Repressed (Deadly Secrets)

by Elisabeth Naughton

  Long minutes passed where the only sound was the clicking of keys, muffled voices, and a few ringing phones. Samantha’s message had been brief, and when he’d tried to call her back he’d gotten nothing but voice mail. All he knew for sure was that Thomas had been arrested at school and was currently being questioned.

  Will Branson’s deep voice echoed from behind the double doors across the lobby, sending the hairs on Ethan’s neck straight to attention. He turned in that direction just as the right side opened, and Branson stepped into the lobby with a younger officer at his side. The two were deep in conversation as they walked, but the second the chief spotted Ethan, his footsteps slowed. To the other officer, he said, “Joe, we’ll talk more later.”

  “Sure thing, Chief.” The officer nodded and brushed by Ethan. A whoosh of cold air bristled Ethan’s skin as he exited.

  “Dr. McClane.” Branson stopped a few feet away. “I expected to see you at some point.”

  “What’s happening with Adler?”

  “He was arrested. He’s meeting with the public defender.”

  “What are the charges?”

  “I really can’t divulge—”

  “Bullshit.”

  Will’s brow lifted, and he scratched the back of his head. “You can’t do anything for him now. Kid got himself in big trouble this time.”

  Fuck. It was about Margaret. Disbelief and dread swirled through Ethan’s gut.

  The door behind him pushed open again before he could ask more, bringing another wave of cold into the room. Ethan glanced over his shoulder, and his heart rate kicked up when Samantha moved into the lobby.

  Her skin was pale, her eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. Dark circles that screamed she hadn’t slept in days marred the soft skin beneath her lashes, while curly tendrils hung around her face, dislodged from the loose knot at the back of her head.

  He wanted to think she was distraught over what had happened between them, but something in his gut screamed her disheveled appearance had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the current situation.

  She held Ethan’s gaze for only a moment, then focused on Branson as if Ethan weren’t even in the room. “Will, you made a mistake.”

  “Aw shit, Sam.” Branson stepped toward her, grasped her arm, and turned her back toward the door. “You need to go home.”

  Ethan’s stomach tightened into a hard knot. He didn’t like Branson’s hands on Samantha in any way. And that dislike had nothing to do with his feelings for her and everything to do with what he knew Branson was capable of. He took a step toward them.

  Samantha pulled her arm from Branson’s grip. “I’m not going home. Thomas didn’t do this. He wouldn’t hurt Margaret.”

  “We have enough evidence to prove otherwise. His prints were all over—”

  “He was at my house,” Sam said quickly. “Thomas stopped by my house over the weekend to talk about his research project.”

  Ethan stopped, and his gaze snapped right to Samantha’s face. Over the weekend . . . She was lying. She’d been at his house over the weekend. They’d spent pretty much every moment together. And Thomas Adler definitely hadn’t been anywhere close.

  “Son of a bitch.” Branson stared at her with hard, narrowed eyes. “I seriously hope you’re joking right now. With all the rumors circulating about Hollings, you let a seventeen-year-old boy into your house? While you were alone?”

  Samantha’s back straightened. “What are you implying, Will?”

  “I don’t have to imply anything. Hell, half the town will be making up their own torrid version after they hear this.”

  Why the hell was she lying?

  “Do you think I care what kind of gossip people spread?” Sam’s eyes widened. “I don’t. There’s nothing wrong with me answering a few questions about a student’s project. If you’re only holding him on prints you found at my house, then you have to let him go.”

  Prints at her house . . .

  Ethan glanced between the two, feeling as if he were playing catch-up on the conversation. “What does Samantha’s house have to do with Margaret Wilcox’s death?”

  Samantha’s mouth closed, and she looked down at her feet.

  “Everything.” Will clenched his jaw and glanced Ethan’s way. “Since Sam found the body in her dining room.”

  In her dining room . . .

  Ethan looked right at her, but she refused to glance his way. “When?”

  “Yesterday afternoon,” Branson answered.

  Holy shit. She hadn’t said a thing about finding a body when she’d called last night. Or that it had been in her house. She’d acted as if she weren’t involved at all.

  Samantha shifted her feet and zeroed in on Branson once more. “Will, he didn’t do this.”

  “Dammit, Sam.” Branson rested his hands on his hips in an obvious sign of frustration. Several tense moments passed before he said, “The kid isn’t going anywhere if his story doesn’t match yours.”

  Branson moved back toward the double doors that led into the station, and as he walked away, Samantha finally glanced toward Ethan.

  Guilt reflected in her eyes. Guilt and something else Ethan didn’t have time to deal with.

  He stepped after Branson. “I want to speak with the public defender.”

  Branson typed a code into a keypad by the double doors. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, McClane.”

  “Thomas has issues with law enforcement. You already know that. Your chances of getting anything out of him are better if I’m there.”

  Branson’s hand stilled over the keypad, and he muttered, “Shit.”

  “McClane.” The double doors hissed open. “Come with me. You,” he glanced once more at Samantha, “go home and don’t let any more teenagers into your damn house.”

  “Get in.” Ethan climbed into his BMW and started the ignition in the fading light while he waited for Thomas to join him. Lights from the dash illuminated the interior of the vehicle and the clock flashing 5:07 p.m.

  Warily, Thomas climbed in and latched his seat belt. As soon as it clicked, Ethan pulled out of the parking lot and pressed down on the gas. Thomas reached up to grip the safety handle above the door.

  “Tell me,” Ethan said, trying to keep his temper in check, “exactly why Chief Branson thinks you’d have anything to do with Margaret Wilcox’s death.”

  “The chief doesn’t like me.”

  Ethan glared at the kid as he turned down a side street without slowing. The force sent Thomas up against the door.

  “Try again,” Ethan muttered. He didn’t care if he was being a hard-ass. When he’d been at the station, he’d gotten a pretty clear picture of what Samantha had found in her dining room, and right now he just wanted answers.

  “Ms. Wilcox didn’t like me much either.”

  Ethan gripped the wheel with both hands. This was a dead end. The kid was as closed-mouthed as Samantha Parker. “Did you go by Ms. Parker’s house over the weekend?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ethan darted a look toward Thomas. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I did. I swear. I needed help with my project. I just wanted to ask her a few questions.”

  “Did you go inside?”

  Thomas sank down in the leather seat.

  Ethan’s jaw clenched again, and he looked ahead, making another turn. “I know for a fact you didn’t see Ms. Parker last weekend. Wanna know how I know? Because she was with me all weekend. And I sure as hell would have remembered if you were there.”

  Thomas leaned toward the window.

  Ethan whipped to a stop at the end of Thomas’s street but parked far enough from his trailer so the crotchety old Mrs. Adler didn’t see them. “Tell me why Ms. Parker would lie for you.”

  “I don’t know,” Thomas muttered.

  “You’d better fucking know. She just put her career and her reputation on the line for you, so you’d better come up with something other than ‘I don’t know.’”

  �
�She knows I didn’t do anything wrong,” Thomas said quickly. “She knows I wouldn’t do that.”

  Ethan looked ahead at the barren trees lining the street. There was just enough panic in the kid’s voice to make him wonder who was telling the truth.

  “Then who did?” Ethan finally asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Shit.” He glanced back at Thomas. “If I find out you lied to me—”

  “I’m not lying. I swear.”

  Ethan forcibly gentled his voice. “Go home, Thomas. Stay out of trouble for one night. But you better believe we’re going to talk about this tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.” Thomas jumped out of the car and slammed the door. By the time Ethan glanced sideways, Thomas had already disappeared into his house.

  Alone, Ethan closed his eyes and filled his lungs with one deep breath. He should leave well enough alone. She’d made it clear she was done with him. If he hadn’t known it before, he knew it for sure after the way she wouldn’t even look at him at the station. But he couldn’t. Because she was risking everything for a kid who probably didn’t deserve it.

  Before he could change his mind, he pulled away from the curb and headed across town.

  Sam dropped the book in her hands and rushed down the stairs as soon as she heard the knock at her front door. She’d been packing books and anything else she could find in a crazy attempt to keep from thinking too much, but she was going nuts at home waiting for news about Thomas.

  She reached the entry, purposely didn’t look toward the closed double doors that led into the dining room, and jerked the front door open. “Will, I—”

  Ethan glared down at her in her porch light. “Wrong person.”

  Sam’s heart rate shot up. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tight, and the look in his usually soft green eyes was anything but friendly. “Ethan. I—I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” He moved into her entry, perched his hands on his hips, and turned back to her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Sam’s pulse roared as she closed the door with a click and looked back at him. He was pissed. He had every right to be pissed. “Packing, actually.”

  “Don’t be cute with me. I want to know what you think you were doing at the station earlier.”

  “Helping.”

  “You call that helping? I call that lying.”

  “I wasn’t lying, Ethan. He did come by my house over the weekend. He needed help. He told me on Monday when he caught me after school.”

  “Did he come inside?”

  Sam bit her lip and brushed the hair back from her face.

  “Did he come inside?” he asked again, pinning her with a hard look.

  Sam sighed. Lying to Will was one thing. Lying to Ethan was nearly impossible. “I don’t know.”

  “Dammit, Samantha.” Ethan’s jaw clenched down hard. “You’re putting yourself on the line for this kid. I got an earful at the station about what people are saying about Sandra Hollings. She was sleeping with her students. That’s why she took off. And here you are lying that you let a seventeen-year-old into your house alone? It just takes one person to say—”

  “To say what?” she snapped. “Do you honestly think I care what people around here say? Do you think I care about my job? I don’t. The only reason I’ve stayed in Hidden Falls as long as I have is because . . . ”

  Her mouth snapped shut. She couldn’t tell him he was the reason she’d started enjoying going to work. She was supposed to be calling things off. Not getting more tangled up in him.

  “Because why?”

  “Because I’m trying to sell my mother’s house. I already told you that.”

  When he shook his head and looked away from her, a strange sense of panic told her she had to make him understand. “He didn’t do it, Ethan. He’s not capable of it.”

  “And how do you know?” Ethan glared at her again. “Have you read his file? Because I have. He’s been in and out of trouble for years. Not months, years. Assault, trespassing, possession, shoplifting. Not to mention all the trouble he’s been in since he came here. Everyone knows he didn’t get along with Margaret. His prints are all over your house, and he wasn’t at school the day her body was found. And all you have to say is, you just know? That’s insane.”

  He was making all the arguments she’d already heard, but she didn’t care. “He didn’t do it, Ethan. He couldn’t. I don’t have any proof, but I believe him. I’ve gotten to know him over the past few weeks, and I know he couldn’t kill anyone.”

  “You’ve gotten to know what he wants you to know. Kids like this are good at hiding who they really are. It’s how they survive.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I was him, Samantha.”

  “Then you should understand that everyone deserves a second chance. You got one.”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “Because I didn’t murder someone!”

  Sam’s mouth snapped closed as she stared at him. He really believed Thomas had done it. But as he dropped his head and raked his hand through his hair, she also realized he was struggling with that belief.

  He didn’t want Thomas to be guilty. As much as he tried to remain professionally detached, she knew he liked Thomas. But more than that, she knew he was here because he was trying to protect her.

  Her blood warmed, and she took a step toward him. “Ethan—”

  “Stay away from him.” He looked down at her, his eyes just as hard and intense as they’d been when he walked into her house. “I don’t know what he’s up to and neither do you. But until the police figure it out, he’s not someone you should mess with.”

  He stepped past her for the door, and that panic swelled when she realized he was leaving.

  She moved quickly and slapped a hand against the door before he could open it. “Wait.”

  “What now?”

  “I don’t want you to go. Not like this.”

  “Why not? You already made it clear you don’t want me around. I get it. I just came over to tell you to watch your back with Adler.”

  That panic intensified. She was about to lose him. Lose him because she was so incredibly stupid to think she could end things so easily. “I do want you around.”

  He huffed a sound that held no humor and pushed her arm out of the way. “Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

  His hand closed over the door handle. But before he could open it, Sam pushed her way between him and the door. “I panicked the other day, okay? Everything between us has happened so fast. I—I didn’t know what to do. Haven’t you ever done or said something you regretted?”

  His gaze skipped over her face. In the silence she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Or feeling.

  “I don’t believe you.” He reached for the door handle again.

  “Well, believe this.”

  She gripped his dress shirt, rose up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his. He didn’t kiss her back, just stared down at her with wide eyes. But she didn’t let that stop her. She needed him to know she wasn’t lying.

  She pulled back but didn’t dare let go of his shirt. “I don’t want you to go, dammit. I want you. I want this, I want us, I wa—”

  “Prove it.”

  Her heart stuttered. Prove to him she wanted him? Risk getting hurt by taking the first step?

  Her heart picked up speed until her pulse was a whir in her ears. Yes. Yes, she could do that. Because he was worth it.

  Letting go of his shirt, she grabbed the hem of her sweater and wrenched it over her head. The white cotton fell against the hardwood floor. His gaze dropped to her cleavage as she reached for the snap on her jeans and pushed the denim down her legs.

  “I’m not good at relationships.” She kicked the jeans away. “I told you that before. I always do something to mess it up. I don’t want to mess it up with you anymore, though.”

  His heated gaz
e traveled the length of her body, over her white lace bra, down her belly, and across her matching panties, filling her with confidence.

  She stepped toward him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Margaret. I’m sorry I tried to push you away. I’m not good at leaning on people. But I want to work on it. With you. If you’ll let me.”

  She slid her arms up his warm chest, then around his neck. Felt his body melt into hers as she rose on her toes again and kissed the corner of his mouth. This time softly. Gently. With all the emotion she hoped he knew was inside her.

  “Dammit, Samantha,” he whispered.

  She’d hurt him. She hadn’t meant to, but she had. She’d been so focused on her fears that she hadn’t stopped to think about what he was thinking or feeling or how everything with Thomas was affecting him. She wanted to fix that. Needed him to know he mattered. Because something inside her knew he didn’t think he really did.

  “I want you, Ethan.” She kissed the other side of his mouth, trailed her fingers into the silky hair at his nape, kissed his jaw. “Give me another chance to show you how much.”

  He didn’t move, didn’t speak, so she shifted higher and kissed his cheek. And just when she was sure he wasn’t going to let her in, he groaned, wrapped his hands around her waist, and captured her mouth.

  His tongue swept over hers, drawing her into a deep, passionate kiss. His arms slid around her lower back, pulling her tight against his hard, hot body. He pushed her back until her spine hit the door, then he lifted one hand to her face, deepened the kiss, and consumed her in a way only he could do.

  This was what she wanted, just the feel of him next to her, the delicious sensations that overpowered her whenever he was close. She didn’t want to think about Margaret, didn’t want to think about Thomas, didn’t want to focus on her fears or neuroses, or on anything else. She just wanted him. Had always wanted him. Since the first moment they’d met.

  His tongue traced circles around her mouth, exploring soft surfaces, scraping firm teeth. Her skin tingled where his fingertips grazed her flesh. Every part of her body ached to be touched by him. Tipping her head, she kissed him deeper, rocked her hips against his, then swallowed the groan that echoed from his mouth.