by C. B. Clark
Russ rose in a single, fluid motion, a determined look in his hazel eyes. “Bullshit.” He moved toward her, each slow step bringing him closer.
“What?” She backed up a foot, and another, until her hips bumped the wall and there was no escape.
“You heard me. I call bullshit.”
Her gaze bounced around the room, seeking escape. “I…I don’t understand.”
“Finding answers is all you’ve thought of for the past twenty-three years.” He halted a hairsbreadth away. “Think about it, Athena. Ask yourself why you’ve waited all these years to seek out the answers. You didn’t need me for that. You could have asked any number of people to help you.”
She raised her hands as if to ward him off, but they fluttered helplessly in front of her. Words died in her throat.
“Do you want to know what I think? You’re afraid to find out the truth.” His mouth thinned. “You’re terrified you’ll discover Angus is innocent, and your parents abandoned you. They sailed away and left poor, sweet Maggie all alone.”
Her legs threatened to give out, and she braced against the wall. “No. That’s not true. They wouldn’t have done that.” Her shoulders shook with a gut-wrenching sob. “They never would have left me.”
“Then let’s find out what really happened. Together.” The light of earnestness shone deep in his eyes.
Was he right? Was she afraid to learn the truth? She shuddered. What if her worst fear was true, and her parents had chosen to abandon her? Could she live with the knowledge she’d been cast aside like an old pair of shoes? She licked her dry lips, wishing she were sipping on a glass of wine, beer, vodka…anything to slake her thirst and help her forget.
“Asking for help isn’t a weakness, Athena. Sometimes, it’s the strongest thing you can do.”
His husky voice washed over her like melted chocolate.
The air between them pulsed. Her body swayed toward him like a plant seeking the sun.
Grasping her chin with two fingers, he turned her to meet his intense gaze. “Let me help you.” He caressed her cheek, his warm, callused thumb eliciting another shiver. “Please let me help.”
Her heart thundered against her ribs. “I…I don’t know.”
His warm breath gusted against her cheeks. “Together we’ll find the answers.”
“I…” She shook her head in frustration. Why was this so difficult? She’d spent her life wondering what happened that fateful day on Shelter Island. He was offering to help her find those answers. “Okay.”
He nodded. “Before we start, there’s something you should know. After you ran away from me at the marina, I—”
“I didn’t run away.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “After you left the Minerva, I sailed back to Shelter Island and searched Angus’s cottage.”
Her irritation faded, and curiosity took over. “Did you find anything?”
He smiled, and the creases at the outer corners of his hazel eyes deepened. “I discovered a box of papers in the attic.” He tugged at his shirt collar. “The box was filled with notes concerning your parents’ disappearance.”
“Angus confessed?” Her breath hitched in her throat. Her knees turned to rubber, and she swayed. She grabbed Russ’s arm to hold steady.
“Hey, take it easy. Maybe you should sit down.” He gripped her elbow and steered her to the couch.
Her legs gave out, and she plopped on the cushions.
“Do you want me to get you a glass of water?” He hovered over her.
“Please. Tell me what Angus wrote.”
“The papers aren’t what you think.” He stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “They’re reports from a private investigator Angus hired to find out what happened to your parents.” He strode across the room and retrieved the leather briefcase from the floor. Unsnapping the metal clasps, he flipped open the flap, revealing several thick file folders.
She ached to rip the briefcase from his grasp, but she kept her hands clasped on her lap. “That doesn’t make sense. Angus already knew what happened.”
Russ held out the case. “Read the files. You’ll see what I mean.”
“I don’t need to read them. I know what he did.”
He settled on the couch beside her. “Think with your brain and not your heart. You’ve said it yourself. Why would Angus pay someone to investigate if he already knew what happened to your parents?” He patted the briefcase. “The private investigator didn’t work cheap, and over the years, Angus paid him a lot of money. He hired him right after the incident and kept him on the payroll until a few years before Angus’s death.” He huffed out a breath. “Angus was careful with his money. He wouldn’t throw cash away on a whim.”
A thousand snarky responses trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. Maybe Angus was innocent, and she’d blamed the wrong person all these years. Was that possible? Tears burned her eyes.
“Hey. It’s okay.” His arm curled around her waist, tugging her closer. “This isn’t easy. None of what’s going down is.”
A sob hiccupped in her throat, and she burrowed deeper into his comforting embrace. Tears streamed down her cheeks and soaked the soft flannel of his shirt.
The light had faded, and the room darkened before she raised her head. The compassion shining in his eyes caused a fresh sting of tears, but she swallowed, refusing to cry anymore. “I’ve always been certain Angus was responsible for what happened. All these years, I’ve hated him. I’ve—” Her voice broke.
He rubbed his palm over her back, kneading the tense muscles with the pads of his strong fingers. “You were a child when your parents left. How could you know who was responsible?”
“You don’t understand. It had to be him.” She blinked back tears. “He was the only other person on the island that day.”
“He was the only one you saw. There are lots of bays and inlets on that island. Someone could have landed a boat in any one of them and rowed ashore, and you wouldn’t have known.”
She shook her head, refusing to accept his calm reasoning. “I would have seen a boat. I would have…” Her voice trailed off as doubt clouded her thoughts. Could she be wrong? Was it possible that for all these years she’d blamed the wrong person? Had someone else been on the island that day? Someone who wanted to destroy her family? Unease trickled down her spine, and she shivered.
Chapter 33
Athena’s tears had dried, but her face was wan and pale. Lines of strain bracketed her mouth. Her hand holding the papers trembled as she read through the files.
Watching her torment was the hardest thing he’d ever done. No woman had provoked such a fervent desire to protect. He wanted to slay dragons, to battle her enemies, to topple empires, anything to erase the shadows dulling her blue eyes. More than anything, he wanted to be the man who rescued her from the demons of her past.
The fourteen days, sixteen hours, and thirty-two minutes he’d stayed away were the most difficult hours of his life. His very essence demanded he go to her, but he’d fought the raging desire. She was vulnerable, reeling from the shocking discovery that Angus was her biological father. She needed time to come to grips with her new reality.
His decision to return to Shelter Island and search the property for clues to her parents’ mysterious disappearance had been a Hail Mary. He hadn’t expected to find anything. Years had passed. The police investigators had gone over the island with a fine-toothed comb. What chance did an untrained dude like him have of uncovering new clues?
He must have done something right, because after three long days of scouring every inch of the stone-and-cedar cottage and searching all the outbuildings, he’d found a dust-covered cardboard box of files in the attic. The box, covered by a mildewed cotton sheet, was hidden behind a stack of other boxes filled with old clothing, vinyl records, and dated household accounts. It was labelled Russell’s High School Yearbooks.
He’d ripped off the tape sealing the box and, instead of old yearb
ooks, he’d tugged out investigative reports, stacks of them. Once he read through them and understood their significance, a wave of relief washed over him. The papers were proof that his father wasn’t involved in Athena’s parents’ disappearance. He was convinced of Angus’s innocence. The challenge was to persuade Athena.
“I’ve got it.” Her eyes shone with excitement, and a flush stained her pale cheeks. She waved a paper in the air.
“What are you talking about?”
“There is someone who might know what happened.” She handed him the paper. “Read this. I can’t believe I didn’t think of him before.”
When he finished skimming the paper, he arched his brows. “You’ve lost me.”
“Did you read it?”
“Of course, I did.”
She pointed at the third paragraph on the piece of paper. “The answer’s right there.”
He breathed in her sweet floral scent, and his blood heated as he remembered the slide of his fingers over her soft skin, her moans of excitement, her hot breath gusting against his chest…
“You were right.”
Her words snapped him out of his fantasy. “Really?” He smirked. “Can you repeat that?”
“Repeat what?”
“What you just said.”
She wrinkled her brow. “You’ve lost me.”
“I believe you said I was right.” He grinned. “I don’t think I’ve heard you admit that before.”
She stared at him for a heartbeat, and then she giggled. “I hope you enjoyed the moment, because I guarantee you’ll never hear me say those words again.”
Her laughter curled around him like a caress.
Their gazes connected and locked.
The moisture dried in his mouth as he lost himself in the pull of her vivid blue eyes. His heart jackhammered in his chest. Oh man. If the mere sound of her throaty laughter wreaked such havoc, he was doomed. He ripped his gaze from hers and focused on the paper in his hand. “Okay. Tell me what I’m missing.” He held up the paper. “I don’t see what’s in here that has you so excited.”
“It’s just like you said.” Matching red patches flushed her cheeks. “There was someone else who could have been on the island.”
“Who?”
“JD Burroughs. He worked the supply boat. My parents paid him to deliver supplies to the island every month. That’s how my correspondence courses arrived. He transported food, building supplies, mail, everything we needed.”
Her excitement was contagious, and he sat forward on the edge of the cushions. “Was he on the island that day?”
“I don’t think he was due to deliver the next shipment for another week, but I could be wrong. It’s been a long time.”
He blew out his breath. “So, what makes you think he was on Shelter Island the day your parents disappeared?”
“This.” She grabbed the paper out of his hand and held it up as if she were hoisting a prize. “It says here the police interviewed JD Burroughs, but he had an alibi. He was delivering a shipment to another island that day.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. He’d read the passage mentioning JD Burroughs, and he’d dismissed him just like the police and the private investigator had. The man had no motive to harm the O’Flynns. More importantly, on the day of the couple’s disappearance, he wasn’t on Shelter Island. “But you don’t believe that. You think he was lying.”
She nodded. “It’s not what’s written in the files, but what’s missing that’s important.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see where you’re heading with this. He had an alibi. The police checked him out, and they cleared him.”
She blew out a breath. “JD had a contract with my parents to deliver supplies to Shelter Island once a month. Over the years, my father and he became friends. They were both avid sailors. Whenever JD stopped at the island, Mom invited him for supper and to stay the night.
“He and Dad drank beer and talked for hours about sailing.” The corners of her mouth curved, and her eyes took on a wistful look. “JD brought sales brochures and the latest yachting magazines. Dad’s dream was to one day own a Hansard 750.”
He whistled. “Your dad had good taste. The Hansard 750 is still the top-of-the-line catamaran. Every weekend sailor I know would kill to own one.” He flinched at his choice of words, but fortunately she was too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice.
“Dad never got the chance to fulfill his dreams.” A sob hitched in her throat.
He fought the urge to enfold her in his arms and kiss away her tears. “I still don’t get it. What’s JD got to do with your parents’ disappearance? From what you’ve said, they were friends.”
“In his interview with the private investigator, Burroughs said he was delivering supplies to another customer that day.” She paused. “He wasn’t.”
His brow furrowed. “How do you know?”
She glanced up, her blue eyes intense. “I wasn’t feeling well that day, and I was supposed to be resting in my room, but I wanted a drink of water, so I went to the kitchen, and I overheard my father talking on the radio phone. He was making plans with JD to try out a sailboat JD was trying to sell him.” She stared at him triumphantly. “They arranged to meet that afternoon.”
He rocked back, stunned at her revelation. “Are you sure? This happened a long time ago, and you were just a kid. How can you be certain you’re thinking of the same day?”
“I haven’t forgotten one second of that day. I’ve relived it over and over a million times. I remember everything.” She threaded her fingers through her tangle of shiny red curls. “Every little detail.”
He studied her flushed face. True memory or wishful thinking, she certainly believed what she was saying. Her parents disappeared a long time ago. She was just a child when the nightmare happened. Could her memories of the distant past be trusted? “How come you never told anyone this before?”
“Because I just remembered.” She tapped the paper in her hand. “What’s written in this report reminded me of the phone call.”
“Athena—” He hated to puncture her enthusiasm. “—you’ve wanted for so long to find out what happened to your parents. Do you think it’s possible you imagined the phone call? Or you have the day wrong?”
Her face fell, and the light in her eyes vanished.
Way to go, buddy. What’s next? Are you going to tell her there’s no Santa Claus?
She clutched the pillow to her chest. “Do you think I made this up?”
He rose to his feet, aching to touch her, to take back his words, but he didn’t. He was afraid—terrified if he enfolded her in his arms he’d kiss her, and once his lips stroked hers, he wouldn’t be able to stop. She wasn’t the only coward in the room.
She had too much going on in her life. The last thing she needed was some guy coming on to her. He stiffened his spine and stayed a safe distance. “Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you. I just think that—” He faltered. Ugh, he was digging an even deeper grave, but shovel in hand, he plowed on. “—that you want answers so desperately you’ll—”
She cut him off. “I’ll what? Lie? Make things up?”
“For years you were certain Angus was responsible for your parents’ disappearance. Now you’re saying this JD Burroughs had something to do with what happened.” He swallowed. “Don’t you see? You’re grasping at straws.”
Hurt mixed with anger flashed in her expressive eyes. “I didn’t say JD did anything wrong. I just think it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him and see if he remembers anything that could be helpful.”
“Are you sure that’s what you’re doing?”
“You think my sudden recall of memory is a bit too convenient, is that it?” Her eyes flashed fire.
He kept silent. He’d said more than enough.
They stared at each other in an explosive silence like two combatants facing off.
The dull throb of a headache pinged in his right temple. He was responsible for the devastation on her
face, and that unmanned him.
She gave a mirthless laugh. “You know, I believed you when you said you were here to help.” Her lip curled. “I’m a fool.” She wheeled around and strode from the room as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Son of a bitch.” His curse punctured the air. He pounded his fist into his other hand, ignoring the pain, and he stormed across the room and kicked the stack of file folders, sending papers flying. He inhaled several deep, calming breaths, shoved his hands in his pockets, and with a resigned sigh, stomped out of the room.
Chapter 34
The door to her bedroom was ajar, and he tapped lightly.
She didn’t respond.
Ignoring the warning claxons blaring through his brain, he nudged open the door. The curtains over the window were closed, but faint streaks of afternoon light leaked around the edges.
She lay on her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her arms at her sides, her hands clenched into tight fists. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
A lump filled the back of his throat. She’d been so excited when she recalled the supply boat operator’s long-ago telephone conversation with her father. And how had he responded? He’d doubted her. He tugged at his shirt collar, his face heating. Doubted her? Hell, he’d as good as told her she was imagining events.
A stronger man would walk away and leave her in peace. But where she was concerned, he was weak, and his feet didn’t budge. He couldn’t leave her. Not like this. Before he talked himself out of doing something stupid, he crossed the room, sat on the bed, and drew her into his arms. Her body was stiff and unyielding, but she didn’t fight him. After a minute, her stiffness eased, and she relaxed and nestled against him like a child seeking comfort.
But she wasn’t a child.
Far from it.
