How Secrets Die

by Marta Perry

  She took a deep breath, then another, seeming to force her emotion back under control. But it was a precarious control—he could sense that in the tremors that passed through her.

  “This is something connected with your brother.” Obviously. Jason was the only one who could make her expose her feelings. “Why? What is there about a dragon that upsets you?”

  Kate put up a hand to rub the crease between her brows. “Sorry. It just...it shook me. I’m all right.” But she didn’t move out of the circle of his arm.

  He waited. She’d tell him now. She couldn’t help it.

  Another quick glance at the paper, and then she met his gaze. “Jason had a silver dragon charm. It was like a mascot. It always hung on his key ring. But it apparently wasn’t with his keys when they were returned to his father.” She stopped, and a thought seemed to strike her. “Unless Tom got rid of it. I suppose he might...”

  He shook his head, even while wondering why she’d think her stepfather would do that. “No. I’ve been through all the reports I wrote at the time, trying to refresh my memory.” Not that it needed much refreshing. “There wasn’t anything like that on Jason’s key ring or on his person. Or in his belongings, for that matter.”

  She drew away from him, and he suppressed the urge to pull her back. Reaching into her bag that lay open on the desk, Kate pulled out her own keys. She fingered them, singling out a silver object, and handed it to him.

  “It was exactly like this. He... Jason bought matching ones with his first paycheck. One for himself and one for me.”

  He turned it over in his hand, noting the weight of it and the sterling mark on the underside. Not cheap, was his first thought. “It wasn’t here, so it wasn’t returned to your...to his father.”

  Kate stared at him blankly for a moment. “But it’s impossible. I know he had it on his key ring. It was his lucky charm. If he’d lost it, he would have told me.”

  She might be overestimating the object’s importance to her brother—a young man, busy with life and on his own for the first time, could easily have shed some of the things that tied him to his younger self.

  “You don’t think it was important to him.” Kate seemed to read his thoughts without difficulty. “You’re wrong. He often mentioned it. On the rare occasion that he sent something to me in writing, he signed it with a drawing a lot like this one.” She gestured to the note. “Someone who knew how important it was left that for me.”

  “Kate, you can’t know that...”

  “Don’t you believe me? You can even see his key ring with the charm in some of the diary entries. He’d have mentioned it if he’d lost it.” Her voice was ragged, and she threw the words at him like a challenge.

  “Okay, I believe you. But I’m still sure that it wasn’t here to be collected with his effects.”

  “It was on his key ring,” she repeated stubbornly.

  He shook his head, taking a step to erase the space between them. Clasping her hand, he put the dragon charm into it. “I’m sorry, Kate. When we found him, his key ring was lying on the grass about a foot from the...from his hand. There was nothing on it but his car keys and a couple of door keys.” It showed up plainly enough in the photographs of the body, but he didn’t want to show her those.

  “Then someone took it.” She said the words defiantly.

  Mac had no desire to reply in kind. This was hurting her too much. “That would mean someone had taken it before I reached the scene. If so, I’d think they’d have cleaned out his wallet, too, and it appeared to be untouched.”

  Kate’s hand lay passive in his, and then her fingers tightened around his. “Don’t you see? That means someone was there when he died. Someone who knew the dragon had sentimental value to him. And to me. What if that person set up the whole thing? Gave him the drugs and left him to die.”

  “Kate.” He held her hand between both of his, trying not to let pity show in his tone. She was jumping to conclusions, wasn’t she? Reading something into the absence of the dragon from Jason’s keys.

  Still, here was the drawing, right in front of him. His skeptical cop’s mind toyed with the thought that she’d put it there herself for him to find. But what could she hope to gain from it? He tabled the thought for future consideration.

  “I’m sorry. Tell me why it was so important to you.” And still is, he added silently.

  She took a shaky breath, the muscles in her neck working. “Jason... Jason was different. From the time he was small, he wasn’t like other kids.” Her lips twisted wryly. “He certainly wasn’t the outgoing, athletic son his father expected. Tom never understood Jason.”

  “Your mother...” he ventured, and she shook her head sharply.

  “My mother was an alcoholic, not that I knew the word when I was small. After my father left, she couldn’t handle being alone. The drinking got worse. When she met Tom, she saw in him all the strength she needed. But she couldn’t handle the hours when he was gone, imagining all sorts of things happening to him. She killed herself driving under the influence when Jason was only five. Killed herself, like Jason did.” She winced. “Jason was devastated, and Tom didn’t help.”

  He could hear the anger at her stepfather in her voice, and he knew this wasn’t the time to suggest that the man might not have known how, struggling with his own grief as he must have been.

  “How old were you?” he asked.

  “Eleven. Jason... Jason turned to me. We felt as if all we had was each other.”

  Mac tried to imagine himself in that situation and failed. His folks had always been such a solid, loving influence in his life. He and Nick were close, but not the way Kate had been with her brother. She’d been more of a mother to him.

  He moved his fingers over the backs of her hands, soothing and comforting. “Why the dragon? What did it mean?”

  Kate actually smiled, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “Silly, I guess. But I used to read to Jason. He was what the teachers called a reluctant reader, right up until the time I read him a fantasy book. He was fascinated. He begged for those stories every night, and then he started reading them on his own.”

  “So you tried to keep up with his interests.” It wasn’t hard to guess that his devoted sister would do anything to stay close to Jason.

  She chuckled. “I can’t say I enjoyed all of them, but I tried to steer him to the better books—C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Lloyd Alexander. Eventually he drifted into playing fantasy games and that sort of thing. Well, you must know that from the little bits of the diary you’ve seen.”

  “Definitely.” It would have been helpful if Jason had left a little of the fantasy behind when recording his diary, but he couldn’t have everything. “You said he bought the matching dragons with his first paycheck.”

  “Yes.” Her fingers, still enclosed in his, moved over the charm. “There had been a silver dragon on the cover of one of those early books. Every time I touch it, it reminds me of Jason.” Her voice broke on the name. “I should have been here for him. He was desperate enough to take his own life, and I wasn’t here.”

  That jolted him. He’d tried to be careful not to hint at suicide, and apparently she’d been thinking it all along.

  “You believe it was deliberate,” he said softly.

  “I don’t want to, but I can’t believe...”

  “I’m sorry.” The words were inadequate, especially when the tears she’d been holding back spilled over.

  Kate made an inarticulate sound, her hands trembling in his. His heart twisted in sympathy, and he drew her into his arms, unsure whether she’d welcome it or not. But she didn’t pull away.

  Mac murmured whatever soothing words came to his mind. Probably the words didn’t matter at all. Right now, Kate’s proud self-sufficiency had broken down, and she just needed another human being to hold her.
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  Not necessarily him, he told himself. And the stirring of his own senses he felt with Kate in his arms was completely selfish.

  She leaned into him, clutching him as if he were the only stable thing in a suddenly rocky world. He stroked her hair, curling against his fingers, and then the long curve of her back, wishing he could do more and knowing the only thing he could possibly do for her was find out the truth of Jason’s death—always assuming there was anything left to learn.

  After a long moment she drew away, averting her face. Embarrassed, he supposed, both that she’d let her control slip and that she’d turned to him. He wanted to tell her he understood. He knew what it was like to feel you’d failed someone. His own guilt stabbed at his heart.

  He almost spoke. But then her head lifted, and she managed a slight smile.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall apart on you.”

  “Anytime.” He tried to keep it light.

  She shook her head. “It won’t happen again. Let’s just get on with what has to be done.” Kate glanced toward the door, and it was a clear invitation for him to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  Mac couldn’t blame her for wanting to be alone with her grief. After all, he was the same way, wasn’t he?

  He had the door open and was halfway out when he knew he couldn’t leave it at that. He turned, saw the pain in her eyes and leaned forward to kiss her lightly.

  Her lips were cool. Unresponsive. And maybe he just imagined that they warmed and softened for an instant before he drew away.

  “Lock this door,” he said shortly. “And put the dead bolt on.” After waiting only to hear the locks click into place, he strode to his car.

  CHAPTER NINE

  KATE WALKED PAST the window, allowing herself a casual glance out. She was ready early, and she suspected Mac would be right on time. He wasn’t the sort to take any commitment lightly, even a trivial one.

  Thinking of him brought his face to mind—his eyes dark and intent in that instant before he’d kissed her last night. Her lips warmed at the memory, and Kate shook her head. Where had that come from? She hadn’t been sending out any signals she’d been unaware of, had she?

  She’d deny that the physical attraction was there if she thought she could get away with it. But a person ought to be honest with herself, if not with anyone else. She just hadn’t realized it had been reciprocated.

  Still, how could she? Mac had a shield every bit as impervious as hers was, except that he hid it behind a smiling, easy manner.

  Movement outside caught her eye. There he was. She snatched up her bag and opened the door before he could reach it, stepping outside to meet him. It might be just as well, under the circumstances, to avoid being alone with him whenever possible.

  “A woman who’s ready on time,” he said, giving her that casual smile of his.

  She wasn’t deceived. His eyes were watchful, always watchful, behind it.

  “You’re not a male chauvinist, are you?” She matched her steps to his as they went out toward the street.

  “God forbid,” he said with an expression of mock horror. “My mother would never put up with that. I vividly remember being sent to my room without dessert for referring to a classmate as ‘only a girl’ when I was about eight. That cured me.”

  “Good. I like a woman who teaches her sons not to discriminate.” They’d reached the street.

  “Walk or ride?” Mac lifted an eyebrow with the question. “It’s only a few blocks.”

  “Walk, by all means. I haven’t had enough exercise since I’ve been here.”

  Mac nodded, and they headed up Main Street in the direction she’d come when she arrived in town, toward where the clock tower rose like a sentinel over the trees that bordered Main Street.

  Mac caught the direction of her gaze. “Admiring our town hall tower?” He grinned. “It’s a fine example of a community overreaching itself.”

  “How so?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Our town fathers thought we’d be named the county seat, so they built to match their dreams. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way.”

  “It’s impressive, even so.” During the short time she’d been in town she’d noticed how often people glanced up at the clock, as if it was bound to be more accurate than their watches. “How old is it?”

  “Built in 1842.” He broke off to exchange greetings with a pair of elderly women exiting the bank. “Local stone, same as the church on the corner,” he finished as they resumed walking.

  Kate realized that the women had turned to watch them. “We seem to be attracting attention.”

  “Keeping an eye on us, are they?” Amusement threaded his voice. “The female half of the population is always trying to marry me off. We could hold hands.” He gave her a challenging glance. “That would really give them something to talk about.”

  “No, thank you,” she responded, ignoring the way her palm tingled at the suggestion. “According to Lina Oberlin, people will have started talking the first time you came to the cottage.”

  He stiffened. “When did you get a chance to exchange that sort of advice with Lina?”

  “Relax, it was nothing that should concern the police,” she said, answering the tone rather than the words. “She stopped by to apologize for her partner’s attitude. We talked about Jason a little.”

  “Did she have any insights?” His voice gentled as it always did when he spoke to her about her brother. That alone could undermine her defenses if she weren’t careful.

  Kate shook her head. “Nothing that helped any. She said that bit about people noticing when I asked if she’d ever visited him. She implied that financial consultants had to be like Caesar’s wife—above reproach.”

  Mac nodded, his lips quirking in amusement. “It’s hard to believe anyone’s imagination could conceive of a romance between a kid like Jason and a woman Lina’s age.”

  “She’s just middle-aged, not dead,” she retorted. “Still, I can’t think of anything less likely. Older women usually wanted to mother him, if anything.”

  They were approaching a hardware store, where a number of men lounged outside in the sunshine, many of them obviously Amish from their clothing and beards. Kate made an effort not to stare.

  Mac clearly didn’t find it unusual. He exchanged passing greetings with everyone, including a few laughing words she didn’t understand, accompanied by a glance or two at her.

  Once they were safely out of earshot, she turned on him. “That sounded like German. And it looked as if you were talking about me.”

  “Pennsylvania Dutch,” he said. “It’s the Low German language the Amish brought with them to this country. Joseph asked me if I had a new girl.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  He grinned. “I said, well...the equivalent of ‘Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.’”

  “You should have just told him no.” She tried for a firm tone despite the little curl of pleasure inside her at his implication.

  “Then they’d assume we were together on police business,” he responded. “Seems to me it’s better to keep a low profile on that.”

  “Yes, of course,” she muttered. It wasn’t personal, in other words.

  He glanced at her. “About last night,” he began.

  She was ready to turn off any conversation about that kiss with a laugh. The words she’d prepared were on her lips.

  “... I meant to ask if you’d deciphered anything else in your brother’s diary,” he continued.

  She’d been so prepared for mention of the kiss that it took a moment to adjust. “There was something, but I have no idea what it means. In one of the last sessions, Jason makes a reference to someone called something like Baldicer. I have no idea what it me
ans, but whoever it was, his attitude toward that person was...well, uneasy is the best way to describe it.”

  “Man or woman?” Mac automatically snapped into cop mode.

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t clear. I couldn’t even tell if he was referring to someone at work or elsewhere. It would have been clear to him, of course, but not to me.”

  Mac considered. “No idea to where that character appears or what it represents?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not in any of the classic fantasy we read. I’m sure of that. Could be from one of the online games he played, I suppose.”

  “You didn’t join him in those?” His lips quirked.

  “I figured a thirty-year-old woman could never keep up.” She smiled. “I probably would have embarrassed him.”

  “So, what we need is a young person who is as into that world as Jason was. To serve as an interpreter.”

  “You want me to let someone else look at Jason’s private journal?” Despite herself, her voice rose a little, drawing a glance from a man watering a pot of mums outside the pharmacy.

  “Well, think about it,” Mac said. “The best way into that world is through someone who knows it. And isn’t it easier if it’s a stranger? It wouldn’t mean anything to him or her, and you’d never have to see them again.”

  She could see the sense in what he said, but she still didn’t like it. “I... I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

  Mac nodded as if satisfied with that answer. “I’ll do some quiet looking around for someone who fits the job in the meantime.”

  They turned off Main Street, immediately in a residential area of Victorian houses, neatly kept behind their hedges or fences. Chrysanthemums and marigolds bloomed along porches, and trees flaunted gold-and-red banners.

  Russell Sheldon’s house was a half block down, she knew from her previous visit. “Are you going to let me ask whatever questions I want?” she said abruptly.

  “Within reason.” Mac’s tone was wary.