House of Secrets

by Ramona Richards

  “What about me?”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  June stopped. “Isn’t that a little open and exposed, given how many times we’ve been shot at in the last twenty-four hours?”

  “Yes, which is why I’m putting you in a vest and not letting you out of my sight.”

  “I’d be safer here, looking through the hiding places.”

  “Clearly not, considering we were just shot at. And I can’t let you look for evidence alone.”

  “Why not?”

  Ray sighed. “This house is a crime scene, and anything in it is potentially evidence. Anyone not involved in law enforcement can’t handle it without supervision.”

  “Deputize me.”

  Ray almost laughed. “It doesn’t work that way. Besides, you’re a witness.”

  “Which is why you won’t let me out of your sight.”

  “One of the reasons, yes.”

  June paused, her expression softening. “One of the reasons?”

  The military-trained, straight-shooting part of Ray’s personality flared, and he faced June square, taking her hands in his. “June, you know I’m a no-nonsense man. I care deeply about you. I have for a long time now. I’m going to protect you, and not just because you’re a witness. Are we square?”

  June’s face reddened as she grinned. “Ray Taylor, I’ve never been romanced more honestly in my life.”

  He took her elbow and turned her toward the exit again. “Flowers and candy will come later. Just don’t expect a new Corvette.”

  “How about a Jeep instead?”

  “That I can swing.”

  “And it’s practical.”

  “I’m all about the practical.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  After replacing the crime-scene tape over the doors of the house, Ray popped the trunk on his cruiser and pulled out a bulletproof vest, which he helped June into. As he watched her pull the Velcro straps tight, he couldn’t help but think that June had changed her mind about a possible relationship with him. Even yesterday, as they’d headed to the hospital, she’d seemed reluctant to be more than friends. But something had clearly shifted. Why?

  Was it that he’d proved he could protect and stand by her?

  Ray held the door for June as she got in, then he got behind the wheel, pushing the questions to the back of his mind. Whatever it was that had happened, he’d take it. No questions asked.

  As he backed out of the driveway, Ray refocused on the case, on finding out who’d killed David Gallagher and Kitty Parker—and protecting the beautiful woman at his side. For now, nothing else mattered.

  NINE

  An odd warmth settled around June as they headed for the quarry, which she knew came from much more than the weight of the Kevlar vest. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d pressed Ray the way she had, but in the past twenty-four hours, she’d felt something deep inside shift. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet.

  She turned to look out the window as Ray drove. What are You doing with me, Lord? What is this work in my heart?

  June closed her eyes. It was a JR type of prayer, a “tiny cry on the fly,” as her husband had called them. When she’d first started hanging out at JR’s soup kitchen near downtown Nashville, June had known nothing about God or Christ or faith of any kind. JR had taught her about Jesus and the Bible, but most of all, he’d taught her to turn to God all hours of the day and night, saying quick prayers for help, guidance or thanks. JR had shown her how to praise God in the midst of fear and be in awe of His mighty works.

  “No matter how devastating life seems to get,” JR had once told her, “God never fails. When things come together under His reckoning, no power on earth can stand in the face of His works.”

  June believed it. This lesson had pulled her off the streets and into JR’s arms. It had held her up as she remade herself into a pastor’s wife and comforted her when she became a pastor’s widow.

  “You never fail,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  June blinked, then looked at Ray. “God never fails. He won’t let us down. He’ll show us where to go and what needs to be done.”

  Ray remained silent, staring at the road, and June returned her gaze to the window, watching the homes of White Hills give way to the fields and wooded acres of rural Bell County. Good county roads narrowed and turned rough, pavement dissolving to gravel, as Ray headed for the privately owned quarry of Fred Whitaker.

  Three decades ago, the quarry had produced limestone blocks for local buildings and crushed gravel for roads, but in the early seventies, one end of the quarry abruptly opened up into one of the sinkholes common in northern Middle Tennessee. The underground stream that caused it flooded most of the quarry and made continued excavation expensive and dangerous. The company that owned it sold the property to Fred, who let the water rise.

  The quarry filled about halfway up the tall cliffs of its sides, creating a five-acre, 125-foot-deep lake with a narrow gravel shore around the water. One of the remaining truck ramps from the cliffs into the quarry provided access to the water, and Fred charged local scuba divers twenty dollars a day to explore. Local dive shops had started doing their open-water certifications at the quarry, and Fred, now close to eighty years old, suddenly found himself with a money-making enterprise. He called it Serendipity Lake. Everyone else just called it “Fred’s quarry.”

  Ray waved at Fred, who sat under an umbrella near the ramp’s entrance, then eased the cruiser down the long ramp and parked on the shore. The shoreline along the western and northern edges of the quarry remained visible year-round, but the southern and eastern shores could only be seen in the height of summer or, like this year, during a dry spring. The rest of the year, they remained submerged, with the clear spring waters against the high cliffs of the quarry.

  “There it is.” June pointed to the south, where a cluster of officers stood around a black SUV, which had plowed through the bushes at the top of the cliff and plummeted nearly seventy feet to land, grille down, on the gravel shore. The impact had shattered the grille and popped the hood, which now formed an accordioned A shape over the motor. Gravity and the slight slope of the shore had caused it to rock backward on its wheels, causing the back tires to blow. The side panels had been thrust backward, causing them to crumple and dent.

  “It looks sad.”

  Ray glanced at June. “It’s a truck.”

  June sniffed at him. “You know what I mean.”

  As they got out and headed toward the crash, June spotted Daniel scooting from under the SUV, flashlight in hand.

  Daniel snapped around, looking pleased with himself. “It’s definitely the SUV you took a shot at.” He headed for Ray and June, his shoes crunching loudly on the gravel. “There’s a bullet hole in the seat but no round. He must have dug it out. But there’s one in the firewall. He also tried to remove all the VINs, but he forgot the one on the radiator bracket.”

  “Did you find anything else?”

  “Yeah, I think the attack on the house may have been a last-minute deal when the bomb didn’t achieve its…objective.” He glanced at June quickly, then continued. “He got sloppy, maybe improvising. There are tread marks near the church that look like a match to these tires, and two shell casings. He also backed into a post at the church while speeding out, and the paint will probably be from this vehicle.”

  “No doubt. Could be why he decided to dump it. Anything in the glove box?”

  “Nada. He even removed the owner’s manual.”

  “So I’m guessing no fingerprints?”

  Daniel shook his head. “Maybe we can get something off the VIN, provided it’s not stolen. I’m sure he didn’t bother too much under the hood since he thought it was going under the water and wouldn’t be found for a while.”

  Ray looked up, studying the overgrown brush that ringed the edges of the quarry cliffs.

  Daniel studied his boss a moment. “You think he’s watching us?”


  Ray focused on where the bushes were crushed, where the SUV had gone over. “No. The bedrock here pushes through the dirt, makes it very hard going on foot, and an ATV or off-road truck would create an echo. We have the only access road covered. He’d be too exposed, too easy to find. He wouldn’t take the chance.”

  “Then what?”

  Ray’s thoughtful gaze turned on June, which made a slight shiver eke up her spine.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “He took out the computer. His only remaining target seems to be June, and with us all around her, a blitz isn’t going to work.”

  “So he’s going to ground.”

  Ray nodded at Daniel’s words, but his eyes remained on June. “His next attack will be stealthier.”

  Ray watched June as his words sank in. At first, fear clouded her eyes, then she looked straight up and mumbled something under her breath. When she looked down again, she began peeling back the Velcro on her vest.

  “What are you doing?” He reached to stop her, but she moved away.

  “I won’t live in fear, Ray.” June pulled the vest away from her body. “This guy is a marksman. He hit a moving car from up on that ridge and a computer through a window, probably from more than two hundred yards away. The vest will just make him aim for my head.”

  “Which is easier to miss. That’s the point!” Ray fought the urge to tackle June and force her back into the vest.

  “Easier, but not impossible. He’s not going to come at me hand-to-hand with a knife or a pistol.”

  “June, we don’t know what he’ll do next.”

  She held the vest out to Ray. “Take it. It doesn’t matter what he does. It matters what I choose to do, and I choose to trust God and you. Do you have much left to do here?”

  “I’ve already called for a tow to get it out of here and to a garage,” Daniel said.

  Ray nodded. “Fine. Then you get some rest. That’s an order.” He turned back to June. “Why did you ask?”

  June rolled her shoulders back, as if relieved to have the vest off them. “One, I’m hungry. It’s been a long time since that skimpy hospital breakfast. Two, I want to stop by my house and grab my laptop. That bullet shattered the screen of the parsonage computer and part of the case, but there’s a chance the hard drive is still intact. Even if it isn’t, David kept a lot of stuff on backup disks. It’s already getting dark. I want to get back to the parsonage before it’s too late.”

  She glanced quickly at Daniel, then back to Ray as she gestured at the car. “This guy may be the shooter, but you don’t really think he’s the one after the information—or me—do you?”

  Ray cleared his throat and his voice dropped. “As we discussed, there were two people in the house when you got there.”

  She took a deep breath. “I saw the second set of footprints again when I was in the house this morning. This time I looked closer. Narrow heels that barely left a dot of blood. Pointed toes.”

  Ray and Daniel looked at each other and then back at June. Ray shook his head in disbelief, trying not to smile at June’s newfound detective skills.

  “High heels,” June finished. “But judging by the amused looks on your faces, I’m guessing you already knew that the other killer in the house was a woman.”

  The scent of the crispy grilled steak wafted up to June, almost as savory as the taste of the juicy ribeye. She dug into her meal with gusto, watching Ray from under half-lidded eyes.

  Ray had disappeared into his head, silent on the drive back into White Hills. He’d taken her to purchase a new cell phone, then to the City Diner, one of the cultural hearts of the small town, but now he scowled at his pork chops and pushed the plate away. He sipped his coffee idly, his gaze focused out the window on some far place.

  June watched him a few moments, then paused to drink a bit of her sweet tea. “I thought you’d be famished.”

  He remained silent a moment, then answered slowly, still looking out the window. “I never ate much on patrol. Or during the initial heat of a case.”

  “What did Anne fix for you?”

  “Soup. Light. Something nourishing I could drink on the run.” June waited silently, watching to see how long it would take for what she’d said to sink in.

  Not as long as she’d expected. Only seconds passed until he blinked twice, assessed the exchange, then refocused his eyes on her. “Why did you ask about Anne?”

  June swallowed another sip of tea. “I know we moved here after she’d passed, but you can’t think I haven’t heard about her.” She paused, then shrugged one shoulder. “Especially after you started sitting with me at church. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve been compared to her.”

  Ray’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Actually, I can. What do they say most often?”

  “That she was perfect. And I’m not.”

  Ray reached for his coffee. “Yet neither is true. What else?”

  June took another bite of steak, glad that he was talking to her again. “They honestly don’t understand how you could be interested in me after having Anne as a wife. ‘Like serving mud pie after caviar,’ one of the ladies said.”

  A laugh burst from Ray. June sat straighter and put down her fork. “I didn’t find it that funny.”

  Ray wiped his mouth with a napkin, his eyes gleaming. “But it is. If you only knew.”

  “So tell me.”

  He twisted in the chair to face her directly. “All right. Anne was gentle but tough and no-nonsense. She spoke softly because she grew up with a dad who worked nights and slept days. She inherited doilies from her grandmother and her backbone from her grandfather, who was a long-haul trucker before the interstates existed. When I was elected sheriff, a lot of the society ladies around here wanted to pull her into their midst, but she preferred teaching kindergarten, which took up most of her time.”

  “So she kept them at arm’s length.”

  “They think she was ‘perfect’ because she refused to engage in any of their gossip and games, yet she never criticized them. She avoided them, which they interpreted as being the good wife who stayed at home with her husband.”

  “But she was no milquetoast.”

  He grinned. “Anne had strength no one outside got to see. Don’t let anyone tell you Anne had a sweet, patient temperament.” Ray paused. “The two of you have more in common than people realize. You’re just—”

  “Louder?”

  “Oh, yeah. And more determined. Anne would step around trouble and ignore it, if she could. You plant your feet, stand your ground and get in its face. Especially if it’s a threat to your…” His voice trailed off.

  “My what?”

  Ray hesitated, watching her closely, and June felt a twinge of anxiety. Oh, this must be bad. June took a deep breath to brace herself. “Just say it, Ray.”

  He looked up, his face darker, and June got the feeling he wished he hadn’t started down this path. “You have this thing about being JR’s wife.”

  She blinked, not sure she’d heard correctly. “And?” she prompted.

  His eyes narrowed. “You never introduce yourself without adding, ‘I’m JR Eaton’s wife.’”

  June put down her fork. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Ray’s brow furrowed. “To start with, you’re June. You’re not just JR’s wife. You’re independent, strong, caring. Smarter than most people I know. In a few years, June, most people around here aren’t going to remember who JR was. That’s the way life is.”

  A fearful sense of desperation gripped June’s stomach, and she leaned forward. “That’s not true. He transformed this town. He made that church. He made me!” She pointed at her own chest, emphasizing her point with a sharp poke. “You can’t tell me people will forget him, forget what he’s done, forget what he did for me. I was nothing without him!”

  “Didn’t you once tell me that we are all known to God for who we are in our hearts? In our souls? We aren’t what someone else made us. We’re wha
t God makes us.”

  June pushed her chair back from the table, fury heating her face as she stood up. “Don’t you dare use my own words against me.”

  The waitress approached them, her hands gesturing for June to lower her voice. “Please. Mrs. Eaton. Can I get you anything?”

  June pointed at the waitress, still glaring at Ray. “See? ‘Mrs. Eaton.’ Some people remember!” June shook her head angrily. “But I guess not for long, if I listen to you. If I still had a purse, I’d ask for separate checks, but even that’s gone. It’s all gone!”

  June pivoted on one foot and stormed out, not caring who saw the rage on her face or the first tears in her eyes. Leaving the diner, she marched toward the small cottage she now called home, which sat only a few blocks from White Hills’ picturesque downtown.

  How dare he? Her wrath at Ray put a lock on her chest so tight she could barely breathe. How dare he tell me how I should see myself? How to behave?

  And what a joke to think I could ever be with him!

  June’s steps slowed at the thought. No matter what interest he had in her or she in him—how different they were. “What a laugh.” June’s words, low and dark, released more sadness than she’d felt in a long time. She was a fool for even thinking that his overtures could lead anywhere, that she could open up her heart to another man.

  She was JR’s wife. She’d been nothing before that. She’d never be anything after that.

  Her wrath dissolved into overwhelming sadness, an escalating grief arising that felt like an abyss of darkness. Tears flooded her cheeks, blinding her until she could barely see where to put one foot in front of the other.

  “Didn’t you once tell me that we are all known to God for who we are in our hearts? In our souls? We aren’t what someone else made us. We’re what God makes us.” June sniffed. My own words. How could he!

  So do you believe them or not?

  June wiped her eyes and looked around to get her bearings. She stood on the corner of her own street, realizing she’d almost missed it. She headed west, spotting the pale yellow house with the blue shutters a block away. Only four houses and an alley lay between her and home.