Cara hung up the phone, frustration saturating her very pores so that her body felt heavy with despair. She’d wanted so much for Aunt Clarice to confirm what she already knew in her heart. She’d not only been in Secret Sound before but she’d been with Skippy Rhett when he died.
"My aunt’s not home," she said in answer to Gray’s unspoken question. He sat beside her on the worn sofa in the living room, regarding her with worried eyes, rubbing one of her cold hands between his. He seemed to think he could warm her but she thought she’d never be warm again.
"Does it make a difference?” he asked. “She’s already told you once you’d never been in Secret Sound."
"She lied." Cara slipped her hand from between his to run it through her hair. "I don’t know why she lied. I just know that she did. I was there when Skippy died. I knew it tonight when he called me by name."
"How can you be so sure?" he asked quietly.
"It’s the only thing that makes sense." She implored with her eyes that he believe her. "My memory is returning. It has to be. When I first pulled into Secret Sound, that night my car overheated, I saw Skippy in the street. He didn’t speak, but looked at me as though he wanted something from me.
"Tonight, I found out what it was. He wanted me to run. Don’t you see, Gray? The memory was only half-formed that first night. Being in Secret Sound again must have jarred the rest of it loose, because tonight I filled in the blanks. Tonight, Skippy not only told me to run, he called me by name and said we had to get away. Skippy said he was behind me. By he, Skippy meant the kidnapper."
"So you think Skippy’s kidnapper has been trying to run you out of town?"
"Yes." She took both of his hands in hers and squeezed. "My memory is the key to everything, Gray. The kidnapper’s still in town, and he’s afraid I’ll remember him."
"Why would you remember him? Where would you have seen him? Even if you had visited Secret Sound, what could you have to do with what happened to Skippy?"
Cara shook her head helplessly. "Those are questions I can’t answer. Maybe the nanny can. That’s why I’ve got to go with you tomorrow when you talk to her."
It was the third time she'd made the request. She could tell Gray still didn’t think it was a good idea. She'd had a hard enough time convincing him that she didn't need to spend another night in the hospital.
He reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers along her temple. "I don't know, Cara. The return address Karen had was old. We're not even sure the Rosa Martinez who's head of housekeeping at the Palm Beach Hotel is the right Rosa Martinez. She already hung up on me once when I mentioned the Rhett family."
"I still want to come with you," Cara said stubbornly. "I have to come with you. You’ve got to try to understand. I’m indebted. Skippy tried to save me, Gray. He could have gotten away but he stopped. For me. I owe him."
She felt tears form in her eyes. She blinked them back. Logically she knew a child as young as she'd been couldn't be held responsible for another child's death but that hardly mattered.
"Karen’s coming," Gray said finally. "If it is the right Rosa, I thought she might be more forthcoming if Karen was there."
"I can handle Karen."
"I know that." Gray paused, and she sensed his resolve not to take her along was weakening. He scratched his head. "There's something I should tell you about Karen. I don't believe she did anything worse than make that telephone call."
"I can accept that," she said. "You know she's not the person I suspect, Gray."
"I don’t think Sam’s behind it, either."
She was about to protest before thinking better of it. He'd already heard her views on the subject numerous times. "Then who do you think is?"
He seemed to measure his words before he spoke. "When Suzy was dying, she told me something she made me promise to keep secret. It wasn’t difficult, because I didn’t believe it. I deal in facts, and all she had was an uneasy feeling. But I believe her now and I can’t justify keeping the promise any longer."
"What did she tell you?" Cara asked above the sudden thudding of her heart.
"She thought her father felt so slighted that her grandfather left the newspaper to her uncle that he tried to share in the wealth.” He paused slightly before he said the rest. "She thought her father kidnapped Skippy for the ransom money, Cara. And now I think Curtis is responsible for what’s happened to you."
"That’s impossible," Cara protested
"I wish it were, but I have to look at it objectively. Curtis drives a navy-blue Buick, which fits in with the large, dark car that tried to run you down. He owned the house on Whisper Way at the time of Skippy's kidnapping. And he was the one who found you after you were hit on the head."
"What about the steering fluid? How could he have done that?"
"Anybody with a screwdriver who can pop open the hood of a car could have done that."
Cara shook her head. "Curtis doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would kidnap his nephew and be willing to kill to keep it quiet."
"Believe me, I don't want to believe it, either. I tried to question him further today but he won’t talk to me. He’s directing all inquiries to his lawyer." He dug his fingers through his hair. "To his lawyer. What can I believe except that he’s guilty?"
Pain pinched his features, revealing how much it had cost him to accuse his former father-in-law. Cara wished he had told her sooner but understood why he hadn’t. Something softened inside of her, and she felt another pang of regret that he couldn’t love her.
"Thank you for telling me." She leaned forward and planted soft, brief kiss on his lips.
The pain in his eyes didn’t disappear. She imagined, however, that it lessened. She stroked his face, feeling the abrasion of his beard on her palms, feeling wiser than she had a few days ago when she had held out for all of him.
She loved him so she would make what memories she could, even if he were only willing to share a little bit of himself.
"I probably shouldn’t do anything," she said, bringing a hand to her head. She smiled wryly. "But I don’t want you to leave tonight."
"You can lay in my arms, can’t you?" he asked softly, and she nodded. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Then I’m not going anywhere."
Palm Beach gleamed, from the sun beaming on the white-sand beaches to the sparkling windows of the trendy shops on Worth Avenue to the shimmering-clean parquet tile in the Palm Beach Hotel.
Cara looked around in appreciation as she, Karen and Gray walked through the beautifully appointed lobby. High-backed sofas and chairs fashioned out of a sumptuous green leather flanked jade tables. A spouting fountain graced the center of the room, its sheets of water cascading into a bowl that contained a mini-paradise with strategically placed rocks and greenery. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling in regular intervals, shining light on the scene.
"If this Rosa Martinez is my Rosa Martinez, she must have done very well for herself," Karen said, echoing Cara’s thoughts.
"Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to talk to us," Gray said as they approached the ground-floor room which served as the headquarters for the department of housekeeping. "Maybe she doesn’t want anything from her past to interfere with the good fortune of her present."
Gray knocked. When he got no answer, he pulled open the door and they entered. The office was empty. Smaller than it first appeared, it contained a mid-sized desk flanked by comfortable upholstered chairs. The desk was neatly organized with papers arranged in orderly stacks and a desk calendar covering much of its surface.
A photograph of two smiling, dark-haired young men who looked enough alike to be twins occupied a prominent position on the table. Cara assumed they were Rosa’s sons, possibly the same ones she had worked so hard to bring to the United States.
"She’s not here." Gray stated the obvious. "You two wait here while I see if I can get someone to track her down."
In typical fashion, he didn’t wait to find out if they agreed with
his plan. He just assumed they would. Since what he’d proposed made sense, Cara didn’t see the point in chasing him down to point that out.
"I’m glad we’re getting a moment alone, Cara," Karen said.
The other woman looked sleek and sophisticated in a sleeveless teal pantsuit tailored to accentuate her curves. Cara had sat next to Gray in the front seat on the drive to Palm Beach with Karen doing most of the talking. Much of it, surprisingly, had been about Tyler Shaw. Cara wasn’t sure when Karen had given up pursuing Gray, but Tyler clearly was the man occupying her thoughts.
"Cara? Do you mean you're not going to call me Sarah today?" Cara let her brows raise, not quite ready to forgive and forget.
"Ouch." Karen grimaced dramatically. "I deserved that. I acted abominably toward you, and I apologize. Calling you on the phone like that was reprehensible. I know I shouldn’t expect it. I even know I don’t deserve it — after all, I can be a real bitch — but I was hoping you’d forgive me."
Karen smiled, and there was something so charming and guileless about it that the last remnants of Cara’s anger disappeared.
"Gray’s forgiven me," Karen continued, "although, considering the fool way I acted, God knows he would have been justified if he hadn’t. The thing is I’m head over my high heels in love with Tyler, and Tyler’s closer to Gray than he is to his own brothers. Now I’m not asking you to be my sister, but I was really, really hoping we could be friends. Do you think you can forgive me enough for that?"
Cara considered the other woman, finally understanding why Gray had constantly defended her and why Tyler Shaw had fallen in love with her. Despite her pricey hairstyle and immaculate makeup, there wasn’t anything artificial about Karen.
With the fervency of a lifelong only child, Cara almost wished they could be sisters. But that, like her dream of Gray’s love, was impossible.
"Of course I can forgive you. You’ve made some bad assumptions about me and Gray, though. It’s not that way between us." Cara thought of the self-deception she had practiced the night before. As Gray held her through the long night, she’d imagined things were different between them. In the cool light of day, however, she had to be realistic. Gray wasn't in love with her. "I’m not staying in Secret Sound indefinitely. In fact, I won’t be here much longer."
"You won’t? How can that be? The way you and Gray look at each other, I thought that..."
Karen’s voice trailed off when the door opened, revealing the short, ample-figured woman who bustled through the door. She wore a white uniform too tight across the hips, and her black hair was liberally streaked with gray. She stopped in the middle of the room, wariness in her small brown eyes as she looked from Cara to Karen.
"Rosa? That is you, isn’t it, Rosa?" Karen smiled and got to her feet. "It’s Karen Rhett. You remember me, don’t you, Rosa? You used to braid my hair and let me sit on your lap while you read me stories. I loved sitting on your lap."
"Dios mio." She put a hand to her forehead, and tears shimmered in her eyes. "Mi paloma pequena."
"Of course.” Karen walked toward the older, smaller woman and took her hand. "Mi paloma pequena. My little dove. That’s what you used to call me, because I chased the birds in the park."
"And the patos and the ardillas. You both do. That’s what tu hermano do that day. Chase the ardilla."
"A squirrel," Karen translated, glancing at Cara. "Rosa, this is mi amiga Cara Donnelly. We want to ask you about what happened that day."
Something akin to fear bloomed in the older woman’s eyes. "A man. He call yesterday to talk. I hang up. I afraid he ask me about that day. That he blame me like your parents."
The door flapped open, and Gray’s voice preceded him. "No luck. I can’t..."
He trailed off when he spotted Rosa Martinez in the middle of the room. Cara thought she looked small and scared. Karen held her hand, the picture of composure.
"Rosa, this is mi amigo Gray DeBerg," she said, omitting that he was police chief of Secret Sound. Wisely, Cara thought. "He’s the man who called you yesterday. He doesn’t blame you for anything. None of us do. We just want to know what happened to my brother."
"Why?" Rosa's eyes darted from Karen to Cara to Gray and then back again. "Why now? After so much time?"
"Nobody ever found out what happened to him, Rosa," Karen answered firmly, and it dawned on Cara that Karen’s stake in this was as great as hers. Skippy had been her brother. "Some, uh, things have happened, and we think we might have another chance to solve the mystery."
Rosa tried to tug her hand away, but Karen held tight. Her jaw tightened. "Please, Rosa? I need to know. Please tell your paloma pequena."
Cara held her breath, afraid Rosa would refuse and another avenue would slam shut. Then the older woman, tears still brimming in her eyes, nodded. She sank into one of the upholstered chairs instead of behind the desk, and Karen took the chair next to her. Rosa started to talk, addressing her words to Karen as though nobody else was in the room. Cara glanced at Gray, and he put his index finger to his lips.
"I always so careful to watch you, except that day,” Rosa said, her voice shaking. “That’s why your parents say is my fault. They tell me to leave. That it all my fault."
"What happened, Rosa?" Karen pressed. "What happened that day?"
Sadness marred her features, deepening the lines on her face, drooping her mouth. "A woman is there, at the park. I talk to her. You swing on swing. Skippy, he see ardilla. He chase. Little girl, she run after him. I think they fine. But they gone. Both gone."
"By little girl, do you mean me?" Karen asked.
Rosa shook her head vigorously. "No. You swing."
Cara’s heart thumped painfully in her chest, and she couldn’t stop herself from interjecting. "Was there another girl in the park that day?"
Rosa’s eyes never left Karen. "Si. Another girl. The woman I talk to, her girl. Her family, they visiting town. The man who take Skippy, he take this girl, too."
"But why?" This time, it was Gray who spoke. "Why would the kidnapper take this girl if she was a tourist?”
Rosa still didn’t look anywhere but at Karen. "I don’t know kidnapper. The policeman, he think I need money to bring my sons from Ecuador. Is true, but I no get money that way. I love you. I love tu hermano. I never do anything to hurt you."
"I believe you, Rosa." Karen picked up the other woman’s hands once again. "Now tell us about the girl. Do you know why the kidnapper took her?"
She nodded. "The police, they think kidnapper get confused, think this girl you. She four years old, like you. And her name, it sound like your name. When he call Karen, they think she come instead."
Cara’s throat went dry. "The name? Do you remember the name?" Rosa didn’t reply, so she persisted. "Was it Cara?"
Rosa nodded just once.
"Yes," she said. "Cara. That is the name."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Gray watched Curtis Rhett walk out of the office of the Secret Sound Sun at six o’clock that night, right on schedule. He might be a workaholic who spent most of his waking hours at the newspaper. He was also a creature of habit.
Every Wednesday at six, after his staff met to decide the lineup of the next day’s newspaper, Curtis took an hour to indulge his passion for chicken lo mein and egg rolls at Dim Sun’s, Secret Sound’s only Chinese restaurant.
Gray had accompanied Curtis on several occasions. Tonight Curtis was alone. He was dressed in one of his customary suits, but he’d shed his jacket. His dark, conservative tie stood out against the crisp white shirt that Gray knew he had laundered and pressed at Jerry Swart’s Dry Cleaners.
The managing editor’s pace was quick so as not to waste any of the time that was always in such short supply. Gray stamped out his half-smoked cigarette and emerged from the shadows alongside the building, easily falling into step beside him. Curtis took a quick look at him before returning his attention to where he was going.
"I don’t appreciate you ignoring my re
quest," Curtis said, his tone more clipped than usual. "I’m not talking to you. Speak to my lawyer if you have questions."
"Do you know what you sound like?" Gray had intended to keep calm. His frustration bubbled to the surface, mixed with his anger and spilled into his voice. "A guilty man with something to hide."
Curtis laughed shortly, without a trace of humor. "You sound naive. A good journalist knows that innocent men sometimes end up in jail for crimes they didn't commit. I’m a good journalist making sure that doesn’t happen to me."
He picked up his pace, and Gray matched it. No matter what noise Curtis made about a lawyer, he was a talker by nature. Hell, he talked so much when they went fishing that he either scared the fish away or failed to notice they were biting.
"I’m going to subpoena your records," Gray said, trying to rattle him. "Money that people donated to the community center through your newspaper is missing, and the trail leads to your office."
All around them, Secret Sound’s business community was shutting down for the night. Office workers headed home, traffic had picked up and the warmth of the day had disappeared along with the sun. It would have been a typical November evening if Gray hadn’t accused a man he loved and admired of stealing.
"You disappoint me, Gray. I always thought you were so clever," Curtis muttered under his breath, as though he couldn’t help himself. "First of all, it’s never been my newspaper. It’s my brother’s. Secondly, never once, in all the years I’ve worked at the Sun, have I ever handled a donation."
His denial had the ring of truth. Gray reconsidered what he knew about the missing donations, which was precious little. His father had written a series of newspaper columns with Curtis's blessing, members of the community had opened their wallets and money was missing. Period. Had he blamed Curtis for a crime he hadn’t committed solely because he was sure he’d committed another, more serious one?
Gray plowed doggedly on, even as he acknowledged his doubts that Curtis was cold-hearted enough to steal from a project he had helped promote. "Even if you didn’t take the money, I’m reasonably sure I can prove you tried to run Cara down and that you attacked her."
Sound of Secrets Page 24
