As had he. When Shayna had called Zoe, her voice full of a tentative sort of joy, to ask if she minded the two of them dating, Zoe hadn’t hesitated to tell her friend not at all. Grab happiness with both hands and don’t let it go, she’d urged Shayna. After all, that was how Zoe had learned to live her life in the big city.
Life went on. Old hurts, old loves, while never completely forgotten, were buried, moved past. There was no reason at all now why she and Brock couldn’t be civil. After all, they both wanted the same thing—Shayna to be found safe.
As the silence dragged on, Zoe snuck a glance or two at Brock, reminded of his old nickname—Brock the Rock. Judging from the size of his biceps and the breadth of his chest, he hadn’t given up lifting weights. He would have been able to protect Shayna if he’d been in their home when someone came for her, but more personal thoughts tried to break Zoe’s focus on her missing friend. She’d never been able to picture Brock and Shayna together—they hadn’t even seemed to like each other back when Zoe and Brock had been an item.
“Why?” she asked, finally breaking the silence. “Why was Shayna moving out?”
“That’s kind of personal,” he replied lightly, still staring straight ahead. “And none of your business.”
That hurt more than she’d expected. Still... “Maybe it isn’t, right now,” she replied. “But if the reason has something to do with her disappearance, you’d better believe I’ll ask you again.”
“Fair enough.” This time, he swiveled his head to face her. His blue eyes flashed sparks, causing heat to flare low in her belly. This, she squashed with the ease of years of practice. She might not have been able to completely forget him, but she had managed to stop loving him a long time ago.
A few minutes later he exited the highway and the streets began to look more and more familiar, making her sit up straighter. She hadn’t been back at all since she’d fled everything and everyone as though pursued by demons.
She might as well have been. She’d changed everything about herself, from her hair color and cut to the way she dressed and spoke. She’d worked hard to lose her Texas drawl, adopting a hint of a Midwest accent, so no one would realize where she was from. These days, though, she looked much the same as she used to, albeit with a much more expensive haircut.
Originally, Zoe had planned to return. To apologize to Brock, explain what had happened, and step right back into the life she’d been destined to have. Especially since she’d learned, a few weeks after leaving, that she was pregnant.
She’d lost the baby in the first trimester. That had been bad enough, but she’d learned that the endometriosis and the horrible scarring to her fallopian tubes meant she would never be able to have children. She’d realized then, in the middle of her grief, that she could never go back to Brock or to her old life.
It had taken this, Shayna’s disappearance, to bring her back home. Back to the place she’d grown up, where most of her happy memories had been replaced with dark and bloody ones.
She shivered. Had she honestly believed she’d never have to revisit Anniversary?
And this. Confronting Brock McCauley—the man she’d left—again hadn’t figured into her plan. Of course, never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined Shayna would go missing and she’d have to return home to try to find her.
As for facing Brock—what had she thought? He’d been engaged to her best friend and Anniversary wasn’t a large town. She’d been bound to run into him eventually. The past always found a way to catch up. She only hoped the rest of it—the stuff of nightmares part—stayed away.
As they pulled up in front of the white brick ranch house where she’d been raised by a family that wasn’t her own, Zoe felt her tension ease. Staring, she inhaled. Swamped by a wave of nostalgia so strong it clogged her throat, to her surprise she found herself blinking back tears.
As if he sensed this, Brock cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”
Crap. Temporarily unable to speak, she nodded, careful to keep her face averted. Showing emotion would reveal weakness, and she couldn’t have that. Not with him. Especially not with him.
One second, then another ticked by before she got herself under control. “I’m good,” she said, her brisk, self-assured tone giving credence to the lie. Shoulders back, she pushed open the door and climbed out of the truck.
With her head high, she started up the sidewalk, noting the neatly maintained flowers lining it—that much hadn’t changed—and her world began to slip back toward the past. She pushed aside her worry and picked up her pace as the front door opened.
“Zoe!” Mama Bell appeared, her plump arms open wide. She still smelled the same—of freshly baked cookies. Her curly hair might be grayer now, but she still wore it in a long ponytail.
Zoe flung herself into the other woman’s hug—her mama, she told herself fiercely. No matter that they weren’t related by blood. After all, Mrs. Bell had stepped in and raised Zoe when her real mother had gone to jail. Even after, when Zoe’s mother had been released and wanted her back, Zoe had spent more time at the Bells’ than in the cramped apartment her mother called home.
Actually, Zoe had come to rely on the Bell family long before her drug-addicted mother had been killed. Ever since Zoe’d met a five-year-old Shayna in kindergarten and the two girls had become best friends Mrs. Bell had recognized Zoe’s desperate need for family and love and had welcomed her as if she was one of her own. Zoe had called her Mama Bell ever since.
“Come inside,” Mama Bell managed, openly crying. “Oh, I’m so glad you could make it home.” Catching sight of Brock, the older woman brightened. “Brock, don’t just stand there like a stranger. Get on in here, too.”
But Brock shook his head. Zoe wasn’t surprised. “I’ve got to head back to the store,” he said. “Take care, Mrs. Bell.” His carefully blank gaze touched on Zoe briefly before he dipped his head and climbed back into his pickup.
Zoe watched as he drove away. Then, allowing Mama Bell to shepherd her into the living room, she soaked in the familiar chintz furniture and floral-scented candles, while the other woman closed the door and engaged the dead bolt.
“You lock up now?” she asked. In the old days, no one in Anniversary had locked their doors.
Mama Bell nodded, her expression sad. “Crime has gotten worse. Especially during tourist season, when all those city folks show up with their fancy cars and bored teenagers.”
The lake had always been a popular destination. As soon as the weather grew warm, wealthy people from Dallas, Austin and Houston headed to their huge vacation homes on the large, inviting body of clear, calm water. And then there were the weekend tourists, people who came for Saturday and Sunday, clogging up the two-lane roads and spending much-needed money, before returning to the city and their jobs, leaving their litter behind.
“Sit, sit.” Wiping at her still-streaming eyes, Mama Bell gestured at the couch. The bright floral-patterned sofa had occupied the place of honor facing the television ever since Zoe could remember. The sight of it made her heart clench. She’d come home now. This felt like—no, was home.
Chest tight, Zoe sat.
“Can I get you something to drink? Cola? Sweet tea?”
“No, thanks.” Patting the cushion next to her, Zoe tried to smile. “Please. Let’s talk. Tell me what’s been going on with Shayna.”
Mama Bell nodded and hurried over, nearly tripping over her feet in her rush to get to Zoe. Zoe noted the older woman still wore her favorite outfit, sweatpants and a T-shirt with a saying on the front—today’s advertised a restaurant in town—and brightly colored sneakers that tied it all together. Her trademark dangling earrings completed the picture.
“Don’t ever change,” Zoe said impulsively, hugging her. “You look the same as ever.”
“Thanks.” Mama Bell tried to smile. “I’ve even los
t a few pounds since Shayna...” Her smile wobbled and she finally gave up and bit her lip instead.
“Tell me.” Zoe touched her arm. “I talked a little to Brock on the drive from the airport. I’d like to hear your take on what was going on with Shayna.”
“That’s just it.” Mama Bell shook her head, sending her silver earrings flying. “I have no idea. When Shayna started acting strange a few months back, I tried to talk to her about it. She got angry at me. Told me to quit trying to poke my nose into her business.”
Zoe blinked. “That doesn’t sound like Shayna.”
“I know.” Again Mama Bell’s large blue eyes welled with tears. “She and I were always so close.”
“So what happened?” Zoe leaned closer. “What made her change?”
“I don’t know.” Mama Bell actually wrung her hands. “She seemed happy enough when she moved in with Brock, but I guess the two of them were having troubles. When I asked her about it, she told me she didn’t want to discuss it.”
“Several months, you said?” Zoe couldn’t imagine. “Why didn’t you call me and let me know?”
“How could I? Shayna made it plain she felt I was being pushy. Calling you just would have made things worse. Shayna even stopped coming to Sunday suppers. To be honest, when she went missing, I didn’t even know.” She hung her head, her rounded shoulders shaking. “I hadn’t talked to my own daughter in over a month.”
Shocked, Zoe didn’t know what to say. Over a month? And Mama Bell hadn’t seen fit to call her? This stung. “I last talked to her two weeks ago,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “Our usual phone call. She told me she and Brock were engaged.”
“What?” Mama Bell gasped, as though in pain. “How could she have gotten engaged and not even told me?”
Zoe stroked the older woman’s arm to soothe her. “That’s the thing. Brock says they weren’t. He says they never even discussed marriage.” She took a deep breath. “He told me Shayna was moving out.”
This time, Mama Bell moaned. “Oh, Zoe. That’s the other thing. I’ve caught Shayna in quite a few outright falsehoods.”
“Do you think she lied about the wedding?” Zoe could hardly wrap her mind around that.
“She had to.” Mama frowned. “Brock wouldn’t lie. That man’s never done anything but told the truth.” She sighed. “I’m so worried. I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll get through it together,” Zoe said. “What about the police? Have you contacted them?”
“Yes, of course. But since Shayna’s been telling everyone in town that she wanted to leave, their hands are tied. The sheriff did add her to the Missing Person’s Database. Brock let Shayna’s father look through her bank records and there was nothing out of the ordinary. But she hasn’t used her cell phone since she vanished.”
Biting her lip, Zoe tried to think. “And the last time she was seen? Brock said he saw her this past Friday.”
Mama Bell nodded. “She and Cristine went out. The two of them have been doing that a lot lately. Hanging out in bars, dating strange men. I know she’s a grown woman, but I’ve been worried sick.”
Zoe didn’t blame her. None of this sounded at all like the Shayna she knew. “Anything you can tell me about her behavior will help.”
“She was jumpy. Nervous, always looking out the window.”
“Do you think she was on something?”
“I... No.” Mama Bell stood and crossed her arms. “I think she was afraid,” she finally said. “Zoe, she told me what happened to your mother and how you got messed up in it. Even though the man responsible is still in prison, I think she was scared the same thing might happen to her.”
Chapter 2
Ever since Shayna vanished, Brock had felt unsettled. Guilty, too, as if he’d failed her. After all, she’d been living with him. He’d always tried to watch out for her as best as he could. He’d been the person she’d call if she was going to be late home and vice versa.
Even though their relationship hadn’t worked out, he considered himself an honorable man. He’d tried to do right by her, lately more like a friend than a lover, a relationship status on which they’d both agreed.
Though he was understandably worried, he knew Shayna better than most. He didn’t really believe she was missing. Given her new lifestyle, she’d probably met someone and taken off for a little private recreation vacation. This disappearance was so like her—or maybe more like the person she’d become these past few months. He barely even recognized her. Though he’d tried to tell himself it wasn’t his fault, Shayna had completely changed after Brock told her he could never love her the way she deserved to be loved.
To say she’d gone wild would be an understatement. She’d gone from a careful, studious, at-the-library-every-weekend woman into a let’s-do-a-pub-crawl-every-Friday partyer. In addition to dressing like a streetwalker, she’d changed her hair to some spiky, vibrant color not found in nature and caked on the makeup so heavily she was nearly unrecognizable. No matter what happened between them romantically, they’d always been good friends, at least since Zoe had left. These days, they didn’t even have that. He didn’t like the woman she’d become.
Shayna didn’t care what he thought. She and her friend Cristine Haywood had become thick as thieves. Long before announcing her plan to move out, Shayna had taken to vanishing immediately after work on Friday, refusing to answer her cell and finally straggling in late Sunday afternoon, looking as if she’d spent the entire weekend in a drunk tank.
At first he’d worried, but even attempting to broach the subject had made Shayna react with out-of-proportion anger. She’d thrown things, screamed, cursed and generally carried on so loudly he’d figured the neighbors must have thought he beat her.
Finally, he’d simply told her he was there if she needed to talk and left her alone. She was a grown woman, after all. And he wasn’t her keeper.
He figured this disappearance, though much longer than her usual disappearing weekends, was the latest stunt. A means of getting attention. Because if there was one thing Shayna thrived on these days, attention would be it.
He also didn’t believe Cristine when she claimed to have no idea where her new best friend had gone. He’d talked to Mama Bell, and Shayna’s mother had conveyed her own worries over the changes in her daughter’s behavior. Evidently the older woman had grown so concerned that she’d called Zoe Onella. And now even Zoe had returned to town to try to help, though he had no idea why. As far as he could tell, Shayna and Zoe hadn’t been chummy since Zoe took off five years ago.
Zoe was one person he would have preferred to have gone the rest of his life without seeing again. How in the hell she still had the power to make his heart clench, he didn’t understand.
When she’d left, mere weeks before their wedding, his hurt had blossomed into hate. This had sustained him through the dark nights when, more than once, he’d found himself looking into the bottom of a bottle. Gradually, the hate had faded, though the pain had never left him. He’d convinced himself he was over her, tried like hell to make himself forget.
Then he’d seen her striding through the airport, her long-legged beauty taking his breath from him.
That image was still burned on his mind. He knew when he closed his eyes to try to sleep later, he’d only see her impossibly long-lashed brown eyes staring at him as if she didn’t know him. Had he truly been so easy to forget?
“Hey, Brock.” Ted Williams sauntered into the feed store, his red tractor cap turned backward. “Cristine asked me to put these up.” He slid a paper across the counter. “Is it all right if I hang one up in your store?”
A photograph of Shayna stared up at him. Her bright smile and windblown hair proved it had obviously been taken in better times. Brock grabbed the paper and read. “Cristine wants to be in charge of the search?”
The bell over the door tinkled, saving him from answering. When he saw who’d come into the feed store, his gut clenched. Marshall Bell, Shayna’s father.
Before Brock could tell Ted to put the paper away, Mr. Bell caught sight of his daughter’s photo. Immediately, he looked ill. All the color leached from his face. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it and wiped his hand across his lips. “Brock,” he managed, and then had to clear his throat. “I’d like a word.”
Brock nodded, glancing at Ted, who apparently chose not to take the hint and continued standing there. “Alone?” Brock asked, more to clarify things than anything else.
“Please,” Mr. Bell rasped.
Still Todd didn’t move, as though his feet had grown roots.
“Todd?” Brock prodded him with his elbow. “Do you mind?”
Looking disappointed, Todd finally shuffled away.
“What’s with him?” Mr. Bell grumbled. “Was he one of Shayna’s new boyfriends?” Then, realizing he was talking to the man who’d lived with his daughter, he appeared contrite. “Sorry, son,” he said, squeezing Brock’s shoulder. “No harm meant.”
Grimacing, Brock nodded. He still hadn’t gotten used to people making comments to him about Shayna. Her sudden disappearance made everyone in town think it was all right to say just about anything to the man she’d been cheating on. He could only imagine what kind of remarks they made to her parents.
Mr. Bell looked left and then right. Besides him and Brock, there were three other people in the feed store. Brock’s sister Eve, who worked part-time at the store while attending junior college, Todd, and Anna Perilli, who raised Arabian horses. She was looking at bits and bridles, so she would be all right for a few minutes by herself.
“Come with me,” Brock said, leading Mr. Bell toward his cramped office. The room remained exactly the way it had been when Brock’s father had occupied it, with the exception of a hanging wall calendar that Brock changed out every year.
Texas Secrets, Lovers' Lies Page 2
