“No, at you for taking a step like this without asking me first. You’re just going to make it worse, Emma.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I just feel it in my gut.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m doing what I think is best,” Emma said unrepentantly. “And now that I’ve talked to you, I’m more convinced than ever that I’m right. Whatever you’re thinking has to be worse than the truth.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I do. I knew Dad. So did you.”
“No,” Rosa said sadly. “I only thought I did.” She rolled over, turning her back once again on Emma.
That hurt as much as anything that had happened in recent days. She and her mother had always been able to talk, had always understood each other. Now her father had managed to drive a wedge between them.
Ever since the suicide, Matt had driven by the lake every evening, passing the spot where he’d found Don’s car. There was a makeshift memorial there, a growing pile of flowers and markers left by the grieving citizens of Winter Cove. A similar memorial had appeared in front of the diner the day the news had spread, but out of respect for the family’s feelings, someone had cleared it away before the restaurant opened for business again. Now this place, rather than the cemetery, was where people left their tributes to a man who’d done so much for the community.
In all his past trips, Matt had never actually spotted anyone at the site, but tonight there were two shadowy figures there. Rather than leaving something behind in remembrance, though, it looked as if they were digging through the display. Thoroughly disgusted by the apparent vandalism, he slammed on his brakes and turned on his flashing lights.
“Dammit, I told you, we shouldn’t be doing this,” a crotchety voice grumbled. “We’re about to be hauled off to jail.”
“Oh, shut your trap,” the other man answered. “It’s not as if we’re committing a crime.”
Matt groaned as he recognized not only the voices, but the sparring. Gabe Jenkins and Harley Watkins, he concluded as he took a more leisurely stroll in their direction.
“Nice night,” he observed when he could look the two men in the eyes.
Gabe regarded him suspiciously. “You stopping by for a chat?”
“That depends,” Matt said. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing,” Harley responded flatly, casting a quelling look in Gabe’s direction.
“That’s right, not a thing,” Gabe said dutifully.
“Looked to me as if you were poking around for something in Don’s memorial,” Matt countered. “Did one of you lose something?”
“No,” Gabe said, just as Harley said, “Yes.”
Matt bit back a chuckle. “Which is it?”
“I lost something. He didn’t,” Harley said.
“What?” Matt inquired. “I’ll help you look.”
“A contact lens,” Harley said readily. “I was bending over, putting a handful of flowers down, and the dang thing fell right out of my eye.”
Gabe stared at him as if he’d grown two heads.
“I don’t recall ever seeing you wear glasses,” Matt said.
“Because I have contacts,” Harley said patiently. “Had ’em for years now, practically from the minute they were introduced on the market.”
Matt nodded. “Is that so? Soft or hard lens?”
“Hardheaded, more likely,” Gabe muttered.
Harley scowled at him. “Are you determined to blow this? I’m doing the best I can here.”
Matt leveled a look straight into his twenty-twenty eyes. “Blow what, Harley?”
Gabe heaved a sigh. “We might’s well tell him. It’s not like we’re committing a crime or something. Maybe he’ll appreciate the help.”
Matt nearly groaned. He’d been afraid it might be something like that. “What sort of help?”
Harley shot a sour look at his friend, then said, “We got to thinking this morning that somebody might have left a clue out here.”
“A clue?” Matt repeated slowly.
“Are you deaf, boy? Or just stupid? You do know what a clue is, don’t you?”
“Indeed, I do,” Matt said. “But why here? And why did the two of you decide to come looking for it, instead of just telling me?”
“Didn’t want to waste your time on a wild-goose chase,” Gabe said. “We figured we’d scope things out, then fill you in.”
“What exactly did you think you might find?”
“Maybe a note from somebody who was feeling too guilty to send flowers to the funeral,” Harley explained. “Or maybe some little memento.”
Matt couldn’t really argue with the theory. He just didn’t want these two to start getting ideas about conducting their own investigation into Don’s death. Who knew what sort of mischief they might get into. If they needed more excitement in their lives, they should take up bingo.
“Next time you guys get a bright idea like this, bring it to me,” he told them sternly. “Otherwise I’m liable to haul you in for interfering in police business, obstructing justice or any other charge I can dream up and make stick.”
“So that’s the thanks we get for wanting to do the right thing?” Gabe grumbled.
“No, the thanks you get is me not hauling you in tonight,” Matt said. “I won’t go so easy on you next time, if you keep this up. What makes you think you have any business digging around in Don’s death? The ME’s ruling came out this afternoon. The case is officially closed. It was an accident.”
“As if you believe that any more than we do,” Harley scoffed.
Matt groaned. If these two were convinced otherwise, then half the town probably was, as well. “Could you manage to keep your opinions to yourselves?”
“Well, of course, we will. We don’t like seeing the family upset,” Gabe said.
“Then leave it alone.”
“Silence never solves anything,” Gabe retorted. “We figured if we could come up with some sort of explanation for why Don did what he did, it might be easier on the family in the long run.”
There was a lot of that kind of thinking going around these days, Matt thought. “I don’t disagree,” he told them. “But let me do the investigating, okay?”
The two men eyed the pile of flowers and stuffed toys with regret, but they did turn away to leave.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Matt finally concluded with a sigh.
“Seems like a waste to have three of us standing here and not poke around a little,” Harley said.
“Okay, fine,” Matt said, resigned. “Now that I’m here, I suppose I could use some help, but you only touch things I tell you that you can touch. Got it?”
Their expressions immediately brightened. “Got it,” Harley said enthusiastically.
“What do you want us to do?” Gabe asked.
“I’m going to pick things up one by one,” Matt said. “I’ll look ’em over, then hand ’em to you. See if you see anything I missed, then set it down over there.” He gestured to a bare patch of ground where the memorial could be rebuilt with few people the wiser. Just on the remote chance there actually was a clue, it might be best if no one knew there had ever been a search conducted out here.
Matt began plucking up the wilting bouquets of flowers one by one, feeling like a bit of an idiot for going along with this crazy scheme of Gabe’s and Harley’s. Then, again, he would have felt like even more of an idiot if there was some clue out here and he’d ignored it, especially when only a few brief hours ago he’d promised Emma to do whatever he could to find answers.
Most of the tributes hadn’t been signed. There were bunches of daisies and carnations, a scattering of single roses. A few stuffed toys had cards that had been written in the awkward style of a very young child. There was even a spatula tied with ribbons and a white apron with “We’ll miss you,” written in marker across the front. All of these were touching, but essentially the sort of thing Matt would have expected to find.
But there was one bo
uquet, buried almost at the bottom of the pile, that intrigued him. It was more lavish than the others, the kind that normally would have been sent to the funeral home. That it was now covered by so many others suggested it had been here almost from the day the news of Don’s death had broken.
There was a pale green ribbon wound around the expensive basket filled with browning lilies and limp white roses. Attached to it was a small florist’s card with one word written in bold script. Though it had almost been washed away by one of the recent afternoon showers, he could still make it out: “Why?”
Matt sighed. Why, indeed?
10
Emma was on her way to deliver a plate of eggs and bacon to Gabe Jenkins and a bowl of raisin bran to Harley Watson. A hush fell over the two men as she approached. Since they were never silent for more than a few seconds at a time, she regarded them with suspicion. When they avoided her gaze, she knew immediately something was up.
“Okay, guys, what’s going on?” she demanded, setting their food on the table.
“Nothing,” Gabe said, looking increasingly guilty.
“Absolutely nothing,” Harley agreed.
Emma wasn’t buying it. A quick glance around the restaurant reassured her that things were temporarily under control. She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I don’t believe you,” she said flatly, looking into one pair of hooded eyes and then the other.
“Well, if that isn’t a fine thing to be saying to a loyal customer who’s been coming into this place since you were knee-high to a grasshopper,” Gabe said with indignation.
“It’s because you’ve been coming in here so long that I can read you like a book,” Emma retorted. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing,” Matt said sternly, arriving just in time to overhear her and inject himself into the middle of things.
His comment promptly tripled her suspicions. Emma whirled on him. “Did I ask you?”
He grinned, completely unintimidated. “Nope, but I happen to know the answer, and I love to share.”
“Nothing is just what we told her, too,” Harley chimed in as if he were eager to reassure Matt on that point. “She doesn’t believe us.”
“No, I don’t,” Emma said emphatically, then decided on a tactical retreat. She smiled sweetly at the entire lot of coconspirators. “But with Matt sticking his nose into things, I suppose I’ll never get you to cough up the truth. I might as well go back and scramble some more eggs.”
“Good idea,” Gabe said, holding out his plate. “These are cold.”
She frowned at him. “Whose fault is that? Eat them, anyway.”
Gabe shook his head sorrowfully. “It ain’t like the old days in here, when the customer was always right.”
Emma gave him a phony smile as she stood up to leave. “Most of our customers still are,” she said as she headed back behind the counter.
“Girl, I have pictures of you when you had gap-teeth and pigtails,” Gabe called after her. “You want me showing them around?”
Emma laughed. “Most everyone in here has already seen me at my worst, and they’re still coming around. I’m not scared of your threats.”
A few minutes later, she glanced across the diner and saw that Matt was giving the two men a serious lecture about something. Something was definitely up with those two, and Matt was not only in on it, he didn’t want her to know about it. Well, she had ways of getting the truth out of him. He might think she was unaware of the crush he’d had on her years ago, but she wasn’t. She’d simply been too young to know what to do about it.
The good news was that unless she was very much mistaken, the sparks were still there. Kim’s efforts to turn her into a femme fatale hadn’t been a total waste—she knew how to exploit that sort of weakness and, in this case at least, she wasn’t above doing it.
After Gabe and Harley left, along with most of the other regulars, Matt wandered over to the counter. With her back to him, Emma discreetly unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, checked the effect, then dared to undo one more button. Then she grabbed the coffeepot and took Matt a refill. When she leaned down to pour, he was certain to get an eyeful of her adequate, if not ample cleavage.
When she stood up, though, he was chuckling, not speechless.
“It’s not going to work, you know,” he said.
She plastered an innocent expression on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not going to crack and spill my guts to you, just because you’re putting on a little show for my benefit.”
Emma flushed. She obviously needed a little more practice if she was going to get this femme fatale stuff right. “I am not doing any such thing,” she retorted with what she considered to be an appropriate level of indignation.
He reached across the counter and skimmed a finger along the opening in her blouse. “Then this isn’t just for me?”
Emma swallowed hard and tried to ignore the deliciously wicked sensation set off by his touch. She hadn’t been counting on that. Then, again, Matt had taken her by surprise more than once since she’d returned.
“Absolutely not!” she insisted, lying through her teeth.
He made a great show of looking all around the now empty diner. “Then who is it for?”
“I was just a little overheated,” she claimed. “Since everyone else had gone, I thought I’d unbutton my blouse and cool off a little. I didn’t think you’d object. You’ve seen me in a lot less.”
“On the beach or at the pool,” he reminded her. “And as I recall your mother was pretty strict about the amount of skin you could show off even there.”
“But I’m all grown-up now. Mama doesn’t have a say about how I dress.”
“Then you think she’d approve of this?”
“It’s just a couple of buttons,” she said blithely. “Why not?”
“Liar! She’d have a stroke if she thought you were blatantly trying to seduce information out of me.”
“Oh, please, I am not trying to seduce you,” she claimed. “Your ego is out of control, Matthew.”
She began to jerk away, but he tucked a finger under the edge of her blouse, his knuckle barely touching her bare skin, and held her perfectly still. A part of her wanted to command him to slip that finger just a little lower, but she didn’t dare. She was already risking far more than her reputation. She was taking a huge chance with her ability to cling to her composure.
His gaze locked with hers. “In that case,” he said very softly, his eyes flashing dangerously, “allow me to fix this.”
Before she knew it, both buttons were neatly back in place and she was once again looking as prim and proper as she usually did. He’d accomplished the task so deftly, she was sure he had to be an expert. The thought grated.
Worse, she was feeling anything but prim and proper, as he’d so clearly intended. She wanted to blame the fire licking through her on anger, but she was too honest to attempt the lie, even to herself. She’d played a wicked little game with Matt, and he’d won. She hadn’t been anticipating that, had pretty much thought she was immune to him. If the past few minutes had taught her anything, it was that the days of thinking of him as a big brother were over.
As for thinking of him as a potential lover, that was the last thing she needed. She wanted him for an ally. She wanted him to be her friend. She wanted to go back to the way it had been a few minutes ago, before every sense in her entire body had danced a little jig at his touch.
Desperate to recapture their easygoing relationship, she moved away and carefully set the coffeepot down before turning back to face him, her expression neutral.
“Why did you want Gabe and Harley to clam up?” she asked, deciding on the direct course of action, since subterfuge had pretty much blown up in her face.
“What makes you think I wanted them to keep silent about something?”
“Matt, I’ve known those two my whole life, and you just about as long,” she said impatiently. “I can reco
gnize a conspiracy when I see one.”
“What would Gabe, Harley and I have to conspire about?”
“That’s what I’m asking you,” she said, exasperated by his display of obviously phony innocence. “Does it have something to do with my father?”
“Don’t be crazy.”
“Does it?” she repeated, regarding him with an unflinching look.
“Okay, okay.” Matt sighed heavily. “I found those two poking around at the memorial people have put up where we found your dad. They were conducting their own investigation.”
“Dear God,” Emma said, trying to imagine Gabe and Harley playing sleuth. The thought boggled the mind. With their vivid imaginations and blundering ways, they were bound to end up in trouble at the least. At worst, they could mess up some really solid lead.
“I hope you convinced them to cut it out,” she said.
“No, I deputized them,” Matt said sarcastically, then shook his head at her. “Come on, Emma. Of course, I told them to butt out.”
“Will they listen?”
“I doubt it.”
Now it was her turn to sigh.
“They just want to help,” Matt pointed out. “They’re feeling pretty helpless right now and this is the one way they could come up with to show their support to you and the family.”
“I know how they feel. I’ve been feeling pretty helpless myself,” she conceded. “So did the three of you turn up anything interesting last night?”
Matt described finding an expensive bouquet amid all of the smaller tributes. “I can’t help wondering why someone wouldn’t have sent that to the funeral.”
“Maybe it was from someone who didn’t know him all that well,” she said, but Matt was already shaking his head. “Why not?”
“Because of the card,” he explained. “There was something almost plaintive about it. All it said was, ‘Why?’ That suggests that there’s someone out there who wants answers just as much as you do.”
Emma’s heart began to thud dully. “A lover?” she asked, barely able to squeeze the word out past the lump in her throat.
Her mother hadn’t said as much, but Emma had guessed it was one of the things Rosa was afraid of. Emma had always thought her parents’ marriage was on rock-solid ground, but maybe it hadn’t been. No one, not even a daughter, could ever know what really went on in a marriage, unless the people were prone to public arguments.
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