How Secrets Die

by Marta Perry

  She woke to the sound of Mrs. Anderson’s voice in the living room. She was lamenting the fact that she’d been out the previous night and hadn’t been there to help. Mac sounded as if he were trying to stem the tide of her self-recriminations. He wasn’t succeeding.

  Dragging herself out of bed, Kate shoved her feet into slippers and padded to the door. She’d better go to his rescue.

  “Kate!” Mrs. Anderson rushed to her the instant she heard the bedroom door. “My dear, how are you? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here last night. If only I had been, you could have come to me. Why did it have to happen on the one night of the month I’m always out at my card club? I just feel so guilty.”

  Kate saw Mac’s head come up at the mention of Mrs. A’s schedule. He was thinking exactly what she was. Had someone known that the bed-and-breakfast would be empty last night and planned accordingly?

  “Now, I’m going right over and fixing breakfast for you, and I’ll bring it here. You just relax, and I’ll be back with it in a few minutes. I have an egg casserole all ready to come out of the oven.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Kate discovered that she was ravenous. Besides, agreeing would at least get Mrs. Anderson out of the way so she could have a word with Mac.

  When Mrs. A. had bustled off to her kitchen, Kate raised her eyebrows at Mac. “So, did someone know about Mrs. Anderson’s card club night?”

  His lips quirked. “It wouldn’t be difficult to find that out, I’m sure. Although I can’t picture someone like Ax Bolt knowing or caring.”

  Obviously Mac was still fixated on the drug aspect. She could understand that, and certainly someone like Bolt sounded likely to resort to violence.

  “Why would Bolt attack me? I don’t know anything about him.”

  “True, but he may not realize that. He may think Jason confided in you.” He stepped closer, reaching out to trace the line of her cheek with one finger. “Never mind about that for the moment. Mrs. A. will be back before we can blink. How are you?”

  “Better for the sleep.” She tried to move her shoulder and instantly regretted it. “Stiff. Sore.”

  “Taking it easy today may help. Don’t forget that the pills the doctor ordered are on the kitchen counter.”

  “I won’t.” She studied his face, bristly with the night’s growth of beard, eyes dark with concern for her. He looked tough. Dangerous. And so close she couldn’t take a breath without inhaling the scent of him.

  “Kate.” His voice had deepened, roughened, and his gaze was so intent it warmed her skin.

  “Here we are.” The door rattled as Mrs. Anderson pushed it open with the tray she carried.

  “What did I tell you?” Mac grinned.

  “A good hot breakfast will make you feel much better.” Mrs. A. carried the tray to the kitchen table. “And then I’ll help you get washed up and dressed. It’s not easy to do with your arm in a sling. I know that—did I tell you about the time I broke my wrist? I fell on an icy sidewalk.”

  “I remember,” Mac said. “I have to go,” he murmured to Kate. “It’ll take some pushing to get the tests moved to the top of the list for processing. Still, if the DA thinks there’s a drug connection, he’ll move it along.”

  “There may not be,” she said quickly. “You haven’t forgotten...”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything.” His voice was low, and his look scorched her skin. “I’ll check back with you later. Meanwhile, stay in, rest and keep the dead bolt on. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She hurt too much to argue the point.

  “Good girl.” He grinned as he said it, as if he knew it would make her mad. “Take care.”

  The next half hour was spent eating under Mrs. Anderson’s supervision and answering her many questions as briefly as possible. Finally she took refuge in claiming that the police didn’t want her to discuss it with anyone. Mac hadn’t actually told her that, but she felt sure he’d agree, especially if faced with this barrage of questions.

  Kate was truly thankful for the woman’s determination when it came to getting cleaned up and dressed. She hadn’t realized how incapacitating it was to have one arm in a sling. Mrs. Anderson, having been through it herself—Kate heard the story of slipping on the ice three more times—seemed to know just what to do.

  Even so, by the time they’d finished, she was exhausted and only too glad to stretch out on the sofa. After Kate promised to call immediately if she needed anything, Mrs. A. departed, leaving restful silence in her wake.

  Kate smoothed her hand over the sofa, thinking of Mac. He’d have been too tall to get much rest on it, but she didn’t suppose he’d have rested much, anyway. He’d been on guard, determined to keep her safe from all the things that go bump in the night. She smiled, remembering how she used to make that promise to Jason when she put him to bed.

  Mac had opened up to her last night, moved by her pain to share his own private nightmares. She knew instinctively that he didn’t talk about it often, if at all. That fact that he told her meant...well, among other things it meant that he recognized the bond between them.

  It was a bond that both thrilled and dismayed her. She’d be leaving soon, and she knew now that Mac wouldn’t leave Laurel Ridge. This town was his atonement for what had happened in Afghanistan. He hadn’t been able to save Ahmed and his people, but he’d transferred that pain into dedication to his town and its residents. Everyone in Laurel Ridge was part of his responsibility, and he wouldn’t let them down.

  So while he stayed here, the guardian of this place, she would go...where? She didn’t have a job. She didn’t even have any viable lead. It had begun to look as if she’d have to find some other venue for her work than the dwindling pages of a big-city newspaper.

  A wry smile crossed her face. She had fallen between the golden age of newspapers and the rise of all the other ways in which people currently found their news. But no matter where she got a job, it was hardly likely to be in this small town.

  She was still mulling over the possibilities when someone tapped at the door. It opened a crack, and she belatedly remembered her promise to Mac to keep the dead bolt on.

  “Hi, Kate. Okay if I come in?” Not waiting for a response, Allison entered, carrying a large basket, with which she gestured. “Enough food for a small army, courtesy of my future mother-in-law. And from Sarah, as well. And both of them said that anything you need, just call.”

  “It’s kind of them. And a little overwhelming.” She started to get up, but Allison waved her back.

  “Relax. No need to get up, and I can only stay a few minutes. This would be the day we advertised all our Christmas fabrics, and we’re swamped.” She smiled. “Well, as swamped as anyone can be in a town of eight thousand people.”

  Allison rattled around in the kitchen for a few minutes and then reappeared. “There’s a chicken pot pie you can heat up for your supper. And a quart of chicken soup and one of beef vegetable, canned by Ellen. And various assorted desserts. Apparently they think being injured makes you hungry.”

  Kate shook her head, gesturing to the chair opposite her. “As I said, overwhelming.”

  Allison settled herself in the chair, looking as sleek and pulled together as if she were posing for a layout in Country Living. “I know what you mean. That was my reaction when I first came to Laurel Ridge. But people here look out for each other. I’d never lived in a small town before.” She smiled. “And now I’m settling down here for life.”

  “No downsides?” she asked.

  Allison grinned. “Well, you do have to get used to everyone wanting to know your business. And the gossip flies faster than you’d believe. By the time something appears in the paper, everyone knows it already.”

  “I hate to think what they’re saying about me.” Kate could imagine the talk.

  “Not as bad as you might suppos
e. Being approved by the Whitings means something in Laurel Ridge.”

  Kate didn’t know what to say to that, but Allison didn’t seem to expect an answer.

  “Mac comes across as a tough guy,” Allison went on, and Kate didn’t think the comment was as random as it sounded.

  “He’s a cop. I suppose he has to.” Kate’s thoughts flickered to her late stepfather, only to discover that some of her anger with him seemed to have dissipated. Before she could assess that, Allison was continuing.

  “But Mac has a tender heart under that tough exterior. I’d hate to see him get hurt.”

  So Allison thought she needed a warning, did she? Well, she might be a bit too late.

  “I’d hate that, too. But sometimes it can’t be avoided.” She met Allison’s gaze and hoped the woman understood.

  Getting hurt was the flip side of caring, and she expected both she and Mac might fall victim to it.

  Allison studied her face a moment longer, and then she gave a nod, apparently satisfied. “Well, I’d better get back to the shop. Remember, if you need anything...”

  “I’ll call,” Kate said, but she suspected she wouldn’t. She was used to taking care of herself. Laurel Ridge had nibbled away at that independence, but she’d better grasp it back before anyone else got hurt.

  * * *

  MAC HUNG UP the phone after calling the lab and extracting a promise that they’d get to his samples soonest. He had too much experience to expect that to happen in the near future.

  He had to force himself to sit still and think things through. Urgency pushed at him—the need to do something, anything, that would resolve this problem and keep Kate safe. There was no point in rushing off half-cocked. Unfortunately, he couldn’t approach keeping Kate safe with the same protective attitude he had toward everyone else in this town. His feelings about her were way too complicated and primal for that.

  Marge buzzed through from the outer office. “Sheila called from Russell Sheldon’s house while you were on the phone. She says he wants to see you right away. Can I tell her you’ll be right over?”

  Mac hesitated. He wanted to talk to everyone involved in Blackburn House himself, not leave it in Johnny’s inexperienced hands. But there was always the possibility that Russ remembered something about Jason—something important to resolving the riddle of his death.

  He blew out a frustrated breath, hoping this wouldn’t be a wild-goose chase. “Okay. Tell her I’m on my way.”

  When he reached the house, Sheila was waiting to open the door for him. “Hey, Sheila. Is something wrong?”

  “I guess not.” She sounded unsure, and her good-natured face was troubled. “He seems pretty much with it today, but he’s got a bee in his bonnet about seeing you. It was all I could do to keep him from walking down to the station.” She sent a furtive glance toward the living room. “You know he’d get lost if he tried to do that, but he’s determined.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll talk to him.” He patted her arm reassuringly. “It’ll be okay.”

  But when he reached the archway to the living room, he wasn’t so sure. Using a cane to help, Russ Sheldon was thumping his way across the room. Ruffy, apparently knowing his master was upset, whined plaintively, tail and ears down.

  “There you are at last.” Russ shot the words at him in a tone Mac didn’t remember ever hearing from him before. Russ had always been the perfect gentleman, even when things were not going according to plan.

  “Sorry I didn’t get here more quickly.” Mac took his arm and guided him toward his usual chair. “Let’s sit down, and you can tell me all about whatever is troubling you.”

  Russ shook off his arm. “I can sit myself.” Then, seeming to hear his temper, Russ shook his head, looking sheepish. “Sorry. Not your fault. I’m just so angry with myself that I didn’t tell you before.”

  “So you’ll tell me now.” Mac kept his voice calm and easy, despite the questions that raged through him. “I’m right here.”

  For a moment Russ stared down at the Oriental carpet. Then he shook his head. “Not your fault,” he said again. “It’s a terrible thing to feel your mind failing.” Russ raised his head to look at Mac. “That’s why I wanted to talk right away, while it’s still clear in my mind.”

  Mac felt a twinge of pity and knew it would be unwelcome. Russ Sheldon was a proud man. He didn’t invite sympathy, let alone pity. For a moment he had an insight into what it must be like to know that your thoughts and memories, the very essence of yourself, was slipping away.

  Russ reached out a hand to the dog, and Ruffy pressed his head against the hand with a soft whine.

  “You came here before, asking about Jason. You and that girl—his sister.”

  “That’s right. She wants to know why he killed himself.”

  The old man’s lips quivered slightly, and he pressed them together. “You know that there were problems with the accounts, don’t you?”

  Mac nodded. “You said something about it, and I got the story out of Bart. How someone had messed up the account records, and they thought it was Jason.” He studied the man’s face. “You told us something was your fault. Was that what you meant?” He should have taken Russ’s words more seriously at the time, but he’d known someone as conscientious as Russ always would think any problem was his fault.

  Tears welled in Sheldon’s eyes. “My fault. It wasn’t just a mix-up. Money was missing.”

  Mac zeroed in on him, startled. “No one has even come close to suggesting that.”

  “It’s true,” Sheldon insisted. “I know it’s true. And I know that boy—Jason—he wasn’t to blame.”

  Bart hadn’t even hinted at malfeasance. The thought shot through him, upsetting all his assumptions. “Bart told me that it was just a matter of messing up some of the accounts.”

  “Money was missing.” Russell insisted. “I know. Bart wanted to cover it up. He said we’d get in trouble with the authorities if it became known. It would ruin the business.”

  That made sense. He could hear Bart saying just that. He wouldn’t want a scandal, not even...

  “What happened? Did Bart make up the difference with his own money?”

  “We did it between the two of us. I couldn’t let Bart bear the cost himself.” He shook his head. “That’s not the important thing. The important thing is that Bart blamed Jason. He was so sure. Nothing had happened until Jason came to work with us, he said, so it had to be Jason.”

  Mac tried to wrap his head around it. “Surely an intern didn’t have that kind of access to funds, did he?”

  “That’s what I said. I kept saying it and saying it, but Bart didn’t listen. He was so sure.”

  “Did he accuse Jason to his face?” The versions he’d heard about that last day certainly hadn’t included this. If it was true, Bart had lied to him. Or at least, omitted a good part of the truth.

  “He called Jason in. Said he knew what Jason had done. That he had to go that minute. The boy tried to defend himself, but Bart wouldn’t listen to a word.” Tears welled in Russ’s eyes. “It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. But once Bart gets an idea in his head, nothing can budge him. He won’t listen to anyone.”

  “So when Jason Reilley left the office that day, he had been accused of theft. Did Bart intend to prosecute?”

  “No, no, he wouldn’t do that. The publicity would kill the firm. He told Jason he wouldn’t go to the authorities, but he said he’d make sure Jason never got another job in the field.” Russ lifted a trembling hand to his face to wipe at the tears, and Ruffy whined, pressing against his knee.

  “Did you speak up for Jason?” It was probably a cruel question to put, but Mac had to know all of it. The truth, for once.

  “I tried. God help me, I did try. But not—not hard enough. It wasn’t Jason. I know it wasn’t.”
He was shaking now, his face white.

  “Easy.” Mac put a hand on Russ’s arm. “Take it easy. No one is blaming you.”

  “I am.” Sobs racked his body, so that his words were barely comprehensible. “I’m to blame. Jason didn’t do it. It must have been me.”

  Sheila, hearing the upset, hurried into the room, putting her arms around the old man’s shoulders. “Here, now. You don’t want to go getting all upset.”

  He turned to her like a child seeking sympathy. “I did it. I’m guilty.”

  Sheila’s gaze met Mac’s, and she shook her head. “Now, Russell, you know that’s not so. You wouldn’t steal from your own firm.” Obviously she’d been listening from the hallway.

  “My fault,” he managed between sobs. “My fault. There’s no one else. It must be me.”

  “Hush, now, hush. You don’t want me to have to call the doctor, do you? Everything’s going to be all right. Mac will take care of it.” Her gaze challenged Mac.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he echoed. “It’s all right.” He got up, mind spinning.

  How much of that was true, and how much the ramblings of someone whose mind was going? Upset by Jason’s death, Russ might well have brooded on it until convinced he’d caused it.

  Mac didn’t know. And until he was sure, how could he tell Kate that Russ thought he’d stolen from the firm? She’d insist on confronting him, and the damage that might do to Russ... Well, he just couldn’t risk it. Not until he was sure this wasn’t a figment of Russ’s imagination.

  He was letting Kate down, reneging on his agreement to share information. Whatever he did, someone was going to get hurt. All he could do was find the truth, and let the chips fall where they may.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN