In Close

by Brenda Novak

  Claire was dying to know—but she wasn’t willing to reveal what she’d learned. Not yet. She hadn’t even read everything in those files. But she hoped to. As soon as Leanne went to bed, Claire planned to return to the cabin and collect what she’d dropped—if it was still there. Chances were good that Myles would beat her to it. As they were pulling away from Isaac’s place, he’d radioed for a couple of deputies to get her car, told them to leave her keys under the mat by Leanne’s front door. They might pick up those files, too. Or the sheriff himself could return to the cabin tonight instead of waiting until morning. “I am grateful to Dad,” she said. “I just don’t see why I can’t be loyal to both.”

  “Maybe Dad and I don’t want to accept that she didn’t love us enough to stay. Have you ever thought of that?”

  “Of course, but…she did love you. She loved all of us. I prefer to have faith.”

  “Faith?” Leanne scoffed. “Maybe I’m crippled, but you’re blind.”

  When would the meds the doctor gave her kick in? Claire’s head felt as if it was about to explode. Forcing herself to lie down, she sighed in frustration. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I had the sheriff call off the investigation for your sake and Dad’s. That’s something.”

  “It’d be something if you could finally let it go, too. Let us live in peace, instead of just…placating us.”

  “Fine, I’ll let it go if you’ll develop a little self-respect and restraint.” The words rushed out before Claire could stop them.

  Leanne had started to wheel herself to the door, but at this she paused. “What?”

  Already regretting the statement—it was nothing if not an invitation to fight—Claire pulled the covers up to her neck. She wanted to crawl into a hole until she felt well enough to deal with her sister. “You’re not even wearing a bra, Lee. When you bend over you can see everything.”

  “The sheriff wasn’t here long enough for me to bend over,” she said with a grimace. “Anyway, I have the right to wear pretty things. Why can’t I enjoy sexy lingerie as much as the next woman?”

  They were back to her handicap. It was the quickest way to disarm Claire, and Leanne didn’t hesitate to wield the power it gave her.

  Claire felt so bad about what her sister had suffered, and continued to suffer, that she was willing to put up with almost anything. But Leanne had gone too far with Sheriff King tonight. Claire would never forget the stunned look on his face. She had to make her point, before Leanne’s behavior got any worse.

  “I don’t have a problem with you enjoying sexy lingerie,” she said.

  “You’re the one who brought it up.”

  Claire lifted her head—and paid the price when it felt as if someone had just taken a swing at her with a baseball bat. “Because—” she waited until the pounding began to diminish “—you came to the door in a nightgown that barely covers your nipples. Myles is a married man. Not only that, but he’s with my best friend, and they have three children.”

  “His and hers,” she said flippantly.

  “So? What difference does that make?”

  Leanne gestured in a dismissive fashion. “You’re blowing this all out of proportion. He’s married to a beautiful woman. Why would he want a cripple when he has Laurel?”

  Claire massaged her temples. Thankfully, the painkiller was starting to take the edge off her pain. “Stop defining yourself exclusively by your condition! That’s not the issue.”

  Leanne’s voice climbed an octave. “Then what is? You’ve been telling me what to do since we were kids, but I’m an adult now, and I’ll live my own life! You’re freaking out over nothing. He didn’t even notice me.”

  But she’d been hoping he’d notice, hoping he wouldn’t be able to resist admiring her new double Ds in spite of his pretty wife.

  “Of course he noticed,” Claire said. “Anyone would. The whole encounter made him uncomfortable—and embarrassed me.”

  “Oh, and I would never want to embarrass you! God, all you care about is yourself!”

  Sometimes Claire just wanted to put some space between her and Leanne. But she couldn’t. She felt too much obligation to every member of her family, even her missing mother—especially her missing mother. “All I’m saying is that you should’ve covered up when he came to the door. That’s it. Quit trying to twist this into something it isn’t.”

  “It was late and I was in bed. You know how much harder it is for me to change clothes than it would be for you or anyone else.”

  That was an excuse. The sheriff had called dispatch so Nadine Archer could tell Leanne what had happened. Leanne had had some warning, could’ve slipped on a robe. She’d wanted him to see her in that nightie, wanted to find out if she could turn his head.

  “I’m trying to tell you that you’re acting strange these days, and it’s becoming apparent to others.”

  Her sister rolled her eyes. “Quit with the scare tactics.”

  “I can hear the cars that come over here late at night. I live next door, remember?”

  “Oh, so now you want to know who I see? You think I should get your permission before I have sex? You may have decided never to make love again, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be celibate, too. Why shouldn’t I take what pleasure I can while I’m young? It’s not as if my life will ever get any better. What man’s going to want to marry me?”

  Claire’s breath caught in her throat. It would be terrible to think she’d lost her chance at love just because of a sledding accident. “That’s not true! You have so much to offer—”

  “Oh, stop it.” Leanne pressed the button that powered her wheelchair and headed for the hall. “Don’t try to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. I’ll make those decisions. How I entertain myself, day or night, is none of your business. It’s nobody’s business. I don’t care what other people think.”

  “I’m telling you this for your own good,” Claire called after her. “I only want you to be happy.”

  She swung around in the doorway. “You want me to be happy?”

  Claire hadn’t expected a response. Taken off guard, she blinked. “Of course.”

  “Then stop digging around in the past. Can you do that much?”

  If only she could promise she would, but she couldn’t. And it was time—past time—to admit it. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” she said. “I have to know what happened, have to make sure Mom gets justice.”

  “Justice.” Leanne laughed bitterly. “What if justice isn’t what you think?”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “Maybe you can understand this—she’s gone, Claire. That’s all that matters.”

  Leanne’s words seemed to echo off the walls long after she’d left. All that matters… All that matters…

  Was it?

  Not to Claire.

  “Sometimes I hate you,” she whispered. But she loved her sister, too, and she knew her mixed feelings weren’t likely to change. Leanne had always been difficult to deal with, even before the accident. She’d never made life any easier on herself—or anyone else.

  Unwilling to let the evening end so negatively, Claire got out of bed and went to find her. She wanted to put their argument behind them, wanted to give her sister whatever she’d like. But Leanne’s demand that she forget the past warred with what Claire needed most and, selfish or not, she couldn’t help it.

  The painkiller was finally doing its job. For the first time since she’d hit her head, Claire could walk without staggering or using the walls to prop herself up. But as she approached the kitchen, she heard Leanne getting a bottle from the liquor cabinet and stopped.

  On top of everything else, Leanne was drinking too much. Claire had suspected it for a while. That was probably part of the reason Leanne had changed so much in the past year. But Claire couldn’t do any more about her sister’s drinking than her behavior with men. Claire definitely knew better than to call her on it tonight. They’d only get into a bigger fight if she did.

&nb
sp; Quietly returning to her room, she waited until she heard a car outside. Then she got dressed, slipped out while Leanne was still in the kitchen and retrieved her car keys from under the mat.

  The files were gone. There wasn’t a single one left.

  “Damn it.” Claire slumped against the door frame, aiming the flashlight she’d brought from home at the bare floor.

  A twig or tree branch snapped in the forest. Straightening, she jerked her flashlight in that direction. It could be a rodent, a bear or even the man who’d attacked her before, but she wasn’t seriously concerned. The pain meds had hit her full force. She wasn’t feeling any anxiety. Maybe she was even too high to drive…?.

  What now? she asked herself. There were more boxes in the attic she could tote home. She’d come all this way, felt she should make the trip as productive as possible. But she couldn’t bring herself to visit the attic. Not with the memory of being attacked so fresh in her mind.

  She stood on the front stoop, wondering about whether Sheriff King would call to ask where she’d gotten those files. Should she go on the offensive and demand to know everything they contained if he did? And…how was she going to get back home, since she probably shouldn’t drive?

  The memory of Isaac Morgan carrying her through the forest intruded. He lived within walking distance. Maybe it was self-destructive but there wasn’t another living soul she’d rather see.

  That was usually the case when it got this late, wasn’t it?

  She couldn’t deny her desire for him. The temptation he posed tugged at her more powerfully the longer she lived without David. But she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t go to his house, wouldn’t get involved with him again. They’d only end up in bed.

  But…why would that be so bad? If David wasn’t around to care, to be with her, why hold back?

  Suddenly she couldn’t think of a single thing it would hurt. She’d slept with Isaac before. Lots of times. One last hurrah wouldn’t make any difference.

  A little voice in her head protested as she trudged off. But the fireworks were over. The whole town was asleep. Unlike her previous trip, she felt completely alone and capable of doing whatever she wanted without anyone’s knowing, and that left her vulnerable to her weaker self, especially now, when she was depressed about the way things had gone with Leanne and the fact that the sheriff had taken the files.

  Isaac’s house was completely dark. Even the porch light had been turned off. He was obviously in bed. She felt guilty for disturbing him. Like her, he’d been injured tonight—probably more seriously than she had. But she was standing outside at nearly three in the morning with nothing except a flashlight and didn’t know where else to go. Returning to her car and attempting to drive home didn’t seem feasible when she was so light-headed. She couldn’t even remember what she’d done with her car keys…?.

  Would he get angry if she woke him up?

  Maybe he would if she expected him to drive her home. But she didn’t. She only wanted more of what he used to give her—a night of the most exciting sex imaginable. The Isaac she knew wouldn’t object to putting his talents to work, injured or no. After she’d stopped frequenting his place but before she married David, he’d called her many times, always in the middle of the night—just to get her attention, to remind her that he was waiting, willing and hoping she’d come back.

  It’d taken her ten years. But here she was.

  Demo version limitation

  6

  When Claire opened her eyes and saw the sun creeping around the corners of her blinds, she pulled her extra pillow over her head. It couldn’t be morning. Not yet.

  “Claire? You going to answer or not?”

  Claire wished she could ignore the voice at her front door. Once she got up, she’d have to come to full awareness, and with full awareness she’d be faced with the memory of what she’d done last night. After ten years, she’d gone back to Isaac’s house, and his bed. But instead of being fulfilled, instead of feeling as satisfied as she once had, she battled regret—just as she’d expected. Served her right.

  Why had she given in after so long? She’d known he wasn’t what she wanted, that he could never be the kind of companion David had been.

  Shit…

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  There went the door again. She had to deal with her sister whether she felt like it or not. Leanne knew she was home.

  “What do you want?” Claire remained where she was and, for a change, didn’t bother to soften her voice.

  “It’d be nice to know you survived the night, for one thing,” her sister yelled back. “I was supposed to check on you every few hours, remember?”

  Had she even tried? Or had she gotten drunk and passed out?

  Claire was willing to bet Leanne hadn’t thought of her until this morning.

  Her sister’s negligence might’ve hurt, except that Claire was used to it. All the care and attention between the two of them went in the other direction—from her to Leanne. As the baby of the family, Leanne was used to being coddled, and the sledding accident had only exacerbated that, all but cementing Claire as the one who would forever compromise, give, tolerate, cajole.

  “I’m alive,” Claire responded. “You can go home. You’re off the hook.”

  “That’s it?” Leanne’s surprise almost made Claire chuckle. “You’re not coming to the door?”

  “I have a head injury, remember?”

  “Does that mean you’re not working today?”

  Scooting closer to the nightstand, she checked the alarm clock. Eight-thirty. Her first appointment was at ten, and then she was booked solid until six, with a half-hour lunch break.

  Considering the size of her headache, she couldn’t stand on her feet all day. She didn’t want to field the questions she’d be asked, either. No doubt word of the incident had spread. Maybe it’d even been reported in the paper, like every other call to the sheriff’s department, including the minor ones. “I’ll have to cancel.”

  “Okay, well…” Leanne didn’t seem to know what to do with herself. It wasn’t enough of an excuse that Claire was hurt; Leanne was used to Claire being at her beck and call, whether it was convenient or not.

  Remembering Isaac’s mouth on her breast—and elsewhere—Claire barely stifled a groan. She was an idiot. But sleeping with her ex-lover wasn’t her only problem. What about the man who’d attacked her at the cabin? She had no idea who he was or what he’d wanted.

  The lost files and the information she’d picked up from what she’d managed to read complicated things further…?.

  The warning from her subconscious had been correct. This wasn’t a good morning. But she might as well confront it head-on.

  “Wait a second,” she called out.

  “I’m still here,” Leanne said.

  Frowning because of everything that’d passed between them last night, Claire got out of bed and, supporting herself against the walls, made her way to the living room, where she opened the door.

  “Wow, you look like hell,” Leanne muttered.

  “I feel like hell. But thanks for making my morning that much more enjoyable. I can always count on you.”

  Leanne gave her an odd glance. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

  “Not necessarily.” Had she looked okay when she’d appeared at Isaac’s cabin? She couldn’t imagine she had, but it made her mad that she’d even care. Anyway, Leanne didn’t look much better. She’d put on a robe, but she was still in that nightgown she’d been wearing the night before—not a positive association as far as Claire was concerned.

  Fortunately, they didn’t have any neighbors. They lived at the end of a rutted dirt road next to the old park, which wasn’t used anymore. This area, called River Dell, was considered the poor side of town, but Claire liked the privacy of having their own cul de sac. They both worked out of their homes, which had been purchased with the trust money their grandparents had left them, although that was gone now. Leanne made st
ained-glass windows and lamps, which she sold online and by referral. Her shop, like Claire’s salon, was attached to her house.

  They weren’t getting rich, but they were self-employed and self-sufficient. That freedom meant a lot to Claire.

  Suddenly, Leanne leaned close. “Is that a hickey on your neck?”

  Isaac had wanted to leave a mark; he’d done it on purpose to spite her. “Of course not. I…I hit something when I fell. It’s just a red mark.”

  Leanne didn’t seem completely convinced, but she let it go. “So…do you need me to make you some breakfast?”

  An offer like that meant she was feeling contrite. But the emotion wouldn’t last. She wasn’t that big on taking responsibility for her actions. “No, I’m fine.” Claire hesitated, fought with herself and eventually came to a decision. “I have a question for you, though.”

  Her sister’s expression turned stony. “If it’s about my personal life, I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “It’s about the day Mom went missing.”

  Leanne started to roll away. “That’s even worse.”

  The same unease Claire had experienced at the studio snaked through her. After their argument last night, she didn’t want to pursue the question that kept surfacing in her mind, but couldn’t hold back any longer. “Where did you go when she took you out of school?”

  The whine of the wheelchair motor fell silent as Leanne stopped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t? The school attendance records show you went home sick.”

  Claire felt the weight of her sister’s stare.

  “Who says?” Leanne finally responded. “Dad picked me up after school, just like he picked you up. You know that. We waited for him together.”

  “You were gone for three hours. Someone brought you back at two. Who was it?”