“Maybe I’ll stop by to meet them.” He was only half teasing. After all, making contact with the senator was his reason for coming to West Virginia in the first place.
“You could,” Riane said. “I’m sure they’d like that.”
Her confidence only made him feel more guilty. “They wouldn’t worry that I was trying to corrupt their daughter?”
“They trust my judgment,” she told him.
“Only because they haven’t met me.”
Riane smiled. “You think your tough-guy persona will intimidate them? We’ve known people—some were friends, some not so friendly—who make you look like the Boy Scout you never were.”
“Did they even have Boy Scouts in Tavaria?” he asked.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he recognized his mistake. He’d been drawn into the easy banter, had forgotten to be cautious, but the silence that greeted his question let him know how thoroughly he’d blown it. Just as he knew he’d never have made such a stupid mistake if he hadn’t let himself become personally involved with the subject of an investigation.
“How did you know I was in Tavaria?” she asked.
He hoped it wasn’t too late for damage control. “You must have mentioned it,” he said lamely, unable to meet her gaze.
“I didn’t.”
“Then I must have, uh, read it somewhere.”
“You’ve investigated me,” she said, hurt and anger mingled in her tone.
He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. He felt guilty enough about his deceptions without adding to his list of sins.
“I should have expected this. I’m used to people prying into my past—it’s part and parcel of who I am. But I thought you were different. I wanted you to be different.”
She laughed, but it was without humor. “The most ironic part of all of this is that I would have told you whatever you wanted to know.”
He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could say that wouldn’t make the situation worse.
“Why?” she demanded. “Why were you digging into my past? What did you expect to find?”
“You weren’t the focus of my investigation,” Joel said. That, at least, was the truth. Initially, anyway.
“The fact that I spent the first six years of my life in Tavaria isn’t common knowledge. The only way you could have found that out was if you were researching me…” Her voice trailed off as another thought occurred to her. Her eyes widened in shock, disbelief, anguish. “Or my parents.”
He should never have left his hotel room.
“Why? What’s going on, Joel? What haven’t you told me?”
“I can’t talk about this. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“You can and you will,” she insisted. “I’m not going to let you use me to hurt my family.”
“I’m not trying to hurt anyone,” Joel told her.
She laughed, bitterly. “It’s an election year—I should have expected this.”
“Expected what?”
“Someone trying to sabotage my mother’s career. What was the plan? Were you supposed to seduce me and get compromising pictures to discredit her stance on family values?”
Joel was stunned, not just by the accusation but by the hostility in her tone. “You can’t really believe I’d do something like that.”
“What am I supposed to believe?” she challenged. “You pretended to be interested in me, all the while digging into my life without my knowledge or consent.”
“I didn’t have to pretend to be interested in you,” Joel told her.
“Then why have you been with me?”
“Because I want to be with you.” He turned away, raked his hands through his hair. “Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea.”
“What was a bad idea—investigating me, using me, or lying about everything?”
“You were never part of my plan.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring,” she said sarcastically. “So nice to know you just used me because it was convenient.”
“I never used you.”
“What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to believe?”
“Just trust me, Riane. Please.”
She laughed. “You want me to trust you? You’ve lied to me since the day we met.”
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“A lie of omission is still a lie.”
Client privilege be damned, Joel decided. He couldn’t let Riane continue to believe the worst. “I came to West Virginia to see your mother.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought she might be able to help with a case I’m working on.”
“What kind of case?”
“I have a client who’s trying to find someone.”
Some of Riane’s anger seemed to dissipate, her brow furrowed. “A missing person?”
“Not missing, exactly,” Joel hedged.
“Then what—exactly?”
“The woman I’m looking for was adopted twenty-two years ago.”
“Why do you think my mother can help?”
“The child was adopted privately. The lawyer who handled it was Samuel Rutherford, your mother’s second cousin. He died a few years ago, and the file pertaining to the adoption has either disappeared or been destroyed. In any event, I haven’t been able to access the relevant information. I can’t find the child’s biological mother, and the father hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with any details.”
“What does any of this have to do with my mother?” she asked again, clearly starting to lose patience with him.
He hesitated, reluctant to state the conclusion that would crumble all of Riane’s conceptions about her life. But the fierce determination in her eyes forced his hand. She wouldn’t let him continue to evade. More compelling than that, however, was the realization he owed her the truth.
“I think you’re the woman I’m looking for.”
She took an instinctive step back. “I’m not adopted.”
“I think you might have been.”
“Th-that’s ridiculous.” Her words were disdainful, but he heard the tremor in her voice, the uncertainty. He saw the questions, the confusion, the panic that swirled in the depths of her eyes.
He stepped toward her, softened his tone, as if it might somehow soften the impact of what he was saying. “Your birth wasn’t registered until almost two years after you were born.”
“I was born in T-Tavaria,” she reminded him. “When the country was on the verge of civil war.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sure my parents had more important things to worry about than registering my birth with the appropriate authorities.”
“Or maybe they didn’t adopt you until you were two years old.”
She shook her head.
“Why won’t you even consider the possibility?”
“Because it’s ludicrous.”
“Just listen to me. Please.”
“No. I refuse to waste any more—”
“Your name is the same,” he interrupted.
She shook her head. “Is that the basis for your claim? The fact that I have the same name as someone who was adopted more than two decades ago?”
“It’s an unusual name,” Joel pointed out.
“Unusual, not unique.”
“Your birth dates are close—”
“Close?” Riane cut off his explanation. “This is unbelievable. You expect me to accept your asinine theory on the basis of a name and a birth date that isn’t even the same?”
“And the fact that the case worker assigned to the missing child was Camille Michaud.”
“My—” she swallowed “—my aunt Camille?”
He nodded. He could tell this piece of information surprised her, but she recovered quickly.
“Are you suggesting that Camille just took this baby from its home and gave it to my parents?”
He had to admit it sounded a little far-fetched when she put it in those terms. “I have some questions about her invo
lvement in this situation, and some questions for your parents.”
“Maybe Camille knows something about this person you’re looking for,” she allowed. “But I know my parents aren’t involved. They wouldn’t lie to me about something like this.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked gently.
She stared at him, stunned, hurt, bewildered. And he wished—for the hundredth time—that he’d never accepted this assignment.
“I have pictures,” she said at last, seeming to seize that thought with both hands.
“Pictures?”
“Baby pictures.”
He frowned. “Baby pictures?”
She crossed to the bookcase and pulled down an old, worn-leather photo album and opened the cover. She pointed to the first page, to the picture of a sleeping infant.
Joel took the book from her. He was hardly an expert on children, but he knew the baby in the picture wasn’t more than a few weeks old. Definitely not two years old. He flipped through several pages, his frown deepening as he viewed photographs depicting stages of the baby’s growth. First smile, first tooth, first steps.
He’d been so sure his instincts were right this time. He’d been wrong. He closed the cover of the album and met Riane’s gaze.
“This might be where you apologize for being a complete ass.” Her tone was stiff with anger, her eyes filled with pain.
His heart felt as if it was overflowing with grief and regret. The last thing he’d wanted was to cause her any pain. “I’m sorry, Riane.”
“You should be. And maybe this whole incident could have been avoided if you’d been honest about why you wanted to see my mother in the first place.”
“Maybe it could have,” he admitted.
She snatched the book from his hands, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She turned away and stuffed it back onto the shelf. “I think you should go now.”
“Riane, please—”
“No. I want you to leave. Now.”
“It was a possibility I couldn’t ignore,” he told her.
“A possibility,” she scoffed. She faced him again, almost defiantly. “If you were as lousy a cop as you are a private investigator, it’s no wonder you had to find another job.”
Chapter 8
S he hated to do it. She hated to admit that it even mattered to her. But after the accusations Joel had made that afternoon, Riane still had too many questions unanswered. So she dug out the file Stuart had given to her—the information his investigator had compiled on Joel Logan.
There were newspaper clippings regarding the case he’d told her about—the investigation that had gone bad, ending his career as a cop. Reading through the reports, she could understand why he hadn’t wanted to go back to working for the system that had turned on him.
She also got details he hadn’t shared with her. The fact that the judge who’d blown the case was named Marcus Rutherford. Seeing the name in black-and-white had given her pause, made her wonder if that was the real reason for Joel’s visit to West Virginia. Was there a missing person, or was that another story he’d made up? Was it possible he was pursuing some personal vendetta against her family for the actions of a distant relative she’d never even met?
She read further into the article, learned about the injury he’d sustained. A near-fatal gunshot wound that had required emergency surgery to remove the bullet lodged in his abdomen. Just the thought made her skin go cold. He could have been killed. She told herself it didn’t matter, she didn’t care. But she did.
Then she saw the picture. The clipping was dated several years earlier than the rest, but there was no mistaking the nature of the photo or the man in it. It was a wedding picture—Joel’s wedding picture.
The pain sliced into her, so sharp and deep it took her breath away. Still she couldn’t tear her eyes from the image, painfully clear even through the sheen of her tears. After the initial shock passed, she forced herself to close the cover of the folder. She didn’t read any more. She didn’t want any more details about his betrayal. She didn’t need any more proof to know what an idiot she’d been.
It was time to get ready for her dinner with Stuart, anyway.
In a cheap motel room outside Wheeling, West Virginia, he was also getting ready.
He sat alone in the darkness. Oblivious to the bright sun beyond the drawn curtains. Oblivious to everything but his own agenda.
It was almost time. His plans had been made, each and every detail carefully plotted and scrutinized. The scenario had played out in his mind so many times he didn’t doubt that everything would go exactly as he’d envisioned. He closed his eyes, let himself watch the events unfold once more.
She was surprised to see him. That was her first mistake.
She should never have underestimated him, never challenged his domination. He had the power. He was in control. She was helpless. Crying. Begging for mercy.
She didn’t deserve mercy. Not after the way she’d betrayed him. But he let her plead. He listened as she cried. Her tears and pleas were proof of his power. He became aroused by the imaginary cries and whimpers.
He wouldn’t need to imagine them very much longer.
She thought she’d gotten away. That she was safe. It was just one more illusion to be shattered.
Soon. Very soon.
“What’s the matter, honey?”
Riane lowered herself onto the edge of her parents’ bed and forced a smile in response to her mother’s question. “Nothing.”
“Riane,” Ellen said patiently.
She sighed, thinking it both a curse and a blessing to have a mother who knew her so well. They’d been home from the airport less than an hour. Her father had already been called into the office to deal with some kind of crisis, signaling that his vacation was well and truly over, which left her mother to zero in on Riane’s discontent. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Problems with Stuart?”
“Yes,” she admitted, although she’d relegated those problems to the furthest recesses of her mind in response to more immediate concerns.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“There’s not much to say,” Riane said. “I’m not—I can’t marry him.” She’d always known Stuart didn’t love her, but his lack of genuine affection didn’t bother her half as much as his admitted unfaithfulness. And after the charity auction they’d attended together the previous evening, she’d told him in no uncertain terms that their relationship was over.
The senator sat on the edge of the bed beside her and put an arm across her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“It was my decision.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t be hurting.”
“I’m okay,” Riane assured her. At least she was confident that the decision she’d made regarding her relationship with Stuart had been the right one. Her feelings for Joel were a lot less clear, the pain of his betrayal more intense.
“I must admit, I’m a little relieved.”
Riane turned to her mother, startled. “You are?”
“I like Stuart,” Ellen said. “I just never felt that he was the right man for you.”
“You never said anything.”
“I wasn’t dating him,” her mother said simply.
“You’ve always let me make my own decisions—and my own mistakes.” Riane sighed, rubbed a hand over the ache in her chest. “I made a big one.”
“So this isn’t about Stuart?”
“No,” Riane admitted.
“Is it Joel?”
Riane wasn’t surprised that her mother remembered the name. She nodded.
“What happened?”
Riane just shook her head. She couldn’t bear to give her mother all the details, to admit what a fool she’d been. Again. After her disastrous relationship with Cameron Davis, she’d been understandably cautious. Her decision to get involved with Stuart had been a practical one, based on logical reasoning. With Joel she’d followed her heart. And had it b
roken all over again.
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
Riane forced a smile. “Me, too.”
“And I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
“You’re here now.” Riane’s smile came more easily this time. “And I want to hear all the details of your trip. Right now, though, I have to get over to the campground.”
“But we just got home,” Ellen protested.
“And Daddy’s already dealing with yet another crisis at the office,” Riane pointed out.
“All the more reason for you not to abandon me, too.”
“I won’t be long,” Riane promised. “I just want to go over the changes the architect has suggested before the construction crew comes back in the morning.”
It could have waited until the next day, but she was still feeling a little raw about the whole situation with Joel and she needed some time alone.
“Riane?”
She turned back to her mother.
“I love you, baby.”
Riane’s eyes filled with tears as she went into her mother’s arms. The rest of her life might be a mess, but she knew she could always count on her parents. Her family was everything to her—her safe harbor through any storm—and she would never forgive Joel for trying to take that way from her. “I love you, too.”
Joel could hardly believe that his whole theory had been blown to pieces by baby pictures.
But the photos Riane had pulled out were tangible and undeniable proof of his mistake. If the senator and her husband had adopted Rheanne Elliot when she was almost two years old, they wouldn’t have pictures of her as an infant.
So now that Joel knew Riane Quinlan wasn’t Rheanne Elliott, there was just one reason for him to stay in Mapleview: Ellen Rutherford-Quinlan. She was still his only connection between the parties involved, so he reverted to Strategy B—hanging around West Virginia to speak with the senator.
Still, having a contingency plan didn’t make him feel like any less an idiot. His instincts had let him down again. The first time they’d failed, he’d lost his job—and nearly his life. This time, he’d followed his gut and he’d lost the woman he…
Joel wasn’t sure how to complete the thought.
How did he feel about Riane?
He cared about her, more than he’d expected to in such a short period of time. And he hated that his deception and speculation had hurt her. Which was the main reason he wished he could just skip town—as if distance might somehow assuage his guilt.
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