by Karen Fenech
She needed a meal and a bath. First the bath, she decided, then she’d go into town in search of food. She turned to the vast staircase that bisected the hall, intent on making her way to the bath. Rain struck her head. Clare looked to the ceiling. Water dripped from several spots.
* * * * *
Clare found an assortment of pots, and a telephone directory in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. After setting out the pots in the living room to catch the rain, she entered the upstairs bath. The claw-footed tub had a buildup of scum on it that looked like it dated back a century. She found cleaning products under the sink, and gave the old porcelain a scrub until it shone.
She was down to her bikini panties when the door knocker thudded. Who would be at her door? No one knew where she was, or would be of a mind to pay her a call if they did.
Ignoring it, she turned the hot water tap, then stood watching the steam rise from the tub. She’d spoken with several people about Beth. Could one of them have remembered something and tracked her down to deliver the information?
With one hand, she gave the tap a sharp turn, shutting off the water. With the other, she snatched the shorts and blouse she’d worn earlier from the vanity counter. She dressed in an instant and ran down the stairs to the front door.
She yanked it open. Lightning zig-zagged across the dark sky, illuminating the trio of swaying Oaks laden with Spanish moss in front of the house and the man who stood between the two crumbling stone pillars on the sagging verandah.
Jake.
The storm was in full swing now. Rain pelted the earth.
Jake’s dark hair was matted to his head. A drop slid from his hairline and trickled down the side of his face. He seemed oblivious to it. His focus was all on her.
She crossed her arms. “What are you doing here, Jake?” She had to shout to be heard above the rumbling thunder.
“May I come in?”
Inviting him in was the last thing she wanted to do. She hadn’t intended to see him again while she was in town. She hadn’t expected that he would seek her out. She was about to refuse and send him on his way. He must have sensed it, because he added, “This isn’t a social call.”
Clare raised an eyebrow, then stepped back from the door, leaving it open. Turning away from him, she crossed the short hall to the living room. The breeze blowing in carried the pungent scents of damp earth.
Jake closed the door then joined her in the room. He pushed his hair back off his forehead. Hands low on his hips, he glanced around. “Nice,” he said, the sarcasm evident in his voice.
The house was long past any glory days. Plaster had cracked. Paint had peeled. Velvet wallpaper curled at the corners. Rugs were threadbare in places, worn through to the floor beneath in others. Rain fell steadily into the pots she’d placed about the room. The drops struck the steel cookware with audible plops.
“Your sources at this Bureau office must be better than what we’ve got in New York,” Clare said. “I only rented this place a little over thirty minutes ago.”
“I went by the inn, looking for you. When I asked Connie Dannon if she had a guest staying there, and gave her your name, she gave me an earful.”
So he knew why she was in Farley.
“With Connie’s place out,” Jake went on, “that only left Earl Lowney if you were looking for a place to stay in Farley.” Jake’s gaze lifted from his surroundings and returned to her. “You never mentioned a sister.”
“No.”
Clare straightened her shoulders, anticipating accusation, but there wasn’t any in his mild tone.
A new possibility presented itself to her and her heart picked up its pace. “Do you know Beth?” she asked in a rush.
“I know her husband. He’s on the Columbia PD. Town golden boy. I never met his wife.” Jake’s gaze softened on her. “I never met Beth,” he said gently.
Clare rolled her shoulders against the disappointment that settled on them like a mantle. It made sense that Jake didn’t know Beth. If he had, it was likely he would have noticed her resemblance to Clare. Maybe questioned it. He probably didn’t know anything more about Ryder or Beth than she’d learned herself.
She’d moved closer to him in her eagerness for information about Beth. He was now near enough that she caught his subtle aftershave. Rain had dampened his clothing, but not his attractiveness. He had a face that was ruggedly male, and an athlete’s hard-muscled body. The combination of face and form would speed up the heart rate of most women. And beneath the handsome exterior lay a strength that would shield and comfort.
When she’d needed both from him most, he’d withdrawn.
The memory brought pain. She lowered her eyes so he wouldn’t see her hurt. Kept her eyes down until she was sure they would not betray her. Then, she straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. “You said this wasn’t a social call. Why are you here, Jake?”
“To offer you the services of my office in the search for your sister.”
Again, she recalled that she was without her laptop and couldn’t access the Bureau’s databases.
“I’m also offering my help,” Jake said. “I work and live with these people, Clare. That gives me an edge you don’t have. You can expect more reaction like the one you got from Connie Dannon. Farley’s a close-knit community. Beth left one of their own and the people here didn’t take that kindly. They’re not going to hand the key to the town to her sister.”
“I’m not after the key to the town. I just want to find Beth.”
It was a knee-jerk response, one that lacked real heat. He was right, and they both knew it. If he wasn’t considered an insider, at the least he was now a local. That gave him an edge she couldn’t hope to gain. Added to that she’d worked with him, knew him to be a skilled investigator.
She’d be a fool to turn down his offer of help. Still, she hesitated. They shared a painful past and hadn’t parted amicably. His offer made no sense and she needed to know the reason for it.
Clare eyed him. She chose her next words carefully and infused them with the firm tone she reserved for interviewing suspects. “I could use your take on the town and its people.”
“Then it’s settled.”
He turned to leave.
“Why Jake? Why the interest?”
He faced her once again, met her steely gaze with one that was just as hard. “The faster you complete your business in Farley, the faster you’ll leave town.”
She had her answer, though hearing it stung.
“I have a lead on a trucker that my sister left town with,” Clare said. “I plan to check that out first thing in the morning.”
Jake nodded. “I’ll pick you up at eight. We’ll have breakfast at the diner in town. You can bring me up to speed and we’ll follow up on your lead from there.”
“I’ll meet you at the diner.”
He shrugged. “Meet me, then.”
A loud creak came from overhead, and a section of the ceiling at the opposite end of the room collapsed. Water poured in through a now gaping hole.
Clare watched the downpour. “Guess I’m going to need more pots.”
* * * * *
Jake stopped just short of slamming Clare’s front door behind himself. He leaned back against the scarred wood of the door. Water poured from the down spout into a crater-sized hole in the porch. Could good ol’ boy Earl Lowney have rented her more of a dump than this one?
When the ceiling collapsed, he’d had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from scooping her off her feet and taking her back to his house. How she would have balked at that. He’d have likely lost a body part. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. He’d seen her take down men who outweighed and outdistanced her significantly. On more than one occasion he’d been relieved to see that she had the skill to back herself up.
Still, she wasn’t as tough on the inside. She’d looked so vulnerable when she’d asked him if he’d met Beth. He knew what it cost her to open herself up like that to him. Wh
en he’d told her he hadn’t, her disappointment had sliced through him. In that moment, he’d have given a lot to be able to say he knew her sister.
She looked the same. Wide, soulful eyes. A sweep of dark hair that flowed around her shoulders. A killer body that he remembered all too well. He’d curled his fingers into fists to keep from reaching for her, so badly did he want to take her in his arms.
She’d asked why he wanted to help her. He’d told her what he believed she wanted to hear. It didn’t please him that he’d been right. That he’d known the only way to get her to accept his help was to lie to her. She would have thrown him out if she knew the truth.
They’d been over for three years, and he’d never stopped loving her.
Chapter Six
The next morning Clare drove into town for her breakfast meeting with Jake. She wasn’t looking forward to it—or more accurately, to seeing him. She preferred if they didn’t cross paths again while she was in town. But his offer to assist with the locals in her search for Beth had been too good to pass up. So, here she was.
They would only be speaking with one local, she reminded herself, the grocer, who could provide the name of the truck driver Beth left town with. Once Clare had the name, she and Jake could go their separate ways.
She parked her rental by the curb in front of the diner. Despite the short walk, perspiration broke out on the back of her neck. The rain last night hadn’t caused the heat to let up, as she’d hoped. If anything, it was hotter today. She was glad to exchange the sticky, damp air outside for the cool interior of the diner.
The scents of coffee brewing and bacon frying wafted in the air. Clare’s stomach growled, reminding her she’d missed dinner the night before. After Jake left she’d returned to her bath. The adrenaline that had been driving her for the last couple of days was spent and she’d fallen asleep on the sprung mattress in the master bedroom. She never did make it out of the house to find a meal.
She scanned the diner. Jake hadn’t arrived yet. Judging by the number of people inside, the place was doing a great business. Only a couple of empty tables remained. She started toward one of them.
Heads turned as she made her way down the center aisle. Conversations slowed then ceased. Clare thought it was a safe assumption word that Beth Ryder’s look-alike sister was in town had spread.
A buzz of conversation began as Clare reached the table. She felt every eye in the diner on her. It was not an unfamiliar sensation. She’d been the new kid—in the family—in the school—in the neighborhood—more times than she cared to count. Though the attention remained unwelcome and uncomfortable, she’d learned to deal with it.
She took a seat. She’d dressed as she would have if she were going into the Bureau office. The sleeveless dress she wore beneath a matching suit jacket fell to mid-thigh and the vinyl padding of the chair cooled the backs of her legs. Her gun, in a shoulder holster beneath the jacket, pressed against her side.
The table sat in front of a large window. Sunlight streamed across two menus stacked in the center of the white tabletop. The window looked out onto Main Street. A few Farley residents walked the sidewalks, pushing strollers and pulling shopping carts.
Clare spotted Jake leaving a black SUV. Like her, he’d dressed for work. Seeing him in the deep blue suit and tie reminded her how well he wore business attire.
He entered the diner. She watched him search the crowd, then his gaze settled on her and he made his way over. Before they could exchange a word, a waitress stepped up to the table. The woman arrived so quickly, Clare wondered if the order of the day was to get her and Jake out as quickly as possible.
The waitress held an order pad clutched in a plump grip that was white with tension. In her other hand she held utensils. As Jake took the seat opposite Clare’s, the waitress placed them in front of him. Clare noticed the woman wasn’t carrying any utensils for her.
To Jake the waitress said, “What can I get you?”
The woman’s tone was unfriendly.
Jake rested his chin on the heel of his hand as if he had all the time in the world and regarded the woman. “How are your grand kids, Milly?”
The waitress—Milly—hesitated then said, “Got me another.”
She’d responded grudgingly, her tone low, as if reluctant to engage in personal conversation. Since Jake knew about her family, it appeared he was on friendly terms with her. Clare figured it was likely that the woman’s hostility was new and due to the fact that Jake was consorting with an enemy of the town. Clare refrained from rolling her eyes.
“How many does that make now?” Jake went on. “Three? Four?”
“Five.” Milly’s lips twitched, then curved into a smile. Color suffused her broad cheeks. “My Erline, bless her, this is her fifth girl.”
To Clare’s surprise, the waitress plopped the pad on the tabletop and stuck her thick fingers into her apron pocket. She pulled out a photo of a wrinkled, red, crying newborn and stuck it in front of Jake’s eyes.
He took the photo from Milly and nodded in appreciation. “Pretty as can be, just like her sisters.”
“That she is,” Milly said.
The waitress’ eyes glistened briefly and she sniffed. Jake handed the picture back to her. She returned it to her pocket, then snatched up the order pad.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“I’ll have the number three and coffee. Clare?”
She hadn’t glanced at the menu—too engrossed in the byplay between Jake and the waitress. He had a way with people, unlike herself. When they’d worked together and had occasion to interview witnesses, he’d taken on that role. People warmed to him.
To Milly now she said, “I’ll have the same.” She lifted the corners of her mouth in a very small smile. “I’ll need a knife and fork with that, Milly.”
The waitress’ lips tensed briefly, then she gave Clare a brisk nod and left them.
Clare crossed her arms and leaned against the padded back of the chair. “I guess it’s a safe bet that the waitress is a friend of Dean Ryder and Connie Dannon.”
“Farley doesn’t get a lot of tourists. You would have been conspicuous anyway. The resemblance between you and your sister is unmistakable.”
Clare uncrossed her arms and clutched the edge of the table. “You said you never met my sister?” Her words came out in a rush.
“I haven’t.” He said the words gently. “Last night, after I left you, I did some digging, wanting to find out a little about Beth. She and Ryder ran an announcement of their engagement in a newspaper in Columbia. There was a photo of the couple.”
Clare slid forward on the chair. “Did you print that announcement and the picture?”
But before she’d finished her question, Jake had removed a folded paper from the pocket inside his suit jacket and held it out to her.
Eyes wide, she drank in the picture of her sister and the brief paragraph below it, giving the names of the engaged couple and the date, time, and location of the wedding ceremony and reception.
She glanced up from the page and into Jake’s eyes. She broke the eye contact and hastily tucked the page into her purse.
She could feel his gaze still on her. What else had he looked into? With very little effort, he would have learned about her mother and the events that resulted in Clare and Beth’s separation.
Clare straightened her spine. It never sat well with her when someone learned of her past. Avid curiosity glowed in people’s eyes when they found out about her. That curiosity was usually followed by pity.
