by Brenda Novak
“Looks like it must’ve hurt.”
“At the time.” Sloane smiled.
“I guess that’ll keep you from being able to model for a while.”
Was there a touch of envy in that question? Sloane got the feeling there was a deeper meaning to those words. “I’m taking a year off, anyway. And it’s already feeling a bit better.”
“Good. Well, I can’t stay long. I just... I wanted to meet you.”
“I’m glad you made the effort. I’m not sure I would’ve been brave enough to reach out to you, given how my brother feels about me. But I promise I’m not the heartless creature he’s probably made me out to be.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “You must know he’s not happy I’m in town. My father isn’t, either. But I’m not here because I’m out to hurt anyone. I have certain memories I can’t forget. That’s all. And I feel like I owe it to my mother to make sure those memories are as wrong as Randy and my father insist they must be.”
“Of course.”
Sloane froze. “Excuse me?”
“It’s what anyone would do for their mother. I’d do the same for mine. Randy told me you were there the night Clara went missing. I can only imagine how traumatic it must’ve been.”
Just that much empathy felt like a warm hug. “Thank you for trying to put yourself in my shoes. I feel like every little sound from that night has been indelibly etched on my mind, which is why I have to do what I can to work through the issues it’s caused. I hope you can understand, even if you don’t agree with me being here.”
“I do understand,” she said. “That’s why I stopped by, to tell you I think you’re doing the right thing.”
Sloane blinked several times. This was the last thing she’d expected her sister-in-law to say. But she didn’t have a chance to ask the questions that rose up inside her—why, what did Hadley know?—before Hadley’s phone went off.
Worry pinched Hadley’s face as she gazed down at the caller ID. “It’s Randy,” she said. “I have to go.” She pressed the talk button and rushed her daughter out of the room at the same time.
“What do you mean?” Sloane heard her say. “I didn’t know you were trying to reach me. My phone was on silent for a while, but then I caught it and turned on the ringer... I’m not doing anything. I cleaned the house this morning, and now I’m about to get my nails done.”
Sloane caught the door before it could close all the way. Hadley tossed her an apologetic glance before holding the cell to her ear with one shoulder so she could strap her daughter into the car seat in the back of her white Land Rover. But she didn’t acknowledge Sloane as she closed the car door and jogged around to the driver’s side.
Was she afraid of Randy or merely intimidated by him?
Sloane didn’t have the answer to that question, but something was up.
CHAPTER TEN
“Micah’s a good officer. You know that.”
Ed sat at the bar with Bill Adler, the chief of police. Bill was supposed to take his wife to dinner at seven, which meant Ed didn’t have long. He needed to make the most of this audience, needed to get out in front of whatever problems Sloane might cause. “Of course I know that,” he said. “We’ve talked about him before. I’ve even said that he might make a good replacement for you, when you’re ready to retire.”
“That’s a ways off.” Bill sent him a sideways glance to confirm that Ed wasn’t rushing the end of his career.
“Ten or fifteen years, at least.”
Visibly relieved, he sucked the foam off his beer. “Having Sloane in town won’t change anything, Ed.”
Ed tossed a few peanuts in his mouth. “It could. Micah was madly in love with her at one time, and love does crazy things to a man. Who knows what he might do now that she’s back?”
Bill’s potbelly rolled over his belt as he leaned forward and glanced up at the TV, which was playing a TCU versus Texas A&M football game. “She’s been gone for ten years. Micah’s been married and divorced since then, and he has a kid. I doubt she has any power over him these days.”
“He could still be in love with her. She’s a beautiful woman. What man wouldn’t want her? That clouds judgment. But there’s nothing to be gained by opening an investigation of the night Clara walked out on me. Losing my wife that way, without a word since, has been painful enough.”
Bill didn’t respond immediately. He was too busy watching the Aggie’s running back weave and cut through defenders to score a touchdown that put A&M on top. “Wouldn’t you like to know what happened to her?” he asked when the play was over.
“No! There’s no use wasting time and energy on someone who didn’t love her family enough to stay and work things out. Clara walked out on me, pure and simple. I was there that night, remember? I know what happened.”
“But it won’t be your time and energy. Why not let Sloane do her damnedest to solve the mystery? Then maybe she’ll be satisfied, and you’ll have answers, too.”
“Okay, and what if she doesn’t find anything? What if all she does is cast a shitload of suspicion on me? I’m up for reelection next year, Bill. Why would I allow my own daughter to hand Chauncey Phillips, who’s planning to run against me again, that kind of ammunition?”
Bill took another drink of his beer. “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be good.”
“No one will be a better friend to you than I’ve been,” Ed pointed out. “Definitely not Chauncey. He’s a preacher, always spouting off about God and religion. He’d force all the bars to close, if he could, which would cost this city a fortune.”
Bill frowned. “We can’t have that.”
“No, we can’t.”
“So what do you want me to say to Micah?”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just don’t give him a sympathetic ear if he shows up in your office, asking to open an investigation.”
“Fine. If you don’t see anything to be gained by it, I don’t, either.”
He said that now, but Ed had been in politics long enough to understand how easily a situation could turn on him, especially a situation as rife with unanswered questions as his wife’s disappearance. Once Sloane made it apparent she believed he was guilty of killing Clara, that suspicion would spread and could grow until there was a whole faction in Millcreek determined to see he went to prison. That would give his political opponents and other detractors—Millcreek citizens who were mad he hadn’t opposed a certain city ordinance, didn’t stop a commercial building from being built next to a residential neighborhood or refused to help out with a zoning change—the power to ruin him. And if Bill felt his own job might be at risk if he didn’t open an investigation, Ed had no doubt whose interests he’d put first. “It’s easy for things to get twisted up, especially something that happened so long ago. That’s all I’m saying.”
“They won’t get twisted up if we don’t let them.”
“Exactly my point. That’s why I don’t want an investigation.”
Bill finished his beer and shoved the mug aside. “I get it. Okay, have to go. My wife will be mad as a hornet if I’m late. But don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
“And, as usual, I’ve got yours. That’s the beauty of long-lasting friendships like ours, right?” Ed smacked him on the shoulder. “We’ve both worked for this city a long time. Sometimes you need a favor from me, and sometimes I need a favor from you.”
“Like I told you before, it doesn’t matter that Sloane’s in town. Nothing’s going to change.”
* * *
That was her car...
Micah pressed the brake as he passed the motel. Still, he went by too fast to get a good look at the white Jag sitting in the lot, so he made a U-turn at the corner and drove past The Wagon Wheel again.
Sure enough, the car he’d spotted belonged to Sloane. There were plenty of nice vehicles in Texas, but he’d never seen a
white Jaguar with New York license plates in Millcreek. He was surprised he’d spotted it—but maybe he shouldn’t be. He was out on patrol, after all, taking a look at everything, and the motel was right on the main drag.
But what was she doing at The Wagon Wheel? When she’d said she’d make arrangements other than staying with Paige, he’d never dreamed she’d go there.
He eyed the drab brown building with its symmetrical line of red doors and the wagon wheel built around the sign in front as he pulled in. Other than the doors, which were newly painted, the place looked as dingy and decrepit as ever. She had to be beyond determined to stay here.
Her car was parked in front of No. 8, where light glowed around the edges of the drawn shade.
He told himself to get out of there, to go on about his business, but he didn’t. He parked next to the Jag. He still felt no resolution for what’d happened between them before, had never received a satisfactory explanation for why she’d given him up along with everything and everyone else.
Besides, he felt he should warn her not to forgive or trust her brother. Here at the motel, she might think she was safe, that someone would come running if she ever needed help, but plenty of problems, even murders, occurred in motel rooms. The Wagon Wheel wasn’t always busy, especially on weekdays, so the manager didn’t remain on duty all night. The front office closed when it got late.
He doubted Randy would come over with the intention of hurting his sister, but he had such a bad temper there was no telling what he might resort to in a fit of rage—like what’d happened last night. And if he showed up at the right time, even a shouting match could go unnoticed, let alone something that wasn’t quite so loud.
Micah glanced around before getting out. He half expected Paige, who had always been so paranoid he might try to contact Sloane, to jump out of the bushes and insist she’d been right all along. He didn’t need the headache, but he went up and knocked, anyway. He hated feeling as though Paige was still so much a part of his life he had to avoid displeasing her. He wished he could be free of her once and for all, but because of Trevor, it’d be a long time before that would be possible.
Butterflies filled Micah’s stomach when he heard the slide of the safety chain and saw Sloane crack open the door.
“You...” she said as if his visit had been fated.
Was she upset he’d come by? “Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “Do you have a minute?”
Her thick dark hair fell loose about her shoulders, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, and she was dressed in a pair of sweats and a New York T-shirt with no bra. Most women wouldn’t assume they looked particularly good dressed down like this, but to him she couldn’t look any better. She seemed real, approachable, like the old Sloane—not the famous model who’d become so intimidating in her fame and beauty. It was in that moment he realized just how much he’d missed her as a friend and not only as a lover. “Of course.”
She stood back so he could come in, but that only made the jittery feeling inside him worse. He could smell her perfume, couldn’t help remembering how she’d pulled off her own shirt the night they’d made love. He’d been too afraid to take it that far, since she’d stopped him every other time.
It required some effort, but he managed not to let his gaze fall to her chest.
“I’d offer you something to drink but, of course, I don’t have anything,” she said.
“I’m on duty.”
“Right. The uniform. It looks great on you, by the way.”
He wished that compliment didn’t make him feel as good as it did. To cover for his weakness where she was concerned, he gestured at the cheap print of a Texas prairie hanging above the bed and the other shabby furnishings. “This is your best alternative to Paige’s house?”
“Until my father finds out where I am and manages to talk the motel owner out of renting me a room, yes.”
“Not everyone is going to kowtow to his demands.”
“We’ll see about that. He’s two for two so far. But this motel seems to need the business, so I’m hoping I’ve got a decent shot.”
When her lips curved into an appealing smile, it was so hard not to forgive her. “What if he does? What will you do then?”
Her smile vanished. “I’ll have to figure out something else, I guess.”
“As stubborn as you are, you’ll probably live in your car before you’ll let your family chase you out of town.”
Fresh concern entered her eyes. Micah noticed because he couldn’t seem to look away from them. He’d always loved their golden, amber color and the thick fringe of long, dark eyelashes that contrasted with the lighter color. “I’m staying until I’m satisfied I have the answers I need.”
“And then you’ll be leaving. Again,” he added, to remind himself as much as gain any kind of confirmation.
She stared down at her feet. “Yes.”
He noticed the small desk in the corner. The lamp was on, and her laptop was open. From the looks of it, he’d interrupted her while she was working. “I stopped by to tell you something.”
When he saw her tense, he guessed she was bracing for an unkind comment. “What is it?”
He hated that she expected him to be no different than her father and brother, who were being so cruel. “You need to be careful. If your father did kill your mother, he won’t sit back and let that information come out. You understand what I’m saying...”
“Do you believe there’s any chance, even a remote one, that he did it?”
Micah debated whether he should tell her about her father’s visit. Ed’s behavior was beginning to make Micah wary of what he’d begun to take for granted since she left—that whatever problems she’d had with Ed were her own, that Ed would never really hurt anyone. Now that Micah was beginning to question Ed’s character, he felt Sloane needed to understand that whatever vestiges of love and familial tenderness she might have for her father, it didn’t change the fact that he was out trying to get everyone to shun her.
The only thing that stopped him was the possibility that hearing it would hurt her—yet again. “Less likely things have happened,” he said. “That’s why I’m here. If you’re right about that night, I can’t overexaggerate the danger you could be in.”
Impulsively, he lifted her chin to examine the bump that was turning into a nasty bruise on her forehead but dropped his hand when a wave of longing crashed over him. It’d been ten years since he’d touched her, and he’d missed her so much. As if that hunger wasn’t bad enough, he’d also gone a year without even kissing anyone, so he was especially vulnerable to the desire that was slamming into him. “Your brother could be dangerous, too.”
“No. Randy didn’t mean to hurt me last night—”
“Don’t stick up for him,” he broke in. “He hurt you and then he minimized it, which is a warning sign.”
She gave him a grudging nod. “Okay, I’ll do what I can to protect myself.”
“And what will that entail?”
“I’ll be careful?” she said lamely.
“Buy some pepper spray, be aware of your surroundings at all times and never go into an alley, an empty building or a deserted area alone. Try not to come and go late at night, either. This place may feel safe because there are usually other people within a close distance, but that doesn’t mean they will hear you cry out if you need them.”
She rubbed her arms as though his words caused goose bumps. “Thanks for the visual.”
“If I’m scaring you, that’s what I’m trying to do. Scared people are more cautious.”
“I’m hoping to find that my father didn’t hurt my mother. You understand that, right? I want to believe in him. I want a father, even if it’s an imperfect one. I just... I have to remove the doubt in my heart before I can fully embrace him or...or try to improve our relationship.”
Micah couldn’t imagine what it�
��d be like to feel as though he couldn’t trust his own father. Or to grow up wondering if his mother had abandoned him—or been murdered. His mom had always been his biggest champion, had tried to shield him from every pain or discomfort, so much so that he’d been taking all she offered for granted, especially lately. He’d even been irritated by her constant concern and advice.
He needed to call her and check in. “How will you find out what happened to your mother?”
“I’ll talk to everyone who knew her, see what she was like in those last days, what frame of mind she was in, if she ever mentioned leaving my father, or if she might’ve been seeing another man, and hope to dig up enough information that...that I can believe she ran away.”
He hooked his thumbs in his heavy gear belt and leaned against the wall, mostly to put a little more space between them. “When we were in high school, you told me that on the night your mother left, she was fighting with your father about your kindergarten teacher.”
“That’s what I remember.”
“You should start with him.”
“If he’s still in town. If not, I’ll have to track him down. I also want to contact Katrina Yost.”
“Who?”
“The woman my father started seeing almost immediately after my mother...left.” She finished her sentence on an uncertain note, since she didn’t really know what happened. Even that testified to how difficult this whole thing was for her. “Maybe he said something to her at one point that seemed odd or raised questions. You never know. I have to talk to everyone.”
Micah let his breath go in a deep sigh.
“What?” she said.
“You need help.”
“No, I don’t.”
He pushed off the wall. “Yes, you do. You’re taking on Goliath, and you’re doing it all alone.”
“And how do you propose I get this help? At some point, I may hire a private detective. But it’s too soon for that. I need to gather what information I can first, or he’ll get nowhere. I mean, who in this town would talk to him, especially about my father?”