She met his eyes. “What am I supposed to trust you with?”
“How about the truth?”
Eighteen
Brady hoped like crazy she’d confide in him. Based on her shaking head, she had no intention of telling him anything.
She looked at the sidewalk. “There’s nothing you need to know.”
He tamped down his initial reaction. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
Her eyes widened. “I have stuff to do.”
“I’ll wait, and then we can go get a cup of coffee or something.”
“No.” She took a step back, and the fear was written clearly across her face now. “It’s not a good idea.”
“You need a friend.”
“I have plenty of friends.”
Really? Back in Tunis, where she claimed they no longer lived? In Paris, where her husband had an apartment she didn’t consider hers? No, he didn’t believe Rae had anyone to confide in. But she’d never admit it. “Fine. I need a friend. But right now, I have to go to the bank.”
“I’ll wait. I’m not leaving until we talk.”
She looked up the street again, then down. What was she looking for? Or maybe the better question was who was she looking for? Whoever it was, she was terrified.
She met his gaze. “Okay, I’ll be done soon. Meet me at Dunkin’ Donuts in a few minutes.”
“I’ll wait.”
“No! I mean, just... Please, meet me there, okay?”
He nodded, and she fled into the bank lobby.
Very weird.
Brady jogged back to the police station and slipped into his truck. A few minutes later, he eased into the parking lot of Dunkin’ Donuts and waited.
She pulled up in about ten minutes, and he stepped out of his truck, approached her car, and knocked on her window. She rolled it down.
“Can I help you with Johnny?”
She was staring through the glass at the restaurant. He followed her gaze. A pretty big lunchtime crowd, but then it was a cold, gray day. A perfect day for coffee. He turned back to her and lifted his eyebrows. “Want to go through the drive-through?”
She relaxed and nodded, and he climbed in the passenger seat of the tiny car. After he pushed the seat back as far as it would go, he turned to her.
“Did you get what you needed at the bank?”
“I found an old safe deposit box key in Dad’s stuff. I thought I’d see if there was anything interesting in the box.”
“And?”
She glanced in the rearview mirror, then back at him. “Just some paperwork. I’ll go through it later. Looks like Dad owned some stocks. Not sure if it’s worth anything.”
“Seemed your grandmother was on top of things.”
In the drive-through, Rae ordered a sandwich and two coffees. With the coffee safe in the drink holder and the food on the console between them, she drove to a nearly empty parking lot outside a bait-and-tackle shop on the outskirts of town. She pushed her seat all the way back, pulled her knee up, and faced him.
“Cozy,” he said. And with the rain outside and the steam from the coffees, it was.
She sipped her drink. “Mmmm.”
With her mouth, she smiled. But her eyes hinted a different emotion alltogether. Fear, he thought. “So, have you decided yet?”
She took the paper off her sandwich. Her fingers were trembling. “Decided what?”
“Whether or not to tell me what’s going on.”
She sighed deeply and set the sandwich back down. “Why are you so certain that I’m not telling you the truth?”
“The car.”
She looked around its interior. “What about it? I know it’s not the nicest rental—”
“It’s not a rental.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “You bought it on Saturday, paid cash.”
“How did you—?”
“I’m a detective, Rae. I detected.” He let that hang in the air, hoping she’d explain. When she said nothing, he continued. “So, why would you buy a car if you were planning to go back?”
“I...I just...” A moment passed. “I thought... I just thought maybe Gram—”
“Your grandmother hasn’t driven in years. If you’ve been home like you say you have, then you know that.”
“I needed a car while I was here.”
“Ever heard of Enterprise?”
She stared out the window.
He wanted to reach out to her, to calm whatever fears were keeping her quiet. He wanted to make everything better, but how could he if she wouldn’t confide in him? He was impotent, unable to fix anything. Seemed the story of his life. And it wasn’t going to change, because she was about to lie to him. Again. “Why don’t I drink my coffee while you come up with a plausible story?” He sipped, never taking his eyes off her.
“It’s hard to explain.”
He looked at his watch and relaxed against the seat back. “I have time.”
She nibbled a tiny bite of her sandwich and set it back on her lap. She swallowed some coffee and looked down at the plastic lid.
“Rae?”
When she turned to him, he said, “Julien Garcia Moreau.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Is that him? From Toulouse? He’s the CEO of—”
“Are you investigating me for something?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“What did you do?”
“Just some surfing the web. I didn’t learn much.”
Johnny shifted and squeaked.
She looked behind her toward the baby. With the backward-facing seat, she couldn’t see him from where she sat, but Brady could. The child was sound asleep. Brady looked back at Rae.
“I’m fine.” As if to prove her point, she took another bite of her sandwich. After she swallowed, she sipped her coffee, then wiped her mouth. She stared at the dashboard. He could see her wheels spinning a story. And he didn’t want to hear it.
“So this Julien,” he said. “Did he hurt you?”
She whipped her head toward him. “What? Never. Why would you even—?”
“Because you look scared.” He took in their surroundings, the deserted parking lot far from town. “You’re afraid to be seen.”
“Not really. Just—”
“Or maybe you’re afraid to be seen with me. Is he the jealous type?”
When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “You’ve been lying to me since you got here.”
“Just because I haven’t told you my secrets doesn’t make me a liar.” She wrapped the sandwich in the paper and set it in the center console. “Johnny’s going to need to eat soon.” She moved her seat forward, shifted into drive, and pulled out of the parking lot.
They drove in silence. He tried to think of something to say, anything that would convince her to confide in him. But he came up short.
When she stopped beside his truck, Brady turned to her. “So you still don’t trust me.”
“This isn’t about trust.”
“Did you leave your husband?”
She pulled in a deep breath, blew it out slowly, and nodded.
“Does he know where you are?”
She shook her head.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
She seemed to wrestle with her answer. After a moment, she said, “No.”
He processed that. At least he’d made a little progress. He stepped out of the car, then leaned back in. “I’m not going away, Rae. We’ll talk more later.”
Nineteen
Why, why, why had she told Brady she’d left Julien?
Rae sat in the passenger seat of her Honda and rocked Johnny, hoping the motion would calm her down. She’d left Brady at Dunkin’ Donuts, driven back to downtown Nutfield, and parked in front of a red brick building. A gold placard on the door read, Gordon Boyle, Attorney-at-Law.
Twelve years had passed, and Brady could still read her like a well-worn novel. But what Brady knew or guessed was irrelevant. Even if he knew she was leavin
g Julien, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t let it matter, because as soon as Rae found what she was looking for, she’d never see him again.
The thought made her want to cry.
She’d loved him once. Maybe, deep down, she’d never stopped loving him. What she’d had with Julien had been nothing compared with the intimacy she and Brady had shared. Maybe he was right, and she should have let him explain himself twelve years ago. She still would have left town for college, but they could have salvaged their friendship. Then she wouldn’t have cut off everybody from Nutfield, and perhaps she wouldn’t have been so quick to move to Europe, to get away from everyone she’d ever loved.
She kissed Johnny’s head. Whatever she’d been through, it had all been worth it. “Because now I have you.”
The baby cooed, and Rae hugged him to her chest.
The more time she spent with Brady, the less she wanted to leave town. Unfortunately, Brady and Nutfield were a package deal, and though she might still care for Brady, she couldn’t tolerate the people of this town. Aside from Brady and Sam, maybe Gordon and Ellen Boyle, she wasn’t welcome here. Even if Julien weren’t chasing her, she’d leave. The people here knew her past. She’d never forget the stares she always felt growing up, the whispers behind her back. There she is, the girl with the crazy mother. The last thing she needed was to relive it every day of her life.
She looked through the drizzle at the attorney’s office. She wanted to go inside, to visit with Gordon Boyle, her grandmother’s attorney and her father’s best friend. His wife probably still worked there. Rae had never known Ellen well, but Nate had spoken highly of his stepmother. Rae had known the Boyles as long as she could remember, and even though she and Nate hadn’t become good friends until she’d gone to Columbia, they had shared a common bond.
Most high schoolers didn’t know what it felt like to lose a mother. She and Nate knew, though. They knew.
Gordon and Ellen would embrace her, and the three of them would share stories about Gram. She’d find acceptance and comfort inside that building.
But it would be the first place Julien would go. If Gordon and Ellen could say she’d never come by, never seen the will, never taken possession of her inheritance, then Julien would leave them alone.
Maybe. Probably.
So she’d never receive her inheritance. Never own the home that had been hers all her life. She’d take what she could sell and leave it forever. What would happen to it, when she never returned? Would it eventually crumble to the ground from lack of love, lack of the family that had cared for it for generations?
Tears filled her eyes one more time that day as she settled Johnny back into his car seat. She climbed behind the wheel and drove away from one more crushing loss.
Twenty
The afternoon rain pattered against the police station roof and seeped into Brady’s mood. At least he’d gotten her to admit she’d left her husband. That was something. He’d need to gain her trust if he was going to help her.
He’d worked on the burglary cases all afternoon, but that wasn’t why he was exhausted. Tonight, he needed to relax. Go home, make dinner, catch up on some TV, and get into bed early. That was the plan. And he wasn’t going to get depressed about doing all of that by himself. He was learning to live alone again, and he’d eventually learn to like it.
Having Rae in town didn’t make it easier.
The door to the town offices opened. “You busy?”
Brady looked up from his paperwork to see Samantha crossing the room, a notepad dangling from her right hand. Her frown wasn’t encouraging.
“Just finishing up. Have a seat.”
“Can I sit there?” She nodded to his chair. “I have a couple things to show you.”
He stood and stepped out of her way. “Have at it.”
Samantha settled in front of his laptop, set the notebook on his desk, and typed. A web page popped up. “This is an article about Julien Moreau. It was written about eighteen months ago. Do you know when Rae and Julien married?”
“She didn’t tell me much.”
Samantha scrolled down. “It’s a pretty comprehensive article about his business and his life, but there’s no mention of a wife or family.”
Brady leaned closer, trying to catch a few of the words on the page as she whizzed past.
“I just wanted to show you that so you understand that this Julien Moreau is a pretty public guy. I’ve read a lot of articles about him. It doesn’t surprise me Rae married him. He’s wealthy and powerful, but he seems to have a heart for people.”
When Samantha turned to him, he nodded. Great, she’d married a Boy Scout. So why was she running away?
Samantha continued. “I’ve made some calls and searched a lot of records today, and I can’t find any record of him marrying anyone in Africa in the last decade.”
“Okay. But maybe—”
“And so I checked in France, and I found this.”
Brady peered at the page. It was a marriage license between Julien Garcia Moreau and a woman named Martine Desjardins.”
“So is that her alias?”
“No. Moreau and that woman have been married for eight years.”
Eight years. That was a long time, but it could still be possible. Maybe they’d met when she was in college. But wait, hadn’t she told him she’d lived in Belgium before?
Samantha turned back to the computer. “I’ve perused a dozen articles about him, and he never mentions that’s he’s married, much less the woman’s name. So I dug a little deeper, and then I called just to be sure. There’s no record that they divorced or that their marriage was annulled.”
“Wait, who did you call?”
She sighed. “It was a pain in the neck. I started with a number I found for the city clerk or whatever they call it in Toulouse, but they gave me a different number, so—”
“Forget it.” He shook his head. “Your resourcefulness knows no bounds.”
Samantha nearly smiled, but there was no joy in it. “So Martine has an online presence. Like her husband, she’s deeply involved in philanthropic activities, but she lives on a vineyard in France.” Samantha clicked on a link, and a picture filled the screen. “That’s her.”
Brady peered at the photograph of an elegant woman who had to be in her mid-forties. Lines fanned out from her nearly black eyes. Her face was thin and angular. She looked nothing like Reagan.
They had the right guy—Rae had confirmed the name in the car. But the guy was married to another woman.
Twenty-One
Rae buckled Johnny into his car seat that evening and headed to the high school to pick up Caro. The drizzle was coming down just hard enough that she needed her windshield wipers, but not enough to keep them from squeaking.
Rae had barely been home long enough to feed and bathe the baby. This wouldn’t take long, though, and it felt good to be needed.
Out the driveway, across the short bridge, and down the windy road, and there it was, that low brick school that had glared at her every time she’d come home for a visit. Any chance she’d had of feeling at home in Nutfield had disappeared when her mother’d lost her mind. After that, no matter how many years passed, Rae had been the girl who’d called the police. The girl who’d brought their little one-stoplight town national attention. The girl who’d sent her own mother to prison.
If she had to do it again, what would she do?
Rae’d been asking herself that question for almost two decades. The answer was always obvious. Unfortunately, it wasn’t always the same.
She parked, stepped out of the car, bundled Johnny close to shelter him from the drizzle, and stepped inside the cafeteria doors.
The room seemed smaller than it had when she’d been in school. It smelled the same, though. Some combination of cleaning solution and sour milk. Most of the lights were off, and on the stage, the lights seemed over-bright, making the rest of the room even darker. All but one of the tables had been folded and pushed against
the far wall near the opening that led to the kitchen. Three people sat at the table. Two were watching the stage. One turned to glare at Rae. She guided the door to a soft close behind her.
A tall boy was rattling off a monologue that sounded vaguely familiar. But his delivery was dry as Tunisian sand. She hoped he wasn’t indicative of the talent at Nutfield High.
Rae slipped past the stage and through the door leading to the rest of the school. The hallway was bright and lined with signs and posters. When she’d been here, most of the signs on the walls had been handmade. She could picture the cheerleaders sitting on the floor of the gym, coloring the banner the football players, with Brady in the lead, would run through on their way to the first playoff game the school had ever been in. An explosion of orange and black and white, little brown nuts drawn all over it. And somebody’s hideous rendition of a squirrel.
Johnny cooed, and she turned him to see the perfect, machine-made posters that had replaced the homemade ones from her youth. “See the squirrel?” She pointed, then looked at Johnny, who was staring at her with something like awe. She squeezed him tighter and kissed his head.
She continued down the hallway and, following a din of voices, found a crowd of students outside the stage doors. Rae searched for Caro’s bright red hair. No luck. She should’ve gotten the girl’s cell phone number. She’d activated one of the disposables she’d purchased at Walmart on Sunday, and she may as well use it. She’d toss it when she left town, anyway.
She turned and wandered down the hallway. Caro would come out soon enough.
Down a short ramp, Rae entered what used to be the science wing. Based on that nauseating smell, it still was. Science and math—two subjects she’d struggled with. Thank heavens for history and English.
The lights were off here, and she probably shouldn’t be snooping. Rae’d never been great at not snooping, and the memories were too compelling to pass up. She stopped in front of a familiar door. Chemistry with Mrs. Manning. Brady, Samantha, and she had been lab partners. Samantha had been great at following directions, and Brady had always understood...well, everything. Rae had written the lab report, carefully copying exactly what they said. At least she hadn’t been useless. The reports always had perfect grammar.
Convenient Lies Page 10
