Living Lies

by Dawn Brown

  “Was my father living under an assumed name?”

  Nate paled and her stomach dropped. Oh, God, it was true. She could read it on his face. “Why would you ask that?”

  “I spoke to Dean Lawson—”

  “You stay away from him,” Nate lashed out, his eyes darkening. “He’s dangerous.”

  You have no idea. “He thinks my father killed Michelle. He has proof that my father was not who he said he was, that he’d been married before. Until his wife disappeared.”

  “Lawson’s done his research.” Nate rubbed his chin then added almost to himself, “I never would have expected it from him.”

  “It’s true then?”

  “Not the way Lawson’s claiming it is.”

  “My father’s first wife vanishes, just like Michelle. That’s an unusual coincidence to say the least.”

  “Eleanor was not the right woman for your father. She didn’t vanish. She left him for another man.”

  Hope filled her. “So she didn’t just vanish. The police found her, just with someone else?”

  “No. As far as I know she was never seen again. Her family tried to imply that your father had a hand in it, but there was no proof that she met with foul play. They just couldn’t accept the kind of woman their daughter was, despite the evidence.”

  “What kind of evidence?”

  “Receipts from hotels, witnesses that saw her with another man.”

  “If my father knew, surely he would have been angry.” Could it be true? No, no, no!

  “Don’t think that for even a second,” Nate snapped.

  “Then why the fake identity?”

  “That had been my idea. He could come here and start again. We opened the business together, he met your mother. He was happy here.”

  “Until Michelle disappeared.”

  “Yes, until Michelle. All his years he never believed that Eleanor just up and left. He was certain something terrible had happened to her and it haunted him until the day he died. I don’t know how Michelle’s murder didn’t kill him.”

  “It did,” Haley said, softly. “Just not right away.”

  Nate put an arm around her shoulders. “I know this is hard for you to hear. No matter what your father felt for Eleanor, he wouldn’t have killed her. And he would never have harmed one of his children. No matter what they did.”

  Haley frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said.”

  “Had Michelle done something?”

  “Of course not. Don’t give it another thought. And pay no attention to anything Lawson says. Even if that monster didn’t kill Michelle, I can promise you he played a role in what happened to her.”

  Haley stepped away from Nate and met his dark eyes. He smiled reassuringly, but his expression did little to relieve her unease. He had left her with more questions than answers. Could her father have murdered his first wife in a jealous rage? This time yesterday she would have said no. But he had managed to keep a whole other life hidden from them.

  Could he have killed Michelle?

  She didn’t know, and the realization left her cold.

  Chapter Nine

  Haley pulled into her mother’s driveway and shut off the car’s engine. Yellow light glowed from the kitchen window, but offered no warmth or comfort. The idea of another confrontation with Paige made her head ache, but Dean wasn’t going anywhere and her twenty-four hours were almost up.

  She stepped onto the slippery driveway. The frigid wind flapped the edges of her open jacket like puffy, nylon wings as she started toward the house.

  Maybe going to Paige was a mistake. Should she tell Garret first? No, she wanted to stop Dean. Paige was the better bet.

  Inside, canned laughter from the blaring TV mixed with her mother’s rumbling snores from the den. After a quick walk through the first floor, Haley climbed the stairs and started down the hall. She found Paige leaning in the doorway of The Shrine.

  Paige’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? If you’ve come to ask me not to leave tomorrow, forget it. Even if I wanted to stay, I couldn’t.”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” Haley said, unsure how to begin. How many awkward conversations could she get through in one day? Just blurt it out. This is Paige, after all.

  “I spoke to Dean yesterday.”

  “I know. I saw you.”

  “No, after that. He came to my house last night.”

  “You let him in your house? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Look, where I spoke to Dean is the least of our concerns. We’ve got bigger problems because of him.”

  Paige paled. “What kind of problems?”

  Haley told her all that Dean had dug up about their father’s previous marriage, his first wife’s disappearance, and his real name.

  “Dean’s lying.” Hot anger shone in Paige’s dark gaze, and a strange sort of comfort settled over Haley.

  “He had photocopies of the marriage license and the articles about the first wife. He even had Dad’s old yearbook picture. When I spoke to Nate, he confirmed everything Dean told me.”

  “Oh, God.” Paige pressed her hand to her stomach. “Have you told Garret?”

  Haley shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you first. We have to stop Dean and I thought maybe…” she trailed off.

  “You thought I’d be devious enough to come up with something.”

  “I might not have used the word devious.”

  Paige actually smiled. “Ordinarily, I’d be only too happy to help, but in the end it won’t matter.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “There's nothing Dean found that the police won’t eventually uncover for themselves. If they had looked past Dean as a suspect when Michelle first disappeared, they would have learned about Dad’s past then.”

  “So what do we do? Just sit back and let Dean pin Michelle’s murder on Dad? We know he didn’t do it.”

  “To clear Dad we’d have to find something concrete to prove Dean did it. I don’t know why that’s been so hard for the police. I can’t believe a nineteen-year-old kid could murder a girl and not leave a shred of evidence behind.”

  “Unless he didn’t do it.”

  “Don’t get sucked in by him. It didn’t do our father any good, and it sure didn’t do Michelle any good.”

  “He claims Lara started the rumor about him and Michelle still seeing each other. Apparently, she’s going to admit it to the police. Without motive there’s nothing left to tie him to Michelle’s murder.”

  “That can’t be right.”

  “He did break up with her. We both heard him.”

  Paige leaned against the doorframe and slid down until her backside hit the floor. She drew her knees to her chest. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “There has to be something.” Haley squatted beside her. “We just need to think. Where would the killer most likely screw something up?”

  “You have lost your mind. It’s been twelve years, Nancy Drew. Whatever evidence there was would be long gone by now.”

  “If Mom hears that Dad’s a suspect, there will be no living with her. Oh, wait, you'll be living with her. At least until the cops say you can leave.”

  “And I’m the devious one? Okay, the only thing anyone is certain of is where Michelle was buried. This is probably a pointless endeavor since the police would have already gone over every inch, but why don’t we check it out?”

  “That’s a great plan, except someone else is living there now.”

  “Sarcasm is not one of your better qualities. The house is for sale again, and it’s empty. Mrs. Yolken said that the Kearney woman refuses to stay there since Michelle was found.”

  “That’s a tad melodramatic, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know.” Paige shrugged. “Anyway, they didn’t replace any of the windows, I bet we could still get in.”

  Haley couldn’t think of anywhere else to look. “It’s a start.”

  They de
cided to walk. If anyone recognized their cars, it could attract unwanted attention. Besides, the house was only a few blocks away. But with the frigid air seeping through her jeans and turning her legs numb, Haley thought the plan needed work.

  Paige fared little better. Her teeth chattered loudly in the quiet stillness, and she hunched her shoulders until her coat collar skimmed her ears. She looked like a frightened turtle.

  As they came to the Victorian red brick, looming above them in the darkness, they stopped. Years of Christmases and family gatherings spent in the house flashed through Haley’s mind, but they seemed distant and faded. Far removed from the one-hundred-year-old shell before them.

  “How are we going to do this?” Haley glanced at the houses around her. No one peered out from the lit windows. At least that she could see.

  Paige shrugged. “We just go.”

  Together, they started up the driveway, leaving a trail of messy footprints in the deep snow. Haley lifted her gaze to the tiny stars glittering in the black sky above. No chance of snow before morning.

  “Somebody’s going to see these,” she said, following Paige to the back of the house.

  “As long as nobody notices them until we’re gone. Besides, people will think they’re from kids being morbid. Look, there’s the window.”

  As children, they had often sneaked through the window with the faulty lock. Every Tuesday afternoon their grandmother had played poker with her friends, and Paige and Haley, with a gang of kids in tow, would creep in and raid her candy jar. Their grandmother had had a sweet tooth to rival any child’s.

  Paige grunted as she tried to lift the window. “It’s not working. I think it’s frozen shut.”

  “Let me try.” Haley shoved at the sill until her fingers cramped. She and Paige tried together, but the window hardly moved.

  “Maybe they fixed the lock,” Haley said, panting.

  “No, look.” Paige pointed to the bottom corner, where the window had opened a fraction of an inch.

  After fishing her plastic lighter from her jeans pocket, Paige knelt next to the sill and ran the tiny flame along the edge of the window.

  Haley shivered and glanced around her. “If anyone sees us, they’ll think we’re trying to burn the place down to hide evidence.”

  “We’d be the most inept arsonists I’ve ever heard of, using a disposable lighter and nothing else. I think it’s working.”

  Paige stood back and pushed from the bottom. For a moment, it seemed the window would refuse them entrance, then suddenly it slid up, and Paige went tumbling forward through the opening. Haley grabbed the back of her coat to keep her from falling.

  Paige stood straight. “We’re in.”

  Haley didn’t reply. Instead, she peered into the darkness. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight while goose bumps stippled her skin. The sense that someone or something waited inside slid over her, and Rhonda Kearney’s refusal to stay in the house seemed perfectly reasonable.

  “Are you okay?” Paige asked.

  “I’m fine.” She gave herself a mental shake. “I’ll go first.”

  Haley swung her leg through the opening and leaned sideways, awkwardly straddling the sill. As she turned and swung her other leg through, the frame dug painfully into her backside.

  “Damn, it’s freezing in here,” Paige said, following her through. “I guess they’re not heating the place while no one’s living here. Wonder if there's electricity?"

  “It doesn't matter, we can't risk anyone seeing the light. We're breaking and entering here.”

  “Technically we didn't break, we only entered.”

  “If we get caught, remember to explain that to the police. Maybe we’ll only get half the jail time.”

  Paige flicked her lighter again. The small flame glowed in the shadowy darkness. “Should be very comforting once we're in the basement.”

  Haley shrugged. “Let’s just do this.”

  They crept from the living room to the kitchen. Their shuffling footsteps over the wood floors seemed too loud in the silence.

  Paige pulled open the ancient basement door and nausea rolled over Haley in a slow wave. But why? What was wrong with her that she suddenly felt so sick? She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. Doing her best to ignore the thin sheen of sweat coating her body, she followed Paige down the rickety stairs into complete blackness.

  “This lighter’s useless. It’s too dark,” Paige whispered.

  Haley couldn’t speak. The saliva in her mouth had dried up and her heart pounded as the frigid cold rose up around her. Someone watched. She could feel their eyes on her.

  “There's no window down here,” Paige said. “I'll try the light at the bottom of the stairs.”

  As Haley stepped onto the uneven dirt floor, Paige moved away from her. The small lighter’s flame appeared to float through the darkness then the room filled with yellow light.

  Haley squinted against the brightness. When her eyes adjusted, she lifted her gaze to Paige, standing next to the swinging string from the glowing bare bulb.

  “So where do we look?” Haley asked. She wanted to get out of there now.

  “There.” Paige pointed to the back corner where the floor had been dug up.

  Haley walked over to the loose, gray mound, knelt and skimmed her fingers over the surface. The earth was cool and dry. Behind her Paige wandered around the large empty space.

  “There's nothing here,” Paige said. “Not that I know what we were looking for.”

  But there was something. A sickening fear that hung so heavy in the air it was practically tangible. Haley took a deep shuddering breath. She was being stupid, letting the idea of what this room had been get to her. She needed to pull it together.

  “Let's go.” Haley struggled to keep her voice even, but failed, the strange quaver audible even to her own ears.

  Paige frowned. “Okay.”

  Haley moved to the stairs, fighting the urge to run. Then Paige yanked the cord on the bulb, plunging the basement back into a sea of perfect black. Fear, like an icy blade, sliced through Haley nearly paralyzing her.

  “I can't see a thing,” Paige muttered.

  Haley didn’t reply as she continued up the stairs, taking each step quicker than the last. Her footfalls thudded against the brittle wood. She needed to get out of there. Now. Panting, she stumbled into the kitchen.

  Here, the darkness eased some, helped by the street light outside, but the sensation of being watched intensified. Without a word, she crawled out the window, her feet sinking into the knee-deep snow, and gulped the cold air.

  After a moment or two, her heart rate slowed and she managed to get her breathing under control. When she lifted her head, Paige gaped at her. Heat stole into Haley’s face.

  “What the hell happened to you in there?” Paige asked.

  “Nothing. I just got a little freaked.” A panic attack maybe? Wouldn't that be just great, if all this crap gave her some kind of anxiety disorder?

  “Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine. Let's go. I'm freezing my butt off out here.”

  The experience in the house left Haley shaken. But by the time she got home, she’d managed to convince herself that she had suffered an anxiety attack, brought on by the stress from the past week combined with her sojourn to Michelle's makeshift grave.

  For twelve years her sister’s body had waited there. Under the circumstances it was not at all surprising that she might experience a moment of panic. And there was no reason to assume she would experience anything like it again.

  “I'm not losing my mind,” she muttered as she started up the path to the front door. Though talking to herself did little to convince her. And her shaking hands weren’t helping either.

  Forget it. She was home now and mere minutes away from her bed. Sweet oblivion awaited, but a small dark heap on her porch stopped her.

  “What now?”

  The little pile made her skin crawl. Leftover nerves from earli
er, no doubt. She forced her feet back into motion and stepped onto the porch. A hint of red peaked out from layers of gauzy white tissue paper at her feet.

  Roses. She knelt and lifted them into her arms, searching for a card tucked into the folds as she stood. There wasn’t one. So who would send her flowers?

  Some kind of sympathy gesture maybe, for Michelle’s memorial yesterday. Why no card? But she had received a card. Just as anonymous as the flowers she held.

  “I know it’s late.”

  Haley jerked, her stomach dropped like a brick off a cliff. She spun around, holding the roses out like a weapon. Dean leaned casually against the rail with his hands in his pockets.

  “Christ. You scared the hell of out me,” she said, when she could breathe again.

  “Sorry. I thought you heard me and that’s why you were standing there.”

  “I didn't. What are you doing here, anyway? Do you have more of my dead relatives you’d like drag through the mud?”

  “I wanted to see if you had any luck trying to prove me wrong.”

  “If I told you I did, would you go away?”

  He shook his head.

  “I didn't think so.” She turned from him, annoyed that she noticed the way the wind ruffled his hair. “Look, I've had a lousy day, so if there's nothing else you want…”

  “You mean besides your charming company?”

  “Naturally.” She shifted the roses in her arms and tried to slip her key into the lock, but her hand trembled badly. Dean moved up behind her, his chest pressed against her back and his warm fingers closed over hers, guiding the key successfully. Her skin tingled where he touched.

  “I’ve got it.” She shrugged him off.

  “Just trying to help,” Dean said. “You seem kind of edgy.”

  “My, what powerful skills of observation.”

  “Would you like to talk about it?”

  She snorted and pushed open the door. “With you?”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “I guess that would depend.” She faced him, trying to ignore how good he looked. How the muted light on the porch played over the sharp angles of his face. “On whether or not I actually believe you wouldn't try to use anything I told you against my family.”