by Ines Saint
He looked at her in a way that told her he knew she was telling the truth, that she really was okay, and he turned his focus back to strategizing the search. Paige again found herself studying him. There was a lot on his shoulders, yet he bore it admirably. Only she didn’t want to admire him. It didn’t do her any good. So she determined to stop thinking about him.
But it wasn’t easy. They were often in the same room, because he’d scout and then direct her where to look. And even when they were searching different areas of each house, they’d call out to each other about either gross or interesting findings. It was hard not to. The stuff they found was either enormously entertaining, like a notebook dated from 1947 that was full of cartoons of townspeople, or too disturbing not to talk about, like a stuffed gopher’s head.
A few hours later, when they’d finished searching the entire house, Alex paused to stare up at the stairs. “The style of the house is different, but the staircase is nearly identical to the Tudor where we’re staying. Maybe the steps there had secret drawers too. And Glenn would have passed it on his way back to the café . . .”
“But people were working on it still, and you said he would most likely focus on places not likely to get visitors.”
Alex nodded, slowly. “But we also think he was under enormous pressure and not thinking straight. We should still check it out.”
A quick phone call to Sam revealed that the steps on the Tudor had indeed contained secret drawers, but the brothers had taken the drawers out and boarded them up in March.
In fact, three more mansions on Manor Row contained the same compartments, because the houses had been built during the Prohibition era, and people with enough money and the connections to buy alcohol needed a place to hide it.
Alex decided to check the steps out in those houses, too. They were abandoned, after all, with no likely buyers for some time. If the book Glenn had stolen contained the same information, it would make sense that he’d hide the journal in a place no one frequented and no one was likely to buy for some time. He and Paige took the detour, but found nothing.
Like Mad Maddie’s, the judge’s house where Clyde Cupcake was found dead was huge, gorgeous, falling apart, and infinitely interesting. When they were nearly done, they found a fake panel that led to a tiny closet, and they went in at the same time, without thinking.
Her chest rubbed up against his, accidentally. They each froze, but the damage was done. She hadn’t felt anything like it in so long . . . And she knew it was impossible for him not to notice the effect on her. But neither moved because there was no way of getting out without them rubbing against each other again. When their increasingly heavy breathing made their chests rub against each other anyway, she hightailed it out of there before she could look into his eyes and do something monumentally more stupid than getting into the small closet in the first place.
It was a good thing it was time for her to pick up the kids, and she walked to the school in record time, needing to burn off excess energy.
While she waited out front, the woman who’d tried to sell her vitamin water, Samantha, came up to her to say hello. Paige braced herself. She’d been hanging out with Holly or Dan, and Sam or Sam’s ex-wife, Heather, after school as they waited for their kids and that had been fun and unforced, as if they’d been friends forever.
But the morning coffee with Samantha had felt forced and uncomfortable, with one side (Samantha) acting fake, and the other side (her) not knowing quite how to respond. She’d had situations like that before, where people like Charlene McBride acted false, but she’d always known how to respond. She wasn’t sure what had made the situation with Samantha different.
“Paige, hi! I wanted to talk to you,” Samantha called, seeming friendly and unthreatening. Paige started to let her guard down, until she noticed Samantha’s smile wasn’t quite sincere and her eyes had a determined look in them. “I wanted to talk about our little misunderstanding the other day.”
“Misunderstanding?” Paige repeated.
“Yes.” Her smile didn’t waver, and her eyes didn’t leave hers. “You treated me like someone who was trying to recruit you, or trolling you for your friends, and I wanted to assure you that I have absolutely no need to do that.” Her eyes got wide then, as if Paige was crazy for thinking Samantha had wanted anything from her. There was even some scorn there, for good measure. A moment later, Samantha shrugged a little and smiled. “But I figure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, so I propose we just start over. I heard you got a new job, and I’d love to hear about it.”
The words were conciliatory, and Paige wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t treated Samantha badly at all, she’d simply looked for an excuse to leave when Samantha wouldn’t take first subtle, and then direct, nos for an answer. This right now felt like more of the same. Only this time she was accusing her of something. Probably so Paige would feel bad and Samantha could gain the upper hand. She knew this, because Glenn had books on all these types of tactics.
It had been years since she’d been in situations where people tried to use her because they figured she was weak. Being Glenn’s wife and the daughter-in-law of Dr. Gerard and Muffy Galloway had protected her from all that. People had tried to use her, but they were careful not to offend her. They almost catered to her sometimes, which had also made her uncomfortable. It was the same situation with the car. Instant respect . . . unearned respect.
Her power as Glenn’s wife had come from other people’s weaknesses, not from any strength of her own. Right now, if she was going to start off on the right foot, she needed to earn respect by projecting her own strengths. The way she’d done with Charlene on Saturday. “I don’t understand why you feel I offended you or insulted you, because I did not,” she said in a polite, but firm tone.
Samantha’s smile faltered. It was clear she didn’t know where to go next. That happened when people weren’t coming from a place of honesty. “I’ll explain. I only wanted to chat over coffee, and my business naturally came up because it has afforded me so much. It’s what I do, and so it came up, just like the fact that you majored in nursing came up. I felt a change in you, and it was hurtful, because many people have misconceptions about a business model that pays for such a wonderful life for me and my family.”
Paige’s discomfort grew, but so did her resolve. “I have nothing against the business model you were talking about. I once knew a woman who made a fantastic living selling jewelry using that same business model, and I always admired the way she went about building her business. She was a single mom, too, and so she’s an inspiration to me now. The change you felt in me happened because I felt cornered, and like I wasn’t being listened to when I repeatedly said no. I don’t like feeling that way.”
There was a long, awkward, awful moment, and Paige knew her cheeks were flushed. But she held her ground.
“Well, like I said, I only wanted to welcome you and to chat. I’m sorry you took it the wrong way.” Samantha left and Paige knew they wouldn’t be chatting again anytime soon. What a relief!
Something fluttered in her stomach, but it was no longer nervousness over the small confrontation. It was the feeling that she could hold on to everything she’d loved about her old life, discard or confront the things that hadn’t felt authentic, and start over, right there in Spinning Hills. They had family there, the kids were happy in their new school, they already had friends, and she already had friends, too. Two of them were walking toward her now. Sam and Cassie.
Paige smiled and waved. She had a house she wanted to talk to those two about . . .
* * *
The next day, Alex worked methodically, while Paige seemed distracted. He couldn’t blame her. First, this wasn’t her field. Second, she was starting a new job, was about to sell her car and buy a new one, and she was seriously thinking about buying a house. She’d been talking nonstop since she’d arrived at the fourth house they were searching together. He’d managed to search one on his own the evening be
fore. Things were moving along at a good pace.
“The only problem is that Cassie said she would waive her commission, and Sam wants to give me a family discount, but I don’t want charity. I don’t want to feel like the only reason I can make it on my own is because others are helping me, you know? I mean, I know everyone thinks that I wasn’t managing anything on my own before because Glenn was the breadwinner, but they’re wrong. It was a partnership. A partnership is give-and-take, not a handout.”
Alex looked at her for a long moment. “Good people feel good when they do good, Paige. That’s not something for nothing.” He began checking the stairs she’d been clearing of debris for secret compartments or drawers, adding, “He and Cassie are going to get married this winter. Just do something nice for them, do what you do best.”
“What do I do best?”
“Nurture the hell out of them.” He smiled and looked up in time to see a faint blush color her cheeks.
“I guess I can give them something extra-special for their wedding.” She shrugged. “And bake them cookies and take them to their office once in a while. Or to Cassie’s open houses. That’s an idea.” She shook out a dirty blanket that had been lying on the landing. A cockroach fell out and crawled away. She didn’t even flinch. But the roach must’ve reminded her of Jasmine, because she started talking about her next. “Jasmine was a brat, even as a child. I swear, there was something calculating and mean and vindictive in her eyes even back then.” Her observations there were very un-Paige-like. It was as if she was jealous. The thought of her being jealous because she still had feelings for Glenn rankled.
“You still have feelings for Glenn.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. And it didn’t sound like a sympathetic observation. It sounded like a reproach. Their eyes met. “Which is natural and understandable and no big deal, of course,” he added, schooling his expression into indifference.
Her own expression at first registered confusion, and then . . . hope? Confused hope? It made no sense. “So . . . you don’t believe she was an awful child? You think I still have feelings for Glenn?” she finally asked.
This time, he thought out his response, even though his heart was beating overtime. “I believe she was horrible. You just didn’t sound like yourself. That’s all.”
“Oh. Well, I guess it will always hurt that someone I helped ended up betraying me so badly.” She was quiet a moment. “I’m the one who introduced her to Glenn. She was trying to land a research assistant position, and I thought I wanted to help. But I guess, in a way, I was also trying to show how far I’d come. How far I thought I’d come.” She broke eye contact then and dropped the blanket she’d been wringing. “But I don’t have any sort of good feelings for Glenn anymore. Unfortunately, all I feel, right here”—her fist went to her chest—“is this tight, heavy resentment. Toward him, and toward me—for trying so hard for so long. And I have to fight it every day, for the kids’ sake. I don’t ever want to go through anything like that again.”
She climbed up the rest of the steps and he stood on the landing, staring up at her, his own chest compressed with a mixture of relief, tenderness, and frustration over how he didn’t have total control over his reactions. “You won’t. You were always smart and strong. Now you’re wiser, too.”
She turned her head to offer him a sad smile. “I am.”
Her smile was sad, but real, and he felt it too keenly. He tried to smile, too, to lighten the mood. “I’m just hoping to grow a little wiser myself before all this is through.”
“Well, just know it’ll hurt.”
Hell yeah, it hurt. His chest felt as if it were about to cave in from the pressure of everything that was going on inside him.
The moment was soon over, and as they continued to search, she chattered on. Alex didn’t mind listening to her. Her enthusiasm over every topic had him smiling on the inside again. Especially when she told him about how she’d put a mom at the kids’ school who had tried to manipulate her in her place. Then she’d gone off on an entirely different tangent. Obviously, she’d been through a lot during the last six days, thoughts and feelings had accumulated, and they were now pouring out.
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand what motivates people to use or hurt others.” She was quiet for a moment. “What do the behavioral analysts at the bureau say about the white-collar criminals you all investigate?” she asked. She was sitting on a window seat in a master bedroom they were searching through, looking up at him with genuine interest.
Alex hesitated. Sometime soon, he needed to ask if she’d spoken to Riley yesterday. And in a way, she’d offered him the perfect opening to talk about the case. But he wouldn’t betray her hard-won trust by manipulating her into it. He also didn’t want to break their newfound camaraderie. It wasn’t something he was used to with women who weren’t agents, and he was enjoying it, but he also couldn’t allow it to slow him down, for all their sakes. “I’m going to tie my answer to the case, so we can talk about that for a while. Would you mind?”
She shot up. “Oh, right. I’m sorry! There’s so much going on. I keep getting carried away.” She offered him a self-deprecating smile, but he knew she felt foolish.
“No. Don’t apologize. I don’t mind.”
She wasn’t looking at him. He’d messed up. He’d made her feel like she was wasting his time. She wasn’t. He wasn’t used to this. He should let it go and question her.
She tried to lift the window seat she’d vacated, to see if there was any storage space underneath. It didn’t budge, and she straightened. He didn’t want her to walk away from him, but he was clueless as to what he should say. He touched her arm and gently urged her to face him. “Traits exhibited by white-collar criminals are often the very traits recruiters unwittingly look for when choosing top-level executives. These are people who are good at manipulating others, they lack empathy, and they are willing to go far to get what they want. What they mostly want is power. And someone like you will never understand it because someone like you . . .” He stared into her eyes. They looked as tormented as he felt. What was he doing? “Someone like you . . .”
She took a few deep breaths before stepping away from him. “Wants to do the right thing.”
He looked down and took a moment to get it together. “Exactly. The right thing.” There were his and hers closets in the room, and he went to check one of them. She opened the other one, and after a short silence, cleared her throat and began telling him about Riley. “It was hard to question her about what she and her dad have talked about, because I don’t want her to accidentally tip him off, and because she’s pretty sharp. She gets her hackles up quickly if she thinks I’m fishing for information on her father. I can’t even ask what they did because she gets defensive. She knows there’s tension between us, obviously, so I don’t go there anymore. But I basically just asked her to tell me everything she remembered about the tour, because I know she must’ve said a lot of the same information to her dad. I told her it was because I wanted to know everything that could potentially scare Tyler. She didn’t say anything new, though.”
Alex nodded. “Have you remembered anything else?” It was dumb to ask. She would have told him.
“No. Has anyone else remembered anything else?”
“Bits and pieces, but nothing checks out.”
“How can you stand it? You look so calm.”
“You learn to take it one step at a time, and to hold frustration at bay. If you let the pressure get to you, you mess up.” They were talking about her husband’s crimes as if they were talking about a midterm paper.
After that, they were quiet for a while, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if they’d accepted the situation between them was growing stranger by the moment, but it would be over soon. A built-in expiration date for the madness. If he didn’t find the journal, he’d have to hand the case over to another agency. So far, the fewer people who knew about the data in the journal, the be
tter. A leak was what had gotten them into the situation in the first place. The last thing the FBI needed was a new leak about the explosive data in the journal that could attract bold and greedy opportunists.
“Alex?”
“Shoot.” He gave her his full attention, hoping to end on a light note. The kids would be out in half an hour, and she likely would be taking her leave soon. And she wouldn’t be with him tomorrow. It would be her first day at work. Would he hear about it before next Monday? One more midnight chat? It was brave and kind of her to want to help people with the same disease that had taken her mom, and much of her own youth, away from her. He wanted to hear all about it—and he found himself hoping she’d want to tell him all about it.
* * *
Alex’s eyes were bright and attentive. Eyes she’d once thought were toxic. Paige took a deep breath and forced herself to do something difficult—something she would have much rather pushed aside. She took stock of her feelings for the man in front of her.
Special Agent Hooke, a single-minded, unfeeling brute made of ice and stone was now Alex, an orphaned boy raised by socially awkward, wonderful, hardworking, straight-shooting Russian immigrants. Single-minded because he took his responsibilities to heart. His mask of ice and stone was a way to avoid projecting his feelings. And his eyes sparked with lust whenever he heard her demonic voice because he was likely attracted to anything that showed deeper emotions than he allowed himself to feel.
Not only was she itching for him in the worst way, but she was liking him, too. A whole lot.
And it was the most completely wrong thing she’d ever felt in her whole entire do-good life.
Because he was Special Agent Hooke . . . the case agent for her still-husband’s federal crimes. Because she would soon be a single mom to two kids who’d been through too much already. Because she wasn’t even divorced yet, and the last thing she should be thinking about was liking this guy. So much felt wrong. Everyone seemed to trust him—even she trusted him now—and yet there was something he was keeping from her.
