Isabella hit play again, narrating more Silveira events. Then she said, “Look, Joe, your high school graduation. There’s you and Rachel in your caps and gowns.”
Joe stiffened as Rachel’s face came on the screen. Charlotte cast him a quick look, then focused her attention on the video. Rachel and Joe looked happy, optimistic, ready to take on the world, exactly what graduation was all about. But their future hadn’t turned out the way either of them had anticipated.
“I’m going to get something to drink,” Joe said abruptly.
Isabella paused the tape, shooting a guilty look at Nick and Charlotte. “He’s pissed.”
“I don’t think he’s enjoying the trip down memory lane as much as you are,” Nick said. “Why don’t we do this later?” he added, getting to his feet. “In fact, let’s take the DVDs to my house, and we’ll show them to Megan.”
“All right.” Isabella ejected the DVD and put it in the box. “Sorry, Charlotte.”
“No need to apologize. I enjoyed seeing you both as kids, especially Joe. He’s so private; he’s a little hard to get to know.”
Isabella smiled. “He doesn’t let a lot of people in, but those he does he treats really well. Tell him we’re gone, will you?”
After Nick and Isabella left, Charlotte went into the kitchen.
Joe was drinking a glass of orange juice and kicking a ragged tennis ball to Rufus.
“You don’t have to hide out anymore,” Charlotte said. “Isabella and Nick left, and they took the DVDs with them.”
“Good. Do you want something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” She tilted her head, considering his restless mood. “I had no idea you were such a dare-devil. I suppose it makes sense, though. You can’t be a coward and be a cop.”
“I was stupid back then. I thought I was invincible.”
“Most kids do. You were pretty hot, though. I bet a lot of girls had crushes on you.” She gave him a teasing smile to coax him out of his bad mood.
“I did all right.” And I’m still hot,” he teased back.
She smiled. “And cocky, too.”
He grinned. “Part of my charm.”
He was right about that. “So you and your dad worked on cars together, huh?”
“Yeah, every weekend for years. It was our thing. The garage was where we got away from the women. Where we talked about engines and horsepower and speed.”
“Man stuff,” she said with a grin.
“Oh, yeah. I loved speed. Whether it was a skateboard or a bike or a car, I liked to modify things so they went faster. That Mustang was the first car I ever drove. At sixteen, I was very cool—the envy of all my friends.”
“What happened to it?”
A shadow crossed his eyes. “I had to sell it.”
“Why?”
“For cash, why else?”
She didn’t like the way he avoided her gaze. “I don’t think that’s the whole story.”
He hesitated, then said, “I sold the Mustang to buy Rachel a bigger wedding ring on our fifth anniversary. The diamond was so small on the first one I gave her, you could barely see it. She wanted something more impressive, and I wanted to give it to her. She didn’t force me to sell the car. It was my choice.”
“Why are you so defensive about it?”
His lips drew in a tight line. “My friends thought I was a fool to sell that car. And my father didn’t speak to me for weeks. He was hurt. The car was something we’d built together. But you have to make choices sometimes. It wasn’t that big a deal. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll buy another old wreck and try to restore it.” He drew in a breath. “But we’ve gotten way off the subject—why you came over here tonight.”
“Oh, right. Pamela. I’m dying to know what you talked about.”
“Not much. She was cagey, far more interested in flirting with me than providing information.”
She stiffened. “She was flirting with you?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You just said I was hot. Now you’re surprised someone hit on me?”
“I’m surprised Pamela hit on you. You’re investigating an attempted murder on her sister. I’d think she’d be more interested in how that was going.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He paused, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Why do you let her get under your skin? You’re a successful doctor, Charlotte—smart, beautiful, with a ton of friends. Why do you care at all about her?”
“She reminds me of a time in my life I’d rather forget.”
“I’m all for you forgetting Andrew, but it’s not just his cheating you’re talking about, is it?” His gaze softened. “It’s the baby you lost.”
His words sent the old pain through her heart. “I don’t want to talk about that. She had nothing to do with that.”
“Didn’t you tell me that you slept with someone else after Andrew cheated on you, because you wanted to prove it didn’t matter? And that it could have been his baby as much as it could have been Andrew’s? You never said who he was, by the way.”
“And I’m never going to. None of that matters anymore, Joe. I don’t know why we’re even talking about it.” She ran a hand through her hair, desperately needing to change the subject. “I just don’t want Pamela to mess up my life now.”
“I suspect Pamela gets a kick out of stirring up trouble. And I don’t think you’re the only one she’s interested in messing with. She hinted that Andrew isn’t nearly the saint this town believes him to be.”
“Andrew has never professed to be a saint.”
“Are you sure? I’ve been to a few of his sermons.”
“His job is to inspire faith and to encourage people to behave well. Not to pretend he’s never done anything wrong. He may be better equipped to help people avoid temptation because he wasn’t always perfect.”
“You’re quite his defender.”
“Because you’re usually accusing him of something,” she said bluntly.
He gave her a half smile. “Point taken. Cynicism tends to go with my job.”
She held his gaze. “Your dislike of Andrew has nothing to do with your job.”
“No, it has to do with you,” he admitted. “If you’re considering getting back together with him, shouldn’t you know who he really is?”
“If you think I have Andrew up on some pedestal, you’re mistaken. I don’t have any illusions about him.”
“His collar doesn’t change the way you look at him?”
She hesitated. “Maybe a little, because I can see that he’s grown into a better man than the teenager he used to be. But that’s probably true of all of us. And I never said I was getting back together with him.”
“He wants you. But so do I.” Joe closed the distance between them and cupped her face with his hands. “What do you want, Charlotte?” he asked in a deep, husky voice that sent a thrill of desire down her spine. His thumb traced her lips, making her tingle all over.
“I don’t know,” she murmured, her heart pounding hard in her chest.
“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to say it.”
“Now you’re reading my mind?”
“That would be impossible. You’re such a contradiction. Strong but soft, fierce but vulnerable, impulsive but a little cautious. You’re generous with your life, opening your house to strangers, but you’re selfish when it comes to love. You guard your heart like it’s Fort Knox.”
How did he know her so well? “It makes life easier.”
“Easier, maybe. Better? I don’t think so.” His gaze clung to hers. “I want you to let me in.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she said honestly.
His gaze darkened. “Why not?”
“I don’t do serious, Joe. And you’re a serious kind of guy.”
“I can be fun, too. You saw the home movies.”
“That was before you grew up. Now you like to be in control, and so do I.”
“We can duke it out.”
The sparkle in his eyes made
it hard to to keep saying no. “Mostly, it’s just too soon. You’re just getting out of a marriage.”
“I’ve been telling myself that for months, but it doesn’t feel soon. It feels like it’s taken forever for us to get here, to this moment.”
He lowered his head and gave her an enticing kiss that made it really hard to remember why this was a bad idea.
She drew on every last ounce of strength she had in order to break away from him. “I have to go.”
He stared back at her, his eyes challenging. “Do you?”
Desire warred with reason, but in the end, caution won out. “Yes, I really do,” she said, then left before she could change her mind.
SEVEN
Joe drove across town Tuesday morning, relieved to be back at work. He knew how to be a cop, and he was good at it. His personal life was another story. He shouldn’t have pushed Charlotte, but damn, every time he was with her, he wanted her more. The fire between them had been simmering for months, but since he’d come back from L.A. after Christmas, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop wanting her. And she wanted him—she was just scared. In truth, so was he.
His thoughts were interrupted by a call from dispatch. There had been another break-in at Sandstone Manor.
Making an abrupt U-turn, he headed quickly down the highway. It took him ten minutes to reach the turnoff. The narrow road twisted through a thick patch of trees to the edge of the bluff, where the manor rose up in elegance against a light blue morning sky. It would have been a peaceful scene if there hadn’t been a squad car in front of the house.
He got out of his truck and strode forward, noting the shattered glass on the pavement and the smashed panel next to the front door. “What happened?” he asked Jason.
“Mrs. Garcia said when she came out to get the newspaper, the front door was open, and the glass was broken. She called nine-one-one and came outside to wait. I checked the house and then sent her back in to see if anything is missing.”
“Where’s the mayor?”
“At the hospital. I told him we were checking things out and will get back to him. He wasn’t happy.”
“I’ll bet. What else?”
“Mrs. Garcia didn’t hear anything, but her room is on the other side of the house. I haven’t been able to locate a rock, a brick, or any sort of weapon that was used to break the glass. I’ve got a call in to Davidson for more forensics, but considering we came up empty the last time, I’m guessing that’s going to be the case here as well.” His expression was grim. “What do you make of this, Chief?”
Joe stared at the pattern of glass pieces sprayed across the steps. “Looks like the window was broken with some force. Is there anyone else in the house besides the housekeeper?”
“The gardener has a room over the garage. The rest of the help comes in during the day only. Mrs. Garcia said the mayor came back to change his clothes last night, but she hasn’t seen him since.”
“What about Theresa’s sister?”
“If she was here, no one saw her,” Jason replied.
Joe put his hands on his hips as he studied the situation. One of his favorite parts of police work was putting together the pieces of a crime. “This doesn’t fit,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s too clumsy, unsophisticated, loud.”
Jason nodded in agreement. “Could be a sign of desperation. First plan didn’t yield the results the thief was looking for, so he came back. Or we have two different crimes to deal with.”
“Or someone wants to throw us off the track,” Joe added. “Give us something else to investigate, as a distraction. What do you know about this place?”
Jason shrugged. “What everyone knows. It was owned by various generations of the Worthington family. The last owner, Edward Worthington, was a recluse. He lived here for thirty-plus years, but no one saw much of him.”
“What about the housekeeper? Did she come with the Monroes, or did she work for Worthington?”
“She worked for Mr. Worthington for twenty-five years. Mrs. Monroe asked her to stay on when the house was sold. The gardener has been here about eight years, and he seems to speak less English than Mrs. Garcia. The day help is mostly new since the Monroes moved in.”
“Well, someone knew this house well enough to shut down the lights and get in and out of the house quickly. We need to take a close look at anyone who fits that description.”
“The employees have access to the house. They wouldn’t need to break this window.”
“True. Could be two separate events or the same person with a different motive. What else could a thief want, besides the jewelry they already took?”
An odd look passed through Jason’s eyes. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but there are rumors that the Worthingtons stashed some of the gold from the shipwreck in the house. But the house has passed through several generations, so I can’t put much credence in that story.”
“Are there any Worthingtons still alive?”
“I don’t believe so. That’s why the house went up for sale. But I’ll double-check.” Jason paused. “I’ve asked Charlotte to come in on her lunch break today to give a more detailed statement. The mayor wants her interrogated, and I can’t put him off again. Not that I anticipate getting any useful information; she’s completely innocent.”
Joe’s gut clenched at the thought of anyone grilling Charlotte, but he knew Jason would make it as painless as possible.
“Do what you have to do. I’m heading to the station now. I’ll talk to you later.”
As he drove down the road and back onto the main highway, Joe saw a familiar figure a half mile down the road. Charlotte was jogging in the bike lane. She had on black leggings and a bright blue T-shirt, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He remembered the silky feel of her hair in his hands, the softness of her skin, the sweet taste of her mouth. God, one look, and he was right back where he’d been the night before.
He needed to get a grip and focus. While he loved the way her hips swayed with each running step, he didn’t love the fact that she was so close to the Sandstone property. Why would she come out here when she lived on the other side of town?
He drove past her and pulled off to the side, getting out of his car as she ran toward him.
Her smile was surprised as she slowed her steps. “Joe, what are you doing out here?”
“I was going to ask you the same question. You don’t usually come this way, do you?”
“I felt like a longer run. I did a lot of eating yesterday.”
“And you thought the best place to run would be right past Sandstone Manor?” he asked sharply, because snapping at her made it easier to keep his hands off her.
Her gaze narrowed as she planted her hands on her hips. “What kind of question is that?”
“You’re a suspect in a burglary that took place a half mile from here.”
“So?”
“So someone threw a brick through the glass panel next to the front door of the Monroes’ house earlier this morning.”
Her jaw dropped in astonishment. “Seriously?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“I didn’t jog on their property. I stayed on the road.”
“Can you prove that?”
She threw her shoulders back, anger tightening her lips. “Obviously, I can’t.”
“Any cars pass you on this road?”
“A couple.”
“Anyone you know?” he pressed, not sure whether he wanted witnesses. But he’d learned a long time ago that asking detailed questions saved him trouble in the long run.
Charlotte thought, then nodded. “Mr. Owens waved to me. And Jane Bentley was driving her kid to school.”
“Once again, you’ve ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time, and we have witnesses.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“You shouldn’t have come up here, Charlotte. Why would you? It’s not anywhere close to your house.”
“I’ve made this run lots of times. And how would I know someone was going to break into the house again?”
“You need to stay away from the house, from the hospital, from the Monroes, and from anyone or any place with a link to what happened.”
“I can’t stay away from the hospital; I work there. And I shouldn’t have to hide out. I’m not guilty of anything. You know that.”
“Knowing it and being able to prove it are two different things.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “What did they take this time?”
“I don’t know yet. Jason was starting to investigate when I left.” As a car passed by them, a woman giving them a curious look, he realized that he was making the mistake this time. He shouldn’t have had this conversation on the side of the road, creating even more speculation. “I’ll drive you into town.”
“I’d rather run. I need the exercise.”
“You need to be farther away from here,” he said bluntly, moving around the vehicle to open the door for her.
After a momentary hesitation, she got in. “Fine. You can drive me to Elm Street, then I’ll run the rest of the way in.”
He slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled onto the highway. Charlotte folded her arms in front of her chest, staring straight ahead for a few long minutes. He didn’t like the tension between them, but he didn’t know how to diffuse it. Every subject he thought to bring up seemed fraught with potential problems. So he stayed silent.
“You can let me off here,” Charlotte said.
He pulled over to the side of the road. “Are you sure you won’t let me drop you off at home?”
“This is fine.” She put her hand on the door, then paused. “How much trouble am I in?”
He glanced at her, seeing the worry in her eyes. “I’m sure you weren’t the only runner on that road this morning, and it’s unlikely that someone would break in without some means of transportation to make a quick getaway. But I want you to be more aware of your surroundings, Charlotte. This second break-in could be a distraction or another attempt to get something that was missed. Whatever the reason, it means this isn’t over yet.”
“I understand.” She drew in a breath and let it out, her gaze still clinging to his. “Should we talk about last night?”
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