She struggled to hold herself back and cling to the safety of the solid frame, torn between grief, terror, and rage. Nearly choking on the knot in her throat, she whispered a raspy and tearful good-bye. “I’m sorry, James, but I can’t go to prison. Not even for you. Good-bye.”
Her attention was pulled away as she picked up the sound of a car door slamming in the parking lot. Her thoughts flew to the police, who would certainly be coming. Images of them flashed through her mind—finding her there, digging into her background, arresting her. She couldn’t have that.
Her mother always told her that men would come and go, but no matter what, her top priority had to be to look out for number one.
Her instincts to save herself won out.
CHAPTER 1
“Who’s up for the Rocky Mountain Oyster Feed?” Emily Parker asked her cluster of friends as they stood on the sun-drenched sidewalk, watching the end of the Founders Day Parade. The music from the high school marching band began to die down as the last musicians rounded the corner, drifting out of sight.
Emily loved the parade and small town festivities in Paradise Valley, but most of all she loved the interesting women that made up her close circle of friends. After recently taking over her husband’s private investigation business after his murder, no one was more important to her than these three girlfriends were.
They had helped her through her devastating loss, not to mention her transition from real estate agent to lady PI.
A chorus of “count me in” and “me too” rang out from the group, with the exception of one loud dissenter.
“Eeew, fried bull testicles?” Maggie’s face screwed up in a look of disgust. She tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear and rolled her big blue eyes like a teenager half her age.
“Oh Maggie. You’re such a drama queen.” Isabel shook her head. Isabel Martínez was a no-nonsense FBI financial analyst who had seen it all. She and her attorney husband, Alex, had been looking forward to the Rocky Mountain Oyster Feed for months and they clearly weren’t going to let Maggie Sullivan, the Southern belle fitness queen, put a damper on their fun. “They’re delicious, Maggs. You have to put it out of your head what they really are.”
“But they’re fried bull testicles, Isabel.” Maggie frowned. “How can y’all ever get that out of your head?”
“They’re a delicacy, Maggie,” redheaded Camille Hawthorne piped in. As a caterer and event planner, sometimes the spiky-haired diva had to put an enticing spin on some of her unique specialty dishes. “Think of them simply as Rocky Mountain Oysters—that’s what I keep reminding my Jonathan.”
“But the thought, Camille—” Her tall, lanky husband, Jonathan, wore a wincing look on his face. “I feel for those poor bulls—ouch.”
“All right, all right.” Emily waved her hands and shook her head, making her honey-blonde curls dance around her neck. “Enough talk. Whoever wants to go to the Oyster Feed, follow me.”
“All y’all can go on without me. I’ll meet up with y’all later,” Maggie called out as the group left her standing her ground.
The small crowd of friends chatted and laughed their way to the city park, where a large open-air tent was set up to serve the Oyster Feed. People had already begun lining up at the serving station to grab a plateful of the “oysters” along with a piece of buttered corn on the cob and a juicy wedge of ripe, red watermelon.
Emily, along with her girlfriends, Camille and Isabel, and their husbands, Jonathan and Alex, descended on a long folding table, balancing their oyster-laden plates and cold drinks.
“I wish Colin could have been here,” Emily remarked.
Six months after her husband, Evan, had been killed, Emily began dating the town’s new police detective, Colin Andrews. Within a few short months, he had been called back to San Francisco to help his mother take care of his father, following a debilitating stroke. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone, but had said he felt duty-bound to help out.
Ex-Marines were like that, Emily reminded herself.
She and Colin tried to keep in contact long distance by way of emails, phone calls, and Face Time on the computer, but it wasn’t the same as having him there in person. She was lonely for him, especially when she saw her friends enjoying life with their men. Her only solace was that Maggie was single too and they could commiserate together.
“How is Colin doing?” Alex asked. They had been basketball buddies, and as an attorney, Alex found himself working the opposing side of some of the cases Colin investigated.
“He misses you all.” Emily’s hair hung in loose tousled curls, brushing her shoulders, as she looked down at her plate, bravely cutting into an oyster.
“But he misses you the most, I’m sure.” Camille patted Emily’s hand.
Emily sighed. “I’m sure you’re—”
“Hey, y’all.” Maggie burst in and stood next to their table. “I told y’all I’d catch up sooner or later.”
“Have a seat.” Isabel motioned to the folding chair next to her.
“I have someone I want all y’all to meet.” Maggie gestured to a young brunette standing next to her in the crowded tent. Maggie stood behind the empty chair and put an arm on the shoulder of the young woman. “Everybody, this is Fiona. She’s new to Paradise Valley, and I offered to introduce her ’round.”
“Hello, Fiona.” Emily was first to greet her, but the others quickly followed.
Isabel’s training in the FBI caused her to always be the first to question and be suspicious. “Where did you two meet?” she asked. Isabel sounded interested, but wore a far-too-analytical look for mere small talk.
“Fiona was in one of my aerobics classes at the Y,” Maggie replied.
“Yes, in aerobics class.” Fiona nodded. “I don’t know anyone here yet, so I figured there might be people I could get to know in an exercise class.”
“Why don’t you two grab some food and come and eat with us?” Emily suggested.
“I already told y’all, no fried bull’s testicles for me,” Maggie shot back.
“What?” Fiona’s eyes widened with surprise as she looked down at the half-eaten food on the plates. “What are you eating?”
“Bull’s testicles,” Maggie repeated, linking her arm through Fiona’s and pulling her away from the tent.
The friends at the table burst out in laughter at Maggie’s over-the-top disgust with their dining choice. Soon conversation began to flow again and the meal was quickly devoured.
Camille was seated across the table from Isabel and Emily, and she leaned in toward them as if she was about to say something of great importance. In response, they inclined forward as well.
“Did Maggie tell you yet about the man she met?” Camille asked, dipping her chin and raising an eyebrow for emphasis. She glanced over at the husbands, who were thick in conversation about the latest baseball scores and rankings.
“No. What man?” Emily asked.
“Yeah, what man?” Isabel repeated with typical concern.
“Well, I thought she would have spilled the beans by now, so don’t tell her I told you girls, but she met a man on one of those online dating sites.” Camille sat back in her chair, running her hands through her short spiky red hair, an intentional pause, as if to let that information sink in.
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Isabel pushed her long black waves over her shoulder. “You never know what kind of kook or pervert is lurking on those sites.”
“They seem to be getting more popular,” Emily remarked. “I think the reputable ones might be safe, don’t you think?” She looked from Isabel to Camille.
“I don’t want to sound paranoid,” Isabel crossed her arms on the table, “but no site is totally safe from scam artists and perverts.”
“Any details, Camille?” Emily inquired.
“All I know is,” she leaned forward again, “his name is Lucas and he has money.”
“Is that what Maggie said?” Emily asked.
Over the years, her son, Josh, grew up into a fine young man and joined the Navy two years earlier. Her brother, Clifford “Sully” Sullivan, co-owned and ran the local golf course and had been elected Mayor of Paradise Valley a couple of years before.
When Maggie had arrived in Paradise Valley, she’d brought little more than her young son, but she learned all she could about fitness training and she’d opened her own studio, which gave her a decent living. Still, she always said it was her dream to find herself a man of means who would love her and treat her like a queen. Maybe now her dreams were coming true.
“What does she know about this man?” Isabel asked.
“All she’s told me is that he lives in Colorado, his name is Lucas Wakefield, and he’s an investor,” Camille reported.
“Investor? What does he invest in?” Isabel questioned.
“You’ll have to ask Maggie if you want any more facts,” Camille said. “But, please, wait until she brings him up. Otherwise, she’ll know I told you.”
“Maybe I should run a background check on him,” Isabel suggested, tapping her finger on her chin.
“Oh, Isabel, I don’t think Maggie would like that,” Emily warned. Being a private investigator made Emily as skeptical as Isabel’s FBI training had made her, but Emily knew Maggie wouldn’t see it that way. “Why don’t you wait on that one?”
“All right—for now,” Isabel agreed. “But as soon as she tells us about this Lucas character and she starts talking like they’re getting serious, I’m doing a background check.”
“Enough talk about Maggie, what about you, Em?” Camille asked. “Have you found out anything more about Evan’s mysterious past?”
Emily’s late husband, Evan Parker, had been a private investigator in Paradise Valley. He’d been murdered while working late in his office one night about a year ago. Eventually, Emily was able to start putting her tragic loss behind her. Hoping to move on to a new relationship at her friends’ urging, she began to pack Evan’s things away.
While going through his closet, she had come upon a slender silver key that turned out to belong to a safe deposit box at a local bank. She had been shocked that he had kept secrets from her and angry that he had lied about his past.
Gaining access to the safe deposit box, she’d examined the contents and found three passports with different names—Michael Boerner, Sean McDonough, and Alexi Krishenko. She’d also discovered a large bundle of cash, some Euros, a mysterious brass key, a gun, and an old photo of Evan with a pretty, young, dark-haired woman. He had his arm intimately around her shoulders and they were smiling into the camera. Of all the things she’d found in the box, the photo had packed the biggest wallop. Emily had removed the key and the photo from the metal box and left the rest at the bank for safe keeping.
“I still haven’t been able to find out who the woman in the photo is or what the key unlocks,” Emily replied.
Months after Evan’s death, Emily had been pulled into one of his old cases and had taken over as the investigator. She’d worked the case, but it had dragged her deeper into her own puzzling mystery. The items in Evan’s safe deposit box clearly spoke of another life, a life he had kept from her, leaving her to wonder who he really was and if their marriage had been one big lie.
“You know, I did offer to help you with that.”
Isabel had suggested that on numerous occasions, but Emily always put her off, telling Isabel she didn’t want her to get involved, that she would take care of it herself. Still, Emily hadn’t been able to solve the puzzle by herself—perhaps now she should accept the offer.
“What do you have in mind?” Emily stared seriously into Isabel’s eyes.
“See, I knew you’d come around. I could see it in those blue eyes—”
“They’re green,” Camille interrupted.
“They’re both,” Isabel corrected. “Anyway, I have a friend who just retired after thirty-five years with the FBI. He’s living over in Boise and he may have some contacts that could identify the woman. If I can give him a copy of that photo you found, the one with Evan and the woman, he may be able to find something out about Evan’s past life for you.”
“Assuming Evan Parker was his real name,” Emily added.
“Whatever his name was, my friend may be able to dig something up.”
“What do you have to lose, Em?” Camille encouraged.
“Okay, I’ll scan the photo and email it to you, Isabel. Then you can forward it to your FBI friend.”
“Retired FBI friend,” she corrected.
“So, what’s your retired friend’s name?” Emily questioned. “That is, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“No,” she waved her hand. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Isabel said it with a straight face, but then she snickered and Emily and Camille laughed, too. “Let’s just call him Jethro.”
“What are you girls laughing about?” Jonathan asked from the other end of the table. He and Alex gawked suspiciously at the women.
“Just girl talk.” Emily flashed a quick smile to her girlfriends. “Hey, I heard there was a pie baking contest somewhere around here.” She changed the subject and rose to her feet. “And afterwards, they’re selling the entries. Tell me. Who’s ready for pie?”
~*~
Emily and her friends had a ritual of meeting together on Thursday nights for a potluck dinner at one of their homes—girls only. This Thursday it was Emily’s turn to host the dinner and the theme was Italian. Since Emily was the worst cook of the four of them, she decided her contribution would be a big green salad and fresh sourdough bread from the local bakery.
She was setting the table for dinner when her cell phone rang. A big smile spread across her face and her heart began to beat a little faster when she saw it was Colin.
“Hello.” She answered in her sweetest tone—the one she reserved for Colin.
“Hi, Emily. I’ve missed hearing your voice,” he said.
She missed hearing his, too. It always reminded her of warm, dark chocolate—smooth, sweet, and sensual. “Me too. How’s your dad?”
“He’s doing better, but Mom’s not able to take care of him all on her own yet.”
“Any idea when you’ll be back?” Soon, she hoped.
“No, but I’m as anxious to come back to Paradise Valley as you are to have me.” He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Me. I can’t believe I’m actually missing that small town. I never thought I’d say that.”
Colin had been a San Francisco policeman, then a detective there. He loved the big city—until his fiancée was killed. He had taken the job in the small picturesque town of Paradise Valley to escape her memory. That’s when he and Emily met, and when, according to him, he was captivated by her.
“I thought it was me you were anxious to return to, not this town,” Emily replied, feeling a little deflated.
“Absolutely—but I do have to admit that I was becoming attached to that place and the people in it. Before you know it, I’ll be back.”
“You better be, mister. I’ll admit it. I’m so lonely for you I can hardly stand it.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I feel the same way.”
“Oh you do, huh?”
“Yes, I do.” Colin cleared his throat. “Emily, I—”
Emily’s attention was jerked away. “Knock, knock! Where are you, Emily?”
Camille and Isabel entered the house, calling for their host.
“I’m back here!” Emily shouted from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Colin, the girls are here for our weekly girls’ night. You were saying somethin
g?”
“Well, I was but…you go have fun with the girls.”
“All right, Colin. Let’s talk again soon. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too—love you.” He quickly hung up, leaving Emily staring at her phone.
What? Did he just say he loved me?
There had always been a mutual attraction, a strong desire to be together, but neither of them had ventured into the deep waters of “I love you” yet. Before she had time to decide if she’d been hearing things or not, Camille and Isabel strolled into the kitchen.
“You look like someone just slapped you, Em.” Camille set her hot pan of lasagna down on the stovetop.
Emily shook her head and put a broad smile on her face. “Uh, no. I was saying good-bye to Colin on the phone.”
“How’s he doing? I’ll bet he misses you as much as you miss him.” Camille smiled as she rifled through the utensil drawer.
“I think you’re right.” Emily gave her friend a hug.
“I brought homemade meatballs,” Isabel proudly announced as she set her crockpot on the counter, lifting the lid to show Emily. She had been taking cooking lessons from Camille and was becoming quite accomplished. Camille was proud of her, but Maggie, the fitness queen, often gave her grief for the extra pounds she carried with her new love of cooking.
“They smell divine,” Emily complimented. “I can’t wait to taste them.”
“Grazie,” Isabel replied.
“Where’s Maggie?” Camille took the foil off her lasagna.
“Late, as usual.” Isabel stirred her meatballs and fresh marinara sauce around with a large spoon. That was Maggie’s one downfall, being notoriously late for just about everything. “She’ll probably be late for her own funeral.”
“Hey, I heard that!” Maggie shouted as she came through the door. All heads turned in her direction and the girls giggled. Emily hugged her and took her dinner contributions—a container of strawberry Gelato in a plastic grocery bag hanging from her arm and a bottle of red wine in each hand. “So, what did I miss?”
3 The Chain of Lies Page 25
