Buried Truth

by Jannine Gallant

  “Done.”

  “That wasn’t so horrible.”

  “No, I guess not. Thanks for helping. You’ve been great through this, which makes staying annoyed with you harder.”

  “Huh?” He stared at her. “You’re mad at me? What the hell did I do?”

  “You got a little pissy after Brock left. Judgmental.”

  Ryan closed his eyes and counted. He wouldn’t lash out at her, no matter how tempted he was to shout that he had every right to be pissy. Didn’t he? He’d had to listen to Brock’s crap and feel like day-old leftovers. The man was a total ass, but Leah had still married the jerk.

  Yet she dumped me as unworthy without a solid chance. And I’m the bad guy?

  He cared about this woman. Probably still loved her. But he wasn’t sure he’d forgiven her yet. Didn’t know if he ever could.

  He stepped back. “Brock struck a nerve.”

  “I know that. I’ve been on the receiving end of his jabs enough times to anticipate the sting. I appreciate how hard it was for you to sit there without taking a swing at him. But that doesn’t give you the right to snipe at me.”

  “I guess it doesn’t.”

  “I’m sorry. The last thing I want is to fight with you, but I have to stand up for myself.” She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “I promised myself I would never let any man make me feel small again.”

  His heart ached. “That wasn’t my intention. My response was triggered by jealousy with a side of pettiness thrown in for good measure.”

  “Why would you be jealous of Brock when you’re ten times the man he is?”

  “I know that, but . . .”

  “You think I don’t?” Her voice rose.

  “We’re both tired and running on adrenaline. Now may not be the best time to hash this out because the last thing I want is to cause you more pain. You have enough to deal with right now without me adding to it.”

  Her eyes darkened as she held his gaze. “Maybe I overreacted a little. I’m on edge and not thinking straight. I’ll go to bed and try to wake up a little less crazy. When I see you next, I promise not to be so emotional.”

  “What, you plan to ignore me for the rest of the night?”

  “I’m sure all you want to do right now is go home.”

  “Jesus, Leah, some whack job has been creeping around your home. I’m not leaving you on your own.”

  “The tick in your cheek tells me you’re upset.”

  “Yeah, I am. Frustrated. Confused. Maybe a little angry. I’m still not going anywhere.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “I told you she doesn’t expect me back tonight. Anyway, she’s doing amazingly well on her own.”

  “So well you won’t have much reason to stick around?” Her voice caught.

  “I’m not leaving you here alone.” He spoke a little sharper than he probably should have.

  Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Okay. I appreciate that.” Taking his hand, she led him toward the doorway. “Let’s go to bed.”

  In silence, he followed her up the stairs, not too sure what to expect at this point. Maybe that she’d direct him to one of the spare rooms. He paused in the hallway.

  She glanced up at him and frowned. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He entered her room, which was softly lit by a lamp on the nightstand, and stopped near her bed. A peach nightgown lay in a silky heap beside one of the pillows, but Barney ruined the otherwise romantic image. Sprawled in the middle of the bed, he rolled to his back and stuck all four feet in the air.

  “Get off there!”

  With a snuffling moan, the dog opened one eye and gave his mistress a skeptical glance.

  “Yes, you. Move it.”

  His lip curled back before he flopped over and stretched slowly.

  Leah fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m warning you.”

  With a grunt, the dog jumped to the floor, shook, then strolled out of the room.

  “I’m not very good about disciplining him.” She picked up the nightgown and turned away from the bed. “I’ll be right back.” Her hips swayed as she disappeared into the bathroom.

  After a moment, Ryan sat on the edge of the mattress to untie his shoes then stripped off his socks and shirt. Standing, he dropped his pants, glanced down, and grimaced. Since he wasn’t 100 percent sure of Leah’s mood, he kind of wished he’d worn boxers for a change. Hiding the direction of his thoughts didn’t appear to be an option. With a shrug, he flipped back the quilt and crawled into bed.

  A minute later, the bathroom door opened, the light went out, and Leah padded into the room on bare feet. The peach gown clung to her curves but somehow still gave her an air of innocence. Or maybe it was simply the vulnerable softness in her wide brown eyes. When he scooted over, she slid beneath the covers and reached over to click off the lamp. Darkness enfolded them.

  “Come here.” Ryan pulled her close to wrap his arms around her. He rested his cheek against her soft hair as he aligned her snuggly against him. “I know you’re tired and stressed. We can just sleep.”

  “It doesn’t feel like sleep is the only thing on your mind.” Her voice held a hint of humor.

  His lips curved in response. “Natural reaction to holding you. Doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it. The problem will go away. Eventually.”

  When she turned over to face him, he settled his hand on the curve of her waist. “Are we okay? My goal is openness and honesty, which is why I told you how I felt. I want the same from you in return.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “Truthfully, it bothers me that you married Brock. We’re nothing alike. If you were attracted to him . . .”

  “I was attracted to you first.”

  Without conscious thought, his hand slid over her hip. “Yes, but our differences became an insurmountable obstacle in your eyes. Apparently you didn’t see those problems with him.”

  “Obviously I didn’t look hard enough. Deep down, I regretted being so black-and-white with you and not trying harder to make our relationship work. I was determined to avoid making the same mistake twice, so I cut Brock more slack.” She sighed. “Also, he was better at hiding secrets.”

  Some of his tension eased as he lowered the hand resting on her hip to her thigh. “You had regrets about me?”

  “Of course I did. When my relationship with Brock fell apart, I was able to see that I tossed away something truly special with you. Maybe we weren’t perfect . . .”

  “Funny, that thought crossed my mind the other day. High expectations are fine as long as you allow room for flexibility.”

  “I can be flexible.” When she slid one leg over his thigh, her nightgown rode high.

  Ryan forgot what they were talking about as they lined up in all the areas that mattered most. A throbbing ache overwhelmed him, a need for Leah that obliterated coherent thought.

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  “The only friction I want between us is the kind that creates sparks.” Twining her arms around his neck, she kissed him with a thoroughness that nearly destroyed him.

  Working his hands up under her nightgown, he covered her breasts with his palms, the rasp in her breathing telling him all he needed to know. Leah wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Unable to wait a moment longer, he slid inside her then held still to savor the moment.

  “I like being connected to you in the most elemental way.” Her breath feathered across his cheek.

  “It doesn’t get any better than this.” He pushed deeper. “Well, maybe a little better, but I’m in no rush.”

  He kissed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue while he investigated every inch of soft skin within reach of his questing fingers. Only when her whole body quivered with need beneath his did he move slowly to build the tension between them.

  “Oh, God, Ryan. I love . . . this. You make me feel so special.”

  “You’re freaking amazing.” He gritted
his teeth, holding on by a thread. “I want what we have to last forever.”

  A husky chuckle rumbled through her as she licked his ear. “I don’t think I can wait that long.”

  Not what he’d meant, but he knew when to shut up and go with the moment. He pushed hard again and again until they clung together, shaking in release. Finally he let her go, and she flopped back against the sheet.

  Beneath the silky material of her nightgown, her breasts rose and fell in the faint moonlight as her breathing slowed. “Well, that certainly rocked my world.”

  “We both needed a little stress release.” He rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad earlier.”

  “And I’m sorry I got all bent out of shape about it.” She leaned over to press a kiss to his chest. “That’s why we’re good together. Neither of us minds admitting we’re wrong once in a while.”

  He stroked her hair, letting the strands sift through his fingers until he was certain she’d fallen asleep. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on his pants and walked from room to room to stare out into the night. Nothing moved except Barney, who joined him on his vigil.

  Ryan nudged the dog with his foot. “You certainly weren’t much help tonight.”

  Barney thumped his tail against the floor.

  Nothing but darkness and silence hovered beyond the walls of the house. No hint of light. No scuff of a shoe against the ground or rustle of bushes outside the partially opened window. Convinced whoever had searched Leah’s car wasn’t hanging around, Ryan shut and locked the window, then made his way back down the hall to stop in the bathroom to remove his contacts. Afterward, he dropped his pants on the floor and slipped into bed. Leah mumbled softly in her sleep but didn’t wake as she cuddled against him. With a sigh, he let go of the niggling fear that the woman he cared so much about was in danger. For tonight, at least, she was safe in his arms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When a knock sounded on her open classroom door, Leah glanced up from the math homework she was grading. Officer Chris Long stood in the doorway.

  He tucked a pair of sunglasses in his pocket and smiled. “Are you busy? The woman at the front counter told me to come on back.”

  “Nothing that won’t keep. Come in.” She stood and waved him inside, then hurried over to the corner to drag the only other adult-sized chair up to her desk. “Have a seat. Is there news?”

  “Of a sort. We haven’t located the man who swindled your grandmother, but I’ve been looking into similar crimes in the area and found a couple that fit Thomas Woodward’s M.O. Unfortunately, the descriptions of the perpetrators don’t match, so it may be difficult to get a positive ID on him.”

  “Does that mean you don’t have any leads as to his whereabouts?”

  “Not yet, but I’m convinced the same person is responsible for several crimes.” He pulled folded papers from his pocket and flattened them on the desk. “Here are the composite drawings of the men in question.” He tapped the first one. “This is the guy who scammed your grandma, going by the name of Thomas Woodward.”

  Leah frowned. “Looks like he has a modified afro.”

  “I believe he’s Caucasian, but Woodward had one of those curly perms that were popular back in the seventies. Your grandmother said he was wearing a white dress shirt with a big collar and had on a heavy gold cross necklace. The description from the other woman, Bea Stenson, was similar.”

  “Sounds kind of retro to me.” Leah glanced at the other two drawings. “These men don’t look much alike.”

  “No, they don’t, but the seniors who provided the descriptions were all focused on the big details—dress, hair, eye color. All those things are easily altered. When the artist asked about facial distinctions, they reported these men were just sort of normal. Normal isn’t a lot of help to an artist, not to mention the eyesight of the victims describing these perps generally wasn’t twenty-twenty.”

  “Grandma thinks if she squints, she doesn’t need to wear her glasses.”

  “Exactly.” Chris pointed to the second drawing of a clean-cut man with light brown hair wearing a traditional suit. “This guy was calling himself Howard Williams from Williams Construction. He was also looking for investors in his housing project. The contract was the same as the one your grandma signed, and his victims lived in a retirement community outside Salem.”

  Leah frowned. “Seems unlikely more than one person would use the exact same contract to rob seniors in Oregon.”

  “I agree. Williams was operating about four months ago.” The officer touched the third sketch. “Anthony Benedetto was scamming elderly women in Eugene last winter.”

  “Shaggy dark hair and a bow tie.” Leah glanced up. “Looks like all three have light eyes.”

  “Blue, green, and gray were the colors reported. The perp must use contacts. He only hits a few targets at a time then fades away, which is likely why he hasn’t been caught yet.”

  “Then he creates another new identity.” Leah studied the drawings. “There’s something familiar about all of them, but I can’t put my finger on why.”

  “You think you may have seen this man, possibly using a different persona?”

  “No, it’s more a feeling these sketches aren’t quite right. Distorted. But that doesn’t make sense since, to my knowledge, I’ve never seen this creep before.”

  “He’s probably in his early thirties. Medium height and build. Your grandma said he was good-looking, tanned, and had a nice smile.”

  “That could be you.”

  Chris grinned and touched his moustache. “Except none of his variations had facial hair.”

  “Maybe his beard is distinctive in some way, so he stays clean-shaven.” She planted an elbow on her desk. “What are your plans to catch him?”

  “Every law enforcement officer in the state is on alert for suspicious activity in senior communities. Plus, we’ve put the word out to senior centers to educate their clientele.”

  “But that won’t help my grandma recover her money if he doesn’t target new victims for several months, which seems to be his habit.”

  “I’m afraid not. Of course, we won’t stop looking for this man, but the likelihood of him being spotted is slim, since he probably no longer resembles any of these composites.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yes, it does.” His tone was serious as he regarded her steadily.

  “While you’re here, I may as well report my second problem.”

  He straightened in his seat. “Someone ransacked your house? Yeah, I saw that report. As far as I know, we don’t have any leads yet.”

  “Whoever it was came back last night and broke into my car. At least I assume it was the same person. It was late when it happened, and nothing was stolen, so I didn’t call nine-one-one.”

  “Did you see anyone on your property?” His voice sliced through the quiet disturbed only by the ticking of the clock over the whiteboard on the wall behind her desk.

  “No strangers, but Brock Hooker, my ex-husband, had been by not long before. We argued. Still, I don’t know why he’d dump a bunch of science reports all over the cargo area of my car or empty out my glove box. Unless he simply wanted to irritate me. If so, he succeeded.”

  “But you didn’t actually witness him near your vehicle?”

  “No, and as I said, nothing was taken. If the person responsible was looking for something specific, I don’t have a clue what it is.”

  “I’ll file an incident report. What time did this occur?”

  “Probably around nine. Ryan Alexander was with me. He went outside to make sure Brock had left and heard a door shut. That’s when he discovered the interior of my car was trashed.”

  “He didn’t see anyone, either?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll make some inquires, including questioning your ex-husband. Any idea where Brock might be?”

  She couldn’t hold back a brief smile. “That’ll certainly set him off, since he’s ne
ver felt the need to answer to anyone. Uh, he’s probably hanging out with Pete Brewster or George Dorsey. What’s weird is that someone broke the window out of Ryan’s Jeep when we were at the carnival during the Fall Festival. At the time, we suspected it was just kids, but now I wonder if it was related.”

  “I’ll make a note of it.”

  “Thanks for your help, Chris.”

  “You bet.” He stood. “I’ll let you know if we uncover any new information on either case.”

  “I appreciate that. Have a good evening.”

  “You, too.”

  After he left, Leah tried to focus on the math papers and failed. When someone cleared his throat from behind her, her nerves jumped higher than a spooked cat. She pressed a hand to her chest as she glanced up.

  “Sloan, I didn’t hear you walk in.”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt while the police officer was here. More problems? Anything I can do to help?”

  “Not unless you saw someone skulking around my yard last night. First my home was ransacked, then my car. I don’t know what the hell is going on around here.”

  His gray eyes sobered. “That’s more than a little frightening. If you don’t feel safe—”

  “Ryan has been sticking pretty close. Not that I believe I’m in any personal danger, since robbery or vandalism seems to be the motive here, not assault.”

  “Better to play it safe and not hang out alone, just in case.”

  “I expect so.” She gathered up the stack of math papers to shove in her bag, then stood and shrugged on her pink denim jacket. “On that note, I think I’ll go home to finish grading these.”

  “I’ll walk you out. I was just leaving.”

  “Thanks.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, retrieved her keys from the top drawer, and crossed the room. After locking the door, she walked beside Sloan toward the front of the building. Rounding the corner, she smacked into Edgar Vargas wheeling a mop bucket in the opposite direction. Water sloshed across the linoleum, and her purse fell to the floor with a thump.

  “Steady, there.” He grabbed her shoulders as she swayed before stepping back. “Maybe I should wear a bell like my old tabby to announce I’m coming.”