Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel

by Laura Moore

  “I’d like to ask you some questions. But first, could I see some identification?”

  Silently she pulled a plastic card from her rear pocket. Handing it to him, she ducked her head.

  He glanced at it, then looked at Jade, his expression impassive as he studied her bowed white-blond head and hunched shoulders. “Jade Radcliffe. I didn’t recognize you, though when the tip came in that there were minors at The Den, your name did cross my mind.” He paused. “Did you get in using this driver’s license or another ID?”

  A fine trembling seized her as she went to her other pocket and withdrew a second card.

  He took it and read, “Rachel Hammond, age twenty-one, and it seems that you attend the University of Tennessee. Fancy that.”

  Oh, hell.

  Jade crossed her arms in front of her, doubtless trying to hide the fact that her trembling had redoubled.

  “You been drinking, Jade—or do you prefer to be called Rachel?”

  “No,” she croaked with a quick shake of her head.

  “We’ll have to see about that.”

  Officer Cooper must really have it in for Jade, Owen thought. At the police station, he’d dealt with Owen straight away, sticking him with a two-hundred-dollar ticket for disorderly conduct. While it embarrassed the hell out of him to be slapped with a fine by someone at least ten years younger than himself and then tersely instructed to avoid bar fights in the future, Owen consoled himself with the thought that Beer-brain, also known as Howie Driscoll, was going to be appearing before the judge. It turned out he’d had previous run-ins with the Warburg police. From the sound of his protests, he was looking at something a lot stiffer than a ticket.

  But after Cooper had meted out the respective fines and summonses and informed Owen he was free to go, he had gotten a call on his cell. Owen had seen him talking to another officer, and then he’d disappeared. And he had yet to reappear.

  It was possible that this was part of Jade’s punishment. Even though she’d passed the Breathalyzer test and hadn’t driven to the bar, Owen figured Cooper probably wanted her to sweat it out by having her sit there, uncertain of her fate. The wait was taking its toll.

  Of course he hadn’t left Jade. The kid’s face was leached of color, and beneath the light jacket he’d lent her, she was shaking with fear. Fear that was probably mixed with a good bit of self-loathing.

  From the fact that no other teens were populating the station, it was obvious that Jade’s so-called friends had ditched her at The Den. Owen had a hunch they might also have set her up, placing the anonymous tip that brought the police and Jade’s favorite officer to the scene. He bet that thought was going through Jade’s mind, too. But Jade was too smart not to realize that she’d brought this mess on herself by seeking out their questionable company.

  A part of him felt sorry for her. But it was a pretty small part. Mostly, he was pissed and hurting from all the bruises blooming over his face and body. So as the clock ticked and they sat on plastic chairs and continued to be ignored by every official in the place, he decided to devote a few minutes giving her a long-overdue chewing out. So what if it wasn’t his place. He was sick and tired of what she was doing to Jordan and the kids.

  “I’m curious, have you spared a single thought to what your dogged determination to screw up your life is doing to your family?” he asked conversationally.

  Her attitude was all belligerent defiance. “You don’t know anything about any of this, so why don’t you butt out?”

  “Actually I do know something about it. You’re reacting to whatever you read in your mother’s diary. A lame excuse, Jade.”

  “I disagree, so maybe you can press the stop button now.”

  “Sorry, I’m out two hundred bucks and have a number of nasty bruises thanks to Howie, your number one fan, so the least you can do is listen.”

  She shook her head but refrained from any smart-aleck comment.

  “Maybe you’re right, and your mother was a lousy wife, a lousy mother, even a lousy human being. But I get the feeling you’re so busy trying to hurt yourself in an effort to get back at a dead woman, you’re no longer able to remember what she really was like. Because your mother must have done a couple of things right. You’re as smart as a whip and a fairly cool human being—that is, when you’re not intent on destroying your life and tearing apart the people who love you. You know, your sisters are really nice women, and you’ve got two nieces and a nephew who adore you. Do you even realize how lucky you are to be loved so much? Do you realize how stupid it is to put them through this kind of pain?”

  As guilt trips went, Owen considered the one he’d just laid on Jade pretty damn fine. It had a special weight for being true.

  “You’re treating the people who love you like crap, Jade. While Jordan and Margot may understand the underlying reasons, while even Ned’s going to forgive your spoiled-brat behavior, what do you think Kate, Max, and Olivia are making of the fact that you won’t give them the time of day?”

  When she seemed to shrink inside his jacket until she was about Kate’s size, he figured that some of what he’d said must have resonated.

  Deciding that she’d been lectured enough for one night, Owen fell silent, and so they sat in tense misery, Jade brooding over her current screw-up and he trying his best to ignore how much it hurt every time he breathed, when an officer approached. “Jade Radcliffe?”

  She nodded and rose to her feet.

  “Your sister’s been contacted. She’s coming down.”

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “I’ll discuss that when your sister gets here.”

  “Where’s Officer Cooper?”

  “He had to leave. A family emergency.”

  Margot had probably broken the law herself, making her car fly down to the station. Entering the building mere minutes later, her steps faltered, then quickened when she saw him. She rushed over, squeezed his hand, and whispered “Thank you” to him, before wrapping her arms about her sister in a fierce hug.

  Stepping back, she wiped her face with her hands and then dried them on her white jeans. “There, now that I know you’re safe, I can say this: damn it, Jade, how could you be such an idiot?”

  “I was only dancing.”

  “In the sketchiest bar in town. With a fake ID. Don’t tell me you don’t know that’s identity theft. They can nail you for that. Big time. Where’d you get the ID?”

  “Blair had an extra one she lent me. The picture didn’t look like me, but the guy at the door who was carding barely glanced at it.”

  Not surprising, Owen thought. The guy was probably looking his fill at Jade.

  “Oh, God. What were you thinking? You must have a guardian angel looking after you, Jade.”

  Jade couldn’t mask her surprise at Margot’s statement.

  “Yeah, you heard me right. Because as bad as this is, do you have any idea what could have happened to you if Owen hadn’t been there?”

  Jade dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  Margot was shaking her head, her lips pressed tight in an effort to control herself, when the officer who’d spoken to Jade earlier came over. “Margot Radcliffe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Officer Craig Lewis. Could you and your sister come with me?”

  “Of course. Owen, can you … would you mind waiting for us?” With her 100-percent-proof beauty, Margot usually radiated the confidence and strength of an Amazon. Now her eyes were as anxious and frightened as her little sister’s.

  “I’ll be here.” He settled back down on the chair.

  The dinner at The Coach had been delicious, the atmosphere pleasant and sophisticated, and Tim Mitchell was a perfectly nice man. But Jordan was wretched.

  Tim was laboring under false pretenses. It was clear by the time they ate their crab cake appetizers just how serious his interest in her was. It was also plain that he expected his feelings to be reciprocated.

  Unfortunately she couldn’t sum
mon an ounce of interest.

  When Tim smiled, it was just a flash of teeth, when his hand brushed hers, or grazed her back, she felt nothing. No strange flutter, no electric shiver, no rocketing of her pulse. Nothing but embarrassed awkwardness.

  Because he wasn’t Owen.

  They’d finished dessert, and Tim had signed the check, but he seemed in no hurry to leave, requesting a refill on his coffee and continuing their conversation with undiminished enthusiasm.

  “So Hawk Hill’s nearly finished?”

  “Yes. We’re just waiting for a few more pieces to be delivered. Owen’s still working on the barn but that shouldn’t—”

  “How many stalls will it have again?”

  “Six.”

  “That’s a nice-size barn for a private home.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I don’t think Owen’s going to have a problem selling Hawk Hill, even in this soft a real estate market.”

  He stirred more cream into his coffee, his spoon clinking against the china cup. “Do you think you could arrange to get me in to see it before the Open House?”

  “Well, I’m not sure Owen—”

  “In case you haven’t guessed, Jordan, I’m seriously considering making a bid on the property. Living near Rosewood would offer so many advantages.” He reached out and let his fingers brush hers.

  With a smile she slid her hand away and picked up the now tepid cup of chamomile tea she’d ordered with her peach pie and ginger ice cream.

  “Tim, you live close enough that visiting Cascade won’t be any problem. And didn’t I hear you tell Travis how you loved to make the drive because it took you past the hunt club’s own fields?” she replied, deciding to be deliberately obtuse.

  “There are more reasons to move than being nearer to the colt, and they’re more important to me than making sure the club’s fields and fences are in good condition,” he replied, his gaze holding hers across the candlelight. “Jordan, I realize you’re still figuring out what it is you want after the nightmare of your divorce. But I might as well tell you that my thoughts and hopes have taken a new direction since I’ve gotten to know you better. And I’m willing to do anything I can to make you part of my life.”

  She supposed some women might be flattered by Tim’s words. But listening to him say that he wanted to buy Hawk Hill because it would place him closer to her, she could only think that either he was flattering her outrageously—and she’d had enough of disingenuous men—or he was extraordinarily confident of his chances for success.

  Rather presumptuous for a man on his first dinner date. Jordan suddenly felt a lot better about being head over heels in love with Owen. He never took her for granted.

  Her fingers tightened around the teacup’s delicate handle, worried that if she put her hand down Tim might read the gesture as encouragement and try to touch her again. “Tim, I consider you a friend, a very good friend—” But that’s all, she’d intended to say, however Tim cut her off.

  “And that’s an excellent foundation to build on. So you’ll talk to Gage about Hawk Hill?”

  He reminded her of a hound chasing down a fox, the aspect of the hunt she liked least. “I’ll ask him, but I can’t guarantee he’ll agree to let you see it early.”

  “I have a hunch Gage might be just as happy to make a quick sale.”

  His opinion, delivered with such confidence, caused the ginger ice cream to curdle in her stomach. She didn’t want to think about Owen leaving, especially when she wasn’t sure her campaign to make him see all he would be losing if he walked away from their relationship was even working.

  She raised her teacup, thinking another sip might settle her stomach, only to lower it as her clutch began vibrating on the linen tablecloth. “Excuse me,” she said, reaching for the bag. “I’ll just see who’s calling.”

  “Of course, go ahead.” Tim leaned back in his chair.

  Jordan glanced at the number on her cellphone’s screen and frowned. It was Rosewood. She flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

  “Jordan, it’s Travis.”

  “Travis? Is something wrong with the children?”

  “They’re fine. Jordan, it’s Jade and Owen, they’re at the police station. I’m still not sure what exactly happened. Margot went down. Maybe you want to—”

  Owen and Jade? “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  Owen sat with his eyes closed, trying to ignore the increasing stiffness in his muscles and the pain that flared to life each time he shifted his weight on the plastic seat.

  “Owen?” Jordan’s voice had him jerking upright in the chair and grimacing as he opened his eyes. But now the pain came from a different source. She was hurrying toward him with Tim Mitchell striding by her side, his hand at the small of her back. Owen knew Mitchell intended to keep it there.

  “Owen, what happened? You look terrible.”

  And she looked beautiful.

  She was dressed in a sleeveless silk sheath of deep purple, the color enhancing the red cast of her hair and deepening the blue of her eyes. Her slender legs were bare and made even longer by the stiletto heels of her strappy sandals. She looked gorgeous, and Owen wanted to go home with her right now. And he bloody hated Tim, who had gotten to stare across a table at her all evening long.

  He rose and did his best to straighten, feeling as creaky as an eighty-year-old. “I’m all right. No need to worry.”

  “And Jade? Is she—”

  “She’s with Margot. They’re talking in there.” He tilted his head toward a closed door and wished he hadn’t because it felt like a knife was stuck in his neck.

  “But what happened?” she asked.

  “It’s a long story.” He didn’t want to say more in front of Mitchell.

  “One that ended with you being taken here,” Mitchell observed.

  Such acuity. “Seems that way.”

  “So where did it start?” Mitchell asked.

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and grunted. He saw Mitchell smile at the sound. Screw him. Even Mitchell might be a little worse for wear after working all day and then being pummeled like a punching bag. Too bad Howie Driscoll was gone. Owen would have liked to introduce him to Mitchell.

  “Owen?” Jordan said, her gaze troubled.

  He had to tell her something. He only hoped he had sufficient wits to edit his story so that Mitchell wouldn’t hear too much about Jade. “I was at The Den.”

  “The Den?”

  The surprise in her voice told him she knew the place. Judging from his smug expression, Mitchell did, too.

  “Yeah, I went there with Jesse.”

  “Oh.” The sad little syllable came straight from Jordan’s heart. There was no need to ask Owen why they’d chosen to go to The Den. The bar was Warburg’s principal pickup joint. Oh God, Owen was already looking for a new woman to warm his bed. The thought filled her with desolation.

  Jordan knew she should be asking where Jade came into the story, and how Owen had gotten beat up so badly his face was swollen and bruised and bloodied, but all she could focus on was that while she was with Tim, thinking about how much she loved Owen, he’d been at The Den.

  The tales of the bar were legion.

  Her imagination was cruel. It battered her with images of scantily dressed women draping themselves over him.

  “Oh,” she repeated stupidly, weakly. Yet she was unable to tamp down a sense of betrayal at the idea of him checking out The Den’s offerings. She’d been wrong. He didn’t really care. The love was all on her side.

  “I need to go make sure Jade’s all right. Excuse me.” Quickly she retreated, going over to the door Owen had indicated and knocking lightly before entering.

  Owen would have followed Jordan, but he doubted Officer Lewis would admit non–family members. He certainly didn’t want to sit here with Mitchell, toward whom he was beginning to have an allergic reaction, unless it was some other kind of reaction. Christ, he was so tired he couldn’t think straight.

  M
aybe that was why he couldn’t figure out what Mitchell was still doing here. Jordan hadn’t asked him to stay. Belatedly he realized the other man was talking.

  “I’m glad to have a minute alone with you, Owen. There’s something I wanted to ask. Jordan and I were talking over dinner and the question came up of whether you’d let me take a look at Hawk Hill before the Open House.”

  Owen stared at him blankly, not quite sure what he was hearing. “Wouldn’t you rather see the house when Jordan’s all finished with the decorating?”

  “Frankly, I’d rather get a jump on the other buyers. Even though the market’s softened considerably, Hawk Hill is a great property. There’s going to be a number of interested parties. That’s why I want to be totally open with you and lay my cards on the table. I believe it’s the best way to deal with people. If you let me see Hawk Hill before the Open House, I’m confident we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

  Owen barely heard him. He was still stuck on the idea of Jordan talking about him to Mitchell. “Was this your idea or Jordan’s?”

  “Both. She’s as excited by the prospect of my buying Hawk Hill as I am.”

  It would have been so satisfying to tell Mitchell to take a hike, that even if he offered Owen cash up front, there was no way he was going to agree to sell him Hawk Hill so that he and Jordan could live there happily ever after.

  But then Owen recalled Jordan saying how Tim was kind and funny and, most important, unafraid of emotional commitments.

  That was the type of man Jordan deserved. He knew it, and she did, too. And it appeared she’d decided Mitchell was the one she wanted.

  Is that why she’d been so quick to leave, without sparing him a backward glance or a smile?

  All Jordan’s smiles would be reserved for Mitchell now.

  He felt a strange hollowness at the thought, as if his insides had been sucked out of him.

  “So what do you say, Owen?”

  He knew he must be close to losing it; he was actually contemplating decking Mitchell in a police station. An impulse too stupid for words, doubly idiotic given his body’s battered state. Mitchell would probably wipe the floor with him.