Hidden Secrets

by Jannine Gallant

  When the shop bells jangled again, he swore. “No, we haven’t.”

  “I’ve got to go take care of my customer. You have to deal with your restaurant. Right now, that’s what’s important.”

  He pressed another hard kiss to her lips. “No, Paige, not by a long shot.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Quentin slowed his car to turn into the complex where his townhouse was located. As he approached the guardhouse, he frowned when no one stepped out to greet him. “What the hell?” He rolled down the window and craned his neck to see into the lighted booth. Definitely empty.

  As he eased the Jag forward, a gangly figure wearing a navy uniform blazer loped across the lawn. Quentin braked to a stop. “Evening, Danny. I was wondering where you were.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Radcliff. I think I ate a bad burrito. I’ve been running back and forth to the restroom all night.” A scruffy beard didn’t do much to cover a bad case of acne on his youthful face. “I wasn’t expecting you home tonight. How was your trip to Siren Cove?”

  “Filled with ups and downs. Actually, I’m only back in Seattle for a day or two. Did you happen to see Blaze come through here earlier this evening?”

  The kid nodded. “She showed up a couple of hours ago. I hope it’s all right that I let her in. She said you okayed it, and she was pretty insistent.”

  “I meant to call and put her on the list, but I got distracted and never followed through. Thanks for bending the rules.” Quentin leaned his elbow on the open window. “If you don’t feel better soon, call for a sub for the rest of your shift.”

  “I might have to do that. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.”

  “No worries.” He shifted into gear. “By the way, do you know when Blaze left?”

  “Actually, I didn’t see her come out. She might have passed through while I was using the can. I tell you, that burrito did a number on me.” Danny’s eyes widened. “In fact . . .” He took off, running toward the office where the nearest toilet was located.

  Feeling sorry for the poor guy, Quentin hit the gas and cruised down the curving street toward his townhouse. A touch of the remote sent the garage door trundling upward, and he pulled his car inside the empty space. He hoped to hell Blaze wasn’t still there. After the day he’d had, the last thing he wanted was another confrontation.

  He stepped out onto the concrete floor, lifted his overnight bag from the backseat, and slammed the door. A moment later, he entered his home through the short hallway next to the laundry room and flipped on the kitchen light. “Blaze?”

  His shout was met with silence.

  “Thank God.” He dropped his suitcase next to the island and opened the fridge. After surveying the skimpy contents, he pulled out one lone beer and popped the top. Taking a swallow, he headed into the living room where a single light had been left burning.

  Throw pillows were in disarray on the couch, and the lamp on the end table was pushed clear to the edge. Dirt stained the rug below the dead poinsettia perched on the raised hearth. The plant had been a gift from one of his suppliers, and he’d forgotten all about the damn thing when he’d left town.

  Apparently, Blaze had knocked it over while searching for her earring and hadn’t bothered to clean up the mess.

  “Whatever.” He was too tired to care. Dropping onto the couch, he closed his eyes. His townhouse didn’t feel like home. Maybe because Paige wasn’t sitting beside him. He took another swig of his beer before pulling out his phone. After eleven. He wondered if she was already asleep. Just imagining her wearing a soft T-shirt that rode up over her panties as she curled beneath her quilt gave him a boner.

  God, he missed her. He couldn’t imagine how empty his life would be without Paige as an intrinsic part. Maybe marriage and kids hadn’t been on his radar up to this point, but he might have to rethink his priorities. Paige seemed pretty damn certain about what she wanted . . . and it wasn’t him.

  He wanted to talk to her about all the thoughts swirling through his head, but not over the phone. He needed to look into her eyes and see her emotions reflected in their blue depths. But first, he had to figure out exactly what he was willing to sacrifice to make a future together happen.

  “Asswipe,” he muttered beneath his breath. If he was still thinking in terms of sacrifice, he had a long way to go. By the time he got to where he needed to be emotionally, Paige would be hitched to some other dude and have a baby or two.

  His temples throbbed, and he rubbed them.

  Just seeing Chris Long standing so close to her had lit his fuse. He couldn’t imagine how he’d react to Paige in a wedding gown, walking down the damn aisle toward a man who’d spend the rest of his life making her happy. Not unless that man was him. He could almost picture himself in that scenario. Almost.

  When the landline sitting on the end table beside him rang, he opened his eyes. No one called his landline. He’d meant to cancel service and hadn’t gotten around to doing it yet. He glanced at the caller ID on the display. Not Paige. A number he didn’t recognize. With a shrug, he picked up the receiver. Anything, even some idiot trying to convince him to upgrade his internet service, was a welcome distraction from his current, depressing thoughts.

  “Hello.”

  “Is this Quentin?” a hesitant female voice asked.

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “Blaze’s friend, Jazmin. We met a couple of times while you two were still together. Is she there?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “We had plans for tonight, but she said she had to stop by your townhouse first to look for something.” Jazmin raised her voice as the background noise escalated. “Since she never showed up at the nightclub, I was worried.”

  “Did you call her cell?”

  “Of course. I’ve been trying it for an hour, but she doesn’t pick up. Once, when her battery was dead, she called me from your house phone, so I had the number. I’d hoped she was still there.”

  “The guy manning the gatehouse said she arrived over two hours ago, but she was gone before I got home. Sorry I can’t be more help.”

  “I guess she changed her mind about clubbing this evening. Still, it isn’t like Blaze to blow me off. Sorry to bother you.”

  “No bother. I’m sure Blaze simply forgot or double-booked with someone else. She did that a few times while we were dating.”

  “I hope that’s what happened. Bye, Quentin.”

  “Bye, Jazmin.” Quentin hung up the phone.

  Slowly he rose to his feet. He wouldn’t wake up Paige when she was sure to be sleeping, no matter how much he wanted to hear her voice. Instead, he’d go to bed and try to forget about how screwed up his life was right now. He had a meeting with the employee who was making allegations of harassment scheduled for the following morning. If all went well, he’d be able to head back to Siren Cove afterward. If it didn’t . . . well, he’d face that problem when it happened. No point in anticipating trouble.

  * * *

  When his cell rang, Quentin answered it, despite the fact he was on the freeway, driving way faster than the speed limit. After two solid days of ugly conversations, all he wanted to do was go home to Paige.

  “Quentin, this is Chris Long. Are you still in Seattle?” The voice on the other end of the line was curt.

  Reducing his speed, he put the phone on speaker. A reflex action to obey the law when talking to a cop. His lips twisted in grim amusement. “Actually, I’m on my way back to Siren Cove. I should be there in a couple of hours.”

  “Do you mind coming in to speak with me when you get here?” His tone didn’t make it sound like a request.

  “Not at all, but it’s Saturday. Don’t you ever take a day off?”

  “Now and then. I’ll expect you later this afternoon.”

  Before Quentin could ask what he wanted to talk about, the line went dead. No doubt Chris had more questions regarding Clea. Not that there was any new information Quentin could contribute. With each passing day,
his fear that something truly awful had happened to the woman increased. Sometimes the world just flat out sucked.

  Leaving the phone on speaker, he called Paige.

  “Hey. Are you on your way home?”

  Just the sound of her voice softened his mood. “Yes, but your buddy Chris wants to have a chat when I get there. I’m not sure how long that’ll take, but I’ll stop by your shop when he’s finished with me.”

  “Okay. Mindy’s here, so I can take off a little early, maybe make you dinner for a change.”

  The tension flowed out of him. “That sounds great.”

  “How’d everything go at the restaurant?”

  “It took a whole lot longer than I’d hoped to uncover the truth, but we finally got there. Basically, an employee was trying to shake me down for a cash settlement. After extensively questioning my staff, I came to the conclusion he was a lying sack of shit, and I told him he could file criminal charges and prove he’d been sexually harassed. At that point he backed off, and I fired him.”

  “Will he turn around and sue you for wrongful termination?”

  “I’m not too worried about it. He’s the type who looks for easy money, not a court battle. Anyway, I filed a report with the police to cover my ass. Waiting to get that handled was part of what took me so long.”

  “I’m glad you got to the bottom of it.”

  “I am, too. Problems like this are the downside of being a business owner.”

  “Makes me glad I only have Mindy on my payroll.”

  “Lucky you. Hey, I need to get gas at the next exit. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

  “Okay. Bye, Quentin.”

  She hadn’t told him she loved him. An oversight on her part, or was she already putting up walls? Then again, he hadn’t expressed how he felt, either. Not in words, anyway.

  Quentin brooded the rest of the way to Siren Cove as the sky above him darkened with clouds. He drove straight to the police station when he reached town and ran through the parking lot in the drizzling rain, happy to enter the warm interior of the building.

  The young woman at the front counter opened the glass partition and smiled. “Officer Long is expecting you, Mr. Radcliff. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “Thank you.” He dropped onto the same orange chair he’d occupied the last time he’d come by and waited for Chris to summon him. As the minutes ticked by, his impatience grew. Finally, the interior door opened, and Quentin rose to his feet.

  Not Chris Long. Chief Stackhouse. The older man waved him forward. “Come on back, Quentin. We appreciate you stopping by.”

  “I’m happy to help in your investigation, but I’m not sure what more I can contribute. I’ve already told you everything I know about that evening.”

  “Which evening would that be?” The chief gestured for Quentin to precede him toward his office where Chris Long waited.

  Quentin nodded at the man before taking the chair Stackhouse pointed to. “December twenty-third. The night Clea Merrick went missing. Isn’t that why you wanted to talk to me?”

  The chief sat heavily on his desk chair. His sharp gaze never wavered from Quentin’s face. “We may get around to Miss Merrick, but right now we’d like to know about the last time you saw your girlfriend, Blaze Campbell.”

  “Why? What happened to Blaze?”

  “We’re not too sure. It appears no one has seen her since she went to visit you at your townhouse in Seattle on Thursday night.”

  Quentin gaped at him. The chief’s eyes were hard as stone. When he glanced over at Chris, the man’s expression gave nothing away. Not a hint of sympathy showed in the tight line of his compressed lips.

  “I didn’t see her. Blaze called me about a missing earring before I even knew I was needed in Seattle. I told her she could look for it at my place, but she was already gone when I arrived.”

  “Is that right?” The chief sounded skeptical.

  “Yes, that’s right. I don’t understand. If Blaze is missing, why didn’t the police in Seattle question me about it? I was down at the precinct nearest my restaurant half the morning, filing a report on another matter?”

  “Interesting. Apparently, you’d finished your business before this came to our attention. Officers went to your townhouse and found it empty. When they questioned your manager at The Zephyr, she said you’d left for Siren Cove. That’s when they got in touch with me, and I asked Chris to call you.”

  Quentin’s pulse throbbed at his temples. Taking a couple of calming breaths, he focused on bringing down his soaring blood pressure. “The cops in Seattle think I had something to do with Blaze disappearing?”

  “You told her friend she was at your home on Thursday evening. The gate attendant confirmed it.”

  “Jazmin called me because Blaze didn’t show up at the club that night. Maybe she simply had a date that stretched into the next day and forgot she was supposed to meet her friend.”

  “Certainly possible, but her boss confirmed she wasn’t at work yesterday, and she didn’t call in sick. He was concerned. Jazmin Washington reported Miss Campbell missing after stopping by her apartment this morning and finding no sign of her.”

  Quentin lifted both hands. “I don’t know what to tell you. We broke up quite a while ago. Of course I’m concerned about her, but I don’t know where she might be.”

  “Chris mentioned she was at the bachelor auction, bidding on you. Strange behavior for an ex-girlfriend, don’t you think.” The chief’s gravely tone deepened. “Makes me think you two still had some sort of connection.”

  A sick feeling tightened Quentin’s gut. “She stopped by my house the evening after the Winter Ball. She’d come to town, hoping to get back together. Based on what she saw at the party, she finally realized I was in love with Paige. She said she wouldn’t bother me again, and that’s the last time I saw her.”

  “Wasn’t that the same night you took Clea Merrick out to dinner?” Each word out of Chris’s mouth hit like a sharp blow. “Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think, that you were the last person to be seen with Clea. Then days later, your ex-girlfriend shows up at your townhouse and hasn’t been heard from since.”

  Quentin clenched his hands together on his lap as a chill shook him. “I had nothing to do with either of those women disappearing.”

  “So you keep saying, Son.” The chief leaned back in his chair, and the leather creaked. “I want to believe you, but I’m not too certain I do.”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway.”

  Quentin surged to his feet. “Then I don’t intend to answer any more of your questions, at least not without a lawyer present. And in case you’re wondering, I plan to call one.”

  “That’s your right, of course.” Stackhouse looked him straight in the eye. “But refusing to cooperate with the police only makes you look guilty.”

  “I’ve cooperated, but I’m not going to let you find a way to twist my words into some sort of admission of guilt.” His voice escalated. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “If you have nothing further to contribute, I’ll walk you out.” Chris pushed away from the wall and touched his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Quentin’s legs trembled as he crossed the parking lot to his car a couple minutes later. It took two tries to hit the right button on his remote to unlock the door. Tugging it open, he collapsed onto the driver’s seat. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Couldn’t comprehend that a woman he’d cared about might be in trouble. His stomach threatened to rebel, and he took short, fast breaths to stem the rising bile. Tears dampened his eyes, and the hand he used to brush them away shook.

  Finally, he started the engine and turned toward the main drag. The open sign still hung in the window of Paige’s shop, but a light shone from her apartment above it. Hopefully, she was upstairs alone because indulging in meaningless chit-chat with Mindy was beyond him. He drove slowly down the alley and parked in the back lot. It took anothe
r minute to compose himself before he got out of his car and slammed the door. The back entrance was unlocked. He entered through the rear door, flipped the deadbolt, then headed up the stairs.

  Damn careless on Paige’s part, since anyone could have entered her building. When he reached the landing, Leo let loose a barrage of barks. At least the dog was paying attention to intruders. Quentin went inside without bothering to knock.

  “Quiet, Leo.” When the dog stopped barking, he rubbed his ears.

  “Quentin?”

  “Yeah.” He followed her voice and his nose to the kitchen where Paige was stirring a pot of chili. “Smells great.” He wasn’t sure if he could force down food, but he’d try.

  “Thanks.” She turned with a smile that slowly faded and dropped the spoon on the counter. “What’s wrong?”

  “Blaze is missing. She stopped by my townhouse shortly before I got there to look for a lost earring, and no one has seen her since.”

  Paige pressed a hand to her mouth. “Surely Blaze just went off with a friend and didn’t bother to tell anyone where she was going?”

  “God, I hope so.” He slumped against the counter. “The police have another theory.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They don’t like the coincidence of Clea disappearing while on a date with me, and now Blaze turning up missing when she was last seen at my home.”

  “Oh, no.” Paige backed up a step. “Chris can’t think you . . .”

  “Not just Chris. Chief Stackhouse was there to interview me, too, and they both looked pretty damn grim. Honestly, I don’t blame them.”

  “But you would never hurt a woman!” Her voice was fierce as she practically spat the words.

  “Thank you for that.” Quentin took three steps forward and pulled her roughly against his chest. “Thanks for your unconditional trust.”

  “Did you expect anything less?”

  “No. Even though I’ve done my best to break your heart, no.”

  “One has nothing to do with the other, but why don’t you blame the cops?”

  The fact that she hadn’t denied he’d hurt her destroyed what little composure he was clinging to. “I feel responsible for leaving Clea alone that night, and I wouldn’t be surprised . . .” He stopped speaking to swallow the hard knot of fear burning in his throat.