Cherished Secrets

by C. B. Clark

  She wanted to smash the smug expression off his pudgy face. An image of being locked in the town jail flashed before her, and she grimaced. “Okay, you win. Where can I buy insurance?”

  He grinned, enjoying this. “Nowhere. Leastways not today, or tomorrow, or maybe even the next day. Thelma Buick, who owns the insurance place in town, is away right now. Her daughter’s havin’ a baby over in Fullerton. Ain’t no tellin’ when she’ll be back.”

  She let his words sink in. He had her. She wasn’t going anywhere. Still shaking her head, she climbed out of the car, walked around to the trunk, and yanked out her suitcase and the weathered shoebox. She walked past the deputy, up the stairs to the porch and stopped and glared at Vivian. “You win.” She stuffed all her bitterness into the two words.

  “This isn’t a game, Carrie Ann. No one wins.”

  Carrie Ann laughed, the sound hard and brittle. “You always do, Vivian. You always do.”

  Back in her room, she punched in the familiar number on her cell phone. Although she’d talked to Bonnie mere hours ago, it felt longer. She’d never been away from her daughter this long. Listening to the phone ring she pictured the scene at the other end of the line. Bonnie, with her unruly mop of blonde curls and freckled nose would be in her room reading or playing a video game. Or maybe she had a friend over and they were listening to music or watching television.

  Janine, Carrie Ann’s best friend, and the woman looking after Bonnie, answered the call. “I wondered when you were going to phone.”

  “How are things?” Carrie Ann fought to speak through the thickening lump in her throat. Janine’s voice was a soothing balm in her ear.

  “Never mind us. How are you doing?”

  Tears stung her eyes. “Okay.”

  “Is it as difficult to be in Cooper’s Ridge as you thought it would be?”

  “Worse.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Carrie Ann shook her head, but realized her friend couldn’t see her. “It’s…ah…it’s complicated.”

  “I’m listening.”

  In spite of her tears, she smiled. Janine was a good friend. She’d met her after moving to Seattle when she was pregnant with Bonnie. Janine was also a single mom, and the two of them had hit it off right away. Over the years she’d confided in her, and Janine knew how difficult it was for Carrie Ann to return to Cooper’s Ridge, the risk she was taking by being here.

  “Carrie Ann? Are you still there?”

  She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, I’m here,” she choked out.

  A long silence descended, and then Janine said, “Come home.”

  “I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Why not? I can tell you’re hurting.”

  She couldn’t begin to explain the emotional roller-coaster she’d been on since she’d arrived in Cooper’s Ridge. “There’s something I have to do first. I’ll tell you about it when I get back.” Before Janine could argue, she asked, “How’s Bonnie?”

  Janine hesitated, but then said, “You can ask her yourself. Here she is.”

  The sound of fumbling, laughter, and her daughter’s voice echoed through the line. “Mom, when are you coming home? I miss you.”

  “I miss you too, kiddo. I miss you so much.” She wanted nothing more than to hold her daughter and smell her sweet, familiar scent.

  “Are you finished your work?”

  When Carrie Ann decided to return to Cooper’s Ridge, she’d told Bonnie she had to go away on business. She hated lying, but if she’d told her the truth, Bonnie would have insisted on coming with her. A prospect that made her stomach curdle.

  In the past year, Bonnie had begun asking questions about her father. Carrie Ann told her he’d died before Bonnie was born. A lie. She’d also said neither she, nor Bonnie’s father, had any living family. Another lie. Bonnie could never know of Cooper’s Ridge. The town held too many secrets. Carrie Ann wouldn’t risk destroying the comfortable life she’d worked so hard to build. A life built on lies and deception.

  “Mom?”

  She forced herself to focus. “I’m here, kiddo.”

  “You weren’t listening.”

  “I am now. Tell me what you’ve been up to. Did you study for your math test?”

  “Mom,” Bonnie exploded. “You always ask me if I studied. I told you. I don’t need to study for math. I know all that stuff. Multiplication and division are easy as long as you know your facts, and you know I know them. You drill me on them every night.” A brief silence ensued. “At least you do when you’re home.”

  Carrie Ann smiled. Bonnie always aced her math tests. Numbers came easy for her. Unlike Carrie Ann who struggled to balance her checkbook each month. Where had the child inherited her math skills? She ignored the obvious answer. Just as she ignored the fact Bonnie’s dark brown eyes and matching dimples were an exact match to her father’s. DNA and genetics were all in the no-go zone, as were so many topics.

  She chatted with Bonnie for another twenty minutes, listening to the details of her busy, young life. She loved her daughter more than she could ever have imagined. Raising a child alone hadn’t been easy, but she was proud of the job she’d done. Bonnie was a happy, secure, wonderful child.

  After she hung up the phone, she sank onto the bed in the room where she’d spent most of her childhood and gave into the loneliness surrounding her. She missed her daughter. She missed Janine and her other friends. She missed her comfortable apartment in Seattle. She even missed her job as an executive assistant in the realty company where she worked. As soon as she resolved the insurance issue and paid her traffic fine, she’d leave this damn town and never come back.

  A knock at her bedroom door drew her out of her thoughts. Sitting up, she steeled herself to face Vivian and her gloating triumph. “Come in.”

  The door opened, and Leland walked into the room. “I’m glad you’re here, Carrie Ann. I wanted to talk to you.” He wandered around the small room, picked up a book lying on the shelf, flipped through the pages, and then replaced the book. Lifting an old basketball trophy from the dresser, he squinted as he read the words engraved on the small, brass plaque on the base. He crossed the room and stood before a faded poster of her teen heartthrob, Kirk Cameron. “Vivian hasn’t changed a thing in here since you left. Nobody is allowed in this room. She won’t even let the housekeeper clean it, and insists on doing the cleaning herself.”

  Carrie Ann snorted. “Right. I can see her wielding a dusting cloth.”

  “It’s true. Believe it or not, your aunt loves you.”

  Again she snorted.

  “Why do you think she begged you to come home and is doing her utmost to keep you here?”

  “Because she likes to control people.”

  He sat down on the bed beside her and took her hand. “You don’t understand her, Carrie Ann, not really. You never have.”

  She snatched her hand away and jumped up. “Come on. I lived with her for eleven years. I grew up hearing her never-ending criticisms. Nothing I did was ever good enough. I was a constant disappointment. So, don’t tell me what I know or don’t know.”

  “She loves you. She always has.”

  “Yeah, and she treated me the way she did because she loves me.” Tears burned her eyes.

  “We need to talk.”

  She heard the quiet gravity in his voice and her head started to throb. This conversation was heading to a place she didn’t want to go. Not now, not today. Not ever.

  Leland patted the bed beside him. “Please?” The bright, afternoon light streaming through the window highlighted the lines time had carved across his face. His short, thinning hair was more white than gray. For the first time, she realized he was an old man.

  Her anger faded. Her fight wasn’t with him. He’d stood between her and the full brunt of Vivian’s controlling ways on more than one occasion. He’d always been kind. “What do you want to talk about?” Resigned, she sat on the edge of the bed beside him.

>   “How is Bonnie?”

  “Great. I just talked to her. You should see her—” She stopped, realizing what she’d said. Leland would never meet Bonnie.

  “She sounds lovely,” he said. “I’d like to meet her one day.”

  She closed her heart to the sadness darkening his faded, blue eyes. “I’ve told you, you and Vivian will never see her.” She gentled her voice, not wanting to hurt him any more than she already had. “I’m sorry, but Bonnie will never come to Cooper’s Ridge. She doesn’t know you and Vivian exist, and she never will.”

  “You’re still angry over what happened. The situation has changed. Vivian’s changed. She’s not the same woman.”

  She laughed, the sound brittle in the quiet room. “I told you when we were outside the Women’s Clinic, and I refused to have the abortion she so desperately wanted, I’d never let Vivian into my life again. I meant what I said.”

  “Yet, here you are.”

  She turned from his probing gaze. He was right. Here she was. Vivian beckoned, and she’d come running. In spite of the vow she’d made all those years ago, she’d come back to Cooper’s Ridge.

  “It wasn’t my idea to bring you back here. Vivian wanted to see you. She wants to make amends.” He shrugged. “I told her now wasn’t the best time, but you know Vivian. Once she makes up her mind, nothing stops her.” He squeezed her hand. “But you’re here now, and we have to deal with this McAllister issue.”

  She blinked. “Declan?”

  “He’s not the punk from the wrong side of the tracks anymore. I’ve checked. He runs a successful investment firm in Dallas and is well thought of in the business community.” Leland rubbed the back of his neck. “He has money now, and money is power. When he decided he wanted to try and clear his name, he spoke to the State District Attorney. She agreed to look at the case again.”

  Carrie Ann wasn’t surprised at Declan’s success. He’d always been smart and determined. That’s why she’d been shocked when after the sheriff had taken him in for questioning in Skye’s murder, he hadn’t defended himself. He hadn’t retained a lawyer, not even a court-appointed one. He’d taken all the slurs and insults the townspeople had hurled at him without a fight. His inaction was as effective as if he’d admitted his guilt.

  “Carrie Ann?”

  She returned her attention to Leland. “I’m glad Declan’s trying to prove his innocence. He should have fought harder years ago. I hope the private investigator he hired finds something to help him.”

  Leland’s eyes met hers and held. “McAllister’s guilty. By the time this investigation draws to a close, he’ll be charged with first-degree murder and will be looking at spending the rest of his life in prison.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Promise me you won’t get involved with him again. Don’t forget what he put you through. I was there. I saw what he did, how hurt you were, how his betrayal changed you.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m leaving town as soon as I can.”

  “Why did you go out to Rankin’s Farm this afternoon?” He looked concerned. “You knew Declan would be there.”

  She flushed. Why had she gone out there?

  For some crazy reason, she’d felt sorry for Declan and had decided to help him, but she wouldn’t tell Leland.

  Not when Declan had thrown her offer of help in her face. “I wanted to return something of his.”

  “Did he find anything?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. He was trying to find something to prove his innocence. I wondered if he had.”

  “What could possibly still be there? After all these years?”

  He shrugged. “You never know.” Without another word, he rose and walked out of the room.

  She stared after him, her headache now a fierce pounding.

  Chapter 10

  The tires squealed as Declan swerved onto the brick-paved driveway and slammed on the brakes. Leaping out of the truck, his feet thudded on the brick path as he strode toward the house. He cleared the steps and pounded on the door.

  It opened before he had to bang again.

  Vivian stood in the doorway, her frail body blocking the entrance. “What do you want?” Her cool tone made it clear how unwelcome he was.

  No surprise. He’d never been welcome in this house. Not once during all the years he’d dated Carrie Ann had Vivian had a kind word to say. More often than not when he’d come to pick up Carrie Ann, Vivian had made him wait on the porch until Carrie Ann appeared. She was probably afraid he’d steal the family silver. Her attitude had angered him then. It still did. “Where is she?”

  Her gaze was almost feral in her perfectly made-up face.

  She wasn’t going to let him in. He could tell by the way her body tensed. She may have kept him out years ago, but not now. He was here to confront Carrie Ann and nothing would stop him. He’d shove his way in if he had to.

  To his surprise, Vivian stepped aside and opened the door wide. “She’s upstairs in her room. Wait here. I’ll get her.”

  “Don’t bother.” He rushed past her and up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

  He reached the top, paused, and surveyed the long corridor. Four doors flanked the hall, all closed. She was behind one of them. He strode down the hall and rapped on the first door. No answer. He opened the door and peered inside. The room held a king-sized bed and a collection of ornate, antique furniture, all painted white. A familiar, cloying perfume filled the air. Vivian’s room.

  He strode further down the hall to the next room and stopped, his heart beating a trip-hammer in his chest. This was the one. Carrie Ann’s room. He sensed her behind the closed door. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. What the hell was he doing? Meeting her on the road the other night was bad enough, and their confrontation at the old Rankin place had swamped him with a flood of memories, memories he neither wanted, nor needed.

  But he had to know, and so, not bothering to knock, he inhaled a deep breath and opened the door. The room was dim, the curtains drawn. His eyes took a moment to adjust, but then he saw her lying on the bed, and he slipped into the room and moved toward her.

  She was asleep, her auburn hair spread across the pillow in silken waves. Long, dark eyelashes rested on her sleep-flushed cheeks. Her mouth was open, her lips full and pink.

  Memories of kissing those soft lips, touching her, loving her, assailed him. He bit down hard, blocking the groan threatening to escape. Sweat dampened the palms of his hands, and he wiped them on his jeans. Why the hell was he here mooning over her like a lovesick teenager? He turned to leave before he did something he’d regret.

  She stirred, and the bed creaked.

  He kept walking and didn’t look back.

  “Declan, what…?”

  Every instinct urged him to get the hell out while he could. Hating himself for the weak fool he was, he stopped, turned and faced her.

  She was sitting up, her hair tousled around her shoulders, her eyes wide, their amber light luminous in the dusky room.

  His gut tightened.

  She brushed back a lock of hair. “What are you doing here?”

  He swallowed, his mouth desert dry. Why was he here? But then he remembered, and he glared at her. “Why did you come out to the farm this afternoon?”

  Her eyes were too big for her delicate face. “I wanted to return your shirt and pay you the money you gave Ted to fix my tire.”

  He snorted. “You didn’t drive out there to give me a few dollars and a ratty old shirt.”

  “I told you. I thought you might want help.”

  She was lying. She wouldn’t help him. She hadn’t all those years ago, and she sure as hell wouldn’t now. “I’m supposed to believe you drove all the way out there to help me? Me?” He glared at her, daring her to lie again.

  Rising, she crossed to the window, opened the drapes, and let in the last remnants of the day’s light. She turned to face him. “Believe what you want. I’m telling you the t
ruth.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want to help me?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “We both know how our relationship ended.”

  Her eyes turned wounded and dark.

  His heart shuddered, but he held firm and tore into her again. “I know what you did.”

  She faced him, her hands on her slim hips, matching patches of red rising on her cheeks. “Oh, really? And what is it you think you know?”

  “You texted me and told me to go to the old farm.” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could spout any more lies. “You wanted me out there.”

  “Why would I want to lure you out there?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I get it. You think I texted you with some stupid message about having evidence in a twelve-year-old murder so I could be alone with you? You think I still care for you.” She rolled her eyes. “Man, you have some inflated ego.”

  He took out the piece of torn silk he’d found in the barn and showed it to her. He’d placed the scrap of cloth in a clear plastic bag to protect any possible DNA evidence remaining on the silk. “You wanted me to find this. And you arranged for the police to show up. You hoped they’d find me with it. Caught red-handed, as they say.”

  She leaned closer. “What is it?”

  “Oh, come on. Do you expect me to believe you have no idea what this is?”

  She shook her head.

  “I found this in the barn, behind a piece of wood, hooked on a nail.” His eyes bore into hers. “Where you hid it.”

  She gaped. “Me? You think I put this in the barn? It’s a piece of cloth. Big deal.”

  He held out the bag. “Look at it. Look closely.”

  She took the bag from him and held it to the light streaming through the window. She studied the cloth for several minutes and then shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

  “It’s a piece of Skye’s scarf, the one she wore the night she was killed.”

  Her hand holding the plastic bag trembled. “Are you sure?”

  “Do you think I’d ever forget?” He grabbed the bag from her. “This was ripped from her scarf.”