Hidden Secrets

by Jannine Gallant

  “I figure you owe me.”

  “You’re pushing the bounds of our friendship, Paige.”

  She followed him toward the door. “You did that first when you questioned Quentin like a common criminal.”

  “As I’ve already mentioned, the chief and I were just doing our jobs. If he’s innocent, he has nothing to worry about.”

  “Unless someone is doing everything he can to make Quentin look guilty. While you’re focused on him, the person responsible is out there somewhere.” She shivered. “Possibly looking for another victim.”

  Chris paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Is that what you believe?”

  “Damn right it is. I hope you’ll at least think about the possibility.”

  “Despite your worst fears, cops aren’t stupid.” He glanced back over his shoulder as he walked out of the apartment. “We’ll find the asshole responsible for making those women disappear. You can count on it.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “Let me get this straight. Chris thinks you might have bought something shortly before the break-ins that someone wanted back.”

  Quentin crossed bare ankles on her coffee table and flipped Paige’s purple robe over his thighs, feeling like an idiot. After spending the whole day scrubbing appliances, he’d gone straight to her apartment. A mistake, since she’d refused to let him sit on her furniture in his filthy, grease-stained clothes. While she tossed his shirt and jeans in the wash, he’d showered and put on the fuzzy robe, since nothing else she owned fit him.

  “Chris wondered if I’d acquired any jewelry recently, which I hadn’t. His mind was on Lucy’s necklace.” Paige eyed him from her corner of the couch. “The fact that I find you hot when you’re wearing my robe must mean something, but I’m not sure I want to analyze exactly what.”

  He let the edge of the robe slip open a little farther. “Come over here and say that.”

  “Stop. I thought you wanted to hear about the investigation.”

  “I do. Go ahead. What else did Siren Cove’s super cop have to say?”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you. Chris didn’t say anything, but he perked up when I told him who I’d bought inventory from recently. For a police officer, the man doesn’t have much of a poker face.”

  “So, there’s a possibility you purchased something incriminating at one of those three picks, and someone connected to the seller is on Chris’s radar?”

  Her brow wrinkled, the way it did when she was thinking. Quentin had a hell of a lot of respect for Paige’s powers of deduction, but his focus was on the curve of her breast beneath the clinging sweater she wore.

  “Both Stillwater brothers were pissed their grandpa sold me pieces from his collection. Maybe price wasn’t the real issue. Zeb could have parted with an object one of them wanted to stay buried in his barn. Then there’s Baird Copeland, who made a huge fuss about getting back his baseball cards and comic books. Could be that’s not all he was after.”

  “What about Mason LaPine?” Quentin dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straighter. “Did he have a beef with his sister for selling their mother’s stuff?”

  “He didn’t act like it, but he hustled into the shop soon afterward and spent a long time looking around before he bought that Fabergé egg. If he didn’t find what he was really after, he might have broken in later to look again.”

  “Any one of them could have been the intruder. I don’t suppose you bought a knife, a wrench, a candlestick, or maybe a led pipe from one of them?”

  “I think I did purchase a candlestick, Professor Plum.” Her smile broadened. “Or should I call you Miss Scarlet?”

  “Funny.” The gravity of the situation sucked the humor out of him. “Let’s think about what we know. Three of those men most likely overheard my conversation with Blaze.”

  “Don’t discount the senator. His wife could easily have mentioned it to him.”

  “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say all four of them could have known where Blaze would be the night she went to my townhouse.” He scowled down at the rug where Leo was stretched out with his nose on his paws. “If our previous logic follows, one of those men was trying to set me up because the cops were investigating Clea’s disappearance.”

  “God, it’s hard to believe an upstanding citizen might have . . .” Her voice cracked. “Okay, I’m just going to say it. One of them is either holding Clea hostage, or he murdered her. She might not have been the first.”

  In the silence that followed her statement, Leo rolled over and moaned.

  “We know someone who lived in or around Siren Cove killed Lucy all those years ago. Look how long it took to find her body. Any number of victims could be buried in the woods.”

  “Right now, I think we need to focus on the present and who had opportunity since that’s what impacts you.”

  “I suppose we can ask around to see if any of those men have an alibi for the night Clea disappeared or the evening Blaze was at my townhouse.”

  “Or I could report our suspicions to Chris. I kept my mouth shut earlier, but it wasn’t easy.”

  Quentin pushed a hand through his hair as frustration simmered. “We have no proof of any wrongdoing, Paige, only suspicions.”

  “The cops may know things we don’t, like who Lucy hung out with that summer. If it was one of the men in question . . .”

  “There’s no evidence one crime has anything to do with the other.” He stood up and held out a hand. “We can do a little digging, though.”

  She clasped his palm and rose to her feet. “What do you have in mind?”

  “We can search your shop for whatever the intruder might have been looking for.”

  “If he didn’t find it, how likely is it we will?”

  “I’m sure you have an inventory list for those last three picks. All we have to do is check off each item and pull out anything that looks like a possible murder weapon.” He slid an arm around her waist as he stepped around the dog. “I’m surprised Chris didn’t search your store while he was here.”

  “I had customers at the time. Doesn’t mean he won’t come back. The problem is I clean everything I buy before displaying it. We’re not going to find blood traces on that candlestick I mentioned.”

  “Don’t the cops have special UV lights or chemicals to detect blood?”

  “They do on TV, but that’s the extent of my experience with crime scenes.”

  He smiled down at her. She looked cute when she was irritated, but he didn’t figure he’d earn any points making that observation out loud. “Okay, I’ll concede we may not be able to do this on our own. If we find anything that looks promising, we’ll let your good buddy Chris check it out.”

  “Now you’re being smart.” She pulled away from him and let her gaze roam over the loosely belted robe. “Are you going downstairs dressed like that?”

  Quentin’s gaze dropped. “I’d probably get arrested if anyone looked through the window. Do you think my clothes are ready yet?”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “If they’re not, we can talk about our future, a subject you seem hell bent on avoiding.”

  She turned away from him. “I love you, Quentin, and I don’t want you to get arrested, but I haven’t changed my mind about—”

  “Maybe I have.”

  “You’re under a lot of stress. Your judgement is probably compromised as a result.”

  The woman was making him crazy. “We can still have a discussion—”

  “The dryer shut off a little while ago. I’ll go check on your clothes.” She bolted from the room and returned a minute later with his jeans and shirt draped over her arm. Whatever she was feeling was masked by a defiant gleam in her clear blue eyes.

  Reluctantly, he dropped the subject. For now.

  “Thanks.” Taking the clothes, he retreated to her bedroom to dress. By the time he finished, she was at her computer typing something. Pages spit out of the printer into the tray.

  “I p
rinted my recent purchases to make this search easier.” She scanned the list. “Geez, a bunch of these things would work as a blunt object, but I’m pretty sure most of them were on display during the first break-in. A few, I was either cleaning or repairing, or maybe hadn’t gotten around to putting out on the shelves. Seems more likely they would have escaped detection during the intruder’s search.” Her tone held a no-nonsense edge.

  “That makes sense.”

  She followed him through the apartment to the door. “I hope we’re not wasting our time, but I’d love to give Chris a good reason to suspect someone other than you of committing crimes around here.”

  “No kidding.” Quentin flipped on the light at the bottom of the stairs. “Okay, where do we start?”

  “The stuff from Zeb’s barn has the most potential. I bought a fireplace poker and shovel, either of which could definitely brain someone.”

  “Talk about a convenient weapon. I say we set them aside to test for traces of blood. Where are they?”

  “In the northwest corner of the shop.” Paige led the way. Reaching an area containing household items, she pointed to a pair of andirons with sharp finials next to the fireplace tools. “I got those from Zeb, too. And I’m pretty positive they were soaking in cleaning solution to get the rust off when the first break-in occurred.”

  “Well, hot damn. We have ourselves a contender. Was anything else in that solution?”

  Paige scanned her inventory sheet. “Crap. There was a branding iron, but it wasn’t salvageable so I tossed it. I wrote it off as a loss.”

  “I guess we’d better hope that wasn’t what we’re looking for. Anything else from the Stillwater place?”

  “The silver candlesticks I mentioned, but I know they were on display. Nothing else strikes me as a potential blunt object.”

  “Let’s be thorough and take the candlesticks with us. This place is like a rabbit warren. He could have missed seeing them.”

  “I guess so. They’re up closer to the front of the store.”

  Quentin hefted the fireplace tools and andirons and carried them to her work room. By the time he dropped off his load, Paige had the candlesticks tucked under her arm.

  “I bought mostly bigger pieces of furniture from Miss Lola. She did part with an antique doll after a lot of bargaining, but even with the china head, it doesn’t have much potential as a weapon.” She frowned at the list. “I paid her twenty bucks for a teacup and a pair of bookends in a box of miscellaneous crap. The bookends are heavy.”

  “Where are they?”

  She searched the shelves and pointed. “Up there.”

  “Jesus, these could definitely kill someone. What else.”

  “There was more in that box, but . . .” She snapped her fingers. “A ceramic cookie jar. I think it’s still in my workroom. There was also an old tennis trophy.”

  “Oh, yeah? Most trophies have sharp edges.”

  “I should have asked Baird if it was his when he came to get his baseball cards and comic books.” Her eyes widened. “There was a letter opener in the false bottom of the drawer with those cards, but it disappeared. The damn thing must be somewhere, unless my thief stole it the second time he searched the place.”

  “Not a blunt object, but definitely a deadly weapon. We can search for it again.”

  “All right, let’s move on to Margaret LaPine’s property. Mostly I bought china and glassware from her daughter, all extremely fragile. Also some small furniture. Nothing that would . . . wait.” Her finger hovered near the bottom of the list. “There was a white marble cat, plenty heavy enough to kill someone, but I sold it to an older couple just the other day. Damn.”

  “Like the branding iron, we’ll have to hope it wasn’t what we’re looking for. Did you have it on display when the creep broke in here?”

  “I’m pretty sure I did.”

  “Then, let’s not worry about it. What else?”

  “Nothing lethal. Maybe Mason LaPine is in the clear.”

  “God, I’m an idiot.” Quentin smacked himself on the side of the head. “Truly too stupid to live. Remember the fishing pole and the Hawaiian sling I got from Lucas Goodman while we were cleaning out the shed? Talk about a deadly weapon.”

  “That spear certainly qualifies. Maybe our guy didn’t kill poor Lucy with it, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t murder someone else and want it back.”

  “I’ll take the spear down from the display wall in the morning. Are we finished here?”

  “As soon as we look for the letter opener.” When a thump sounded from the back of the shop, her words ended on a squeak.

  “What the hell?” Quentin closed his fist around the pyramid bookend and pushed her behind him. Trying not to make a lot of noise, he hurried through the shop. He reached the foot of the stairs and let out a burst of laughter. “Leo is the guilty party. He bumped into your stool and knocked that empty box onto the floor.” Reaching down, he rubbed the dog’s ears.

  “He was probably lonely upstairs.” Paige’s hand shook as she set the candlesticks next to the andirons on the bench. “I have a bad case of the jitters. This sucks.”

  When a knock sounded on the rear door, she let out a screech, and Leo leaped to his feet, barking like a lunatic.

  “Quiet!” Quentin shouted. He pushed the dog away and unlocked the door.

  “Should you open it?”

  “Criminals don’t usually knock.” He swung the door wide.

  Chris Long eyed the dog warily when he gave a few more woofs. “I called your cell, Paige, but you didn’t pick up. When I saw the light on down here I thought I’d check to see what was going on.”

  “I left my phone upstairs. We were . . .” She hesitated and glanced at Quentin.

  “Go ahead and tell him our crazy theory. Why the hell not?” Gripping Leo’s collar, he dragged the dog away. “I’ll put the beast upstairs.”

  If the cop had come to arrest him, surely he wouldn’t have given him an opportunity to escape. Tugging the uncooperative dog behind him, he entered Paige’s apartment and shut the door. After giving Leo a treat, he drew in a few calming breaths as his anger simmered. Maybe the police had reason to suspect him of foul play or whatever the hell they wanted to call it, but he sure didn’t have to like it. Plus, the fact that Paige seemed inclined to turn to Chris every time she had a problem was beyond irritating.

  Or maybe I’m simply jealous.

  Stupid, but he couldn’t help it. Her plan to date other guys made his blood boil. After taking another minute to compose himself so he wouldn’t say something guaranteed to get his ass thrown in jail, he headed downstairs.

  When he entered the storage room, Chris gave him a cool look before returning his focus to Paige. “I’ll take these items down to the station to spray with luminol. If there are any traces of blood present, we’ll know.”

  “Thank you.” When Quentin stepped up behind her, Paige relaxed against him. “Quentin can bring you the Hawaiian sling tomorrow. And the letter opener, if we’re able to find it.”

  “I’m honestly not too concerned about either of those.”

  Quentin wrapped an arm around Paige’s waist and eyed the cop. “Why’s that? They aren’t blunt objects? Or you’re giving Mason LaPine and Baird Copeland a pass?”

  “Currently, they aren’t relevant to our investigation.”

  Which didn’t answer my question. Quentin decided not to push his luck. “Did Paige tell you all four men could have known Blaze was at my townhouse the other night?”

  “She did. We’ll look into it.”

  “I hope so. Since I know I didn’t make those women disappear, someone else must have. I don’t like thinking that the man responsible is out there, a danger to the public. Anyway, maybe there’s still time . . .” He had to stop speaking to steady his voice. “They could be alive.”

  “The investigations into both women’s disappearances is active and involves several law enforcement agencies in two states. We haven’t given up ho
pe of finding them alive, not by a long shot.”

  “It’s good to know you aren’t focused solely on Quentin.”

  “I know this isn’t easy for either of you.” When Chris turned to Quentin, any sign of sympathy faded. “However, we feel pretty confident we can close these cases soon.”

  “I sure hope so.” Paige sounded drained.

  Apparently, the man noticed her exhaustion. “I’ll let you lock up and go to bed. Just give me a minute to bag these.” He slipped each item into an evidence bag and gave Paige a receipt when he was finished. “You saved me quite a bit of work by taking the initiative with your search.”

  “It was Quentin’s idea,” she answered.

  “So, I guess that means I either think like a cop . . . or maybe you have the mind of a criminal.”

  “Sometimes, that’s how we have to think.” Chris headed toward the door and paused with his hand on the knob. “Have a good night. I’ll be in touch.”

  “I bet you will,” Quentin muttered beneath his breath. He only hoped it wouldn’t be with an arrest warrant.

  * * *

  When he opened the door, muffled sobs came from the interior of the shed. Feeling his way in the pitch dark, he set down water bottles and a bag of food. The confined area stunk to high heaven. Apparently, the woman had relieved herself in the pail he’d left for that purpose. As soon as he untied her gag, she started jabbering.

  “If you’re going to kill me, just do it and get it over with. Why torture me like this?”

  Her shrill cry grated on his nerves.

  “Or let me go. Please, please let me go. This is insane. I don’t know who you are or why you’d want to lock me up. Please let me go.” She broke down in another crying jag.

  He shut the door behind him, and lowered the wooden bolt into place, then kicked the side of the shed. The woman inside stopped her blubbering. Small relief. He had to make a decision soon about what the hell to do with her. He couldn’t keep her locked up indefinitely.

  Hopefully the cops would arrest Quentin before too much longer. He’d practically served the moron up on a silver platter. That would take some of the pressure off. He’d been extremely careful to keep his identity hidden from the woman, but releasing her didn’t seem like a viable option. His mind shied away from the alternative.