Hidden Talents

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  He felt her wriggle on top of him. One sleek leg slipped between his thighs. A plump little nipple moved against his chest. Caleb smiled. On second thought, he decided, there wasn't much chance of either of them freezing. The heat that they generated together was enough to power a large chunk of the Northwest in the middle of winter.

  Damn, but he felt good after making love to Serenity. There was nothing else in the world that felt as good as this.

  “Caleb?”

  “Yeah?” He speared his fingers into her sexy hair.

  She raised her head and looked down at him with her unsettling, fairy eyes. “You never got around to telling me what you were thinking about earlier. Something to do with Franklin. What was it that got you out of bed in the first place?”

  Caleb remembered the jewelry box on the coffee table. He turned his head on the cushion to stare at it. The music had stopped several minutes ago. The dancers hovered motionless above the old clippings that held the ghosts of his past.

  Disturbing thoughts trickled back into his head, driving out the sultry satisfaction that had held him in temporary thrall.

  “I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking about something that Franklin said. About the two transactions he said he'd had with Asterley.”

  “What about them?”

  “He claimed that on both occasions he had followed instructions to the letter.” Reluctantly Caleb eased the soft, inviting warmth of Serenity aside. He tucked her snugly into her robe and sat up beside her. “He drove his car to a mall, parked, and went inside.”

  “And left the money in the glove compartment.” Serenity tightened her sash. “I suppose it's possible Ambrose drove to the Ventress Valley Mall on two occasions and arranged to collect blackmail money, but I just can't bring myself to believe he did something like that.”

  Caleb said nothing for a moment. Then he stood and went over to the wood stove. He opened the glass door and tossed a piece of wood inside. He walked back to the sofa, sat down, and contemplated the jewelry box again.

  “I can believe he did it once,” Caleb finally said softly. “But not twice.”

  “I don't understand.”

  Caleb picked up the jewelry box and gazed into the little mirror that was glued to the torn blue satin inside the lid. “If we're to believe Uncle Franklin—a dicey proposition, at best, given his recent track record—he had dealings with Asterley on two occasions.”

  “So?”

  “So, if he told me the truth the morning that he called me here, the second demand from the black-mailer came after Asterley died.”

  “Good grief. You're right.”

  “According to Franklin, someone collected money from the glove compartment of his car long after Asterley took the fall down those stairs.”

  Serenity sat very still, her hands fisted in the ends of the robe's sash. “There do seem to be a lot of ghosts floating around these days.”

  “I've started to notice that myself.”

  “As you said, we can't be certain that Franklin was telling the truth about being blackmailed, let alone the timing of the second five-thousand-dollar payoff,” Serenity said cautiously.

  “No,” Caleb agreed. “He could have been lying about that. But he had already confessed to paying five thousand dollars for the pictures in the first place. Why lie about the second transaction?”

  “For some reason,” Serenity said, “I didn't get the impression Franklin was lying about either transaction. But you know him far better than I do. What do you think?”

  Caleb met her eyes in the small mirror. “I didn't stop to think about it at the time. There were other things going on.”

  Serenity shivered. “That's true.”

  “At that moment during our confrontation, Franklin was completely preoccupied with the fact that the whole thing was starting to unravel on him. He'd been caught in one lie and he had nothing to gain by continuing to embroider the story. What would have been the point?”

  Serenity nodded. “He felt he was justified in his actions, anyway. After all, the photos existed. True, his clever little scheme to blackmail me had fallen apart, but everyone in the family was still nicely shocked by those pictures. He'd accomplished all he could have hoped to accomplish.”

  “Two blackmail transactions, one before Asterley's death and one afterward.” The possibilities spun relentlessly through Caleb's head. “Two blackmailers or one?”

  Serenity frowned. “You think that someone other than Ambrose was behind this whole thing right from the start?”

  “It's possible.”

  “That makes more sense to me. Ambrose just wasn't the blackmailing type. A mooch, yes, but not a blackmailer.”

  “We're back to our earlier conclusion,” Caleb said. “Someone else besides Asterley knew about those photos, about me and about my past.”

  “What worries me the most is that your uncle seemed convinced that he was dealing with Ambrose Asterley both times. And Ambrose was the only one who could have had the pictures.”

  “All right, so the blackmailer somehow got hold of the photos and posed as Ambrose. Franklin never actually met him in person, remember? He wouldn't have recognized Asterley even if he had.” Caleb thought about it. “We're talking about a man, though. We know that much. Franklin said it was a man's voice on the phone.”

  “I'm not sure about that. Some women have deep voices.”

  “Jessie, for instance.”

  Serenity shook her head quickly. “No, I just can't believe she would do something like that.”

  Caleb's brows rose. “Face it, Serenity, you aren't going to be able to believe that any of your friends here in Witt's End are guilty.”

  “True.”

  “Jessie knew Asterley better than anyone, according to you and everyone else around here. He left everything to her. As his only close friend and heir, she had access to his files before and after his death.”

  “I just can't imagine Jessie resorting to blackmail. She's one of the few people in Witt's End who makes a decent living from her art.”

  “If Asterley sold the first set of pictures for cash for photo equipment, he might have confided in Jessie.” Caleb said. “After he died, she may have seen the potential of the situation and decided to pick up where he had left off.”

  “No.”

  Caleb looked at her. “Then you think of someone else here in Witt's End who meets the criteria. Who else would have had access to both the pictures of you and the information about my past?”

  Serenity's eyes were very steady. “Why does it have to be someone here in Witt's End?”

  The question rendered Caleb momentarily silent. “Because it all started here in Witt's End,” he said finally. “The logic is inescapable. It began when Asterley sent you to hire me as a consultant.”

  “That doesn't mean it emanated from Witt's End,” she insisted.

  “It's the only reasonable explanation.” He switched his gaze to the jewelry box. “For some reason, I keep thinking there's an answer here somewhere. It always comes back to this.”

  “The jewelry box?”

  “It's all I've got of hers.” Caleb reached slowly into the box and pulled out the stack of tattered clippings. “Maybe there's something in these. A name. Another direction we can try.”

  “I'll take half and you take the other half.” Serenity removed a portion of the clippings from his hand. “We'll compile a list of every name that cropped up in the old scandal. Who knows? Maybe something will ring a bell with one of us.”

  “All right.” Caleb got up to hunt for a pen and a pad of paper. When he found them, he put them down on the coffee table. Then he went into the kitchen and poured two small glasses of brandy.

  He didn't know about Serenity, but he had a feeling he was going to need a little fortification for what lay ahead.

  Half an hour later the list was finished. It wasn't a long one and most of the names on it were familiar to Caleb. They included those of his own family; Gordon's wif
e, Patricia; a handful of people from Ventress Valley; and one or two minor political figures who had been important at the time but who had long since died.

  Serenity studied the list. “Everyone on this list would have known about your past, but there's no one on here who could have known about me and the photos that Ambrose took.”

  “We can't be certain. I'll have to hire a private detective to check out some of these names,” Caleb said.

  Serenity looked up uneasily. “If you send an investigator into Ventress Valley to ask questions about the old scandal, you're really going to cause a commotion.”

  “Do you think I give a damn?” Caleb frowned at the torn satin that lined the lid of the jewelry box. “All I care about now are answers. I'm going to get them.”

  “I understand,” Serenity said softly. “I just wish there was some other way to go about it. There's been so much damage done already.”

  “You know, there's something strange about this thing.” Caleb picked up the jewelry box. “I'm going to tear it apart.”

  “I can see that. You know something, Caleb? I think blood does tell. Once you start down a certain path, you're every bit as stubborn as your grandfather.”

  He glanced at her. “I'm not talking about tearing apart the past, I mean this jewelry box.”

  “The jewelry box?”

  “There's something odd about the way the lining is torn. It's too neat. As if it were sliced with a razor or a knife. The other holes are from wear.”

  Serenity studied the slit in the faded blue satin. “Do you really think that tear is different?”

  “Yes.”

  Caleb took hold of one corner of the small mirror He ripped it off the inside of the lid with a single tug. A large scrap of thin blue satin came with it.

  A black and white photograph that had been hidden behind the satin fell out. It landed, faceup, on the ring drawer.

  Caleb found himself staring at a picture of three people. One of them was Crystal Brooke. She was dressed in a demure, high-necked dress that was three decades out of fashion. A wide-brimmed hat was tilted at a stylish angle on her platinum-blond hair. She was smiling down at the infant she held in her arms.

  Gordon Ventress stood behind her, his hand resting tenderly on her shoulder. He looked out at the camera with the unmistakable grin of a proud father.

  “Caleb.” Serenity leaned close, her eyes alight with wonder. “It's a family portrait. Of you and your parents.”

  Caleb couldn't think of anything intelligent to say. Nor could he take his eyes off the photograph. “Looks like it.”

  “A real family portrait.” Serenity laughed with delight. “This is absolutely fabulous. How lucky you are to have a picture of all three of you together. Look how happy your parents are. They're both glowing. It's obvious they loved each other and you very much.”

  Caleb realized that his vision was blurring as he stared at the photo. Irritated, he blinked rapidly a few times and his normally excellent eyesight was restored. “I wonder why it was stuck behind the satin.”

  Serenity lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I wouldn't be surprised if your mother put it there as a keepsake and then forgot about it.”

  “My grandfather must not have seen it when he put the clippings in the box. If he'd found it, he would have destroyed it.”

  “You don't know that for certain,” Serenity said gently. “In any event, there's no point rehashing what Roland might have done thirty-four years ago.”

  Caleb forced back the rush of indecipherable emotions that threatened to swamp him. This business of letting himself feel stuff again was all well and good once in a while, but it could be a damned nuisance at other times. His calm, methodical, logical approach to important things tended to get muddled up when he allowed the emotional side of his nature to take over.

  He schooled himself to think clearly and logically. “The picture is interesting, but it's not exactly a major clue.”

  “I suppose you're right.”

  “Serenity?” Caleb tucked the photo into the jewelry box and closed the lid.

  “Yes?”

  He took a deep breath and felt the blood pulse slowly, heavily, in his veins. “Will you marry me?”

  Her lips parted on a soundless exclamation. She seemed to be having trouble with her throat. “Marry you?” Her voice was higher than usual. “Why on earth do you want to marry me?”

  He looked at her. “Probably because I'm a conventional, straitlaced, old-fashioned kind of guy.”

  “Oh.”

  “What's the matter, Serenity?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “You've just taken me by surprise, that's all. I hadn't realized you were thinking about…about marriage.”

  “No? What have you been thinking about?”

  “I don't know.” She swallowed. “I mean, why marriage at this point?”

  “I told you why.”

  “You're conventional, straitlaced, and old-fashioned.” Her anxious eyes searched his. “But I'm not. Conventional, straitlaced, and old-fashioned, that is. Here in Witt's End, we do things differently.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, well, I mean, just look around.” She gestured wildly with one hand. “Julius and Bethanne just got married last month. They've been living together for years. Jessie and Ambrose never got married. My own parents weren't married.”

  “And neither were mine, remember? I'd just as soon not repeat that particular part of the past.”

  “Caleb, there's no rush. I'm not pregnant. We haven't really had a chance to get to know each other.”

  He felt himself grow cold inside. She was trying to edge away from him. Trying to put some distance between them. Maybe she didn't want him as much as he wanted her. He forced back the surge of despair.

  “I can guarantee you that you know me better than anyone else on the face of the planet.” He kept his voice calm with a supreme effort of will.

  She faced him with a strange, expectant expression in her peacock eyes. “Caleb, do you love me?”

  The question made him stop breathing for a good three or four seconds. She had a right to an answer, he thought. But he didn't have one for her. Desperation seized him. He couldn't lose her because of a few simple words.

  Give her the words. They're only words.

  She was the most important thing in his life. If he lost her, he would lose part of himself, the part that had learned to feel again.

  It was hopeless. He would kill for her, but he couldn't lie to her. It wouldn't be any good if he lied.

  “I don't know,” Caleb said starkly. He was starting to dematerialize again. He could actually feel it happening right there on the sofa.

  Serenity watched him. She looked like a creature of moonlight and magic who had been accidentally trapped in the harsh glare of the sun. She blinked once, twice, and then she smiled her fey smile.

  “No, I don't suppose you do know if you love me,” she said. “When was the last time someone told you that you were loved?”

  “I can't remember.” Why didn't she just answer his question? All he wanted was a simple answer. “What the hell does that have to do with this?”

  “Everything, I think. But it's not important now.” Serenity touched his cheek. “I love you, Caleb. But I can't leave Witt's End. Do you understand that? There are things I have to do here.”

  “I won't ask you to leave Witt's End.”

  “But you can't stay here forever,” she said sadly. “I've known that from the beginning.”

  “You're wrong. I can stay here as long as I want. Hell, that's the least of the problems. I can run Ventress Ventures from here.”

  “You can?”

  “This is the age of computers and fax machines, remember?” he said impatiently. “I can set up shop anywhere.”

  “But would you want to stay here?” she asked.

  “Are you crazy?” he whispered. “Why would I want to leave? This is the one place on earth where I've eve
r felt completely alive.”

  “Caleb.” She threw herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely. “Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, if that's what you want.”

  He could breathe again. He crushed her so tightly against him that she gave a tiny squeak that was half laughter and half protest.

  “Sorry,” he muttered into her hair. He loosened his grip slightly, but not much. The warmth and scent of her caused a welter of indefinable emotions to sweep through him. He didn't care what the sensations were or whether or not they were affecting his logic. The important thing was that they were there and they were strong and he could feel them.

  He was no ghost.

  He was alive. He had a future.

  He had Serenity.

  17

  YOU'RE GOING TO MARRY HIM?” ZONE DROPPED THE LID on a large barrel of whole wheat flour back into place and swung sharply around. Her orange and saffron robes flared wide, echoing her agitation. “Serenity, what are you talking about? Why would you want to marry Caleb?”

  “Because I love him.” Serenity dusted off a row of jars containing blackstrap molasses. “And he loves me. He just doesn't know it yet.”

  “If he doesn't know it, don't you think it might be a bit premature to marry him?”

  “Probably.” Serenity moved down the aisle to wield her duster over an array of noodle packages. “But I don't think I can wait.”

  Zone stared at her. “Are you pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “Then why can't you wait?”

  “It's little hard to explain, Zone.” Even to herself. She knew she was taking a risk by trying to second-guess Caleb's true feelings.

  Unfortunately, it had become very clear that Caleb himself wasn't very good at identifying and dealing with his own emotions. She suspected that he had spent too many years learning to distance himself from his own needs in an effort to satisfy his family's endless demands, too many years fulfilling his responsibilities to the name of Ventress. He didn't fully comprehend the nature of his responsibility to himself.