Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “Go on.”

  “You knew my mom before she met my dad.”

  “I did.”

  “Well, there’s a name that keeps popping up and I was wondering if you could tell me anything you know about him.”

  “Sure, hopefully I can help you out. What’s the name?”

  “Ian.”

  * * *

  When his private line rang, Ian Scott stilled his fingers above the keyboard of his laptop. He stared at the phone, his stomach clenching with dread, and answered on the second ring.

  “It’s Roy.”

  He would have relaxed, except he’d talked to Roy less than twenty minutes ago. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got a call from Celeste, and you’ve got a serious problem.”

  “Me?” he asked not missing Roy’s emphasis, then it hit him. Roy had told him that he’d suspected John’s interest in Celeste had gone beyond the investigation. He’d had a hard time believing him considering John’s past, but in a small way, he’d been pleased. John deserved a good woman, a woman who could finally help put his demons to rest. And Celeste deserved a good man. She’d gone too long without a relationship. She was young, bright, beautiful, and had wasted too much of her life catering to everyone else. But if John hurt her...

  “What did he do?”

  “Who?”

  “John.”

  “Oh, this isn’t about him. It’s about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yep, see, Celeste’s trances had her rattled enough she finally decided to look through her mom’s old journals hoping to find some answers.”

  “Janice kept journals?”

  “Appears so.”

  “Did she tell you what was in them?”

  “Your name.”

  He shut his laptop closed, then pulled a bottle of Scotch from his desk cabinet, along with a glass. “Explain.”

  Roy did, and when he finished, Ian asked, “Did Janice mention anything about the investigation she’d been working on with me...with the FBI?”

  “No, not a word. More like how it had emotionally impacted her.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Not really. I’d rather have that than Celeste asking me who Ian is and why her mom never mentioned she’d been in love with him before she’d met Hugh.”

  He swore under his breath, then downed the Scotch he’d poured. Wincing from the burn—Scotch should be sipped and savored, not pounded like a shot—he set the glass aside. “What did you say?”

  “I told her Bev and I were about to sit down for dinner, that it had been a long day, and we’d meet in the morning to talk. Look, with everything we’ve been dealing with here, she caught me off guard.” He sighed. “I didn’t know what else to say. Hell, I don’t even know what to say to her tomorrow.”

  “Where’s Hugh?” Ian knew Celeste’s father would flat out tell her what she wanted to know. He’d always wanted to but Janice had been adamant about keeping the truth from Celeste, a condition Ian had hated but endured out of respect.

  “Fishing in the Florida Keys. I spoke with him before he left for the trip.”

  “Good. Meet me at the Eau Claire airstrip tomorrow morning. I’ll be there at seven.”

  “Hold on a sec, what are you doing?”

  “What I should have done years ago,” he said, ignoring the protective edge in Roy’s voice before he changed his mind.

  “You promised Janice.”

  “She’s dead.” He grimaced at the thought. He’d loved her once, and hadn’t loved another woman since. And this might be his last chance of finally having something other than the legacy of his agency.

  “I don’t like it,” Roy said. “You could end up tearing their family apart. I think you should talk to Hugh first.”

  “I respect Hugh. I always have. He’s a better man than I am, and gave Janice more than I could,” he finished, the words so damned bitter on his tongue, he poured another Scotch, and took a hard swallow. “Besides, you know as well as I do that Hugh thought Janice was wrong, that Celeste deserved to know the truth.”

  “Still,” Roy said. “Well, whatever. You’ll do what you want anyway. You always have.”

  He smiled wryly at that, while years of regret ate at his soul. Because he had—and still did—what he wanted, he’d led a very lonely life. “I also think I might be able to give Celeste some insight on her gift.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Fine,” Roy snapped. “I’ll pick you up at seven. But I’ll be there when you meet with her. Understand?”

  “I do, and Roy, for whatever it’s worth, thank you for taking care of her.”

  “It wasn’t a job, it was a privilege.”

  The line disconnected. Roy had hung up on him for the first time in thirty years.

  A knock at the door had him straightening. “Yes?”

  Rachel Davis poked her head inside his office. “Do you have a sec?”

  “Of course.” He poured himself another drink. “Scotch?”

  She wrinkled her lightly freckled nose and sat in the chair across from him. Even after sitting behind a desk for more than ten hours, she still looked crisp and professional. Except for the pencil, pitted with teeth marks and tucked behind her ear. “No thanks. The only cocktails I like are sweet, one of the colors of the rainbow and usually garnished with a tiny umbrella.”

  “Do you gnaw on those, too?” he asked with a smile, even though his heart tripped at a rapid pace. He’d finally meet Celeste. Tomorrow.

  “First John, now you? I’m starting to get a complex,” she said, and removed the pencil from behind her ear.

  He raised his glass. “We all have our vices. Now what can I do for you?” he asked and glanced at the clock. He had a lot of things to take care of before he left for Wisconsin, but he’d make time for Rachel. She was one of his favorite finds. Brilliant but quirky, temperamental but reliable, she was concise and direct and helped keep his agency running smoothly.

  “I’m leaving for the night,” she said as she leaned forward and placed a folder on his desk. Like every evening, she consolidated a quick recap of what each of his agents were working on, and where they were with their investigations.

  “Any progress on Garrett Winston?” Ian hadn’t been surprised that John went straight to Rachel, bypassing him. After all, he hadn’t bothered to return one of John’s calls, not that he hadn’t wanted to talk with him. He’d just been worried his feelings for Celeste would become too obvious, and John was a very perceptive individual. His quick mind would suspect, and he’d begin asking too many questions, questions he was finally willing to answer...but only to Celeste. While he’d made it a goal to know everyone else’s business, his was non-negotiable. He was the boss, the rock of CORE’s foundation, and planned to remain in that position.

  “Not much, I spent an hour creating a program to speed the tracking process, and so far it’s working. I checked it about fifteen minutes ago and the codes I’d written have already tracked Winston’s truck routes back five years, along with any unsolved murders bearing Winston’s MO. Unfortunately, the program has matched over two dozen unsolved murders.”

  “Unfortunately?”

  “Uh-huh, because Winston started driving fourteen years ago.” She twined the pencil between her fingers. “While I’m sure not all of these murders will be linked back to him, I have a gut feeling this guy killed a lot of women during his career.”

  Based on Roy’s reports, the dozens of unknown female DNA Eau Claire’s CSU had found in Winston’s cab, he did, too. “Did you hear back from St. Cloud?”

  “Yes, what their CSU faxed me is in the file.” She nodded to the folder on his desk. “And I’ve already emailed the report to John. To recap, St. Cloud’s CSU examined the refrigerated trailer Winston hauled for Booker Foods and discovered small traces of blood. They’re sending the samples to Eau Claire for comparison on the four women found at the original dump site.”

  “Exce
llent. Anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  “Head home and keep me posted on your tracking progress. I won’t be in the office for a few days, so call me on my cell phone.”

  She pursed her lips as she rose from the chair. “I know it’s none of my business, but you weren’t scheduled to go out of town. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. Go get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Have a safe trip,” she said, then closed the door behind her.

  The room grew silent again. Contemplating another Scotch, he stared at the empty glass.

  Not tonight, he decided. For thirty years he’d been waiting for the moment to come face to face with Celeste. Janice might not have approved, but she was gone. And while so many secrets had died with her, it was time to reveal a few. He only hoped Celeste would accept them...accept him. For who he’d been thirty years ago, and the man he was today.

  With a shake of his head, he stowed the Scotch and glass away as the past surfaced with a sucker punch. He was screwed, especially if John discovered he’d been to Wissota Falls. He could lose a good agent, but having this chance with Celeste would be well worth it. He hoped.

  And for the first time in years...he prayed.

  Chapter 16

  JOHN WALKED PAST the ugly gnomes lining the flowerbeds, and rang the door bell. As he waited, feeling as if someone was watching him, he glanced over his shoulder. A gnome being carried off by a pair of metallic aliens caught his attention. He hadn’t noticed this particular one before, and couldn’t help but smile.

  Life with Celeste would be interesting, if he was given that chance. After the investigation ended, he’d try. He wasn’t stupid. Maybe skeptical about relationships considering what had happened with Renee, but not stupid.

  Celeste had breathed life into parts of him he hadn’t realized had been dead. He envied how deeply she cared for her family and Roy. He wanted her to care about him just the same if not more. Hell, he wanted her all to himself. Especially after today.

  Since dropping her off at the diner, his day had gone to shit and now he needed to talk...to her and her alone. For a reason he couldn’t explain, she soothed him, brought peace to his soul. Tonight, he needed her comfort.

  The door opened. In an instant, the victims, Winston, the entire fucked up case, disappeared from his mind.

  She stood in the doorway wearing low-cut jeans, and a long-sleeved t-shirt that hugged her breasts and brought the blue out in her eyes. Her curly, blond hair framed her pretty face. The memory of twining his fingers through her hair as he’d made love to her that afternoon had his fingers tingling. Her vanilla and cinnamon scent had his mouth watering for a taste of her smooth skin. He stared at her lush lips, and a hunger that had nothing to do with his empty stomach made him move fast.

  Needing to touch her, to erase away everything bad, he dropped his briefcase, kicked the door closed and pinned her against the wall. Unable to stop himself, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her. Kissed her the way he’d been aching to do since he’d left her bedroom this afternoon.

  She released a throaty moan and parted her lips. The arousing vibration hummed through his body and straight to his cock. Hard, ready, and aching to bury himself between her thighs, he tangled his tongue with hers, and made love to her mouth.

  Gripping the back of his head, she held onto him, surged her body against his. Her response fueled his need. He raised one of her legs around his back, then gripped her rear and ground his dick between her thighs. Dragging his lips along her neck, he pressed a lingering kiss where her pulse beat hard at the hollow of her throat, then snared her gaze.

  Her eyes were bright, glittering with both desire and shock. The desire he welcomed, but the shock? He looked to the wall. God, he was a presumptuous ass. While she’d responded the way he’d hoped, the way he’d needed, he might have moved a little too fast. He was sure there had to be some sort of rule out there about when it was appropriate to kiss someone hello, and he was also sure he’d just broken it. Besides, her brother could be in the next room. Distracted by her warm curves and inviting scent, he hadn’t bothered to check.

  She placed two fingers on his cheek and forced him to meet her eyes. “What?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Kiss me hello?”

  “Yeah, with Will in the house—”

  “I sent him to his apartment a little while ago. I knew you’d be here soon.” She rubbed her fingers along his jaw, the light, feathery touch arousing. “Why did you really stop?”

  “I didn’t just kiss you hello, I was ready to...”

  “Fuck me against the wall.”

  Her bluntness had him impossibly harder. “You betcha,” he mimicked the accent the locals used with a grin.

  Smiling, she brushed her lips against his. “Did I look like I was complaining?”

  “No, but—”

  “Celeste? I saw headlights,” Will called from the kitchen.

  She disentangled their bodies. “John’s here, we’re in the foyer.”

  He quickly grabbed his briefcase and hid his arousal as Will approached. Her brother eyed him for a second, then nodded. “Glad you’re here. I didn’t like leaving Celeste alone.”

  “Quit worrying.” She took her brother by the elbow and led him back to the kitchen. When she reached the sliding door that led to a pathway to Will’s studio apartment, she stopped. “Get back to work. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Will hesitated and stared him down for a moment. “Call if you need me,” her brother said, then walked toward the garage.

  She closed the door, locked the deadbolt, then met his gaze in the reflection of the glass. “Were you planning on going back to the Chippewa Inn tonight?”

  “I thought I’d leave that up to you.” His heart raced. He wanted to spend the night with her, needed to. In a matter of days, he swore she’d become the best thing about him. And even if whatever they had ended after the investigation, he wanted to soak up every chance he could with her. Making love, holding her throughout the night...

  She swiveled, a big, saucy grin on her face. “Good, let’s get you fed. After this afternoon, and your hello kiss, I’ve got plans for you tonight.” She waggled her brows, walked toward him, then planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Have a seat. How was your day?”

  He did, his mind busy, his body still hard and wanting. With Renee, he’d have sex to ease the tension. Afterward, pillow talk involved whatever case they’d been working. Celeste had become his pseudo partner. But the kind of pillow talk he’d have with her would not involve the investigation. While he liked the idea of spilling details and bouncing ideas off her, once in the bedroom, whatever happened would only have to do with them.

  “Other than making love to you and kissing you in the foyer, terrible.”

  She blushed. “It’s nice to be the highlight of someone’s day.” She placed a Styrofoam container on the counter, then dished the chicken marsala onto one of her gnome plates before popping it into the microwave. While his dinner cooked, she went back to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine. “Want some?”

  “A beer would be better.”

  She gave him one, and when the microwave dinged, pulled the plate out, then set it in front of him. His mouth immediately watered and his stomach grumbled. “If this tastes half as good as it smells...where’s yours?”

  “I already ate.” She took a sip of her wine. “Dig in and enjoy.”

  He did, and as he ate, he told her about Lauren Sundahl first. “Roy and I went to see her mom, but she wasn’t home. One of Roy’s deputies, Ed Young...”

  “I know Ed, he’s a good guy. His wife’s an ER nurse at Eau Claire Hospital.”

  “Ed mentioned that. He also said that he’d remembered seeing Lauren—when she was a few years younger—in the ER when he’d stopped by to pick up his wife. Apparently Lauren was a frequent visitor. Either she was exceptionally clumsy or.
..”

  “Her mom beat her,” she finished, rubbing her finger around the rim of the wine glass. “What about...how she was killed. Were you able to tell if two men...” She shivered and looked away.

  He pushed his plate aside, then her wine, and reached for her hand. “Carl has made her his first priority. We’ll know something in the morning.”

  “And Curtis Hoyt?”

  Releasing a deep sigh, he looked to the ceiling. “Carl and Dean are pulling an all-nighter for us. After they’re finished with Lauren Sundahl, they’ll take care of Hoyt. CSU did conclude that there were two sets of fingerprints found on the syringe Winston used against Hoyt, and that it was likely some type of ammonia-based cleaning supply. They also found traces of this same substance in Hoyt’s front pants pocket. They’ll know exactly what was intended to kill Winston once they get the tests back, hopefully tomorrow.”

  “You honestly think Curtis tried to kill Winston?” she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I knew him, and his wife. Everybody loved the guy. He was a former cop. I just can’t imagine...”

  “It gets worse. Roy and I went to see Mrs. Hoyt after we’d left Lauren Sundahl’s home. CSU met us there, and we searched the house.” Rachel had already run through bank accounts in not only Hoyt’s name, but his wife and children, too. She’d found nothing that would prove someone had bribed him to kill Winston, but they had. “Underneath a floorboard in his bedroom, we discovered an old tackle box, containing ten thousand dollars in small, unmarked bills. Along with the money, we found pictures of Hoyt gambling at a casino, as well as cheating on his wife.”

  Her eyes grew even wider. “What are you saying? That he was being blackmailed?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would a blackmailer pay Curtis? Wouldn’t the pictures be enough of an incentive?”

  “You’d think,” he said with a shrug. “There was also a typed note in the box stating that once ‘the job’ was done, Hoyt would receive another ten grand. Between the money and the note, Roy and I think Winston definitely had a partner.” He leaned back in the chair. “A partner who wants him dead.”