Treasure on Lilac Lane: A Jewell Cove Novel

by Donna Alward

  “I hired someone,” Tom was saying. “To look into what might have happened.”

  “Hired someone,” Rick found himself parroting. “Like a private investigator?”

  Abby nodded. “Yes, a private investigator.”

  Everything inside Rick went cold.

  Abby and Tom shared a meaningful look. Rick’s temper bubbled. “Will you quit looking at each other that way? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Jess’s voice interrupted. “Rick, calm down. I know it’s a lot to process…”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” he bit out. They’d hired an investigator? Like his mother had been some sort of criminal? Did they really think she was capable of stealing?

  He ignored the hurt look on Abby’s face. “Well?” he asked Tom.

  Tom took out an oversized envelope. In it was a picture, and when Rick took it in his shaking fingers, his heart constricted.

  It was the picture from the photo album. The one with Roberta and Graham and Rick and Marian behind them. But instead of reading “Meeting our son” on the back it read “The last clients of Foster House.”

  “We found that in a box of things Marian left to Abby,” Tom said quietly. “Your birth date is June fourth, right?”

  Rick’s temper roared to life. “Wait a minute,” he said, standing up. “You knew I was adopted?”

  Even Jess looked surprised, but he wasn’t sure why. He turned on her. “How much did you tell them, huh? I thought this was just about the necklace?”

  His accusation hit her hard and she paled. “The adoption was the only thing I could think of that connected Roberta and Marian.” She stammered. “But they already knew anyway, because Marian left the picture.”

  He stared at her incredulously. “And you never thought to tell me any of this?”

  “You said you didn’t want to know about your birth family,” she replied, but her voice shook.

  “Oh, that’s a convenient answer, and not worthy of you, Jess. How long have you been telling yourself that lie?” God, how it hurt. After all the secrets they’d shared, that she’d keep this from him.

  He turned on Abby and Tom. “And you two. Yeah, I knew I was adopted. But guess what? I never hired an investigator. I never put my name on any damn list or tried to find anything out because Roberta Sullivan is my mother.” He was starting to lose control and he gulped in a breath in a futile effort to calm down. “Jesus. It’s bad enough that you knew and didn’t say anything. But for you…” He looked at Jess. Her eyes were wide and her lips were trembling. Hurt mingled with the anger he was feeling at the moment. “For all of you to go behind my back? It wasn’t your place. It wasn’t your call.”

  He hated the helpless feeling rushing through him right now. Over the last several months, he’d screwed up a lot. He knew that. But he’d made his own decisions. He’d started to call the shots in his life after so many things had been taken out of his control. Kyle. Losing his hand. His mother. Only to have the people he counted on most strip that away from him again.

  He’d honestly thought his world couldn’t crumble any more when one final thought struck him right between the eyes.

  “When did you get that envelope?”

  Abby’s gaze flickered away and Tom looked confused. “Excuse me?”

  “When did you get it?” He’d raised his voice but seemed unable to lower it.

  “In July,” Abby whispered.

  July.

  “Rick…” Abby started to speak but Tom reached over and took her hand.

  “We thought about talking to you about it, but then with Roberta being so sick, it didn’t seem like the right time.”

  “The right time?” Rick exploded. “The right time for whom?”

  “We wanted to protect you,” Abby pleaded, her eyes reaching out to him. “You were struggling so much…”

  He felt like his skin was shrinking and he might burst through it. “Oh, so you kept it from me for my own good? Poor unstable Rick. He can’t handle the truth. Well, news flash, all of you. I knew the truth. And I didn’t give a shit.”

  “Hang on,” Tom said, standing up, his own anger flaring. “Last summer your mother was dying and you were getting arrested for public drunkenness every time you turned around. What kind of friend would have dropped that photo into the mix and left you to sort it out?”

  “Right, because everyone else always knows what’s best for me,” he answered angrily. “I never thought you were the self-righteous type, Tom. Or you either, Abby.”

  Jess pulled on his arm and he turned to her. Her face was white and he felt a spear of guilt shoot through him and then got angry at that, too, because she made him feel weak. “And you. I tried to tell you last fall that I needed to do things on my own time. But oh no, Jess knows best, right?”

  “Rick, that’s unfair,” Jess interjected. “You’ve been through so much. I didn’t think it was right to ask you to handle anything more…”

  Rick cut her off. He was so hurt, so angry, so confused, that he couldn’t sort through any of his emotions. It was all too much. “I get it,” he snapped. “Poor Rick is too broken, too fragile, to handle anything difficult. You want to know what’s unfair? Try all of you trying to play God with my life like I’m nothing more than a puppet.” He wrenched his arm away from Jess’s hand. Everything in the kitchen held for a single, charged moment.

  And then he knew he had to get out of there.

  Rick grabbed his jacket from the coat tree on the way out the door. He was halfway to his destination before he realized he’d left Jess behind without a ride home.

  CHAPTER 21

  Jess waited until nine o’clock, but when she called again and Rick didn’t answer, she frowned. He’d been so angry when he’d stormed out of Tom and Abby’s. And she couldn’t say she blamed him, but it didn’t stop the fact that his words had hurt and she was worried about him.

  He should have answered his cell or at least seen her calls. Which meant he was avoiding her. Avoiding everyone. It had been hours, and she was hoping he’d cooled off. Most of all she knew he shouldn’t be alone right now. The last thing she wanted was for him to backslide into old habits.

  She grabbed her bag and scooted out, jumping in her car. Another vehicle was parked down the street that she didn’t recognize, and out of long habit she locked the door before even putting the key in the ignition. She wasn’t paranoid. She was just cautious. Always.

  The drive to Rick’s place was short, and to her relief his truck was in his yard. Over the past several weeks he’d been there for her in so many ways that now she wanted to return the favor. She knew he felt betrayed. Perhaps he was right. The people he cared for most had kept things from him and now he had to deal with them all at once. She didn’t even blame him for leaving her out at Blackberry Hill, even though a very sober Abby had driven her back to town, completely apologetic for how things had turned out.

  Jess took a fortifying breath as she went up the walk. Maybe he needed to talk, or maybe he just needed someone to sit with him while he sorted through his feelings.

  The first knock at the door went unanswered, and she tried the knob, thinking maybe he really was in the porch painting. It was locked, so she knocked again, peeking in the window. After a few moments, Rick came into view and her stomach gave a slow, strange twist. A warning. She didn’t have time to heed it before he opened the door, glaring at her.

  “Um … I thought I should check in with you. See if you were okay. This afternoon was kind of intense.”

  “Jess.” Rick sounded tired. “Not right now, okay? I can’t sit through a pep talk about how everything will be fine. Because I keep thinking it will be fine, but then something else comes and knocks me on my ass. I made my peace with Roberta before she died, but you and Tom and Abby had to stir things up again. So for right now, just leave me alone.”

  A flash of anger rose to the surface and Jess looked back up again. “No. I won’t leave you alone. I care about you, Rick
. And I did what I thought I had to do. I won’t let you push me away over this.”

  His face changed. The mask of hurt disappeared and was replaced by an arrogant, screw-you expression. “This isn’t about you, Jess! This is about me and my life. This is about me dealing with my shit and wanting people to respect me enough to let me do that. I thought you were that kind of person, you know? But you’re as bad as everyone else. You think you know best, but you don’t. You still think I’m a wild card, don’t you? What, did you come over here to make sure I haven’t drowned myself in a bottle?” He shook his head with disgust.

  His words hurt, deeply. She gasped in a breath but before she could say anything, he kept going. “Look, what we had was a sexual relationship, nothing more. I don’t need your kind of help at the moment. In fact, I don’t need your constant harping at all. Most of all, I’m not your little project to fix!”

  “What we had?” Pain tore through her at the harsh words. Maybe she’d been wrong, but she’d been wrong for the right reasons! She was angry, too, and she lashed out in the only way she knew how. “Well, I guess if you don’t broadcast a relationship no one’s the wiser when it ends, huh? Smart strategy, Rick. Nice to see you planned ahead.”

  She turned to walk away. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t argue with him right now. She took the first step away from him, then another, trying to hold back hot tears.

  She heard him let out a big breath. “Jess … I’m sorry. Shit. Don’t go.” His voice was instantly apologetic.

  Her steps slowed and she closed her eyes, wanting to give him what he was asking so badly and knowing she couldn’t. Her throat thick with emotion, she kept moving toward her car.

  The car door appeared in front of her though Jess could barely see it through her tears. Fumbling with her keys she got the door open and slid in behind the wheel. At least she couldn’t hear Rick anymore but he was still standing in the doorway.

  She wouldn’t back down. She’d be stronger this time. She’d be smarter. For herself and for her baby.

  He was still standing there as she pulled away from the curb and headed not toward Lilac Lane but to Josh’s house. She didn’t want to be alone tonight, and Josh was the only one who knew. Who would understand.

  And tomorrow she would start picking up the pieces. Again.

  * * *

  It was a Monday in December and Jess couldn’t not open the store, so she left Josh’s at seven thirty in the morning. They’d stayed up late talking, and she’d never been gladder to have her big brother. They’d talked about Rick, and Erin, and Mike, and Jess’s pregnancy. When Josh asked about Rick, she’d simply said that it wasn’t her place to tell, but he was justifiably upset. She left out the part where he’d referred to them in the past tense. That just hurt too much.

  She was in a better state of mind when she headed home for a shower and clean clothes, though the hollow ache still persisted inside when she thought about how she and Rick had almost made it. Still, she’d be okay. She’d come through worse …

  It wasn’t until she was inside that she realized the back door hadn’t been locked. She was sure it had been when she left last night. Uneasy now, she crossed the workroom to the stairs to the loft and went up into her living space.

  The door to the loft was ajar. She slowly pushed it open and then cried out at the state of the apartment.

  Rick’s paints and supplies, which had taken up residence in front of the wide windows overlooking the bay, were now smashed and scattered all over the floor. Her little tables with candles and other knickknacks were overturned, and her furniture was in utter ruin. Red and green paint had been smeared all over the white upholstery and dumped over the throw rug on the floor. She stepped farther in and covered her mouth with her hand. Her dishes, the ones that had belonged to her grandmother, were in shards on her kitchen floor. Books had been thrown out of her bookcase. All in all, her apartment was a disaster and Jess felt completely, horribly, violated.

  But worst of all was the rough swipe of paint on her lovely white wall. Whore, it said, and she knew without a doubt that even if she’d agreed to the restraining order, it wouldn’t have kept Mike away. He’d done this. He’d be the only one to call her such a repulsive name, to be this angry. He hadn’t liked seeing her with Rick. And now he’d been where she lived, touching her things …

  Anger such as she’d never experienced before burned through her body. Did he really think he could frighten and intimidate her this way?

  Her hands trembled but her mind was resolute as she picked up the phone and called the police station. She reported the incident to the duty officer and then went to her workroom and paced until she heard the squad car pull up out front. He wouldn’t win. Not this time.

  She opened the door to Bryce and another officer who’d come to assist. She told them what she’d touched, and stepped out, not wanting to see the carnage any longer. Instead she made a sign and posted it on the front door stating the shop was closed for the morning. A quick check showed her that the office and shop hadn’t been touched. It was only her living quarters. Whoever had done it—and she was sure it was Mike—had deliberately struck her where she lived.

  Bryce had already come to the same conclusion. “You want me to look into Mike’s whereabouts?” he asked quietly, pulling up a stool beside her in the workroom.

  She nodded. “I should have listened to you at Thanksgiving. Should have realized how dangerous he was.” Her insides were still quaking. She couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened if she’d been here alone.

  “Where were you last night?” Bryce’s cheeks colored a little as he asked, and hers did, too. He expected her to answer that she’d stayed at Rick’s. It was written all over his face.

  “I was at Josh’s,” she replied, trying to school her features. “I stopped by Rick’s first.”

  “I see.”

  She doubted it.

  “Did you call Rick this morning? I would have thought he’d have shown up by now, worried sick.”

  She looked away. “I just called you. That’s it.”

  Bryce stayed silent, and she appreciated him not throwing in his opinion. She was mixed up enough. And also feeling a little bit this morning like Rick was right. She hadn’t trusted him. Neither had Abby or Tom. When the truth was that since Roberta’s funeral he’d done absolutely nothing to show that he couldn’t be trusted or responsible. He’d done everything right …

  “He loves you, you know.” Bryce finally spoke. “I don’t know what’s happened, but I know that for sure. You should call him. He’d want to be here for you.”

  “I doubt that.” Not after yesterday.

  But Bryce nodded his head. “I’ve seen Rick at his worst. I’ve seen him crying like a baby sitting on the docks, I’ve seen him be a loudmouth at the bar when they stop serving, I’ve seen him be a wicked asshole. But I’ve also seen him try hard to do the right thing. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He loves you. Not a doubt in my mind.”

  The sound of boots pounding on the outside stairs made Jess look up. Rick stood in the back door, freshly showered though he hadn’t bothered to shave. Droplets of water were still on his hair even though it was bitterly cold outside. It wasn’t his appearance that hit her straight in the gut. It was the wild way he was looking at her. Like an avenging angel late to the party.

  “You okay?” he asked gruffly.

  She nodded. “I’m fine. I wasn’t home.” She cleared her throat. “How did you, ah…”

  “Two police cars outside your place? Doesn’t take long for word to spread. Your whole family will probably be here in a second.”

  “Oh.”

  “Can I have a look?”

  Bryce looked at Jess, then back at Rick and nodded. “Yeah. Don’t touch anything.”

  Rick headed for the loft stairs when Jess had a sudden thought. “Rick,” she called out, standing up. He turned back and she knew she’d been wrong not to call him. “Um … the paint and stuff
… it came from your supplies. Your, uh, projects you were working on. I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t reply, just went to the door of the loft and then came back, his face drawn. “You looking into Greer?” he asked Bryce point-blank.

  “Yeah. And you’re going to stay out of it.”

  “Like hell.”

  “You are,” Bryce emphasized. “You’re going to let the police handle it. You can’t go off half-cocked and get yourself into trouble, you hear? If Mike had anything to do with this, we’ll find out and he’ll be charged. Got it?”

  “Dammit, Bryce!”

  “You have to trust me to do my job. Promise me you won’t go off half-cocked.”

  “Fine.” Rick nodded, and Jess knew he got it but didn’t like it. His whole posture screamed restrained fury. She knew it must be costing him a lot to hold his temper.

  Bryce gave her a quick hug. “I’ll go finish up in there and get out of your hair. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, you might not want to stay alone, okay?”

  Jess nodded, hating that the oh-so-familiar fear was once again a part of her life. Would it ever go away?

  “Jess, about last night…” Rick stepped forward but she held up a hand.

  “I can’t. I’m not in a good head space to discuss it, okay?”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  She couldn’t avoid him forever. At some point, and some point soon, she would have to tell him she was having his baby. But later, when she’d sorted through the mess that was their relationship and her feelings. When she could be clear-headed and logical.

  “I should call Tessa and tell her not to come in.”

  “Why don’t you call Abby or Sarah? You could use the company.”

  “I’ll need to clean up, too, once I get the okay.” Sadness began to seep in. “I’m not sure I’ll ever feel the same here. This was my place, you know? My safe haven. If it was Mike…” She sighed. “Damn that man for coming back to town and stirring all this up.”

  “Jess…” Rick started to speak and then thought better of it and stepped back. “I’ll come by later to check in on you, is that okay?”