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When Secrets Kill

Page 8

by Zoe Carter


  Lauren tossed and turned on her blue-striped sheets, unable to get comfortable, unable to stop thinking about those other possibilities, unable to keep her eyes closed for longer than five seconds.

  She sat up and reached for her phone on her bedside table. It was eleven thirty. Too late for a text? Trevor didn’t strike her as the type who’d be asleep right now. And she should have called him a lot earlier to let him know about the threat. She hadn’t because she knew she’d get the same reaction she had from her family.

  Someone threw a rock through the Townsend Report office earlier tonight, she texted. No evidence, no suspects, natch, but MYOB was written in black marker across it. Thought you should know.

  What she should mind her business about seemed crystal clear. Lauren was working on one story right now, and had made that evident in her last Townsend Report post.

  Dammit, Trevor texted back. I won’t risk your safety. I’m on my own from now on.

  No. No, no, no.

  No way, I’m in 100%. With or without you.

  Meet me outside in ten minutes.

  Oh hell.

  She got out of bed and changed from her T-shirt and yoga pants into a sweater and jeans, then glanced in the mirror over the dresser. Bed head. She ran her fingers through her wild hair, then slipped out of her room, tiptoeing past her sisters’ rooms and then her father’s at the end of the hall.

  She carefully made her way downstairs. Except her father was sitting in his big leather recliner in the living room, watching a CSI rerun. If she could just slink down the final creaky step without him noticing... Then again, she was being ridiculous. She was a grown woman, not a teenager sneaking to meet a boy. She just didn’t want to deal with the questions about where she was going at close to midnight and the probability of her police chief father tailing her out of concern for her well-being.

  Success. She slipped into the kitchen and out the side door, then headed down the front walkway to the street. She walked up a bit in the direction she knew Trevor would be coming from and sat on the bench by the tour-bus stop.

  She stood when she saw his black pickup coming. He pulled over and she got in. Neither said a word as he drove to the lakeshore and parked. The close proximity had her so...aware of him, his right shoulder, his right thigh, his right hand on the steering wheel. Why did he have to be so hot?

  He turned off the ignition and kept his gaze on the dark water. “I can’t have you risking your life, Lauren. This is my fight for justice.”

  Ah. Her head was back in the game. “And mine. This is what I do, Trevor. And I want to finish what Victor started. I owe that to him.”

  He turned to face her. “I’m not putting your life in danger, Lauren. I’ll be working on my own from now on. I shouldn’t have called you—either time. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences of that.”

  Was this some of kind of conspiracy? What the hell did everyone in her life take her for? A fool who couldn’t handle herself? “Well, I guess I’ll be investigating on my own, then.”

  “Lauren, that’s not what I want.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m in this with you, Trevor. Till the end.”

  He held her gaze, and she had the feeling he wasn’t used to that outside of his army unit. Anyone being there for him, with him, having his back.

  Huh, she thought. I meant that. I’m in this with him. This is about justice and the truth, yes. But it’s about giving Trevor Gallagher what he needs too.

  “I’m not afraid, Trevor. I told you, I know what it’s like to be on the wrong side of justice. It sucks. I want more for your sister.” I want more for you.

  He reached over and touched her face. Whoa. That was unexpected. Her eyes widened and she must have had a freaked-out look on her face because he dropped his hand and shifted over an inch in the opposite direction.

  She wanted to explain. That she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d ever inspired tender gestures from men. The guy actually seemed to...care about her. And wasn’t making a move.

  “It means a lot that you want more for her, Lauren. But you’re off the case. I lost my sister. I can’t be responsible for what happens after the MYOBer discovers his warning didn’t work on you.”

  “You’re not responsible for me, Trevor. I’m a grown woman.”

  “So was my sister. She was eighteen. Everyone keeps saying she was an adult. But she was a kid. And you’re just twenty-five, Lauren. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

  “You’re what, twenty-seven?”

  “I’m twenty-eight. And I was a combat soldier.”

  “I sat in jail for three weeks, charged with murder. I’m not saying I’m soldier material. But I’m saying I’m committed.”

  “That is soldier material,” he said softly, turning away.

  She felt warmth spread through her. No one had ever said anything like that to her before.

  He turned the full force of those intense blue eyes on her. “Please, Lauren.”

  “I’m in this one hundred percent, Trevor. Whether you like it or not. Whether we’re working together or not. I’m an investigative reporter. I’m going to investigate your sister’s death.”

  “I don’t like it,” he said. “I admire your courage, but I don’t like it. Or hell, maybe I do.” He leaned his head back against the seat and let out a breath.

  She smiled and took his hand and held it tight for a moment, not wanting to let go, but she finally did. “Pick me up at the office around ten tomorrow and we’ll try to find CJ Spinner and check out Tammy’s high school friends.”

  He stiffened, then finally seemed to accept that she wasn’t going away. Literally or figuratively.

  “Nothing can happen to you,” he said.

  “Or you,” she added.

  Chapter Seven

  In the morning, as Trevor hung up the grooming equipment he’d bought for Klondike, his new bull now grazing in the far pasture, he saw someone dart behind a tree a couple hundred feet away from the barn. A shadow? Doubtful. Someone was out there. Skulking around. Ten miles out of town. Maybe the same someone who’d thrown a rock through Lauren’s office window last night.

  He grabbed his rifle and took cover by the side of the barn door, watching the tree for any sign of movement behind it. There—a booted foot. Trevor waited, gaze narrowed on the foot, then the guy took off like a shot toward the next tree, two feet or so closer toward the farmhouse.

  Tall, but skinny, baseball cap pulled down low. Trevor could take him easily, even if the guy was armed.

  Who was he? His sister’s killer? Hired gun?

  The guy poked his head around the tree, then rushed out another few feet closer to the house, stopping behind the weeping willow. If this was the killer or a hired goon, he was really bad at his job.

  Next time he darted out, Trevor would take a bead on him and force him to stop.

  Bingo. The guy rushed out, and Trevor aimed the rifle. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

  The guy froze, then darted back behind the tree. Jesus Christ, was the guy doubled over and panting?

  He’s scared out of his mind, Trevor realized. And he didn’t have a gun in his hand. He still might be armed, though.

  Trevor waited, and finally, the guy took off his cap and waved it. White flag?

  Trevor advanced, rifle aimed. “Come out with your hands up.”

  The man did as Trevor asked. With the cap in his hand, he realized he knew the guy. It was the kid whose picture the waitress from the restaurant had showed him and Lauren yesterday. CJ Spinner.

  “CJ, right?” Trevor asked, the rifle at the ready.

  The guy nodded.

  “Why are you here?”

  CJ didn’t say anything, then dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands. The
guy was trembling.

  What the hell was this?

  “Did you kill Tammy?” Trevor demanded.

  “No! No, I swear. No.”

  “Then why the hell are you skulking around here?” He kept the rifle pointed at Spinner’s head.

  Spinner lifted his head. “I didn’t kill Tammy. I loved her.” Tears slid down the guy’s face. “She didn’t like me that way, and yeah, that sucked, but I didn’t kill her over it. I swear.”

  Trevor heard something in the kid’s voice that sounded more like truth than desperation to not be shot by a grieving brother holding a gun on him.

  “Where have you been the last few weeks, then?” Trevor asked. “It’s very coincidental that no one’s seen you after Tammy rejected you.”

  “She didn’t really reject me,” CJ said. “I mean, I guess she did, but she just wanted to focus on her dreams—getting herself into college, becoming a vet. She told me you’d promised you’d get alpacas for the ranch you were going to buy when you got back from overseas and that you were going to let her name them.”

  Superman and Lois Lane. There were times in Afghanistan when he’d been unable to think, talk, move, the weight of grief from loss pressing on him so hard he’d thought his chest would collapse. Two soldiers in his unit gone from IEDs. A nineteen-year-old with an arm blown off. Amy, a beautiful medic with dreams of being an ER doctor back home. Gone. He’d lie in bed and force himself to picture his sister’s sweet face and the goofy-looking alpacas. Superman and Lois Lane. The hole would fill in just a little, enough for him to take a breath. And survive another day.

  “I swear I didn’t kill Tammy, but I was afraid the cops would think so, so I’ve been lying low. My dad once got accused of something he didn’t do and spent almost six months in jail before DNA results proved it was someone else. I got freaked out.”

  Trevor nodded. There was a little too much of that happening. “Why’d you come here?”

  CJ shrugged and bit his lip, and he looked so damned young and scared that Trevor finally relaxed the gun. “Tammy used to talk so much about you. You were everything to her. Her hero. I thought maybe you’d believe me. I don’t know where else to go.”

  Alone. Nowhere to go, nowhere to be, no one who cared. “Where have you been staying?”

  “I was staying at The Thorn, but when I heard the cops wanted to talk to me, I went into the woods.”

  “Did you know Tammy was living in the woods for the last few weeks?”

  CJ nodded. “I tried to find her a couple times, but I couldn’t.” Tears streamed down his face. “And now she’s gone.”

  “Let’s go into the house. You hungry?”

  The kid looked like he was starving. And he was dirty. He nodded and stood up, wiping under his eyes with the backs of his hands.

  They headed in. As Trevor made two bacon-and-cheese omelets and a strong pot of coffee, CJ sat at the table and talked about Tammy in a way that soothed Trevor, made him remember his sister in a way that comforted instead of hurt like hell.

  “Tammy didn’t return your feelings because she was focused on working?” he asked.

  CJ took a big bite of his omelet, then a long drink of orange juice. “She told me she just wanted to be friends. I think she was trying to meet someone a little more advanced in life.”

  Trevor paused from pouring two mugs of coffee and stared at CJ. “Tammy wasn’t the gold-digging type.”

  “I don’t meant that. Just that she seemed to want something more of herself than where she was, you know? She was looking for a guy headed to college, someone from a good family, that kind of thing.”

  “That’s not you?”

  “Tammy and I had too much in common, I guess. Including an old brother in the service. Mine was a marine.”

  “Was?” Trevor asked, his stomach turning over.

  The guy’s face lost all expression and he hung his head.

  “I’m very sorry, CJ. I lost some friends.”

  “I would have treated Tammy like gold,” he said.

  Trevor nodded. By the time they finished their omelets and had two mugs of coffee between them, he’d offered CJ a job as ranch hand and the studio apartment in the barn. For all he knew, CJ Spinner was a really good liar and playing Trevor, but his gut told him the kid was telling the truth.

  “C’mon,” Trevor said. “Let’s go tend to my one bull and one horse. Some hard work will take both our minds off things—especially because the funeral is tomorrow. You’re welcome to come, of course.”

  CJ’s face crumped, and Trevor put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. It felt good to comfort someone else over Tammy. They headed out to the barn. He had two hours before he needed to head to town and then meet Lauren. Enough time to watch the hell out of CJ and make sure he hadn’t just hired a murderer.

  * * *

  Trevor stopped off at the funeral home to make sure everything was set for Tammy’s funeral tomorrow, then drove over to the football field behind the high school and sat in the empty stands, trying to make peace with the idea of burying his little sister. He couldn’t; there was no peace. After a half hour he got up and pulled his Stetson down and drove around for a while, but memories hit him from every angle. The time a dog grabbed the hot dog he’d just bought ten-year-old Tammy out of her hand, and they’d laughed their heads off. Of course, he’d bought her another one. The day she’d gotten a ninety-three on a math test when math was her worst subject, and he’d treated her out to dinner at the steak house, their mother busy with some boyfriend, as usual. The time Trevor’s girlfriend had broken his heart the day they’d graduated from high school, dumping him for a guy “going somewhere,” and Tammy, all of eight years old, had handed him her piggy bank and suggested going to see a movie to take his mind off things.

  He glanced over at the movie theater on his left. The Pixar flick they’d seen had taken his mind off things. But right now, nothing could. At least seeing Lauren would refocus him on the present and not the past.

  As he pulled up in front of the Townsend Report office, he noticed that the window had been fixed. Helped to have the police chief as your father, no doubt. He sat in his car for a moment, able to see Lauren sitting at her desk, perpendicular to the window. She was deep in concentration, typing fast, then closed her laptop and opened a manila folder on her desk. She flipped through papers and clippings.

  He watched her for a few moments, in her charcoal-colored pants and sleeveless red top, realizing that she was dead serious about her work and the Townsend Report and keeping the investigation of his sister’s murder front page news. On the way over, he’d stopped at the convenience store to look at the headlines on the Gazette, but the focus was on the skeleton found at the boathouse. If there was a new article about his sister in the Gazette, he didn’t see it as he’d flipped through the pages, looking for it.

  But the Townsend Report was demanding to know why police didn’t seem to be fully investigating a young woman’s murder. That couldn’t be going over well at the Riley home. Once again, she earned his admiration.

  She looked up and noticed him in his car and held up a hand. He wanted to be in there with her, he realized. Bad. He wanted to be with her, beside her, next to her. Dammit.

  As he came in, she turned her laptop around to show him her browser window. “This was Tammy’s graduating class at THHS last year. From what I can tell, she kept to herself and wasn’t a part of any teams or clubs because she worked after school, but she did seem to have one girlfriend. The one who posted a nice comment on the first article I wrote about Tammy for the Townsend Report. Her,” she said. She pointed at a goth-looking girl whose caption read “Sophie McDonner. Motto: You don’t know me.”

  He smiled. “The teen years. Not easy to get through.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “You couldn’t pay me to go back. I’ve bar
ely gotten through the first half of my twenties.”

  “Well, it led you to who you are. Your past is part of you.”

  She gave a small shrug. “I’d like to erase being such a stupid lush that I had to go to rehab twice—and still got drunk after. Going out to dinner with my sister Nova and having a bachelor party start clapping and announce that I’d slept with half the guys at the table. Constantly disappointing my family. Getting arrested for acting like an idiot—twice. Oh, and that time I rotted in a jail cell for three weeks because my past made me too much of a flight risk for bail.”

  He thought he’d been around the block. Lauren was right there too. “I understand having a past to live down. But look at what your past led you to.” He extended an arm at the office. “I hope you’re proud of what you’re doing here. And how about your family? You’re close with your dad, your sisters. You’re luckier than you know.”

  She was looking at him with an expression he hadn’t seen on her pretty face before. He’d touched her. But she was lucky. He had no one.

  Okay, this was all too personal. He needed to change the subject. And had a good one. “Guess who I hired as a ranch hand this morning? CJ Spinner.”

  “What?” Lauren said, shooting up. “How did he go from prime suspect to earning your trust enough for that?”

  Trevor explained what had happened at the ranch that morning. “My gut tells me he’s being honest. And also, I like the idea of having him close. He could end up helping with the investigation whether he knows it or not. He was closer to Tammy than I was the past four years.”

  “You’re one hundred percent sure about him?” she asked, sitting back down.

  “All I have is my gut to go on. It rarely lets me down.”

  She nodded and turned to her laptop, typing a bit, and then she spun the laptop around again. “‘Just do it’ is a good motto,” she said, smiling at Trevor’s senior yearbook photo.

  “Not very original, but I believe it,” he said. “It’s always the answer.”

  “I agree,” she said.

  He stared at his picture, almost unable to believe he’d ever been that young. He wondered if he’d ever be able to apply what he’d said to Lauren to himself—forgive himself for the mistakes he’d made in the past and focus on who he was now.

 

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