But it wasn’t her life. Her life was adventure, hard work, high stress, even danger. She loved her life. So why did her inside feel so…hollow right now?
7
Drinks at the Last Chance, that was what she needed to chase away her unexpected bad mood. The dark wood paneling and intimate lighting matched her inner sourness.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” she told her brother as he poured her a brandy with cream. “Kind of London tavern circa the Jack the Ripper era.”
“Aaaaand this is why you should never get into marketing.” He pushed the shot glass across the bar toward her. “Drink up so you can stop bumming out my customers with your sad face emoji.”
She took a sip, letting the burn of the alcohol spread heat throughout her body. “It’s not working. I’m still in a bad mood.”
“I know what the problem is. You’re not used to relaxing. If you’re not saving lives and dodging bullets you don’t know what to do with yourself.” He left to take another customer’s order, giving her time to contemplate that observation. Maybe he was right. She needed something to do in Rocky Peak besides wait for Christmas while practicing her dream interpretation.
“You’re right. I should be useful while I’m here,” she announced when he got back. “Maybe you can set me up at the volunteer fire department.”
“It doesn’t work that way. You have to get your EMT certification before you can work with the department.”
“Picky, picky,” she grumbled, and took another sip. “Still not working.”
“Don’t you know alcohol is a depressant not a stimulant? Call yourself a doctor.”
She made a face at him. “That’s why I put the cream in. Dairy makes me happy.”
“You don’t need to tell me. I still can’t look at a block of provolone without thinking of you.”
She smiled, remembering how Mom used to keep emergency cheese on hand for her “hangry” episodes. “Jakey, remember when we used to play detective?”
A wary look came over his handsome face. As his twin sister, she could be completely neutral about the fact that Jake was a good-looking guy, with dreamy heather-green eyes and a deep groove in his cheek. His kindness and charm drew people to him. What they didn’t know was that he could be a badass when he chose to be.
“Why? Are you thinking of going back into the Nancy Drew business? You can count me out.”
“Pfft. I don’t believe you. I know you’ve been leaving town for a few days here and there, putting Serena in charge of the pub and disappearing for unknown and nefarious reasons.”
He startled. “What have you heard?”
“I just told you. What are you up to, Jakey? You know I’d never tell anyone.”
He frowned at her, but got distracted by a group of women who’d just arrived at the bar. They took a while to place their orders, and by the time Jake returned, Isabelle had nearly forgotten about the topic. In truth, her thoughts had drifted to Lyle and the fact that he’d left Rocky Peak Lodge a couple days ago, with no word on when he’d be back. Business trip to Seattle, he’d told Nicole.
“I’ll tell you at the right time,” Jake said in a low voice. “I’m following up on some information I found. It has to do with Mom’s accident.”
“Oh.” She thought back to some of the recent revelations about the accident.
They’d recently learned that one cause of Mom’s accident was a fraternity hazing ritual. Several members of a college frat had been staying at the Majestic Lodge for a ski trip. Their initiation involved stepping into the dark highway and startling a driver. One of those drivers had been Mom. She was already upset because of a fight with Max. The combination had been fatal and she’d driven off the road.
“Those frat boys?”
“You know, I don’t think they should be called boys,” said Jake sharply. “They were all over eighteen. Legal adults.”
“So you’ve found them? Or you’re looking for them?”
“Seriously, Iz, I’m not ready to talk about it. I promise I will when the time is right.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Take your time. I’m only your twin that you’re supposed to tell everything to.”
“Almost everything.” He shot her a meaningful glance that had Lyle Guero written all over it.
“Anyway, back to when we used to play detective, the other day I remembered this weird conversation that I overheard. Eavesdropped on,” she corrected, for accuracy.
“Mom and Dad?”
She nodded. “I heard Mom say, ‘When are we going to tell them, Max?’ Then he said, ‘When they’re older, or maybe never. Is it so important to tell them? What difference does it make?’ I’m paraphrasing.”
Jake planted his elbows on the counter so he could listen more closely. “Go on.”
“She started talking about keeping secrets, how hard it was. She said she kept dreaming about her sweet face and tiny fingers.”
“Her? Her who?”
“I have no idea.”
“What did Max say?”
“He was being really nice to her. He said it was for their own good, and that Mom should put a lid on her guilt. Then they started kissing. That’s when I left. Do you have any idea what they could have been talking about?”
Jake frowned in thought. “Did Mom have a miscarriage that we never knew about?”
“God. I don’t know.”
“Are you still looking for her journals? If something like that happened, she’d probably mention it.”
“I can’t find them. I wonder if she took them with her that night. Maybe they’re in a police evidence locker somewhere.”
Jake shook his head as he drew a mug of dark ale for a new customer. “I remembered something when I was at the lodge for dinner. A few days before the accident I ran into Mom while she was moving a carved box into a closet. I remember I thought it was weird because the closet was in one of the guesthouses. We usually kept only extra blankets and so forth in those closets, nothing personal. But this box looked kind of fancy, like it meant something to her. It could be worth checking out.”
A thrill ran through her. Finally, maybe she’d actually get somewhere on this search! “Which guesthouse?”
He smiled ruefully. “One guess.”
She dropped her head into her hands and groaned, then swallowed down the rest of her brandy and cream. “Lyle fucking Guero’s.”
“Bingo. Sorry. I guess you’ll have to be a little nicer to him.”
She shot him a death glare. “You’re his new bestie, why don’t you ask him for a personal tour of his bedroom?”
Jake gave her a quizzical look as he offered her more brandy. She declined, being somewhat of a lightweight. “Are you afraid of him?”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve faced off with a tribal warrior trying to kidnap my patient right off the table. I’m not afraid of Lyle.”
Jake was busy laughing at her denial when his expression shifted. Raised voices rang across the room. She swung around on her stool just in time to see a chair crash onto the floor and a big man in a sheepskin-lined jacket slam both fists onto a table. The two women at the table scrambled away from him.
She recognized them. One of them was Diane, who’d called her just the other day. The other looked like Beth, Diane’s bestie all through high school. And Jesus, was that Colin, Beth’s old boyfriend?
Jake pushed through the pass-through and raced across the room, customers making way for him. He put his body between the furious man and the two women.
With her heart in her mouth, Isabelle flew after them. No way was she going to let her brother get hurt without backing him up.
When she reached the tense little group, Jake had his hand on Colin’s shoulder, blocking him as if he were a bull about to attack. “C’mon man. Take it easy. Don’t make me call the police.”
“She’s my wife,” Colin growled. “She shouldn’t be here. I’m taking her home, so you’d best get out of my way.”
; Now that she was next to them, Isabelle knew she’d been right about his identity. Colin Wright was apparently now married to Beth Soloway, whose dirty-blond hair was set off by the dark circles under her eyes. Hovering protectively next to her, Diane Mack, dark braids free-flowing down her back, wore a freaked-out expression, barely managing a nod in Isabelle’s direction.
Jake kept his hand on Colin’s shoulder and took a step forward, backing him away from the table. “Let’s talk about this, okay? How about outside, somewhere more private. You want everyone here talking about you?”
That got Colin’s attention. He glanced around at the crowd of customers watching the scene. “Mind your own business, assholes.”
“Okay, that’s it. Let’s go before I call the cops.”
Jake led him away, taking command even though Colin was bigger and tougher-looking. Isabelle swallowed hard as she watched them go. If Colin hurt Jake…
At the last second, Jake shot Isabelle an urgent glance and jerked his head toward Beth and Diane. He didn’t have to say it out loud for her to know what he meant. Check on them for me.
She went to Beth’s side and crouched next to her. Beth was a thin, formerly anorexic woman who’d been voted “most likely to chainsmoke” in the joke version of the senior yearbook. Trembling badly, she cradled her arm. “It’s Isabelle. Remember me? I’m a doctor now. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
Beth stared at her in confusion. “Isabelle Rockwell?”
“Yes. We used to trade sandwiches now and then.” She tried a gentle smile as she offered her hand. “Do you mind if I look at your arm?”
Diane leaned in, sweeping her braids over her shoulder. “Izzy Rockwell, this is what I was calling you about the other day. Maybe she’ll listen to you since she’s sick of me ranting at her. That man’s a menace. He gets upset at every little thing.”
“You called Isabelle?” Beth asked.
“Hell yeah I did. I keep telling you to leave his ass. You have a right to an evening with a friend without him losing his shit.”
“He doesn’t like it when I leave the baby.” Sniffing, Beth allowed Isabelle to take her arm. “Even though my mother loves the chance to babysit. He thinks I should be with Tigger all the time. I just want a little space to breathe, you know? Is that so bad?”
Isabelle felt along the bone, looking for a pain response that would indicate a fracture. The bruise, which was already swelling and red, could use some ice, but there didn’t seem to be a break.
“Looks like you’ll have some bruising, but that’s it.”
“This time,” said Diane ominously. “Someone needs to check him. That baby sent him off the deep end, if you want to know the truth.”
“Stop it, Diane. That’s my husband you’re badmouthing. He’s under a lot of stress, that’s all.”
Isabelle gathered the ice cubes from a glass of water and wrapped a napkin around them. In the field, she’d learned to improvise early on. She placed it against Beth’s arm, making her wince. “Hold this here for about ten minutes, no more. Then you can take a break and do another ten minutes later.”
“Imma set my timer,” said Diane, pulling out her phone.
“Thanks Izzy. I better go. Colin’s probably waiting for me.”
“I think Jake’s talking to him. You have time.” She wanted Beth to keep talking. Her gut told her that the situation was volatile and that Beth probably wasn’t telling the entire story. “How old’s your baby? What’s his name?”
“He’s eight months. We call him Tigger, but his real name is Tiberius.”
“Cutest damn baby ever,” said Diane. She slumped back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “He gets it all from you, girl. Not him.”
Beth rolled her eyes. Isabelle was glad to see that her color was coming back along with her old spunky attitude. “No lie there. Especially now. Did you know that for the first year of their life, babies look like their fathers? Then they start looking like their mama, or just themselves. But that first year, that’s how the daddy knows he’s the real dad. It’s like a survival thing, so men won’t walk away or think someone else did the dirty with their mate.”
That sounded like dubious science to Isabelle. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Colin told me. He was pretty happy when Tigger came out looking like him, all blond and oversized. Weighed over ten pounds.”
Wow, the red flags in this relationship were flashing all over the place. “Listen, Beth, I’m going to give you my number. I want to know how your arm is feeling. If the swelling gets worse, you should get an X-ray.”
“No insurance.”
“Then just call me. I won’t charge you anything.”
Beth shook her head and pushed her chair back. Still holding the ice against her arm, she gestured to her purse, which Diane grabbed for her. “I’ll be fine. I need to get back to Tigger. My mom starts nodding off around nine.”
“Whatever you like. You can always reach me at the lodge though. Don’t hesitate to call.” She shot Diane a look to emphasize the point. If Beth wouldn’t listen, maybe her friend would.
Jake came back inside, his face red from the cold. “Colin went home,” he told Beth. “I suggested you stay at your mom’s tonight and he thought that was a good idea. He needs some cooling off time.”
Beth’s eyes filled with tears. “You shouldn’t interfere, Jake. It’s not like that. We’re fine, it’s just hard with the baby, you know we’re sleep deprived and Colin works the night shift and we never have time together, and—”
“Come on, Mama.” Diane dragged her friend toward the door. “Enough excuses. I don’t care how hard he works, it’s no reason to come in here and manhandle you when you’re trying to have a drink. Thanks, Rockwells. Put it on my tab, okay?”
When the two women were gone, Jake took a moment to reassure the other customers and get everyone back to their own tables and booths.
Isabelle returned to her seat at the bar and downed the last dregs of brandy and cream still in her glass.
As a doctor working in all sorts of danger zones, she’d seen this dynamic before—controlling behavior pretending to be love. Sometimes she wondered if she’d first seen it at home. Not that Max hadn’t loved Amanda. But he’d been so possessive, so jealous, so anxious to keep his wife close. To keep her wings trimmed.
She had to get that journal.
8
After two days of difficult meetings with board members and lawyers, the last person Lyle wanted to run into was a reporter. Especially a good reporter like Chelsea York, with great sources in the Seattle and West Coast business world, one who knew enough to be trouble.
“One drink,” she kept saying as she dragged him toward the nearest coffee shop. “We really need to talk. I’m hearing crazy things.”
Over cups of soup, she grilled him until his eyes wanted to cross. “You were always my most frustrating interview subject,” she told him after about half an hour. “You give nothing away. It’s maddening.”
“That’s because there’s nothing in it for me. You need to make it worth my while.”
“Okay…just tell me how I can do that.” Chelsea leaned forward, eyes sparkling. They’d gone out to dinner once before, even come close to spending the night together—but he had no interest this time. Not while he saw Isabelle’s rainforest eyes every time he turned around.
“I’m getting shut out at my own company, and there’s something they’re not telling me. I just spent two days hammering at board members and I got nothing. You probably know more than me right now.”
She sat back, narrowing her eyes in speculation. “You want me to burn my sources?”
“They’ll never know. I’m on the outside right now. Maybe for good.”
“But isn’t that where you like it? You’re the ultimate renegade. You’ve never done things the normal way.”
Only because he didn’t know the normal way.
“What’ve you heard that might help me?”
“Where’s the quo? What do I get?”
He shrugged. “When the time is right, everything. Exclusive, behind the scenes, one on one, whatever your editors want. I can see the headline now—Downfall of a Renegade.”
“Or Resurgence of a Renegade?”
“Let’s hope.” He clicked his water glass against hers. “There’s one thing they can’t take away from me.”
“What’s that?” She moved her recording device closer to make sure she didn’t miss a word.
“Myself.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Very confident. One might even say arrogant.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he murmured, thinking of Isabelle’s comment on the snowy trail.
Chelsea clicked off her recorder. “Okay, I’ll give you a little something. That something they can’t take away from you? Yourself? It’s exactly the problem.”
“What?”
“There’s a whisper campaign going around about you. I don’t have the whole picture, but rumors are flying that you aren’t who you say you are.”
He stiffened, an involuntary reaction he couldn’t hide. “What are you talking about?”
“Some issue with your birth certificate? Like you don’t have one? I don’t know the details, but some are saying the problem could make you a lightning rod. No one wants that kind of controversy.”
A heavy sensation gathered in his chest. “It’s a technicality about my birth certificate.”
“Maybe, but Drew Clayton says he has evidence that proves you’re unfit to run a major company like Guero Enterprises. He says you’ll be a liability if it gets out, and some of your board members seem to believe him. And that is all I know, Lyle. Nothing more.”
He schooled his expression to reveal absolutely nothing. What evidence could possibly prove that he was unfit to run his own company?
Damn. Sometimes he wished he’d never rescued Drew from that beatdown.
The Renegade Page 5
