Buried Lies (Crimson Point Series Book 2)

by Kaylea Cross

  Of course it was just dumb luck that had allowed Poppy to be the one to find her, but no one seemed to care about that. She’d already run out of pastries and most of her art supply kits, and she’d had to call a volunteer in to help with the volume of customers.

  By the time things died down in mid-afternoon after the lunch rush, she was tired but happy in a way she’d never been before. She loved it here and planned to sink roots deep into the community, make it her home for a long, long time.

  Maybe forever.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  She tried to ignore the cautious, wary voice in her head, but given her history, it was hard to. So she thought about Noah instead as she tidied up the kitchen. Seeing him in action today in his uniform was something that would always stay with her. She’d seen in his eyes how proud he’d been of her for helping with the search, and even prouder that she had found Liz.

  The only two other people who had ever been proud of her were long dead now, her mom and granddad buried back home in South Dakota. Some teachers had cared about her, and the odd social worker, but not in the same way. Feeling the warmth of Noah’s praise today made her feel like a sunflower on her family’s farm slowly turning its face toward the sun.

  Better yet, she loved that Noah wasn’t pushing her for more than friendship. That he was keeping a respectful distance between them even though he was clearly attracted to her. It allowed her to think about the possibility that maybe someday they could be more than just friends and neighbors.

  But she was also a realist. She’d come here to make a new life and start her business. Traffic into the shop had been busy all afternoon but the novelty of her being the town hero and person of interest wasn’t going to last. Hopefully with tourist season coming on full swing, things would remain steady because the fall and winter would be slower, mainly locals only. She had to figure out a way to get people to keep coming back.

  Exiting the kitchen, she paused when she saw Noah’s sister waiting at the end of the counter. Sierra smiled brightly at her. “There she is, the woman of the hour.”

  Poppy blushed but couldn’t help but smile back. “Hello. Were you waiting for me?”

  “Yes.” Sierra leaned on the counter, bracing her weight on her forearms, her long, chestnut hair streaming around her shoulders. “What are you doing tonight?”

  Poppy blinked in surprise. “Uh…” She’d planned to go home and clean the house, then have a bath and a glass of wine. “Nothing. Why?”

  “What do you say to a girls’ night at my place after you get off work?”

  A grin spread across her face. “Really?” Secretly, she was desperate to make girlfriends. Real friends, the kind that had your back and cared about you no matter what. Instead of people who pretended to be your friend while they secretly laughed behind your back and then snubbed you in public.

  “Absolutely. I’ve been meaning to get to know you better, and I want to introduce you to my best friend. She’s not a bookworm like me, but you’ll like her anyhow, and she’d totally be into paint night here and things like that. Especially now that you can serve wine.” Sierra raised her eyebrows, her blue eyes nearly the identical shade to Noah’s. “So? Whaddya say?”

  “I would really love that.” Even if Noah had put her up to it, Poppy didn’t mind. She liked what she’d seen of Sierra so far and wanted to get to know Sierra better too. Maybe she’d learn more about Noah in the process as well.

  “Good. What time can you make it?”

  “Eight?”

  “Perfect. Here’s my address.” She handed her a business card with the info written on the back. “Beckett’s out with the guys tonight, celebrating with my brother, so it’ll be just us three. Don’t bring anything but you. I’ll supply the wine and goodies.”

  “All right. See you then.”

  ****

  Tonight, for the first time in weeks, he had no interest in visiting his secret garden. The tranquil surroundings and pristine flowerbeds didn’t soothe him anymore. Instead they left him unsatisfied and inflamed the ravenous beast inside him.

  For years he’d kept the animal locked down, hiding it away deep inside, even from himself. Then…

  He’d snapped. That final argument years ago had unleashed the monster he’d kept at bay for so long, and he’d killed his first victim.

  His mother.

  He’d fantasized about killing her for years. Every time she’d locked him in the closet without any light when he was little and ignored his screams, ignored how he’d clawed at the wooden door until the splinters had shredded his fingers, he’d imagined killing her.

  It was wrong. Horrible. He’d always known it, and he’d done his best to suppress the urges. Then, six years ago, she’d pushed him too far. Bullied him one time too many, and she’d finally gotten what she’d so richly deserved all his life.

  Rose. Her name had given him the idea for the secret garden.

  He’d planted her first, right before he’d met and fallen in love with Penny. But Penny had turned out to be exactly like his mother.

  Cruel, always putting him down, never appreciating him. Ordering him around, talking trash about him behind his back. So he’d killed her a few months later, and buried her in the garden. Now she and his mother lay there, side by side for all eternity, a rose and a lily. The FBI had questioned him, then released him because of lack of evidence. He was good at what he did.

  At first the loneliness and guilt whenever he’d visited them had been almost too much to bear. Then, slowly, over time it had begun to fade. Sometimes he still missed them. But most of the time all he felt was a sense of power and vengeance when he looked at their graves.

  The beer in his hand had long since gone warm as he sat on his back deck watching the trees and shrubs rustling in the breeze. A hummingbird zipped down from a low-hanging cedar branch to sip from the feeder he’d brought home from the garden center last year, its ruby-red head and throat glowing in the late evening sun.

  It didn’t satisfy him at all. Nothing did since his obsession with attaining his new and hopefully final flower. He was desperate to finish this. To find the level of satisfaction that would allow him to stop and just rest.

  He’d seen Poppy at the beach today. The temptation to take her was overwhelming, but he couldn’t risk it with so many witnesses around.

  Now she was the town hero and had even more attention on her. On top of that, she lived next door to the sheriff, and from what he’d seen after the search today, they seemed pretty friendly. More than friendly. That made his job a lot tougher, but he wouldn’t be denied.

  He got up and went inside, lying on the couch to watch TV in an effort to distract his mind. The beast wanted Poppy now, hated being forced to wait, and wouldn’t be satisfied until it got her.

  Watching TV didn’t help much, but it was all he could think of to keep his mind occupied and prevent himself from doing something stupid and rushing his plan. He couldn’t take her yet, but he could watch her. Plan his move.

  She was going to be hard to take, but more than worth the hassle once he made his move.

  She was going to be the most glorious flower in his entire garden.

  ****

  Poppy finished the rest of her duties and left the shop with anticipation bubbling inside her like champagne. From the shop it was a short drive down to Salt Spray Lane, and the grand Queen Anne-style Victorian perched on the cliff overlooking the ocean.

  The gorgeous painted lady stood in the center of a large lot filled with manicured garden beds and surrounded by thick forest. The scent of roses and honeysuckle mixed with the salty tang of the sea as she got out of her car and reached for one of the pastry boxes on the passenger seat. A warm breeze tickled her skin, the muted rush of the sea filling her ears as she started up the brick walkway to the front door.

  With every step, her anxiety grew. She wanted Sierra and Molly to like her. What if they didn’t find her company enjoyable and interesting enough?
Then they wouldn’t want to include her in their social circle.

  A low woof sounded when she knocked the heavy brass knocker. Walter appeared on the other side of the right panel windows next the door. He stared up at her with those mournful, red-rimmed eyes, but his tail was wagging. “Hi, Walter,” she said.

  Hurried footsteps came in the background, and then Sierra was at the door. “Hey,” she said, pulling Poppy into a welcoming hug that took the sharp edge off her anxiety before stepping back. “Come on in.”

  “I brought some pastries,” Poppy said, following her into the kitchen. She’d never been good at getting people to like her back home. What if she still wasn’t?

  “You didn’t have to do that, but I won’t say no,” Sierra said, tossing a grin over her shoulder.

  Poppy gazed around, drinking in the atmosphere. You could tell a lot about a home by the vibe you got when you walked in. This one had a cozy, tranquil vibe she instantly loved. “Wow, this place is something.”

  “Isn’t it? It’s been in Beckett’s family since it was built around 1900.”

  “It’s incredible.” The house was filled with beautiful old woodwork, and the walls were painted a pale green instead of covered with busy wallpaper common to houses of this era. Comfortable-looking overstuffed couches and chairs sat facing a brick fireplace in the living room, and the white modern kitchen had a farmhouse feel to it.

  “Can I get you some wine? White or red?”

  “White, please.”

  Sierra poured them each a glass. “Come on, let’s go sit out on the back porch. That’s the real show stopper.”

  Poppy followed her out through a wood-framed screened door that squeaked slightly when it opened, Walter at their feet. “Oh, wow,” she breathed when she saw the view that awaited her.

  Down a sloping lawn bordered by a flowerbed and white picket fence, an expanse of ocean glimmered in shades of peach and raspberry beneath the setting sun. Breathtaking.

  “I know, right? Best spot in the house, with the exception of the master suite. It’s got a turret in the corner that overlooks this same view with windows that go from the window bench to almost the ceiling.”

  “It’s incredible.” She sat in a pink rocking chair while Sierra sat in the one to her right. “The landscaping is amazing. Do you tend the yard and gardens yourself?”

  Sierra grimaced. “No, I’d probably kill everything. Besides, I’m super busy with work, and I don’t enjoy gardening, and Beckett’s even busier than me. We’ve got a guy who comes by once a week to keep everything tidy.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Paul something. Langford? I think I have his card inside. And then there’s a guy over at the garden center outside of town. Rick, I think his name is. You looking for someone?”

  “I’ve met them both. Apparently Paul used to look after my yard too, when the previous owner lived there. And I worked with him on the search today.” She wished she could afford to hire him to do a few things around her place. Rick, not so much. The less she saw of him and Danny, the better.

  “I see business picked up big time for you this afternoon, huh?”

  “Sure did. I ran out of pretty much everything.”

  Sierra nodded. “That’s Crimson Point for you. Once people here get to know you—and now they know you’re one of them—they’re loyal.” She sipped her wine, smiled a little as she settled back into the comfy rocker. “So, tell me about yourself. Noah says you’re from South Dakota?”

  “Yes.” Her stomach tensed, an instinctive reaction to whenever the subject came up. Apart from hopefully making a good impression tonight, her other goal was to get through the evening without revealing too much about her past.

  They chatted for a few minutes, filling in basic background. Poppy learned that Sierra and Noah had grown up here in Crimson Point with Beckett. She was fascinated by Sierra and Beckett’s love story. “I want to hear all about it,” she said.

  “We’ll get to that later tonight, no worries.”

  A door shut behind them. Poppy and Sierra both swiveled their heads around just as a female voice called out, tinged with the south. “What up, bitches? Where y’at?”

  Sierra chuckled. “Out back. And you can’t shock poor Poppy by calling her a bitch the first time you meet her.”

  A pretty woman with light brown skin and a head full of bouncy, spiral brown curls appeared through the back screen door. “Sorry, my bad.” She stepped through onto the porch, gave Poppy a warm smile that made her startling gold-green eyes sparkle. “I’m Molly.” She held out a hand and Poppy stood to shake it.

  “Poppy. Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here.” Facing Sierra, she put her hands on her hips. “Where’s my wine?”

  “On the counter. Go grab it and come gossip with us.”

  Molly’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, what are we gossiping about?”

  “Sierra and Beckett, hopefully,” Poppy said.

  Molly snickered. “Perfect. Be right back.” She appeared a half-minute later with a full wine glass and sank into the rocker on Poppy’s left. “Okay, so what did I miss?”

  Sierra quickly relayed the things Poppy had told her about herself. “Molly’s an ER nurse from North Carolina, moved here almost six months ago now.”

  “Really? What brought you out here?” Poppy asked.

  A slight shadow flickered over Molly’s face. “That’s a long story, and I’m gonna need more wine before we get into it. Let’s talk about Sierra and Beckett first.”

  Sensing she’d inadvertently put her foot in her mouth, Poppy regretted saying anything and turned to Sierra. “All right, what’s your story?”

  Sierra smiled and told her about having a crush on Beckett for years. He’d been married and divorced, and when he’d left the Army earlier this year and come home to run the family business because his father was dying, things had heated up between them.

  “You had a crush on him for all those years and he never knew?” Poppy asked, fascinated.

  “I think he sort of did. But he wouldn’t let himself go there in his head, let alone in reality. I was the embodiment of the forbidden for him.” She made a face, finished her wine. “Anyway, thankfully he came to his senses and realized I was too good to pass up.”

  “Yes, thank God for that,” Molly said.

  Sierra waved her away. “Go grab the wine, Moll. I’m just getting started here.”

  Poppy laughed as Sierra told her the story about how Beckett wound up adopting Walter from the local shelter. “I couldn’t believe it. I mean, here’s this hard, remote soldier and this adorably pathetic senior dog walking into my office. It was pretty comical.” Sierra smiled wistfully. “I already loved him, but that sealed the deal. And make no mistake, he adores this little guy something fierce. Doesn’t he, Walter? Daddy loves you, right?” she cooed, reaching down to scratch Walter’s ears.

  The dog lifted his head to gaze up at her and thumped his tail against the wooden porch.

  “The whole thing’s adorable,” Poppy said. “I love animals. We always had pets at the farm. Couple of dogs, and some barn cats I used to sneak into my room. I might get one once I’m more settled in.”

  “Which, a cat or a dog?”

  “Either. Both.” They laughed together.

  Molly came back out with the wine and refilled everyone’s glass without asking. “What’d I miss?”

  “Nothing much,” Sierra said.

  Molly eyed them both in suspicion, then sank into her rocker. “I haven’t been into your shop yet,” she said to Poppy, “but I will on my next day off, promise.”

  “Okay. First coffee or tea and a treat’s on me.”

  “Well then I might not be able to wait until my next day off,” Molly teased. They chatted some more about Crimson Point. Poppy was insanely curious about Noah but didn’t want to seem too eager about him.

  The back porch wasn’t screened in, and once the sun went down the mosquitoes came out in force.


  “Ugh,” Sierra complained, standing. “Let’s get inside before they make a meal of us.”

  Inside they settled on the couches by the fireplace. Poppy’s gaze skimmed over the framed photos sitting on the mantel. Some of Noah and Beckett when they were younger that she found fascinating. “Wow, they were friends that long ago?”

  “Yep, since kindergarten,” Sierra said. “Close as brothers ever since, even when Beckett joined the military and went away.”

  Poppy nodded, looking at the other photos. There were a few of Beckett and Jase and a huge, dark-haired, bearded man Poppy had never seen before. The three men were all in camouflage uniforms, shoulder to shoulder, their rifles held expertly in front of them. “Was that one in the black frame taken overseas?”

  “Afghanistan. You’ve met Jase. And the other…” Sierra shot a glance at Molly, who was staring at the picture. “That’s Carter. They all served together on the same A-Team, with Beckett as captain.”

  Poppy stole an uncertain look at Molly. She was still looking at the picture, and though they’d only just met, Poppy could tell something was wrong.

  “Carter’s my soon to be ex-husband,” Molly finally said.

  Oh. “I’m sorry,” Poppy said. “Is he why you guys moved out here?”

  Molly nodded. “He was wounded overseas. Suffered a traumatic brain injury. He…changed,” was all she said, then got quiet for a long moment. “We moved here because Beckett got him a job as project manager with the renovation company. Anyway, things got really bad after that. He moved out, and I filed for separation. Things haven’t exactly been smooth between us.”

  Poppy didn’t say anything, because she wasn’t sure what to say and didn’t want to come across as insincere. But Sierra shifted over on the couch and slung a companionable arm around Molly, then rested her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Yeah, you’ve had a really rough time of it, girlfriend.”