Hidden Falls

by Newport, Olivia

  They stood silent. A car swished past on the road behind them, and a crackling swirl of leaves blew up in its wake.

  Finally, Nicole spoke. “Like you said last night, we were kids. We were so hungry for what he gave us that we didn’t really see the world through Quinn’s eyes.”

  “Do you think he was—is—happy?”

  “Yes,” Nicole answered without hesitation. “He helped—helps—people because he wants to, because he cares if they’re happy. And he has his faith. It’s real.”

  Ethan clamped his reply closed. He wasn’t going down the faith trail.

  2:19 p.m.

  Jack Parker was starting to wonder what, precisely, his son did the night before. Colin was seventeen—closer to eighteen. Maybe Jack didn’t want to know what Colin and his friends did. Next year at this time, Colin would be away at college, and Jack wouldn’t see that his son looked slightly hung over at lunch on Sunday. The girls had gotten up and gone to church, but even Gianna gave Colin a wide berth these days and hadn’t knocked on his door in the morning. Colin didn’t say more than “I need the butter” for the entire meal when the family gathered in the formal dining room with its tall windows and wide crown molding. This was the room that sold Gianna on the house. She didn’t seem to need much of an excuse to serve family meals in the dining room. Jack preferred the kitchen, figuring that since they spent a small fortune renovating it, they ought to use it.

  Eva had come home for breakfast. The swim party last night turned into a sleepover, so she looked tired, but she made an effort to be pleasant. Thirteen-year-old Brooke chattered about the shopping spree her friend’s mother took them on the night before and the chocolate-covered shortbread squares they baked. Perhaps Brooke’s brightness was a sign that she didn’t blame him for isolating the family in this small town. Gianna wouldn’t tell Brooke directly that she didn’t think the girl was ready to stay home alone in the evenings, even at thirteen. Somehow, Jack realized, Gianna made sure Brooke had something enticing to do whenever everyone else was out.

  “I was going to tell Quinn I wanted to help at the health fair,” Brooke said as Gianna began stacking dishes. “Now I guess I should tell Lauren.”

  “If that’s what you want to do,” Gianna said, “let her know. I’ll make sure you can be there.”

  “Quinn will be back before Saturday, won’t he?” Brooke said.

  Jack and Gianna glanced at each other.

  “What about school tomorrow?” Eva asked. “I can’t give my family genealogy presentation to a sub.”

  “Quinn has many friends.” Gianna laid the fifth dinner plate in her stack. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. It’s not something we have to fret about. Let’s just enjoy our Sunday.”

  Colin unfolded out of his chair. “I have homework.”

  Jack watched his son slink from the room. No “excuse me” or “thanks for dinner.” No taking dishes to the kitchen. It might as well have been Jack saying, “I have to work.”

  The guilt made Jack stand up and lift the stack of plates and silverware Gianna had assembled. “I’ll do the dishes.”

  When Gianna caught his eye, she looked stunned. Other than her blinking eyes, nothing moved.

  “I know I haven’t cleaned up in about a hundred years,” Jack said, “but I will today.”

  “Well, I have been looking for time to catch up on my scrapbooks.” Gianna’s face lit up.

  “Then go on,” he said. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Gianna scooted her chair back. “If there’s anything you don’t know what to do with, just leave it on the breakfast bar.”

  Jack wasn’t sure whether to be relieved at this instruction or insulted. Gianna was already predicting he wouldn’t know his way around the kitchen. Every time he emptied the dishwasher—usually under unexpressed duress—she later remarked about finding an item in an odd place. And by odd she meant wrong.

  Eva picked up two empty serving bowls, and Brooke took the bread basket with the cross-stitched liner that draped an autumn leaf pattern over the rim of the basket. It was the perfect accent for the season and the room, Jack observed. That was Gianna. The perfect accent.

  “Go,” he said again. “Spend the afternoon doing exactly what you want to do.”

  Gianna smiled, and Jack bent to kiss her.

  She stroked the side of his face. “Thank you.”

  He was making an effort. It didn’t come naturally, but he was trying. Jack carried the plates into the kitchen. When he returned for the glasses, Gianna had left the dining room. In the kitchen, in addition to tableware, Jack faced the cookware required to produce a Sunday meal featuring meat, potatoes, salad, two hot vegetables, and rolls.

  Folding up the sleeves of the dress shirt he had worn to church, Jack started in. Someone turned on the television in the other room and changed channels every eight seconds. Jack rinsed and scrubbed and loaded the dishwasher with Gianna’s voice in his head at each task. He was pleased to leave nothing on the breakfast bar, and only twice did he put something in a cupboard without being certain the location was correct.

  Having fulfilled his family duties and successfully lightened Gianna’s mood toward him, Jack went upstairs to change clothes. The master bedroom stretched across one end of the house and included space Gianna used for whatever was her current project. Jack had never seen the need to keep up with what the scattered craft elements meant. Rather than working at her table, though, Gianna was asleep on the paisley chaise lounge with a quilt pulled up to her neck.

  Good. She wouldn’t miss him.

  Outside, Brooke was playing with the puppy in the yard. The Airedale had a green chew toy between her teeth, and Brooke gripped its edges and shook it. Roxie’s tail wagged.

  “Hi, Dad.” Brooke grinned.

  She could be a calendar photo, Jack thought. A fresh-faced girl in a sweater playing with a puppy in a yard of fall leaves.

  “Looks like you’re having fun.”

  “I wish we’d gotten a puppy a long time ago.” The dog released the toy, and Brooke tossed it several yards away. Roxie scampered after it and, panting, brought it back.

  “Mom is napping,” Jack said. “If she wakes up and wonders where I am, will you tell her I went for a walk?”

  “Yep.” Brooke dropped to her knees and snuggled the puppy against her face.

  Another calendar shot.

  Jack was going to have to do something about the leaves in the yard, but not today.

  He was aiming for his office. Jack would have preferred to live farther out of town in a newer subdivision. They could have avoided all the remodeling mess and expense of the last few months. But Gianna had wanted a house with character, so they bought a home built in 1906, knocked out a couple of walls to create the great room, and modernized the kitchen and bathrooms. From the outside, the old house maintained its stately charm and suggestion of gracious living.

  Jack hated it. But Gianna was happy—with the house. She was less happy with Jack.

  One advantage of living in town was that Jack could, in all honesty, say he was going for a walk and end up at his office in an old brick structure one block north of Main Street. He had inherited a number of loyal clients when he purchased the suite of offices and took over the law practice. He also handled the occasional real estate transaction. But Jack wanted something he could dig his teeth into.

  A storeroom in the suite of rooms that housed his practice contained dozens of crates of old files. One by one Jack carried them to his desk, where he could sit in his high-backed leather chair and sort through folders looking for a random document or a handwritten note that might lead to a legal challenge that would make his heart race like the old days. Jack loved Gianna, and he loved his kids, but he was choking on the pressure to accept mediocrity and think it was a good life.

  Now Jack wondered if his old files contained any records related to Quinn. One clue. That’s all it would take to bring some excitement to practicing law in Hidden Falls.


  2:58 p.m.

  Liam Elliott hardly knew Jack Parker and surprised himself by lifting a hand in greeting, much less waving him over when he entered the Fall Shadows Café.

  It was an impulse, and perhaps a desperate one.

  Liam pushed away his plate with the remains of his roast beef sandwich and sweet potato fries. He came in for a late lunch after waiting as long as his stomach could take for Jessica to call. The baby shower for her coworker was supposed to start at ten thirty. Liam wasn’t sure what a room full of women found to do for more than four hours. Last night Jessica had been eager to spend most of the day with Liam, so why hadn’t she found some way to duck out sooner? He kept his phone on the table to be sure he wouldn’t miss her call, but what was the harm in a little strategic conversation while he waited?

  He was just exploring options, not making a commitment.

  Liam had heard the rumors about Jack coming to town with his tail between his legs over some corporate scandal. Whether there was any truth to it or not, the suggestion had put Liam off getting to know Jack, even though Jack moved into the empty office suite in Liam’s building months ago. Of course Jack had all the requisite qualifications for taking over a law practice, and the rumor mill also said some of the clients were satisfied that the previous attorneys wouldn’t have turned over the business to a shyster. They intended to stay put unless Jack Parker gave them reason to look elsewhere for routine legal services.

  Some of the clients, Liam had noted in conversations around town, not most. Liam couldn’t afford to lose even some of his clients. It was hard enough to make a living as a financial consultant in a small town, traipsing all over the county every week—because if he waited for people to be willing to drive into town to meet at his office, he would never close a deal.

  Now Liam felt some sympathy for Jack. News traveled fast in Hidden Falls because it didn’t have far to go before falling on fresh ears. If a rumor started that Liam had been unethical in his business, it might as well be on a billboard over the WELCOME TO HIDDEN FALLS sign. Whether it was true or not, his business would never recover.

  As much as Liam hated to admit it, Jack Parker, attorney at law, might be just the person he would need on his side if the question of the missing funds blew up in his face.

  Maybe the operative word was when, rather than if.

  Jack made his way across the café to the small table where Liam twiddled a fork.

  “Heading to your office?” Liam asked.

  “Thought I might. Just wanted a cup of coffee to take with me.”

  “Sit down if you have time.” Liam gestured to an empty chair. “I’m about to order some myself.”

  Jack hesitated but took a seat and raised a hand for Gavin’s attention. They ordered coffee. When Jack didn’t ask for his “to go,” Liam’s mind churned over the challenge of managing this conversation. He managed conversations every day, but the stakes were steep in this one.

  “I’ve got fresh blueberry pie.” Gavin wagged his eyebrows and reached for Liam’s empty lunch plate.

  “Let me buy you some pie, Jack.” Liam spoke quickly, before the opportunity faded.

  “I was just lamenting that my lunch at home didn’t include dessert,” Jack said. “How about some ice cream on that pie, Gavin?”

  “You got it. Two?” Gavin looked at Liam, who nodded.

  “So as a lawyer,” Liam said after Gavin left, “you must find last night’s events curious. Have you dealt with missing person cases before?”

  “In my experience,” Jack said, “there are two kinds of missing persons. Those who don’t want to be found, and those who have been strongly encouraged to go missing against their wills.”

  “And Quinn? Do you have a theory about him?”

  “I never actually met him. How well do you know him?”

  “Not as well as some,” Liam admitted, “but we’re working on a business deal.” There seemed no harm in stretching that particular truth.

  “Did he seem like someone who would up and walk out while five hundred people are applauding him?”

  “I would have to say no.” That was the truth.

  Jack turned his palms up. “There you have it, then. Somebody got to him.”

  “Got to him?”

  “A little chloroform, perhaps. A pistol in the ribs. A chop to the neck. It could happen any number of ways. The closed curtain was a perfect cover—and that blast, whatever it was.”

  Liam grimaced. “That sounds a little dramatic.” Just how much time did Jack spend working on criminal cases compared to how much time he spent watching reruns of Law and Order? He hated to think that something like what Jack suggested actually happened.

  Jack shrugged. “I’ve tried enough criminal cases to face facts. It happens.”

  “I didn’t realize you were that kind of lawyer.”

  “I spent a few years in criminal and a few years in corporate.”

  “I see.” Either way, criminal or corporate, Jack could be of help to Liam—if it came to that. The combination could bode well.

  Gavin returned with coffee and pie. Liam poured cream into his cup. Jack chunked off an ambitious bite of blueberries.

  A commotion at the back of the café demanded their attention. A woman tripped over a chair and cried out, “My purse!”

  Liam froze, but Jack bounded out of the booth and tackled a man with a lump under his sweatshirt. The thief sprang to his feet again and pulled his hood up to obscure his face. A woman’s purse tumbled to the floor as he careened out of the café. Jack picked it up and handed it to the distressed woman.

  “Thank you!” She hugged Jack and returned to her table. Someone started a rhythm of applause. Jack gave a dignified bow.

  Gavin Owens dashed out the door after the thief but returned almost immediately shaking his head.

  Liam was flabbergasted as Jack slid back into his seat. “That was some quick thinking.”

  “That’s how fast crime happens.” Jack picked his napkin up off the floor and sat back down. “Hidden Falls may be the kind of town where people think crime will never strike, but believe me, it happens everywhere. It just takes one person with one screw loose.”

  “So you think that petty thief has a screw loose?” Liam stirred his coffee. “Or are you saying somebody mentally unstable has Quinn?”

  “I’m just saying that anything could have happened. That poor woman came in for a sandwich, and look what happened to her.”

  Liam picked at his pie. While he was as stunned as anyone by Quinn’s disappearing act last night, until this moment Liam hadn’t confronted probabilities. He swallowed a forkful of sweetened blueberries. If Quinn was taken against his will, his return was less predictable with every hour that passed. That meant Liam’s options were narrowing as well.

  “It sounds like you’ve seen some serious cases.” Liam resumed his query for what he needed to know from this conversation.

  “I’ve had my share.”

  “What about on the corporate law side? You must see some hanky-panky there, too.”

  Jack took a long sip of coffee. “Corporate law is all about money. Who has it. Who wants it. How they plan to get it. What price they are willing to pay. What they’ll do to avoid responsibility.”

  Liam’s gut tightened at the relevance of every one of Jack’s points. He knew he didn’t have the missing money. So who did? And how did they get it? Liam had only suspicions he couldn’t prove—yet. If Liam didn’t figure out something soon, he would be responsible whether he liked it or not. He cleared his throat.

  “I suppose some of it has to do with creative bookkeeping,” Liam said.

  “More than a little. Corporate decisions often come down to technical interpretation and applied logic of the law.” Jack had nearly cleared his plate already.

  “Doesn’t it ever come down to somebody covering up, say, embezzlement?”

  “Only if they’re not very good at it. You’d be surprised what people get away with.”


  “If they get away with it, how does anyone find out?”

  “Eventually somebody slips. They get greedy, make one transaction too many, something outside the normal pattern of the accounts in question.”

  “And what do the attorneys do when that happens?”

  Jack fastened his gaze on Liam. “Attorneys always act in the best interest of their clients. That’s our job.”

  Liam looked down at his pie, wishing that the accounts he questioned didn’t already meet Jack’s description. Maybe it had been going on for longer than he realized, and only now had someone gotten greedy and made the first transaction that caught Liam’s attention. Nobody would believe he didn’t know, that he hadn’t seen it sooner—that he hadn’t done it himself. He had to protect himself. His vision of his future dangled precariously.

  “Thanks for the pie.” Jack laid his fork on his plate. “I think I’ll get a second cup of coffee to take with me.”

  Liam picked up his briefcase, and they walked to the counter together, where Liam paid the bill before continuing down the street to his car. He drove south, toward the banquet hall. The parking lot was full once again. Liam guessed it was the sort of run-of-the-mill wedding reception that Jessica would have nothing to do with. Once he shut the engine off, he reached into his briefcase for the envelope. It was time to put it back—without raising questions about why he had it to begin with. Liam sat in his car and watched the front entrance for five torturous minutes. If he had worn a suit instead of jeans and a pullover, it would have been easier to go unnoticed. He concluded from the lack of foot traffic that events inside were in full swing. If he was lucky, they were doing toasts and giving speeches and cutting cake, traditions none of the guests would want to miss.

  Liam tucked the envelope in his waistband and pulled his sweater down. He strolled toward the building, through the door, and down the hall with the certainty of belonging. Breaking in again wouldn’t be necessary—as easy as it would be. Liam squatted to position the envelope under the door before giving it a swift two-fingered push. The angle was strategic, sure to leave the envelope in a place where it might easily have fallen off the corner of the desk.