Secrets In The Shadows

by T. L. Haddix

  “Come here, woman.” He tugged her gently into his arms. Growing serious, he touched her face with a hand, running his fingers into her hair and drawing her mouth to his. Very slowly, he brushed his lips over hers, placing butterfly-light kisses at the corners of her mouth.

  “You know, you have kissed me before. I promise I won’t faint if you do it properly now,” Lauren told him.

  “Oh, so this isn’t proper kissing, then?” He pulled back and gave her a mock frown. “I see how it is. Here I’m trying to be romantic—”

  Cutting his words off with her mouth, Lauren sealed her lips to his. After a moment’s hesitation, he moaned and cupped the back of her head in his hands, deepening the kiss.

  Lauren’s eyelids fluttered closed and she slowly sank into him. Tentatively, she raised her hands up his arms and slid them around his neck, her touch becoming firmer as she grew more comfortable with the idea of touching and being touched. She couldn’t get over it—she felt no shame, no urgent need to break off the kiss, just warmth and an overwhelming sense of rightness at being in Charlie’s arms.

  Time seemed to stop for a while, and they lost track of everything except each other. When Charlie slowly untangled his mouth from hers and moved back a little, she followed him. His voice was husky when he spoke. “Not that I want to stop what we’re doing, because I don’t, but your parents and Ava are back from town.”

  It took a second for the words to register. “What?” She turned to look toward the back of the house, where she could see her mother and Ava moving around in the kitchen. “Oh. They are back. I wonder how long they’ve been home.”

  He feathered a kiss across her temple, then down to her ear. “Just a couple minutes. I saw the light go on in the kitchen. Think we can pretend they’re not here?”

  Just then Ava came to the back door and hollered. “Mo-ommm, Grandma says to tell you we’re back.”

  “That’d be a no.” With a reluctant sigh, she stood, her knees wobbly. “I guess we’d better go in.”

  He stood, as well, and pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss. “Actually, I should probably head home.”

  She played with his collar. “Do you have to?” To her surprise, a flush spread across his cheeks.

  “I’m not exactly presentable right now, especially not to go talk to your parents or Ava,” he told her in a low voice. She felt her eyes widen as she took in his meaning, and she couldn’t resist glancing down.

  “Oh!”

  Charlie smiled at her wonder. “Come on, I’ll walk you up at least halfway.” Hands linked, they headed toward the house. When they reached the steps that led up to the patio, he stopped, tugging her toward him.

  “When can I see you again?”

  “I don’t know. Things are so crazy right now…”

  “You have to eat. So does Ava. How about Thursday evening? I can pick something up and bring it to your house, or you guys can come here. You still haven’t seen my house, you know.”

  Lauren tilted her head, thinking. “Why don’t you come to the house and I’ll cook? We’ve eaten more takeout lately than I’m comfortable with.” As his eyes took on a glazed look, she laughed.

  “Real, honest to goodness, homemade food?” He shook his head. “I don’t believe it. No… You’re being cruel.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

  “What time do you want me there? And do you want me to bring anything?”

  “Just yourself. How does six o’clock sound?”

  “Like it’s weeks and weeks away.” Bending his head, he gave her a quick kiss, then moved back in for a longer one. With a groan, he pulled away and headed for his house. “If I don’t go now, I may drag you off to my cave.”

  As she stood there laughing, Ava came outside. “Where’s Charlie going?”

  “He had to go home for tonight, honey.”

  “Oh. But he didn’t get his ice cream.”

  “I’m sure he’ll get it tomorrow.” Lauren scooped her up and walked up onto the patio. Making growling noises, she blew a raspberry on Ava’s neck, sending the little girl into hysterical giggles. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “I guess. Can we come see Charlie tomorrow?”

  “No. But we’ll see him soon, I promise.”

  Ava pouted. “What about your ice cream? You haven’t even eaten it yet.”

  “Yeah, what about that?” Winston said as they came in the kitchen. “We put it in the freezer so it wouldn’t melt. Charlie head home?”

  Lauren could feel herself blushing and nodded. “I’ll take mine home with me. I’m pretty tired.”

  Molly came into the kitchen. “We ran into Annie at the park. She mentioned something about her and Beth and you, tomorrow night?”

  Ava dashed off to the bathroom, and Lauren grimaced. “I was going to ask you all about that, if you minded watching the sprout for me. I know I’ve asked a lot lately. I feel like I’ve been taking advantage of you.”

  Her father hugged her. “You know better than that. We’ll be glad to watch her for you. You could use some time off.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.” When Ava came back into the room, Lauren directed her to the door. Molly handed her the ice cream, and hugged them both as they went past her. “See you tomorrow. Love you both.”

  Once Ava was buckled in, Lauren backed out of the driveway. Every muscle in her body ached, and she could hardly wait to get home to bed. Even though she technically had a lot less on her plate with the shop closed, the days were incredibly long and stressful.

  With what she’d learned yesterday about the Vernons, the knowledge of the multitude of tasks it was going to take to get the shop back in line, and this evening’s developments in her relationship with Charlie, she was exhausted.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Early Wednesday morning, Stacy made her way to New Salem, Indiana. The town, located across the river from Louisville, Kentucky, was just over an hour’s drive from Leroy. Charity’s attorney had mentioned that there was quite a bit to discuss, and Stacy was looking forward to having her questions answered. As she turned onto the town’s main thoroughfare, her phone rang.

  “What’re you still doing up?” she asked Ethan. “I figured you’d be sound asleep by now.”

  “I’m getting ready to hit the sack, but I wanted to touch base with you first, let you know how much progress we made before we called it quits this morning.”

  Since she had an early appointment, she had left the station around midnight. Apparently, Ethan and Jason had kept at it.

  He yawned. “We got through several more journals and tapes, but we’ve still barely scratched the surface. We divvied it up the same way we had it going when you and Maria were here, with Jason doing videos and me doing journals. I now know more about the personal and sexual habits of people in this town than I ever wanted to. It’s a tabloid reporter’s wet dream.”

  “Anything new turn up?”

  “Just more of the same, what you saw last night. Maria got here about six and started working on a flier about our persons of interest. She should have that ready sometime this morning.”

  “Does she think she has enough to go on?”

  “Yeah. She says it’s actually a pretty good setup to work with, knowing the precise measurements of the camera in relation to the furniture and stuff around the bedroom. She thinks she’ll be able to pull together something pretty concrete for us.”

  Stacy smiled. “Good. God knows we could use a break.”

  “You at the attorney’s yet?”

  “Just arrived.” She whistled. The renovated house was in one of New Salem’s oldest, most prestigious neighborhoods. “Swanky place Mr. Davis has here. He must do a pretty good business to be able to afford this.”

  “Well, he is an attorney. Anyhow, I figured we could use the composite Maria comes up with to ask Raven if he knows who Charity had sex with. Hopefully, he’ll be able to ID that guy and the killer. If he can’t, we’ll pass it around discreetly
.”

  She snorted. “If Raven did recognize him, that’d be nice. But you know what? My luck’s not that good. Maybe yours is.”

  “Hey, we can hope, right? I left all the notes with the files in the conference room we’re using, and made sure the door was locked before I left. You have a key?”

  “Yes. I don’t know how long this interview is going to take, but once I’m finished I’ll head back to the station unless something else comes up. I’ll plan on briefing everyone this afternoon.”

  The call finished, she grabbed her notepad and recorder and got out of the car. Walking onto the front porch of the house, she noted the small, tasteful plaque beside the door that read SAM DAVIS, ATTORNEY. Before she could ring the doorbell, the wide oak door was opened by an older man with a slight build and gray hair.

  “Detective Kirchner?”

  “Yes. Mr. Davis?”

  He held the door for her to enter. “Please, come on back.” He gestured toward the hall that ran down the center of the house. “I’d shake your hand but I’m just getting over a summer cold, and I try to not share my germs.”

  She smiled. “I appreciate that. I’d prefer you didn’t share them, if it’s all the same. You have a beautiful office here.” She looked around, admiring the murals painted on the high ceilings. “Are those original to the house?”

  “Yes, it is. You like architecture, Detective?”

  “I guess you could say that. I recently bought my first house, and I’m enjoying rehabbing it. It’s nothing as grand as this, though.”

  They entered a large office at the back of the house, which looked as though it might have been used as a sunroom in another life. The floor was covered with hand-painted tiles, and there were large windows along one wall.

  “I grew up in this neighborhood, back before it was fashionable and trendy. I always loved this house, and when I was ready to open my own practice, this place happened to be on the market. I bought it and had it restored. The first floor is office space, with two floors of living space above us. And that’s probably more detail than you wanted to know. I’m nervous, I’m sorry.”

  “Under the circumstances, I don’t blame you. What I’ve come here to discuss today isn’t pleasant.”

  He directed her to a sitting area that had a loveseat and a couple of chairs arranged around a small coffee table. “Would you like anything to drink before we start?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.” She took one of the chairs, and he sat opposite her on the couch.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I pour some tea for myself, then. It helps with the cold.” As he poured tea into an elegant china cup, he asked her to tell him what had happened to Charity.

  She decided that the straightforward approach would be best. “From what the evidence has told us, she let someone into her apartment Monday night and that person killed her. One of her employees found her body yesterday morning.”

  He swallowed. “Her death—was it bad? Did she suffer?”

  “I’m afraid she probably did. I wish I could tell you otherwise.”

  His gaze focused out the windows onto the lush garden in the back yard, and he drew in a breath. “Thank you for being honest with me.” As she watched, he visibly pulled himself together. “Who was it that found her?”

  “Her gallery assistant, Raven Lynch.”

  “That poor child. He must be devastated. How is he handling it?”

  Stacy hmmm’d. “He’s pretty shaken up. Do you know Raven very well?”

  He took a sip of his tea. “Well enough, I guess. I’ve met him a few times when I’ve gone to the gallery. Charity spoke of him, as well. I think she thought of the boy almost as her own child.” Putting down the delicate cup, his tone became brisk and professional. “Tell me what you need from me, Detective.”

  “I spoke with Chase Hudson, who told us that you handled all of Ms. Vaughn’s personal affairs. To start with, I’m going to need to know what all that encompasses. I’ll also need a copy of her will and any other pertinent documents.” She lifted the digital recorder off her notebook. “Do you mind if I use this?”

  “Not at all. I may ask you to turn it off to discuss certain things, but for now it’s fine. Let me move this tray out of the way, and I’ll get the documents you requested.” He moved to his desk and sat the tray down, exchanging it for a stack of files. When he sat back down, he placed the files on the table in front of him.

  “First of all, I’ve been Charity’s attorney since she moved back to Indiana, almost four years ago now, I guess it’s been.”

  Stacy was shocked. “Moved back? So she’s from here originally?”

  “Yes. She was born and raised not far from Leroy, in a little town called Clayhole, and lived there until about thirteen years ago. However, Charity Vaughn is not the name she was born with. Back then she was Margaret Vernon.”

  She couldn’t hide her surprise. This was a twist she hadn’t been anticipating. “She was using an alias?”

  “No. She legally changed her name some years ago. When she left Indiana, she left under… unpleasant circumstances. She was fleeing an abusive situation here. After a couple of rough years, she had a life-altering intervention, and decided a new name was appropriate to go with her new life. For whatever reason, Charity Vaughn is the name she picked.”

  “Does she still have family in Clayhole?”

  “She does. And in Olman County. As a matter of fact, that’s what she came to see me about day before yesterday. She wanted my advice on how to handle something that had come up.”

  Stacy thumbed through her notebook. Something didn’t fit. “I’ll come back to that in just a minute. But right now, I’m not sure I understand—why didn’t people in Leroy recognize her? It’s not that far from Clayhole. And you said she had relatives in Olman County?”

  “Yes. Charity was confident people wouldn’t know her. Apparently, she had extensive cosmetic surgery after she left, and changed her hair and, thanks to contacts, her eye color. She also modified the way she dressed and carried herself. She basically reinvented herself after she left Indiana.” He shook his head. “She didn’t have a fear of being recognized. She told me that she doubted her own mother would have known her.”

  Stacy was quiet as she took in the revelations. Her mind was racing with what this new information meant to their case. “Well, apparently her disguise worked, at least for a while. So getting back to yesterday – what was going on that she needed to see you so urgently?”

  The attorney sighed. “Charity’s cousin owns a café in Leroy. I guess it was vandalized last week?”

  That was news she wasn’t expecting to hear. “Lauren Grant was her cousin?”

  “That’s right. Anyhow, Charity was very upset about that. She was close to Lauren growing up, and she wanted to reach out, to help her somehow. She was afraid that if she did, though, she’d be rejected. Her visit yesterday was more along the lines of a friend needing a shoulder to cry on than a client seeking legal advice.”

  “What did the two of you come up with?”

  His smile was sad. “I advised her to do what I’ve told her all along—sunshine is the best disinfectant. I thought the only thing she could do at this point was to come clean and hope for the best.”

  Stacy tapped her pen on her knee, thinking. “So she was going to contact Lauren?”

  “It’s anyone’s guess, but I think she was leaning in that direction, yes.”

  “And the rest of her family?”

  His mouth thinned. “Her parents and brother recently moved back into the area. They’re all, to be very blunt, white trash of the worst kind. Leeches, if you want my honest opinion.” Sliding a thick folder out from the stack in front of him, he passed it to her. “Those are the quarterly reports she had done by a private investigator. She kept tabs on her family over the years. Know thine enemy, that sort of thing.”

  She looked through the papers and frowned. “So she considered Lauren her enemy?”

  “N
o. Not even remotely. Nor did she hate most of her siblings. But her parents and her brother Troy? There was a lot of loathing and fear there.”

  “Why is that?”

  Looking down at his hands, he sighed. “She never told me the specifics, but I was able to put quite a bit together from what she did say. I think the reason she left Indiana all those years ago was because her father was abusing her. I’d guess that her mother didn’t do anything to stop it.”

  Stacy’s hand tightened around her pen. “How old was she when she left?”

  “Seventeen.”

  She swallowed the bitterness that threatened to rise along with the memories from her childhood that his words invoked. “I see.” Looking at her notes, she focused her mind on the interview. “Tell me about her estate.”

  “It’s somewhat complicated.” He handed her a second folder. “Here’s a copy of her will and final instructions. That’s your copy to take with you, so I’ll hit the highlights. Asset-wise, not counting her gallery, Charity was worth about ten million dollars.” Seeing her astonishment, he smiled. “Most of her assets are tied up in investments, with about two million dollars staying fluid at all times. The gallery itself is worth about one and a half million dollars.”

  She leaned forward. “Where did she get that kind of money?”

  Davis hesitated. “After Charity left here, she did what she had to in order to survive. Most of us would. She headed south, and when she got to Georgia, she ended up hitchhiking. It was just dumb luck that she got a ride from a couple who ran an escort service. Apparently, they travelled the highways to look for new recruits.”

  Standing, he moved to look out into the back yard. “In any event, the service they ran was high-end, and they liked what they saw in Charity. They took her in, polished her a little, and put her to work. She was fortunate she wasn’t picked up by a serial killer.”

  “You cared for her, didn’t you?”