“Then tell me the truth,” he gritted between clenched teeth.
“I am!”
A muscle in his jaw jumped, telling her how hard he was working to restrain himself. “Tell me the whole story,” he demanded. “Every last detail.”
Jillian bit her lip. “Fine. Where do you want me to start?”
“June 6th, 2002.”
Of course. Graduation night.
She wanted to fidget but refused to let herself. Rubbing her hands down her thighs, Jillian took a deep breath and looked at Colton. His usual happy-go-lucky countenance had disappeared to be replaced by a fierce frown and serious, hard green eyes. For a moment they simply stared at each other. Memories flickered across her mind. Memories she tried to forget. Memories that never should have been made.
“Wait. I need to say something first.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology and . . . I’m sorry.”
She blinked. “Sorry? What for?”
A flush crept into his cheeks. “That night.”
“Oh. Right.”
He ran a hand down his face. “I’m getting ready to ask you to be open and honest with me. It’s only fair I do the same.”
She waited.
He swallowed hard and said, “I was wrong to . . . uh . . . let things get out of control that night. I could blame it on the fight with my dad or the feeling that I was getting ready to lose everything, but . . . the truth is, I was irresponsible and inconsiderate and I know it’s a mistake we can’t undo, but . . .”
Jillian listened even as her heart broke at his words.
Because they were so sweet and something she needed to hear. And yet their mistake had produced Meg. Beautiful, adorable, sassy Meg. “I have to take some of that responsibility, Colton. I could have said no.”
He nodded. “We were both wrong, but I’ve waited a long time to get those words off my heart. I’ve already asked God’s forgiveness, but now,” he cleared his throat, “I’m asking for yours.”
Jillian’s jaw ached with the effort to hold back her tears even as a question formed in her mind. If Colton thought that night was a mistake, would he think Meg was one too? Shoving that thought aside to address later, she managed to whisper, “You have it.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you. Now,” he cleared his throat and opened his eyes, “could you please tell me about graduation night?”
She nodded, glad to move past that difficult topic. Not that this next one was going to be any easier. “All right. I went looking for you that night, but you weren’t in the gazebo.”
His features softened a fraction. “I was having a hard time getting away from my dad. He wanted me to go to that party at Uncle Frank’s and I had no interest in it.”
“I know. When you didn’t show up at the gazebo, I thought maybe you’d decided to go after all.”
“No.” He looked away and sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “I was about thirty minutes late getting there.”
“When you didn’t come, I wasn’t sure what to do.” She gave a shake of her head. “It was one of the few times I wished I’d let you buy me a cell phone.”
He studied her. “You were pretty stubborn about not taking much of anything from me.”
She set her jaw and stared at him. “You know why.”
“You didn’t want me to think you were interested in me because of my family’s money.” He paused as his features softened. For a moment he reminded her of the boy she’d fallen in love with. He nodded. “I knew that. I never saw greed in your eyes.”
His words shocked her. They were true, she just hadn’t expected him to say it. “Well . . .”
The hardness returned. “Anyway, after you saw I wasn’t there, what did you do?”
“I thought about just going on to the graduation dance, but I really wanted to find you. I needed to . . . I was—” She broke off and swallowed hard. She wasn’t ready to tell him why she’d been so desperate to see him that night. “It was a pretty night, so I started walking and found a pay phone. When you didn’t answer your cell phone, I called as many people as I could, but no one had seen you.” Colton had been in her graduating class and they had been planning to skip out on the graduation party to spend time alone.
“I didn’t have my cell phone with me anymore,” he murmured. “My dad threatened to cut me off if I didn’t start doing things his way, told me I’d have to make it on my own. I pulled the phone and my car keys from my pocket and threw them at him. Told him I didn’t need him or his money. And then I went to find you.”
“Only I had left by the time you got there.”
“I figured that’s what happened. I thought maybe you went on to the dance so I went over to the gym, but you weren’t there either.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t get there until later, like ten o’clock.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she drew in a shuddering breath, “I went to your uncle’s house. I wondered if you’d decided to go to the party after all, so I went home and got my mom’s car and drove over there.”
“I never went to Uncle Frank’s house that night.”
Jillian looked down at her hands. “And I wish I hadn’t.”
“Tell me.”
His simple command somehow made it easier to go back in her mind, to voice the details she’d never forgotten yet never spoken about. “When I got there, it was loud. I could hear the band playing, the people talking. I looked everywhere for you.”
He lifted a brow. “How did you get past security?”
“It was easy. I was already dressed for the graduation party.” She shrugged. “People were parking on the curb and checking in at the gate. I simply followed along behind a couple. The guard took me for their daughter.”
“Huh. Uncle Frank wouldn’t be too happy to hear about that.”
“Once I was inside, I started looking for you. Even snuck into the private sections of the house. When I realized you weren’t there, I went out to the pond to sit and think about what to do next. People started leaving, but I waited because your parents hadn’t left yet and I hoped you would show up eventually.”
“I was out looking for you. It never occurred to me to check that stupid party.”
Jillian couldn’t stand sitting there. She got up and paced to the window and looked out. The sun crawled down the horizon. She turned back to Colton. “As the house emptied, I finally realized you weren’t coming, and I headed for the front door. As I approached your uncle’s office, he and another man were arguing.”
“Who was he arguing with?”
Jillian licked her lips. “At first I couldn’t tell. They were really going at it. I stopped because I had to pass by the door to get out of the house. I figured I’d wait until the other man left, then I would sneak on out.”
Colton rubbed his chin. “But that didn’t happen.”
“No.” She shook her head as the memories slipped over her. Turning back to the window, she stepped to the side and parted the blinds to glance at the backyard. Quiet. Peaceful. A mirage? She flipped the blind closed and rubbed her arms as a chill washed over her. “Your uncle yelled that he’d worked too hard to have everything destroyed and grabbed one of those guns off the wall—”
Colton’s gaze sharpened. “One of his antique collectibles?”
She waved a hand. “I didn’t exactly have time to study it, but it was one of those he kept on the wall behind his desk.”
“Locked and loaded,” Colton whispered.
“What?”
He looked at her. “It’s always been one of his sources of pride. He keeps those guns in prime working order. I remember him cleaning them all the time.”
“He leaves them loaded on his wall? That’s crazy!”
“And dangerous. Nevertheless, he did it. Still does it as far as I know. And everyone knew it.” He shook his head. “My dad used to harass him all the time about it. What happened next?”
“Weird?”
“Yeah, like he was drunk. He was slurring his words and stumbling around.”
Colton frowned and shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“All I know is what I saw.”
Jillian noted Colton’s hard fists and white knuckles. He said, “Go on.”
She rubbed her palms on her thighs and pulled in a steadying breath. She had to finish this. “They started arguing again. I peeked through the crack in the door and . . .” She bit her lip as the horror of that moment swept over her once again.
“And?”
“Your uncle said something insulting about your aunt, lifted the gun, and pointed it at the other man, who looked scared and said, ‘I’m walking away. I suggest you do the same.’ And then your uncle started to walk forward, made a weird sound, stumbled—and pulled the trigger.” She raised a hand and covered her mouth. Behind her hand, she said, “He just pulled the trigger like he didn’t care that he was taking a life.” Confusion flickered as it did every time she thought about the next part. “And then they both fell.”
“Both?”
“Yes. I didn’t have a good view of your uncle from where I was hiding, but the man he shot fell immediately. Then your uncle cried out and sank to his knees.” She closed her eyes tight, picturing the moment. “He still held the gun in his hand.”
“He wound up in the hospital that night with a mild heart attack,” Colton muttered. “I found out the next day. He had all kinds of tests run and came home late the following night.”
Jillian raised a shaky hand to shove a lock of hair behind her ear. “The man your uncle shot was dead. At least he sure looked like it. His eyes—” She shuddered. “I’ll never forget seeing that. I freaked. And ran.” She looked him in the eye. “I looked back to make sure I was getting away, but your uncle had stood up, looked right at me. Then he lifted the gun . . .” She shivered and closed her eyes. “If I hadn’t run when I did, he would have shot me too.”
“I don’t believe it,” he whispered.
Jillian walked over to Serena’s mantel. Then she looked back at him. After a long pause, she said, “Yes, you do.”
His expression hardened. She couldn’t read what lay behind his eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
“Then help me prove it didn’t happen.”
That stopped him. “But you just said it did.”
“And you don’t believe me.” She lifted her chin. “So help me find the truth.”
“Who was the man you say my uncle shot?”
Jillian froze, then bowed her head. When she lifted it, she said, “Governor Harrison Martin.”
6
It seemed like each time she opened her mouth she delivered a punch that left Colton breathless. And shocked. He finally found his tongue again. “Governor Martin? Are you insane? Are you sure you have the right person?”
She snorted and crossed her arms. “I was quite sane . . . still am, thank you. And I knew exactly who it was. I voted for the man. He was my very first vote after I turned eighteen. Trust me, I recognized him.”
Colton couldn’t sit still a minute longer. He stood and began to pace from one end of the room to the other. And back. “I don’t believe this.”
Her sigh sounded weary and for a moment he wondered if she’d recant her crazy story. Then she said, “It really doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. I’m here to prove it, with or without your help. I happen to be very good at finding the truth.” She walked to the window facing the front of the house and parted the blinds once again.
Colton frowned at her skittishness. She sure believed what she was saying. “And that attack in the airport? That was someone trying to shut you up before you could say anything?”
“Yes.”
Her simple answer made him antsy. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” She looked around. “Where are Serena’s animals? I didn’t think to ask her when she dropped me off.”
“Her fish died. The cat and dog are at the vet getting their annual checkups.”
She lifted a brow at him. “And you know this how?”
“Serena asked if I’d pick them up when I was finished here. She and Dominic have a date.”
Jillian looked out the window again, shut the blinds, and paced over to the glassed-in porch.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching. Waiting.”
“For what?”
“For him to strike again.”
Her flat certainty caused the first swirls of anxiety to kick up a beat in his gut. “Jilly, hon—”
She whirled. “Don’t call me that!”
He flinched at the ferocity in her eyes, the flare of her nostrils—and the ready-to-fight stance. Colton held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry.” He kept his tone soft, soothing. “I’m sorry.” The nickname had come easy, naturally, rolling off his tongue as though the past ten years had never happened.
Jillian spun around, keeping her gaze away from him, but he thought he caught a flash of tears before she could hide them. Colton sighed. Whether he believed her story or not, Jillian believed it. His mind almost couldn’t process the change in her. She’d been a sweet teen, a little shy and reserved, but good-hearted. And she’d loved him with everything in her. He knew that then. He knew it now. But this woman before him wasn’t the young high school sweetheart he remembered. Jillian had changed, and grown up strong—and suspicious.
Still facing the porch window, she asked, “What about Camille, where is she?” Camille Hughes, the teen Serena had taken under her wing.
“Since the attempts on her life, Serena felt like Camille would be safer with her parents.”
She turned back to him, shoulders stiff, features composed. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure why. I’m uneasy and edgy and I don’t like it. Whenever I feel like this, something always happens.”
Colton felt his frown deepen. “This place is tighter than Fort Knox. You’re fine here.”
“Mentally, I get that. My gut’s screaming at me, though.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I want to check on something.”
“What did you see?”
“Nothing. At least nothing really out of the ordinary.”
But she’d seen something disturbing enough to want to check it out.
Colton shot to his feet and followed her to the front door. She punched in the code to disarm the alarm and they stepped outside. He watched her take in her surroundings. She bristled like a spooked porcupine. The hot, muggy southern night made sweat break out across his brow and in the middle of his lower back. The smells of honeysuckle and freshly mowed grass hit him. But nothing that triggered his internal alarms.
Something had set hers off, though. Jillian hurried around the side of the house. Colton followed, watchful, but not overly concerned.
Behind him, a loud boom rocked the house.
A scream came from around the corner.
Spinning, he lost his balance as the ground shook. He went to his knees, arms outstretched. The front door of the house landed beside him. Flames licked through the shattered windows.
Fear caught his breath as much as the smoke covering him. “Jillian!”
She appeared in front of a haze of smoke, blood on her forehead. “Colton! Are you all
right?”
“Yeah.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the burning house. With his left hand, he grabbed his phone as neighbors stepped out of their homes to gape, phones pressed to their ears. He paused. The neighbors would handle the 911 call. He punched in Hunter’s number.
Hunter answered on the third ring. Colton cut off his greeting. “Someone just blew up Serena’s house. I need you out here now.”
“On the way.” Hunter severed the connection and Colton knew he was already calling in reinforcements. Hunter’s unspoken questions would be answered soon enough.
“What was it? How did—” Jillian gasped and gaped.
Smoke billowed toward them. “We’ll figure that out later. Right now, we’re too exposed. Whoever did that wanted you dead.”
“You think?”
“Sarcasm’s not your best asset.” He pulled her toward his truck. She stumbled along behind him. He opened the driver’s door and she hauled herself up and into the passenger seat. Colton climbed in after her and slammed the door shut. “Hunker down. No sense in attracting a sniper’s bullet if someone’s holed up and watching.”
But she was already hunched down, her eyes scanning the neighbors’ windows.
Okay. Now he was concerned.
Twisting the key, he looked at her. “Someone means business about getting rid of you.” Colton pressed the gas pedal and backed the truck from the front of the burning house. He pulled down the street and parked. Far enough away so he could watch the crowd gathering and keep Jillian safe if whoever had done this was still around and wanting to finish the job.
Shaking, she gave a humorless laugh. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Her lips twisted. “They would have succeeded too, if I hadn’t seen those birds.” She looked back at Serena’s house and Colton followed her gaze. Tears flooded her eyes. “And they don’t seem to care if they have collateral damage.”
Through the truck windows he’d left cracked, the faint sound of sirens reached his ears. “Help’s on the way.” He blinked. “Birds?” He pulled a handful of napkins from the center console and leaned over to press one to the cut on her forehead.
When a Secret Kills Page 4