She’d realized the marriage was a mistake from the first, but she’d hung in there, through Eugene’s refusal to hold down a steady job and his string of infidelities, until she was forced to admit defeat. The last straw had come when he finally made it abundantly clear to Emily that he had no intention of ever giving her the children she so desperately wanted.
So here she was back in Paradise, Emily thought as she got out of the car and headed up the sidewalk toward city hall. Maybe she was foolish to come back to a town where she had never really felt she belonged, but at this point in her life, Emily had badly wanted to put down roots somewhere. The only family she had lived here, and though she and Stuart might disagree on just about everything, she still loved him and knew deep down that he loved her.
The door to the meeting room opened directly from the outside of the building. Emily slipped into the room and took a seat at the back near an open window.
A breeze blew in, but rather than close the window, Emily pulled her jacket more tightly around her. She liked the feel of the wind on her face and hoped that the chill would keep her alert through Stuart’s long-winded opening speech.
A shadow passed by the window, but before Emily had time to wonder who might be out there in the darkness, her brother called the meeting to order and a hush fell over the room.
As Emily had expected, the meeting was less than ten minutes old when someone brought up the subject of Mike Durbin’s article. Just as predictable was the identity of the person voicing the complaint—Cora Mae Hicks.
“As we’re heading into the fall tourist season, we certainly don’t want a reminder of an…unfortunate incident in the town’s past to keep people away.”
It seemed that unfortunate incident had become a euphemism in Paradise for murder. Emily raised her hand to speak. When Stuart ignored her, she jumped to her feet. “I’d like to be allowed to speak on this subject,” she called. Every head in the room turned in her direction. Stuart had no choice but to recognize her, though he did so with obvious reluctance and a look on his face that clearly said, Don’t you dare embarrass me.
Emily took a deep breath and said, “I’m sure most of you will agree that Mike’s article was tastefully done. He didn’t dwell on the more gruesome aspects of the murder, nor did he sensationalize the few details that are known about the case. What he did was write a human-interest piece about a crime that has gone unsolved for fifteen years, and he did so in a way that has piqued people’s curiosity for miles around. That article has generated a whole new interest in Paradise.”
“We don’t want that kind of interest, Emily,” a deep voice said from the front of the room. Trey Huntington slowly stood, and for the first time in seven years, Emily stood face-to-face with the man she’d once rejected.
Her first thought was that he’d aged well. At forty, he was still extremely handsome, in a GQ sort of way, but on closer inspection, Emily saw the gray wings at his temple, the deep lines around his mouth and eyes. His dark eyes were still just as piercing, still just as relentless, but there was a coldness in them now, an icy scorn for anyone who didn’t happen to share his opinion.
He had once intimidated Emily with that stare. She realized now that he still did, but thankfully, she’d had a lot of experience in hiding her true emotions in the past few years.
She lifted her chin just a fraction and glared right back at him. “Interest is interest,” she said. “What do you care what brings people to town, as long as they come and spend money? I’m not even open for business yet, and because of that article, I already have bookings. Doesn’t that prove my point?”
“We’ve always prided ourselves on being a peaceful little community here. We don’t even have to lock our doors at night. Using a murder to publicize a business could destroy that image, and will more than likely bring the sort of people into town that we don’t want,” Trey argued. He stopped short of saying “undesirables,” even though Emily had heard him use that term before.
“I disagree,” she replied. “The pictures Mike ran with the article showed what a beautiful, charming home the Talbot house is. It went a long way to dispel the rumors that have run rampant about that place for years, just as talking in public about what happened fifteen years ago will help quiet the whispers of a cover-up in Paradise.”
There was more than one gasp from the audience, and then everyone started talking—some shouting—at once. Emily ignored the outraged exclamations. She concentrated instead on putting Trey Huntington in his place for once. Actually, this would be twice, she thought in amusement as Stuart brought the meeting back to order.
Trey, however, did not share her humor. If it was possible, his eyes grew even frostier. “That’s a dangerous word to be tossing about so carelessly, Emily. There was no cover-up. Everyone knew Wade Drury committed the crime. He fled town before he could be arrested.”
“If it was all so cut-and-dried,” Emily said, “then no one should care if I do a little investigating on my own.”
Trey raised an incredulous brow. “To what end, Emily? Don’t tell me you’re actually planning to try and solve the murder yourself?”
Emily felt her face grow hot as snickers erupted around her. She knew exactly what Trey was implying, and so did everyone else. She’d never been able to accomplish anything in her life, let alone solve a murder.
Emily’s face burned with humiliation. She turned her gaze to Stuart, hoping that just once he would take up for her. But he wouldn’t even look at her. There was no doubt in Emily’s or anyone else’s mind who was now in charge of the meeting.
That was the way it had always been, she thought bitterly. Trey Huntington ran Paradise, just as his father had run the town before him. That was why her own parents had died on an icy road coming home on Huntington business. Because William Huntington had insisted that her father—Huntington’s attorney—return that night, despite the dreadful weather conditions.
As the old memories crowded around her, Emily became even more determined not to back down. If her father had stood his ground, he and Emily’s mother might still be alive.
Emily trained her gaze on Trey. “I’ll tell you exactly why I want to investigate that murder,” she said. “To find out what really happened back then. To lay old ghosts to rest. No matter how much you and everyone else in here might wish to believe otherwise, that murder has always hung like a dark cloud over this town. For everyone’s sake, it’s time to find out the complete truth about that night fifteen years ago, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why anyone in this room would have an objection.”
Emily paused, letting her gaze scan the crowd, before adding in an ominous tone, “Unless, of course, someone here has something to hide.”
A stunned silence fell over the room. Emily took a moment to enjoy the deep scowl creasing Trey Huntington’s brow, the thunderstruck expression on her brother’s face. Then she turned and walked out of the room.
Outside, the night was cold and clear, with a waxing moon glowing palely against the sky and the stars so low they seemed to hang just above the purple silhouette of the distant mountains. The clock in the town square struck ten, the chimes thin and plaintive in the deep stillness of night.
Matthew Steele drifted out of the shadows. He didn’t make a sound, just slipped from the darkness like a spirit in the night. Emily felt her heart start to pound when she saw him. “What are you doing here?”
He was standing perhaps six feet away. Moonlight fell between them, throwing angled shadows across his face that made his expression difficult to read. He looked ghostly in the moonglow, a haunting figure from the netherworld.
When he spoke, his tone was light, but his voice still had the power to send chills up and down Emily’s spine. “I saw the lights, heard the shouting, and my curiosity got the better of me.”
Emily thought about the shadow she’d seen pass by the window earlier and wondered if it had been him. Had he followed her here?
She cast a glance
toward the open window, speculating about whether or not anyone could see them out here. She doubted they could be overheard. The meeting was still in an uproar. No one would hear anything. Not even a scream, Emily thought, as Miss Rosabel’s words came back to haunt her. You only had to look into his eyes, those beautiful gray eyes, to know he meant trouble.
As if reading her thoughts, Matthew stepped forward, more fully into the light, and Emily thought she saw his gray eyes flash with amusement. “Congratulations,” he said. “If your intention was to cause a sensation, you certainly succeeded. Makes you wonder what they’re all so afraid of, doesn’t it?”
For a moment, it was all Emily could do not to retreat. Her heart hammered painfully inside her chest as he stared down at her, the amusement in his eyes turning to something darker and deeper. Something that frightened her.
“You’d best be careful, Emily,” he said in a low, menacing tone that chilled her to the bone. “Solving an old murder can be a deadly business.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Some people don’t take kindly to having old secrets dug up.” He took another step toward her.
Emily’s heart thundered inside her. Her breath was coming in jerks, and she knew, suddenly, from the way he was looking at her, that he was going to kiss her. Right out here, with her brother and Trey Huntington and the whole blessed town only a few feet away, Matthew Steele was going to kiss her.
Excitement spiraled through her. Her blood heated and her senses spun. She’d always liked living on the edge, and somehow Emily knew that kissing Matthew Steele would definitely be embracing danger. Courting disaster.
She swayed toward him.
Everything about her tensed and waited.
“Quite a little ruckus you caused in there.”
The voice definitely did not belong to Matthew Steele. Emily opened her eyes and spun around, searching the darkness. Matthew was nowhere in sight. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air.
Without kissing her.
And Mike Durbin stood there, staring at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “Emily? You okay?”
She shrugged, feeling like a fool. “I guess so.”
A gust of wind blew through the trees, sounding like rain as it stirred the dying leaves. Feeling chilled, she folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself tightly against the cold. A dog barked in the distance, the sound eerily mournful in the silence that fell around her.
“What’s wrong?” Mike asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” Emily insisted, but in truth, she wasn’t sure how far off the mark Mike Durbin might be. If not a ghost, Matthew Steele was certainly a mystery. “I’m glad you came out here,” she said, taking a few steps away from the spot where Matthew had been standing. “I want to talk to you. I guess you heard what I said in there.”
“About solving the murder?” Mike shook his head and chuckled. “Wish I’d had a video camera. The expression on Trey Huntington’s face was priceless. Obviously, you hit a nerve.”
“Obviously, I opened my big mouth when I should have kept it shut,” Emily said. “Mike, you know I never had any intention of trying to solve the Wilcox murder. All I wanted was some free publicity from your articles. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t know the first thing about solving a crime.”
“Well, luckily, I do, because I think we’re on to something big here, Emily. I have a feeling—” He broke off when someone called his name.
Trey Huntington stepped out of the building’s shadow, making Emily wonder whether he’d been there all along, eavesdropping. Somehow, she doubted it, but not because she thought Trey wouldn’t stoop to something that low. She knew he would, but he’d more than likely hire someone to do it for him.
“Durbin,” he said as he came to stand between them. Mike and Emily stepped back, allowing Trey to take center stage, as always. “I’d like to have a word with you,” he said to the reporter.
“Seems I’m a popular guy tonight,” Mike quipped, but he shot Emily a look that told her he wasn’t nearly as confident as his words sounded. “What can I do for you, Mr. Huntington?”
“I trust you’ll use discretion in your reporting of this meeting.”
“I’ll be fair and accurate,” Mike said. “Beyond that, I make no promises. Maybe you’d be willing to give me an interview. You could tell me everything you remember about Jenny Wilcox’s murder. From your own perspective, of course. As I understand it, you were one of the first ones to demand Wade Drury’s arrest.”
Even in the darkness, Emily could see Trey’s face harden in anger, and she caught her breath. Mike Durbin, whether he realized it or not, was playing with fire. Trey Huntington was a powerful man in Paradise. If he wanted a story killed, all he had to do was make one phone call to Roy Travers. Mike had to know that. He had as much to lose here as she did, but he wasn’t backing down, and Emily couldn’t help but admire him for that.
Trey said, “You’re making a serious mistake, Durbin.”
“It won’t be the first one,” Mike said, and suddenly Emily understood the game he was playing. He was willing to risk everything, because he didn’t have anything to lose.
Emily remembered the desperation she’d glimpsed in Mike’s eyes on occasion, and wondered again just how far he’d be willing to go to get his story. He’d already made a very powerful enemy.
Trey turned to her, and Emily had a sinking feeling that she might not be able to hold up under his scrutiny as well as Mike had. She’d done fine in the meeting, but that had been in front of a crowd. Alone, one-on-one, she wasn’t nearly as sure of herself with Trey. She knew firsthand what he was capable of, and the memory of their final parting still had the strength to frighten her. Trey Huntington could be a very dangerous man when crossed.
He took Emily’s arm and propelled her away from Durbin.
In spite of her fear, Emily jerked her arm free and glared up at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you think you’re doing, Emily?”
“Trying to run a business the best way I know how,” she retorted.
She could almost see Trey’s smirk in the darkness. The faint scent of his cologne—Égoiste, she thought—drifted to her. “You’re hurting your brother again, that’s what you’re doing. How could you do this to him, Emily? After everything you’ve put him through in the past.”
It was a low blow, bringing her past indiscretions into the argument, but when had Trey Huntington ever played fair?
“I’m not doing anything to Stuart,” Emily said defensively. “All I want to do is make a success of my bed-and-breakfast. How can that possibly hurt Stuart?”
“It can’t have escaped your notice that your brother is in the midst of a hotly contested campaign for the state legislature. Publicity about the Wilcox murder could kill his chances.”
Now wasn’t the time to point out the irony of Trey’s words, Emily decided. She said instead, “How? What does a fifteen-year-old murder have to do with Stuart’s election to the legislature? They’re two separate issues, aren’t they?” She stared up at Trey, waiting for an answer. When he didn’t respond, she said slowly, “You know, Trey, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid of what I might find out in this investigation.”
He moved very close, watching her face in the dim light spilling from the windows of the building behind them. His eyes were like bits of black stone, and his voice was like ice. “You don’t frighten me in the least, Emily.”
The look in his eyes, the coldness—so incongruous with the casual way he spoke—brought a spasm of fear to Emily. She forced herself to smile up at him. “Well, maybe I should frighten you,” she told him challengingly. “Maybe everyone else in this town is afraid of me, because of what I might find out. Maybe that’s why they’re all so against me. What do you think?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Even the wind seemed to still, as if the night were holding i
ts breath. Then Trey said, in a deceptively soft voice, “I think you should forget all this nonsense about the murder, Emily, before you make yourself—and your brother—look even more foolish than you already have.”
Emily managed a small laugh, and was quite proud of herself for the way it came out, with just the right mix of humor and incredulity and even a hint of disgust. “You can’t tell me what to do like you do everyone else in this town. I’m my own person, Trey. You, of all people, should know that by now.”
She didn’t want to use her rejection of Trey to hurt him, but turnabout was fair play. With Trey Huntington, she had to use any measures available to defend herself. She knew he would do the same.
His voice was carefully controlled, as if he were having to struggle very hard to keep his temper at bay. “You may not be as independent as you think.” His frigid gaze claimed hers in the darkness. Emily felt an unpleasant chill wash over her. “You’re back in Paradise now. This is my town.”
“You may own the buildings and the land and everything else, but you can’t own people.”
He lifted his hand and took her chin, caressing her at first. Then his fingers tightened, trapping her. “You are so naive, Emily. I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”
“Oh, but I have,” she said, moving away from his cold touch. “You have no idea.”
She saw his smile in the darkness, the sardonic twisting of his lips, but before he could deny her words, the sound of a motorcycle blasted through the night. The powerful bike, hardly more than a blur, raced down Main Street, and neither Emily nor Trey nor anyone who had come out of the building behind them said a word until the sound had long since faded in the distance. Then an excited murmur drifted through the crowd.
Emily’s heart pounded against her ribs. She’d had hardly more than a glimpse of the stranger, but that was all it had taken. All that she’d needed to reassure herself that Matthew Steele was indeed real, and that he was still here in Paradise.
Amanda Stevens Bestseller Collection: Stranger In Paradise/A Baby's Cry Page 4
