Hidden Secrets

by Jannine Gallant

  “Not everyone is lucky enough to have this.” He switched to her second breast.

  “I know.” She gritted her teeth and focused on not coming unwound. “But sex isn’t everything.”

  He stopped what he was doing to glance up at her with a teasing smile. “Are you sure?”

  “Maybe right this minute I’m not.” When he pushed hard between her legs, she nearly melted. “But I will be once I get out of this bed.”

  Rocking slowly against her, he went in for another long, drugging kiss. “Maybe we should stay here all day then.”

  “Can’t. I have work.” Her voice came out in a harsh pant. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  He reached for the nightstand drawer where he’d left a stash of condoms. “Only if dying of pleasure really can happen.” After ripping open the packet and covering himself, he gathered her close. “It’s certainly the way I’d like to go out.”

  He did have a point. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

  “Me, too.”

  When he buried himself deep inside her, all coherent thoughts fled. She focused on each fleeting moment, the feel of his hard chest pressed against her breasts, the scent of their lovemaking. As the tension inside her built, nothing else mattered.

  She cried out and clung to him as her body shook. Moments later, he collapsed on top of her with an explosion of breath. After a minute, he rolled them both to their sides. Perspiration dampened their skin until they stuck together.

  Paige didn’t care in the least.

  “You really want to give this up?” A long sigh stirred her hair.

  “Not want. Need.”

  “I’m not going to push you to change your mind. Not right now anyway.” He tilted her chin to kiss her. “I should jump in the shower and then get going. I have a call scheduled with my manager at The Zephyr in an hour.”

  “And I need to open my store.”

  He tossed back the covers and slid to the edge of the bed. His feet came down beside Leo, who was snoozing on the rug below them.

  “Remember, you need to go talk to the police about Lucy and her boyfriend.”

  Quentin’s shoulders stiffened. “Damn. I’d forgotten about that.” He glanced back at her and grimaced. “I’ll make time.”

  “Okay.” Her euphoria of a few moments before had faded, and each breath she took hurt her chest. Or maybe my heart. “I’ll go make coffee.”

  With a nod, he crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom. When the shower turned on, Paige flopped against the pillows and focused on not crying. After all, it had been her idea to keep sleeping together.

  Putting off the inevitable, one night at a time.

  After a couple minutes of self-pity, she forced herself out of bed and threw on a robe. By the time Quentin joined her in the kitchen, she’d fed the dog and made the coffee. When he reached across her for a mug, she breathed in his fresh scent. Somehow her floral shampoo didn’t smell girly on him.

  “Do you expect the shop to be busy today?”

  She sipped her coffee. “Lots of people are off work all week, so there’ll be good-sized crowds strolling through town, looking for something to do. Plus, I’ll have a few returned gifts. The good news is most people wind up buying something even more expensive in exchange.” She set down her mug. “I can make eggs if you want.”

  “Nope. All my notes for the call are at my place, so I’ll grab something to eat there. I have a personnel problem to iron out with my manager, and I’m trying to avoid taking a trip to Seattle.”

  “Oh. I guess I’ll see you later then.”

  He took a few more swallows of coffee before putting his mug in the sink. On his way past, he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her. “I’ll call you.”

  “Okay. Have a good day.”

  After the door shut behind him, Paige glanced down at Leo. “Have a good day,” she mimicked. “Who am I, June Cleaver? Ugh.”

  The dog stretched out across the floor with his nose on his paws. When she caught a glimpse of worried brown eyes through the dreadlocks, she smiled. “No reason to be alarmed. I won’t send you packing along with Quentin. We’re in this together.”

  Deciding she couldn’t face the thought of food, Paige showered and dressed for work in a wool skirt, bright red sweater, and boots, then took Leo for a stroll around the parking lot. Shivering in the damp air, she hurried the dog inside and promised him a better walk later. She’d no more than plugged in the Christmas lights and turned around the open sign when her first customer walked in.

  The morning was chaotic, and it was noon before the most recent batch of browsers departed. Feeling a little lightheaded and wondering why she’d been stupid enough to skip breakfast, she ran upstairs to grab a bagel and a bag of baby carrots. When the doorbells downstairs jangled, she swore beneath her breath as she sprinted back down with her snacks. Pasting on a smile, she searched for her customer. Rounding a tall armoire, she nearly ran into a well-dressed woman wearing a suit and heels. Not the usual attire for someone vacationing on the coast . . .

  “Welcome to Old Things. May I help you find something?” Paige asked.

  “You have a few interesting pieces here.” The dark-haired woman glanced around. “Some total crap, too, but I wouldn’t expect otherwise. My husband bought me a Fabergé egg. Since we’re staying in town for a few more days, I thought I’d check out your store for myself.”

  Paige’s smile remained in place, despite the crack about her merchandise. “You must be Mrs. LaPine. How do you like your egg?”

  “It’s stunning. I was wondering if you have any decent antique jewelry.”

  “I don’t have anything really valuable since I don’t carry that kind of insurance, but some of my collection is set with semiprecious stones.” Paige showed her the display of necklaces and broaches near the front counter. While the woman picked through the jewelry, Paige surreptitiously munched carrots.

  “I wasn’t sure buying a vacation home in this area was the right choice. But Mason has always been fond of Siren Cove.” She held a pair of garnet earrings up to the light. “These have potential.”

  “I didn’t realize you and your husband had a residence here.”

  “We bought Lola Copeland’s house. The place has beautiful views. We didn’t budge on our offer, and she finally accepted it.”

  “I know Miss Lola. Actually, I acquired some of her furniture when she moved.”

  “Mason mentioned his sister sold some of his mother’s glassware to you when they were cleaning out her house. I didn’t care to take any of it. His mother and I don’t exactly have the same style.”

  “We all have different tastes.” When the senator’s wife approached and laid the earrings on the counter, Paige wrapped them in tissue. “These are beautiful.” She took the credit card Mrs. LaPine handed her and rang up the sale. “I’m Paige Shephard, by the way. Will you be in town for a while?”

  “The State Senate is on winter break, so we’ll be here through the New Year. Of course, Mason still has some traveling to do, what with his run for governor on the horizon.” Her lips tightened. “I’m Virginia.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Paige shook her hand. “Likewise. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

  “I may be back, since there isn’t a whole lot to do in Siren Cove but shop.” She accepted her package. “Have a nice day.”

  “You, too.” After the door closed behind her, Paige winced. Virginia LaPine was definitely on the abrasive side, which wasn’t ideal for the wife of a political figure. Still, who knew what the woman had to contend with.

  Paige doubted anyone but her closest friends would be able to tell the weight of her recent decisions had crushed her spirit. Maybe not even them since she would make every effort to hide her pain. She knew what had to be done, but this time the right choice just might kill her.

  * * *

  Quentin slouched in an uncomfortable orange chair in the waiting room at the police sta
tion and stared out the window. His mind was on Paige’s decision to cut him loose instead of his upcoming conversation with the cop. Not surprising, since his thoughts had been on Paige all day. Surely there was something he could do to change her mind without wrecking her chance at happiness . . . and making his own life miserable.

  Since no brilliant answers presented themselves, he surged to his feet when Chris Long appeared in the doorway.

  Chris waved him over. “Hey, Quentin. Come on back. I hear you have information about the Lucinda Gordon case.”

  “I’m not sure how helpful it’ll be to your investigation, but I figured I should share what I remember of Lucy.”

  Chris’s brows rose. “Lucy? Wait. Hold that thought until we get to my computer.”

  Quentin followed him into the squad room and dropped into the chair across the desk from him. A pile of neatly stacked folders rested on one edge, along with a coffee mug with brown stains on the sides.

  Chris typed on his keyboard for a moment before glancing up to regard him steadily. “Let’s hear what you know about Lucinda. You couldn’t have been very old when she went missing.”

  “I was nine.” Quentin related his memories of his babysitter and the meeting with her boyfriend beneath the willow tree.

  “I’ve studied the old case files. Apparently, no one knew who Lucinda was dating that summer, or if they did, they weren’t talking. You’re saying you heard her arguing with a man about a baby, and you actually saw this guy?”

  “Only from behind. I didn’t see his face.”

  Chris’s blue eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair. “Did anyone else see him? Were any of the neighbors out in their yards?”

  “I don’t remember anyone being around. It was midweek, and most of the people on our street worked. Old Mrs. Harris, who lived two houses down from the Shep-hards, might have looked out her window, but she must be dead by now. She seemed ancient back then.”

  He jotted something on a notepad. “Paige didn’t come outside with you?”

  “No, she was watching cartoons. I left her in the living room to see where Lucy went.”

  “Why is that?” Chris asked.

  “Lucy was a beautiful girl, and I had a huge crush on her.” Quentin grimaced. “Seeing her kiss that guy destroyed those feelings. I remember being pissed off for the rest of the day.”

  The cop typed for another minute. “Let’s work on a description of the man. How tall was he in relation to Lucinda? Was he skinny or heavy? What color was his hair, and what was he wearing?”

  Quentin closed his eyes and tried to picture the scene. “Lucinda came up to the man’s chin. She stood on her toes to kiss him. I don’t remember him being skinny or fat, just average. I think his hair was brown. He had on a ball cap, but his hair came down over his neck. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt that had some sort of blue logo on the back. I don’t remember what it was because I wasn’t paying attention.” He stopped speaking and opened his eyes.

  “That’s a pretty good description, considering you were nine years old when this happened.”

  “Lucy left an indelible impression on me. I bet you remember your first big crush.”

  “I might. All right, what about a vehicle? Was there a car parked on the street in front of the house?”

  Quentin searched his memory. “Lucy’s little blue car was parked nearby. I don’t remember the make. There was a motorcycle behind it. Black, I think, but I couldn’t see it very well from where I was hiding in the bushes.”

  “I’m impressed. Most adults who’ve witnessed something only a few hours before don’t have that kind of recall. Anything else you want to tell me?”

  “Not that I can think of.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, yes. I was in the living room watching cartoons with Paige when I heard the motorcycle roar away. Lucy came inside a minute later. Her eyes looked kind of red, like she’d been crying. She didn’t say anything, just went straight to the bathroom down the hall. When she came out, she’d fixed her makeup. I felt bad that she was upset, but I was still too angry about that kiss to forgive her.”

  “Did you see her again after she left the house that afternoon?”

  “No. Ava Shephard mentioned this happened a few days before Lucy disappeared. She might be able to give you an exact date. I know it was in August.”

  “You’ve been very helpful. We’ll follow up on this information to see if her grandfather can remember anyone Lucy associated with that summer who rode a motorcycle.”

  “I’m glad I came by.” Quentin pushed back his chair and paused with his hands pressed against the chair arms. “Did Clea Merrick show up at her aunt and uncle’s house?”

  “No, and none of her friends or relatives have seen her.” Chris’s lips tightened. “We’ve officially opened a missing persons case. The tavern where you left her was closed yesterday for Christmas, but I’ll head up to Newport in a couple of hours to question the employees and the evening crowd. Maybe someone will remember seeing her and the man she was with. If you’re planning to leave town, I’d appreciate it if you’d check with me first. I expect I’ll need to speak to you again once I get a statement from the bartender. I’ll give you my cell number.”

  Quentin typed it into his phone. “I’ll be around. If I do have to go anywhere for business, I wouldn’t be gone for more than a couple of days.”

  “Do you take these trips often?”

  Something in his tone set Quentin’s teeth on edge. “Not lately. My focus has been on getting the Poseidon Grill open.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Hopefully during the second half of January. Once I have a firm date, I’ll schedule a grand opening.” He pushed to his feet. “If you don’t have any further questions. . .”

  “No, that’ll be all. For now.” Chris stood. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Quentin left the police station a few minutes later and drove straight to Castaways. After hearing Clea was still missing, he needed a drink. He parked his Jag on the street and entered the bar, where clusters of patrons sat with glasses and bottles in front of them. Most were watching the college football game between two west coast teams blaring on the televisions spaced around the bar. He didn’t see anyone he knew, and Paige wouldn’t close her shop for another hour.

  Resigned to drinking alone, he slid onto a bar stool beside a well-dressed woman sipping a martini while she tapped on her phone. On his other side, two guys who looked vaguely familiar were in a heated debate. Quentin ordered a draft from the bartender and glanced up at the game. As he sipped his beer and brooded, the conversation between the two men caught his attention.

  “Christ, Jonas. You skipped out on Christmas dinner with Grandpa to go to the track. Real nice.”

  “I had a good tip. Too bad it didn’t pan out.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Who are you to talk?”

  The guy with the shorter hair had been in the bachelor auction. Quentin was almost positive his brother was a mechanic in town. While they were pulling cash from their wallets to pay their bill, his cell rang. After glancing at the display, he swore softly.

  “What’s up, Blaze? I thought you intended to move on with your life.”

  “God, you can be a jerk. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

  He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m having a shitty day, and seeing your name pop up on my phone was a surprise. What can I do for you?”

  As the two men walked away, a middle-aged man with dark blond hair took one of the vacated stools. “Barkeep, can I get a shot and a beer over here?”

  “I’ll be right with you, Mr. Copeland.”

  Between the roar from the TV as one of the teams scored, and the exchange next to him, Quentin missed Blaze’s response. “I couldn’t hear you, Blaze. It’s a little loud in here.”

  “I said I can’t find one of my diamond studs. They were expensive, so I want it back. The last time I wore those earrings was on a date with you. I proba
bly dropped it in your townhouse.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck while the guy on the stool to his left glanced his way. “I didn’t find your earring.”

  “You didn’t look for it, either. Can I get into your place? Is the spare key still under the flowerpot?”

  He didn’t really want her in his home, but he was even less enthused about debating the issue. “I moved the key before I left for Siren Cove. Now it’s under that decorative rock by the clump of ferns to the right of the door. When are you planning to go over to look for the earring?”

  “Excuse me. I think I left . . . There they are.” The clean-cut brother swooped down to grab a ring of keys from under the barstool beside Quentin.

  His twin stood behind him, tapping his foot. “Can we take off now?”

  “You’ve got somewhere better to be?”

  Quentin returned his attention to Blaze. “Sorry, when did you say? Tomorrow evening? Sure, go look for it.”

  “Where are you that’s so noisy?”

  “Castaways. Make sure you lock up after you leave.”

  “Drowning your sorrows, Quentin? I’m not an idiot. Of course I’ll lock up. Have a good evening.”

  She hung up before he could respond. He set his phone on the shiny surface of the bar and grimaced. Since he’d taken her name off his approved guest list, he’d have to call the manager so they’d let her into the complex.

  “Woman problems?”

  Quentin glanced at the man on the nearby stool as he downed the shot the bartender set in front of him. “Something like that.”

  “Don’t feel alone. Most of us have women issues.” Turning his shoulder, the guy picked up his beer and focused on the football game.

  Truer words had never been spoken.

  Chapter Eighteen

  He needed a distraction. A fall guy. Anything to divert the cops from the truth. With two ongoing investigations, the police just might get lucky.

  He stared straight ahead at the stretch of freeway, his teeth clenched as he fought off a headache. He was sick to death of damage control. According to word on the street, if it weren’t for Paige Shephard and Quentin Radcliff and their damn Christmas tree hunt, Lucy’s death would still be buried deep in some dusty file. Instead, Chris Long was sniffing around, questioning people she’d hung out with that summer.