He sounded normal, without the edge his voice had last night. The faint scent of soap from his shower mingled with the aroma of coffee and bacon. She had a strong sense of déjà vu from somewhere, though she couldn’t remember ever cooking a man breakfast like this. Maybe it was because it felt natural to be in such an intimate setting with Ridge.
But it might not ever happen again.
She finished the omelets and slid one across the island to him where he sat on a stool sipping coffee. “I’d like to see Annabelle today and make sure she’s okay. What are your plans?”
“I’ll go with you. Scott’s supposed to get me copies of Judy’s homicide investigation notes since yours came up missing. We can start looking there.”
They ate in a strained silence, and Harper barely tasted her omelet and bacon. As soon as the clock hit eight, she planned to call and check on Annabelle.
The doorbell rang, and Ridge slid off the bar stool. “Wonder who’s here this early? It’s only seven.”
Dread curled in her belly. Maybe it was more bad news. She followed him through the house to the front door. He disarmed the security system, threw back the dead bolt, and opened the door.
Scott stood on the other side with two boxes in his arms. “I know it’s early, but I thought you might be up.”
Ridge stepped out of the way. “I was going to track you down today to get the files. Looks like a lot.”
“It’s more than investigation files.” Scott entered and shut the door behind him. “Grace Beck called and said she’d found a box she’d missed of Judy’s. I don’t want Mom delving into this herself so I brought it for us to check out. Where do you want them?”
“This way,” Ridge said. “We’ll use the kitchen island.”
Harper’s pulse quickened as she followed the men into the kitchen. Maybe there would be answers in the boxes. “How is your mom today?”
Scott set the boxes on the end of the island. “She started off the morning hounding me to bring you the investigation files.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Nothing much keeps her down for long.”
Harper eyed the boxes. “Want some breakfast?”
“No thanks, I’ve already eaten. But I wouldn’t say no to coffee.”
Ridge got him a full mug, then grabbed the first box. “What’s in this one?”
“The box Grace still had. I haven’t looked through it yet.”
Ridge opened the flaps, lifted out the contents, and made a pile of tiny pots of cream eye shadow, a pair of white ankle-high boots, fishnet stockings, and an orange plaid beret. He frowned and removed a handful of small metal canisters. “Anyone know what these are?”
“They look like home movie films.” Scott opened one of the canisters. “Super 8mm films. We run into them during investigations sometimes. They won’t have sound.”
“How do you watch them?” Harper asked.
“You need a special projector, but we have a digitizer at the station. I’ll take them in and get them converted. It might take a day or two, but I’ll ask them to expedite ’em.”
Harper doubted the old movies would tell them much about the current situation, but one of them might provide a clue on where to look. “Is it possible to buy a projector locally?”
“I don’t know where you’d find one other than online, which would take longer to get than for me to digitize them.”
Ridge loaded them back into the box, then reached for the other box. “At least we can review the files on Judy’s murder. These are the originals, right?”
“Right. I checked these out of the evidence room.”
He’d gotten them the byssus strand for Ridge to examine, but they hadn’t read the original reports and witness statements. Harper held out hope there would be something new here.
She reached for a stained manila folder, opened it, and scanned the first page. “These look like investigation notes.”
Ridge was perusing another folder. “These are witness statements. This will take a while. Let’s take our coffee into the living room while we read them.”
Scott took a last gulp of his coffee. “I’m investigating the homicide of a working girl, so you guys have at ’em. Call me if you find anything interesting.”
Ridge rose. “Will do. I’ll walk you out and set the security system behind you.”
Harper listened with half an ear to their footsteps heading to the door as she leafed through the detective’s notes. Most of them she recognized, but she ran into a small notebook that wasn’t familiar. It was shirt-pocket size, and she flipped open the red worn cover. The crabbed writing was hard to read, and she turned on the light to see it better. It was the detective’s impressions of the murder scene.
A silver bracelet with gemstones found clutched in victim’s hand. Evidence tagged.
This was the first mention of a bracelet found at the scene. Harper rose and went back to dig in the box. She found the bracelet in a crumpled paper envelope. It was unique with fine silvery filament around a large opal stone and inset diamonds. The rest of the band was made up of simple silvery links. The metal looked like platinum to her.
Had it been Judy’s or was it a real clue?
33
The murder scene pictures were hard to take. Ridge swigged down water, but it didn’t help the dryness in his mouth. He set down his glass on the end table and studied the bracelet Harper had given him. He’d found his gaze straying to her more and more often. Her red hair was on top of her head in a cute ponytail that made her look about eighteen, and the green top she wore deepened the green in her eyes.
She looked so innocent, but she’d shown him she wasn’t completely honest.
He turned the bracelet over in his fingers. “I feel like I might have seen something similar to this once, but I can’t remember where.”
“I recognize most metals, and this appears to be platinum. How could Judy afford something that expensive? She didn’t come from a moneyed family.”
“I’m just sure I’ve seen something similar, but I can’t think where. There’s a jewelry store my mom has used all my life, and the jeweler is a friend of hers. Let’s take it there and see if he can tell us anything about it. I’ll stick the plates in the dishwasher and we can go.”
“I can do it.”
He shook his head. “You cooked so it’s only fair that I clean up.”
Her brows rose and she smiled. “Your mom taught you well.”
Maybe she had. He hadn’t stopped to think about how she’d at least taught him manners. His phone rang and he reached for it. His mom must have known she was being talked about. His gut clenched as he answered the call. He hadn’t talked to her since their last explosive meeting.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I’m outside in the driveway and thought I’d warn you so you could turn off the security.” Her clipped voice held no emotion.
“Come on in.” He ended the call and went to turn off the alarm and unlock the door.
His mother’s stylish heels clattered on the walk, and she looked professional and all business in her navy skirt and white shirt. He stepped out of the doorway to allow her to enter. She lifted her cheek to him, and he kissed it dutifully.
He shut the door behind her and reengaged the security. “Would you like coffee?”
“No, my first patient will be at the office in an hour, so I don’t have long.” She walked down the hall to the living room and stopped abruptly when she spotted Harper sitting on the sofa with her legs curled under her and Bear snuggled up beside her. “I didn’t know you had company.” Her blue eyes were ice chips as she glared at him. “Like father, like son.”
Harper’s chin came up, but she said nothing and got up to step into the kitchen. He wanted to throttle his mother for insulting her, but he took a few deep breaths until his anger went from boiling to a slow simmer. His mother would have even more to say when she discovered Harper’s pregnancy.
When he had control of his emotions, he stepped away from t
he overpowering scent of her perfume. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. What do you want?”
His mother ignored him for a long moment as she looked around the living room. Ridge saw it through her eyes—the expensive rug and furniture, the elaborate crown molding and beautiful fireplace, the priceless objet d’art. Was she evaluating the worth of everything here? It would do her no good. These things were his father’s, and Dad wouldn’t want her nosing around like a bloodhound trying to tree its prey.
“Your sister told me about the check you gave her. That’s kind of you, Ridge, but don’t you think you should split your father’s estate with her? She’s his child too.”
He’d transferred ten million dollars to Willow, but even that wasn’t enough to pacify his mother. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Dad wouldn’t be happy I gave her what I did. She ignored him for most of her adult life. What’s your will look like, Mom?”
Her cheeks colored as his barb hit home. “That’s different.”
“Of course it is.”
The silence between them stretched into something uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to speak first. Pleading Willow’s case wasn’t why she’d come. His mother was the master of subtext. Her first attack was always subterfuge to cover her real agenda.
She glanced up at him. “I don’t know how our relationship devolved to this degree.” The twist of her lips should have spoken of sadness, but her eyes were expressionless.
He could have pointed out a thousand reasons for their estrangement, but he pressed his lips together and resisted. She’d tell him what this was all about eventually.
When he didn’t answer, she put her hand on his crossed forearm. “I’d been talking to your father about letting me have the Monet painting. He never hung it, and it’s in the attic. It would be perfect for my office. I’ll be honest and tell you he hadn’t said yes, but he hadn’t said no either. He was thinking about it. Could I have it?”
He wanted to reject her request, but he found himself held by the sincerity in her blue eyes. She was his mother, after all. While he knew she was playing him, shouldn’t he be kind? Shouldn’t he forgive her even if she never asked for it?
And forgiving her meant he should turn his attention to the other elephant in the room—Harper’s subterfuge.
He gathered his thoughts. “I don’t know what painting you’re referring to.”
Her smile emerged, and this time it reached her eyes. “I can show you. I deal with a lot of depressed patients, and the moment I beheld that painting, it lifted my spirits. We were in Paris to celebrate our tenth anniversary, and your father bought it because I loved it.”
“Why didn’t he hang it?”
The light in her eyes died. “It was silly. A painter saw me in a sidewalk café and sat down. Your dad thought I’d made a date with him, and he never believed it was a chance meeting. That incident started the collapse of our marriage. No matter how hard I tried, he never forgave me even though it wasn’t my fault. Your father could be hard and unforgiving.”
The story took him aback. What else had he been wrong about? His mother, his father? He didn’t know anymore.
“You can have it. I’ll get it for you.”
* * *
Harper could barely look at Ridge as she drove her Jeep to the jewelry store in Tampa. Even though she’d splashed cold water on her face since hearing Christina Jackson’s snide comment, her cheeks still burned. She shouldn’t be staying in the house with Ridge by herself.
When her condition became apparent, people would think he was the father.
She’d thought no one would know she was there, and to know his mother assumed the worst was a wake-up call to make other arrangements. She couldn’t deny the fierce attraction she had for him, and it was dangerous being around him this much. She already had too many feelings for him welling up in her heart, and his reaction last night had made it clear he no longer trusted her.
If he ever had.
She pulled the Jeep into an empty spot in the lot right in front of the store and switched off the engine. “I hope we learn something today.”
Ridge turned toward her. “You’ve been quiet. I hope my mom didn’t upset you.”
What did she say to that? She didn’t want to cause more trouble between him and his family. She cleared her throat and shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about where to stay. I texted Sara to see if I could stay with her.”
“She has to work, and you’ll be alone during the day.” His tone stayed measured, but his fingers tightened into fists.
Her phone dinged, and she received a message from Sara. “Looks like that won’t work anyway. She’s on special assignment down in Miami for a few days.”
“Good. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
She dared a peek at him, and the warmth in his dark eyes made her face flush. “Did you tell your mom why I was there?”
“No. I thought if she assumed the worst, she wouldn’t tell anyone. If I told her you were in danger, I was afraid she might blab it around to people and the attacker would hear about it. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t see a good alternative.”
He was always thinking about the best course of action. Not every man thought through things the way he did.
“We’d better go inside.”
Brown and Sons Jewelers was in a strip mall that looked like it dated from the sixties. The parking lot was mostly empty as she stepped into the shimmering heat. It was only ten so it was going to be a scorcher of a day. The blast of the air-conditioning was a welcome relief after the humidity frizzing her hair.
An older man with fine white hair and long thin limbs placed a velvet tray of rings in the display case and smiled their way. “Good morning. How can I help you?”
He might be old enough to have worked here in the late sixties. Harper reached into her purse and pulled out the bag containing the bracelet. She shook it out into her palm and held it out to him. “Have you ever seen this?”
He gently picked it up from her palm and examined it. “I think this is my father’s work. We do custom jewelry here and have been in business since 1955. I’m the son part of Brown and Sons.”
She glanced at Ridge as he stepped forward. “Is your father here?”
Mr. Brown pursed his lips. “He lives at Blue Heaven Assisted Living. He had a stroke, but his mind is still sharp.”
“Could we take this to him and see if he remembers who he made it for?”
Mr. Brown stared at Ridge. “You make it sound very urgent.”
Ridge nodded. “We think it might be related to a murder, and we need to know who owns this bracelet. Would he remember?”
Mr. Brown put the bracelet on a velvet display pad and snapped a picture with his phone. “He might, but I don’t think it would do you much good to talk to him. His speech is garbled, and he’s very hard to understand. Let me show him a picture of it. I might be able to find it in some old books too. We’ve always taken pictures of our custom work. It might take me a few days to find it though. I’ll see my father tonight, and maybe he will remember.”
“We appreciate it.” Ridge passed over a business card. “Here’s my number. You can call or text me when you find out any information.”
Mr. Brown fingered the card and slid it into his shirt pocket. “A murder, you say? Might I ask the victim’s name?”
“It was Judy Russo,” Ridge said. “Maybe your father will have heard the name. The murder happened a long time ago—1971. Though it’s a cold case, we think it might be related to a current attack on Ms. Taylor here.”
“Past sins have a way of affecting the present. I’ll let you know what I find.”
A man with ropy arms covered in tattoos came in, and Ridge took Harper’s hand to steer her to the other side of his body. That automatic and highly protective gesture took her breath away.
Once they were outside, she slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Now what?”
He
clicked on his seat belt. “Now we go to Weeki Wachee and see if Grace ever met your mother.”
34
The Wrangler smelled of hot peppers and cheese. Harper had stopped at Chipotle, and they scarfed down burritos on the way to Weeki Wachee. The silence between them had been awkward, and several times she wanted to ask him again if he could forgive her deception.
The problem was she wasn’t sure she was ready for his answer.
Rain drizzled as she stepped from the parked Jeep and hurried to the auditorium with Ridge. They had an hour before the three o’clock show, and they found Grace in the office with her reading glasses perched on her nose. She turned away from a filing cabinet. She had on bright-blue yoga pants and a blue patterned top.
Her hazel eyes widened when she saw them. “I wasn’t expecting you today. Did you find Joe?”
“He’s dead,” Ridge said. “Shot when he broke into a home in 1975.”
Harper locked down her surprise. When had he heard that?
“It’s no wonder. That guy was a weird one.” Grace motioned for them to follow her to a small room containing only a battered card table and chairs. It smelled of stale coffee. “How can I help you?”
“I never mentioned my mother’s name was Lisa Taylor,” Harper said. “Her best friend told me she came here to find out about Judy’s death. She had been in Cocoa Beach with my father, and a woman approached her and told her to look into the death of a Weeki Wachee mermaid, so she came here. Did you speak to her?”
Grace scrunched her nose and tucked a wisp of dyed red hair behind her ear. “I think I did, though I don’t remember the name. A woman came to see me and asked me if I knew Judy’s boyfriend. She showed me a picture of herself with a man and asked if it was him. I couldn’t tell her since I’d never met Judy’s boyfriend. I told her about Judy’s murder though.”
Ridge took a step closer to her. “You saw Lisa’s boyfriend?”
“Well, a picture anyway.” She frowned. “Let me try to remember. That was a long time ago.”
The pause while she thought about it seemed to last forever. Maybe this was the break they’d been waiting for.
Strands of Truth Page 20
