why was he tempted to jump into this?
Because he couldn’t get Claire out of his mind. He knew how much finding her mother meant to her, how much she loved David and would want to see his killer punished—if he’d been purposely shot. It was a testament to Isaac’s fascination with her that he was so willing to give her what she wanted, even when it came to the man who’d replaced him.
Or was it his way of making up for his own shortcomings?
Should he call and ask her to pick up the files?
He wasn’t sure if she was on her feet. He also wasn’t sure he wanted her in his house again. Touching her last night had convinced him that the past ten years had changed nothing. Not for him.
With a sigh, he watched the clock tick away. Ten, twelve, fifteen minutes. Frustrated at the waste of time, he tried to focus on the computer, but it was no use. He wasn’t worth a damn today.
Cursing his own stubborn heart, he retrieved the accordion folder he’d stashed under his bed. Then he got his keys. He’d pay Claire a visit, just to drop these off, and keep his suspicions to himself. Maybe then he could return to his normal routine. He’d thought about her before last night, especially when he was in town, because there was always the possibility of bumping into her, but his emotions hadn’t seemed quite so intense. Today, every time he heard her voice in his head, saying, “It hasn’t been easy for me after David. But this is better than being alone,” he felt as if she’d rammed a knife in his gut.
He hadn’t gotten over her.
But he would. Just as soon as he got her files out of his house, he’d wash his hands of her for good.
Claire wasn’t sleeping, but she was in bed where she’d spent the whole day, tightly curled up, thinking about David. How could she miss him so much, love him so much, when Isaac affected her as strongly as he did? What did that say about her? Had she been as faithful to David in her heart as she’d believed?
She’d never cheated on him, even though there were moments when the look on Isaac’s face told her he probably wouldn’t turn her away if she decided to pay him a visit. He’d never called her after she’d said “I do,” and she respected him for that, especially since the desire was still there, for both of them. She’d never been able to completely eradicate it, and he had no reason to bother trying. Maybe he didn’t love her, maybe he never had, but he certainly liked getting in her pants. Focusing on what she felt for David and her duty as a wife was the only thing that’d made it possible to stay away from him.
But David was gone.
The doorbell rang. She waited, expecting it to be Leanne again, but no one called out.
Maybe it was a client who wanted a haircut. She took walk-ins on the days she worked, and Tuesday was definitely one of those days.
She hoped whoever it was would go away when she didn’t respond, but that wasn’t the case. The doorbell rang three more times.
“I should’ve put up a sign,” she grumbled, and got out of bed.
The mirror showed her a sleepy face. Red, puffy eyes revealed that she’d been crying. She’d cried so much in the past year she rarely wore makeup anymore. And with her hair falling around her shoulders in a tangled mass of curls, she looked as unkempt as Leanne had said earlier.
The image staring back at her hardly made her eager for company. But who did she have to impress? She wasn’t dating anyone, had no hope of finding romance in Pineview. A few guys asked her out. Rusty Clegg, the sheriff’s deputy who’d probably helped David get hold of her mother’s files, was one who wouldn’t give up. He called incessantly. But he and all the others had been good friends with her and David. She liked them, but there wasn’t any…chemistry.
Shoving her hair out of her face, she grabbed an old woolen robe as whoever was at her door knocked again. July was too hot for such a heavy garment, but Leanne’s reaction to the mark on her neck told her she needed a high collar.
When she noted the size of the blurry image on the other side of the glass, she hesitated. She’d been right. This wasn’t Leanne. And there wasn’t any point in hiding the hickey. It was the man who’d given it to her.
“Come on, Claire. Open up!”
Damn! This would be her third encounter with him in less than twenty-four hours. Once or twice a month was hard enough.
Tightening the belt on her robe, she told herself she didn’t care that he was about to see her at her worst and opened the door.
Wearing a simple T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans that rested low on his hips, he loomed over her by almost a foot. Generally speaking, she didn’t mind being short. But she always longed for a little more height when dealing with him....
“What can I do for you?” She blocked the entrance and kept one hand on the knob. But then she spotted the accordion file beneath his arm and understood why he’d come.
Quickly checking to make sure Leanne wasn’t out—she didn’t want to be grilled about the reason Isaac Morgan had shown up at her house—she flung the door wide and waved him in.
His sardonic smile told her he knew it wasn’t him she was so excited to see. But he was wrong. To her own chagrin, seeing him always excited her.
“Nice place.”
He’d never been inside her house. She’d been living in a small apartment above Stuart’s Stop ’n’ Shop when they were “together.” Once David returned from college and accepted a job in Kalispell, she’d moved there, too, to attend beauty school. After she graduated, David opened his State Farm office and they both came back to Pineview, where they’d lived on David’s parents’ property until Tug finished building her house. Once it was done, they’d married and moved in.
“It’s small but comfortable.” She wasn’t sure if his compliment had been sincere, and she didn’t really care. She’d lost interest in so many things since David had died, not the least of which were cooking and cleaning. “Where did you get that?” She motioned to the file she’d attempted to remove from her mother’s studio.
He turned to face her. “Where do you think?”
“You went to the studio? Before the sheriff could get there?”
“I did. I could tell you wanted this.”
“That can’t be the only reason.” Such generosity wasn’t like him.
His expression hardened. “Why not?”
“It was late, you were injured and this is my problem.”
“Right. Why would I care? I’d never do anything just because it’s important to you. Only David would do that.”
She didn’t know how to respond. She wasn’t up to an argument today, and he seemed even more defensive than usual. “Regardless of your reasons, I’m grateful.” She tried to take it from him so he’d leave. Now that she’d canceled all her appointments, she’d have the privacy and time to go through all the reports without being interrupted. But he held them beyond her reach.
“Why didn’t you want the sheriff to get hold of this?” he asked. “It came from his office in the first place, didn’t it? Which means you could always get another copy.”
She didn’t want to focus on his eyes with their golden-brown irises, but neither did she want to focus on the long, tanned fingers that could work such magic on whatever they touched. Clearing her throat, she kept her own eyes on those files. “Not necessarily. That folder contains much more than he’d release to me.”
His dark eyebrows gathered. “And he doesn’t know you have it?”
“I didn’t even know until yesterday. I found it in the attic of the studio. David must’ve gotten it for me…somehow.”
“Ah, David again.” His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Your knight in shining armor.”
She raised her chin. “Yes. Always.” She’d sensed long ago that Isaac had never liked David. David had certainly never liked Isaac, and it wasn’t exclusively due to jealousy. He hated Isaac because of the way Isaac had used her. He’d often told her she should hate him, too, and she’d pretended, but it was hard to blame Isaac when she was a willing participant in the whirlwind of desire that had brought them crashing together. He’d never forced her to visit his cabin. She’d been so eager for his touch she could scarcely wait from one encounter till the next.
He lowered his voice. “What did he know about us?”
She didn’t want to talk about this. It was too…intimate. She nearly told him so, but she feared that would only confirm how sensitive an issue he’d been between her and David. She decided it might be less revealing to simply answer. “He knew we slept together. I don’t—didn’t—keep anything from him.” Other than the depth of her feelings for Isaac, and the fact that those feelings never seemed to change or go away.
His voice dropped even further, and this time a pained expression accompanied his words. “Is he the reason you’ve been crying?”
“I haven’t been crying.” She wasn’t sure why she was attempting to lie. The truth was all too apparent. But she hated the idea of Isaac knowing she was in such a bad state. It was stupid and weak that she couldn’t seem to get back on her feet.
She aimed to be just as tough, just as indifferent, as he was. Maybe someday she’d actually accomplish it.
“Right.” He rolled his eyes.
Ignoring his reaction, she drew a deep breath. “So are you going to give me the files?”
He pursed his lips. “I’m thinking about it.”
“I don’t understand why you’d even hesitate.”
“Have you eaten today?”
She gaped at him. “Have I…eaten? What difference does that make?” Especially to him?
“It’s a simple enough question,” he said with a shrug.
“It’s nearly dinnertime. Of course I’ve eaten.” Another lie. She’d lost too much weight in the past year. Everyone was nagging her about it, especially her best friend, Laurel, and her stepfather.