Buried Secrets

by Irene Hannon

  She smiled at Robert’s caveat. No, he wouldn’t. She’d earned his trust. He’d let her run the show. “I wouldn’t expect that to be an issue. You’ve always been an excellent delegator.”

  “Thank you. Delegation is a critical skill in any business. Which brings me to the reason I’m sharing all this with you today.” He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and linked his fingers. “I’m sure this won’t come as a surprise, but I intend to recommend you to the board as my successor.”

  The magic words.

  Yet in truth there was no magic about this accomplishment. She’d planned for it. Worked hard for it. Done every single thing that was expected of her.

  And the payoff was sweet.

  So sweet.

  “Robert . . . what can I say? Thank you doesn’t seem adequate for all the confidence you’ve placed in me, and for offering this wonderful opportunity.”

  “You deserve it. From the day you made that brilliant presentation years ago about demographic shifts and the potential impact on our business, I’ve kept my eye on you—and never once have you disappointed me. Thanks in large part to your contributions, this firm has grown bigger and more successful than I ever imagined. There’s no one I’d rather see lead this company.”

  A discreet knock sounded on his door.

  “Yes?”

  His secretary opened it a few inches. “You said to let you know when your wife called. She’s on the phone now.”

  “Thank you. Tell her I’ll be right with her.” He rose, and Jessica stood as well. “I’d ask you to keep this confidential for a few weeks, but I wanted you to have some advance notice to mentally prepare for the transition.”

  “I appreciate that—and all you’ve done for me.” She held out her hand.

  He took it and gave her fingers a firm squeeze. “It was my pleasure. Talent should be recognized and rewarded. I hope you celebrate this weekend.”

  “I intend to.”

  She slipped through his door, closing it behind her. As she exited his office suite, she paused to admire the embossed brass nameplate in the hall.

  Someday soon it would bear her name.

  Jessica Lee, CEO of one of the fastest-growing PR firms in America.

  Victory was sweet.

  And tonight she would celebrate, as Robert had suggested—as soon as she dealt with Erika’s crisis.

  A surge of annoyance swept over her, but she quashed it at once. She was not going to let anyone mar this moment. And once they got past this thing with Alena, she was cutting all ties with the other woman once and for all.

  Erika was a complication she didn’t need.

  She needed a smoke—but the mall was smoke-free.

  Erika drummed her fingers on the table. Jess still had five minutes . . . but what if she didn’t show?

  And even if she did, what if she didn’t go for her proposition? What if she called her bluff, laughed, and walked away?

  Why did the plan that had sounded so perfect for the past two days suddenly feel shaky? Like it was a mistake?

  “Because you don’t have enough self-confidence, Erika. You never have.”

  From the recesses of her memory, Jess’s words from that nightmare weekend echoed in her mind.

  They’d been true back then, when she’d quaked at the thought of being interrogated—and they were true now. Chalk it up to living with a father who’d wanted a smart, ambitious son and ended up with a daughter who preferred partying to politics and ballet to balance sheets.

  Still, she’d done okay twenty-four years ago once Jess drilled her about what to say and how to act. After hours of practice, she’d learned the script, learned the gestures, learned the tone of voice.

  And that’s what she’d done for these past two days too. It was lucky, really, that Jess had delayed their meeting a day. She’d had a lot more time to prepare and practice.

  As for her sudden case of nerves . . . so what? She’d been nervous when they’d gone back to Columbia too, but she’d fooled those cops—and they’d been a tough sell.

  She spotted Jess in the distance. Her college chum was scanning the tables clustered around the Starbucks kiosk.

  Once again, for a brief second, her courage faltered.

  Then, as Jess’s gaze connected with hers, she straightened her shoulders. Lifted her chin. Took a deep breath.

  She could do this.

  She had to do this.

  It was her only hope of preserving some semblance of the life she was accustomed to.

  Failure wasn’t an option.

  As Jessica approached Starbucks, she studied Erika. The woman looked . . . different.

  It wasn’t her physical appearance, though. The dark roots remained in desperate need of a touch-up. The clothes were still too tight. The mascara was smudged, as usual.

  But there was a subtle change in her demeanor.

  Erika rose as she drew close. “Do you want anything to drink?”

  “No.”

  “Then why don’t we talk over there?” She indicated the same spot they’d occupied a few days ago.

  “Fine.” At least the woman seemed to be coherent today.

  Jessica led the way. The sooner she could get this over with, the sooner she could begin her private celebration. After Robert’s news, dinner at one of St. Louis’s top-tier restaurants would be the perfect end to a perfect day. She wasn’t going to let this slight detour to meet with Erika dampen her upbeat mood.

  As they sat on the bench, she angled toward the other woman. “What was so important that we had to talk in person? I gave you a secure number.”

  “I heard from our lawyer on Wednesday. He confirmed that the court is going to seize all our property for restitution—what they can find of it.”

  That’s what this was about? She wanted a shoulder to cry on about her financial woes?

  “Maybe the judge will take pity on you.”

  “It won’t matter. None of the big stuff is in my name. Jack put it all—including our house and cars—into some sort of corporation he created, and only he can access it. I’m going to need to provide for myself.”

  Good luck with that. The woman had no marketable skills.

  “That could be . . . challenging.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “What do you mean?” Jessica glanced at her watch. She needed to get out of here so she could go home and change into the new Valentino lace sheath she’d been saving for a special—

  “. . . have to rely on you.”

  Her head jerked up. “What did you say?”

  Erika wiped a palm down the fabric covering her thigh. She looked nervous . . . but determined. That little jut in her chin was new.

  “I said that since my options for generating enough cash to live even a modest lifestyle are limited, I’m going to have to rely on you.”

  Jessica frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Was the woman tipsy after all?

  She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “It’s simple. You have a whole lot more to lose than Joe or I do if the cops find out what happened that night. It might be worth an investment on your part to guarantee they don’t.”

  Jessica blinked.

  Surely Erika wasn’t suggesting . . .

  She narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like a threat.”

  “I prefer to think of it as a business proposition.”

  “It’s blackmail.”

  Erika’s gaze didn’t waver. “So report me to the police.”

  Checkmate.

  Jessica regarded her one-time classmate. The meek little lamb had teeth—and more brainpower than she’d given her credit for.

  This would require some finessing.

  “Let’s be logical, Erika.” She kept her tone pleasant and reasonable. “Things might be tough for you right now, but going to prison would be worse.”

  “Don’t try that scare tactic on me. I did some checking on the internet. The statute of limitations on involuntary
manslaughter ran out long ago—and that only affected Joe, since he was the driver. Even if he’d been charged, a good lawyer could have proven it was all an accident. You and I would have been fine. We could have dumped the joints before the police arrived, and they can’t prosecute you for being high.”

  Erika had done her homework.

  Underestimating her had been a mistake.

  “You’re looking at the best-case scenario. Even if we’d all walked away, we’d have carried a taint. Joe’s scholarship could have been revoked, I might not have been offered the job that launched my career, and you’d have had to deal with your father’s wrath.”

  “I’d have lived. And Joe lost his scholarship anyway.”

  “He didn’t lose it. He gave it up—by choice.”

  “Because he couldn’t live with the guilt.”

  “Guilt is a sign of weakness.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Erika glared at her, eyes leaking venom. “Guilt is a sign of compassion and caring. Not that you’d know anything about those things.”

  This conversation was veering way off grid.

  And she was fast losing control of it.

  Time to regroup—and placate.

  “Look, insults aren’t going to solve anything. Maybe I’ve always been a practical person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Why don’t we forget about the past for a minute and think about the future. Even if there’s no legal liability at this stage, why would you want to air all that dirty laundry and drag our names through the mud?”

  “My name’s already being dragged through the mud, thanks to Jack. I doubt the Paducah news media will care much about something that happened twenty-four years ago in Missouri, so Joe’s safe. In fact, he told me he doesn’t really care at this point if the truth comes out. That maybe it would be for the best to come clean. You’re the one who has the most to lose if the cops find out what happened that night. The involvement of a high-profile PR executive in a case like this will make national headlines, even if no charges are involved.”

  An icy chill settled in the pit of her stomach, and a tentacle of panic wrapped itself around her windpipe.

  But she fought it off, just as she had on that long-ago night. This was simply another problem to solve. A challenge to overcome. A knot in need of untangling.

  Her forte.

  “Headlines would be bad for you, Jess.” The other woman leaned closer and whispered the words.

  As if she didn’t know that.

  Too bad Erika had figured it out too.

  The question was, how to deal with it?

  She needed to buy herself some time. Think this through. She could strategize on the fly if necessary, but that wasn’t optimal—especially when so much was at stake.

  “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She kept her expression neutral, her voice steady.

  “I need you to think fast.”

  “What kind of dollar amount are you talking about?”

  When Erika named the figure, Jessica’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Erika stared her down. “No. I’m not. You have a great job and your husband was wealthy. A few years’ worth of bonuses alone ought to cover that amount. You wouldn’t even miss it.”

  Fury began to build deep inside her.

  “I worked hard for every penny I made, Erika. This is stealing.”

  The other woman shrugged. “I like the term insurance better.”

  Jessica’s stomach curdled. She had the money, but paying off Erika would make a huge dent in her Peterson-Bradshaw buyout fund. All the rest of her cash went to support her lifestyle.

  No way was she going to agree to this.

  But Erika didn’t need to know that.

  Yet.

  “I’ll have to sleep on it.” She picked up her bag. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Erika tucked her purse under her arm. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Have a nice evening.”

  She rose and walked away without a backward glance.

  Jessica watched her until she disappeared from view in the Friday night throng at the mall.

  So the kitten had developed claws.

  Slowly she stood and walked toward the exit, still trying to assimilate this bizarre turn of events.

  Erika, a blackmailer.

  It was surreal.

  How in the world had she morphed from docile to defiant overnight?

  Then again, desperate people did desperate things.

  But some of them put a lot more thought into it.

  She pushed through the door, the early evening heat blasting her in the face. It was too hot for the first day of summer.

  And she didn’t need any extra heat from Erika.

  As she started toward her car, she caught sight of the other woman heading toward the exit in her Audi. Thinking she had the upper hand.

  But she didn’t.

  A kitten might have claws—but it was no match for a lion.

  Jessica pressed the auto unlock on her keychain, slipped behind the wheel of the BMW, and cranked up the air.

  There were a few things Erika didn’t know about her new adversary.

  Things no one knew.

  If her college chum wanted to go against type and play rough, she’d picked the wrong person for her trial run.

  The air conditioner began to kick in, and Jessica aimed all the vents toward her. But the chilly air didn’t cool her temper. What should have been the happiest evening of her life, the culmination of all her years of hard work, had been ruined. There would be no celebratory dinner tonight.

  Instead, she had plans to make.

  And already an idea was coalescing in her mind.

  She put the car in gear and backed out of her parking space, brain firing on all cylinders as it always did when things got dicey.

  Of course she wasn’t going to give in to Erika’s demands. Her request to sleep on the ultimatum had been nothing more than a stall tactic while she assessed the situation.

  As for the idea she was playing with . . . it had serious potential.

  Flipping on her turn signal, she edged into the exit lane from the mall, then accelerated toward the highway while she mulled it over.

  It could work. Careful execution would be necessary, but she could pull it off. Logistics were her specialty.

  So she’d spend her evening thinking through all the contingencies. Refining her plan. Nailing down the details.

  And when she launched her attack, Erika would wish she’d never tangled with Jessica Lee.

  16

  Sweat dripping off his temples, Mac jogged up the steps to his front door, retrieved the key from the back pocket of his shorts, and inserted it in the lock. Getting in his daily run early to miss the heat had sounded smart in theory—but who knew the mercury would climb to eighty-five by nine o’clock?

  He pushed into his apartment, closed the door behind him, and stood with arms outstretched, letting the cool air wash over him.

  Better—but a cold shower would get the job done faster.

  His cell began to vibrate as he moved down the hall, and he unzipped his running belt to pull it out. Caller ID was blocked.

  Hmm.

  Delay the shower and take the call, or take the shower and return the call later? It wasn’t Lisa—she wouldn’t block her number—and who else was worth getting overheated about?

  Except one of his clandestine sources on the homicide investigation.

  Better take it. The way that case was going, he needed every lead he could get.

  “McGregor.”

  “Back at you.”

  He squinted and cocked his head. “Lance?”

  “Give the man a gold star.”

  Mac positioned himself under the cold-air vent in the bathroom. “Where are you?”

  “Stateside. That’s why I called. I wanted to let you know that in light of my short remaining tenure, the powers that be decided it wasn’t worth sending me back overseas. I get
to coast for the next month.”

  One less brother in the line of fire.

  That was the best news he’d had all day.

  “Lucky you. You’ll have a chance to rest up before you have to report to the academy. You heard anything from Finn?”

  “One quick call two days ago. He got pulled back to the Middle East early. Very hush-hush.”

  Mac’s gut clenched. So much for his temporary reprieve from worry. “You ever nail down what was bugging him while you guys were here?”

  “No. You know how he can clam up. He’s never been the most communicative guy. I think he’s just bummed because we both bailed from the service.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “Hey, you don’t have to play big brother anymore, you know? We’re all grown up. If Finn has some issue, he’ll deal with it. Let’s talk about you. Got a date for tonight?”

  He shifted position until the cool air hit the back of his soggy T-shirt. “I told you—I’m too new here to know anyone.”

  “There are plenty of places in St. Louis to meet women.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  “Finn and I scoped out a few.”

  Naturally.

  “I’ve spent what little free time I’ve had in my short tenure here trying to settle in.”

  “You aren’t making much progress on that front, either. You hire a decorator yet?”

  “Not on my priority list.”

  “Say . . . I bet that police chief could offer some advice about how to warm the place up.”

  The very thing he’d suggested. But Lisa hadn’t bitten. Which was probably prudent if they wanted to keep things professional.

  He leaned into the shower and flipped it on.

  Lance’s chuckle came over the line. “A cold shower, huh? Yeah, I can see how thinking about Chief Grant might drive a man to that.”

  “For your information, I just got back from a run.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “So was there another purpose for your call besides harassing the senior McGregor sibling?”

  “Isn’t that a good enough reason?”

  Mac smiled. With his quick wit and humorous banter, Lance had always been able to lighten up his day. “I’m getting in the shower.”

  “Fine. I can take a hint. But do yourself a favor. If you’re going to sit home alone tonight, at least call the lady.”