Shadows in the Curtain (Destination Billionaire Romance)

by Checketts, Cami

  “Did I not speak clearly? I am happy here.”

  “Don’t you get uppity with me! If you don’t do something with your life …” She paused, then continued with her shrill voice. “I will cut you out of my inheritance.”

  Emmy laughed at that. Jalina had no clue how wealthy Grayson was and how little Emmy cared for the money. “Oh, Auntie, when has money ever been a motivator for me?”

  “It should be! You know how horrible it is to go without.”

  Emmy’s young life had been filled with want as her mother earned just enough to survive. Somehow there had always been money for Emmy’s acting, vocal, and piano lessons. She’d been too young and loved the lessons too much to question why they didn’t have enough food but could afford the best private tutors. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel guilty about that,” Emmy said.

  “If your mother wouldn’t have lied to us all those years. She would only let me pay for your lessons. I had no clue.”

  She didn’t go on, and Emmy was grateful. Her aunt and uncle were devastated when they’d finally forced her mother to let them visit her dilapidated Detroit apartment. They saw for themselves that Emmy’s mother could barely afford rent and food, living off a waitress’s salary after Emmy’s father deserted them. Uncle Carl and Aunt Jalina moved them to Glendora, California, and spoiled them both until her mother died three years ago from the cancer that ate away her breasts and then her vital organs. Even though she’d been twenty-one, Emmy hadn’t been prepared to lose her mom. She missed her mother’s quiet and unfailing love.

  Her aunt insisted Emmy finish her M.F.A. from American Conservatory Theater in San Francisco before auditioning with the best companies in L.A. At twenty-four she had been an acclaimed performer, but miserable. She had no hope of rescue until Grayson talked her into marrying him and moved her away from it all.

  A loud rap came from the sliding glass door.

  “I’ve got a student here, Auntie.” Emmy hung up without waiting for goodbye and motioned to her next-door neighbor to come in. “Student” was a loose term to use—she considered Kelton and his family her closest friends.

  Kelton’s white teeth split his copper skin as he thrust the back door open. “How’s the prettiest voice teacher in Cannon Beach?”

  “Only voice teacher in Cannon Beach.” Emmy rolled her eyes. “I’ll be better when I hear you practiced every day this week.”

  “Ha. We both know I only take lessons so I can come visit you and keep my momma from kicking me in the butt.” The brawny defender for Seaside High’s lacrosse team made it clear that hitting the gym and flirting with girls were more important than developing his musical ability.

  Emmy shook her head, hiding a smile at his usual antics. The boy was inappropriate, but she loved him like the nephew she’d never had. “We’re both going to kick your behind if you don’t start practicing.”

  Kelton shrugged innocently and made his way to the piano. Emmy forgot about missing breakfast, her aunt, and the man from the gym as she played the piano and encouraged her uncommitted yet talented neighbor.

  3

  JOSH PLODDED THROUGH THE SOFT SAND of Cannon Beach. He’d already lifted this morning, but he needed a bit more exertion to clear his mind. Exercise had helped him overcome depression after his divorce, but it was failing him today.

  The temperature hovered close to seventy, one of those rare hours without rain. A perfect July day and the first day in weeks he wasn’t at the fire station or on call. He wanted to enjoy it, but the encounter at the gym this morning had spoiled any chance of that.

  The majestic Haystack Rock jutted out of the ocean, and waves softly rolled over the sand. Most beachgoers soaked up the fleeting sunshine and fixated on the scenery; Josh sprinted until he almost couldn’t hear her voice in his head: “Please tell me you have a beautiful wife and two adorable children at home.” His legs and lungs burned. Though he didn’t want to quit, his muscles gave out, and he was forced to slow. He stopped to stretch, focusing on the water.

  Why couldn’t he get her out of his head? No matter how pretty she was, how nice she seemed, how drawn he felt to her, she was married. He’d thought his life ended when his wife cheated on him. He would never do that to someone else. Never.

  He glanced from the endless waves of the ocean to the beautiful homes dotting the beach. The sun crested the rooftops of the homes to the east. Squinting against the glare, he wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. But no, it was her, standing on a huge deck. She stared at the water, her mahogany hair wet and trailing over one shoulder.

  The sliding glass door behind her opened, and a tall man strode across the patio and wrapped his arms around her.

  Josh groaned. What am I doing? He wasn’t a stalker or some teenager with a crush. He looked away from the happy couple, picked up a rock, and hurled it into the ocean. Why did she have to be married? The humidity chilled him even though the sun tried to help. Was it the humidity, or his own guilt? After his divorce, he’d promised himself to be extremely picky about which women he became involved with.

  Relocating from Boise, Idaho, to this small town in Oregon had been perfect, until he saw the brunette in the gym. He’d watched from afar and attempted to ignore the attraction, trying to protect his heart from another injury.

  He couldn’t stop himself from falling when he saw her perform at the Coaster Theater. He’d heard the phrase “own the stage”, but never really knew what it meant until he watched her that night. Her voice and the way she moved captivated him. He might as well have told his date he was sorry for wasting her time, stood in the crowded theater, and declared his intentions to pursue Emmaline. Since then he’d waited for the perfect opportunity to approach her. An hour ago she’d ruined every plan he’d made. Married.

  He turned and allowed himself one more look. She met his gaze briefly before breaking away from her husband and slipping back into the house. He wasn’t sure if she’d recognized him or not; she hadn’t given any indication if she had. He hoped not. She’d probably think he was following her.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man staring in the exact direction he was. The man was close to Josh’s six-two, had on a baseball hat and sunglasses, and was scrunched down into a windbreaker so Josh couldn’t distinguish anything about his features but a straight nose.

  The man noticed him, dipped his head, and sauntered off. Josh wondered if the guy had been watching the woman too, or if he was just overanalyzing everything because he felt like a stalker himself right now.

  He pivoted and pushed off the sand. Looked like he’d be sprinting, again.

  4

  EMMY AND GRAYSON SHARED AN EXHILARATING late-afternoon swim, showered, and then ate one of Emmy’s creations. Grayson always teased that her dinners were either tantalizing or so nasty they had to scrape the food in the garbage and order takeout. Tonight Emmy had followed part of a recipe, only improvising on a few ingredients, and the shrimp scampi was delicious. She relished nights like this: no lingering deadlines for Grayson’s software company, no rehearsals, no one but the two of them.

  “Do you mind if I watch the PGA tour?” Grayson asked.

  Golf—the epitome of boredom on television. “No. I’ll bring a book down and sit with you.”

  “Hate to bore you.” He winked.

  “Maybe you could give me attention during commercials.”

  “DVR. I’ll fast-forward commercials.” He grinned, teasing as usual.

  “And the romance is dead.” Emmy laughed, hoping he didn’t see that it bothered her.

  “And after only a year. We’ll be in trouble by our twenty-year anniversary.” Grayson gave her a one-arm hug, clutching a Mountain Dew in his other palm, before heading down to the basement theater room.

  Emmy sighed, frustrated but at the same time grateful that Grayson didn’t suspect her disappointment in their ho-hum love life. Things were comfortable and she was happy. Maybe sizzle was too much to ask. She glanced out the window
at the dark beach beyond. She never closed the blinds, but tonight she thought about it. Even with Grayson here, she felt really alone.

  She finished scrubbing the granite countertop and sweeping the tile, then ran up to their bedroom to get her Kindle. She downloaded the latest Rachelle Christensen novel. A door opened and closed on the main level. Weird. Was Grayson going outside? She couldn’t imagine him pausing his beloved golf championship, especially when he already had a Mountain Dew in hand.

  Opening the book with her fingertip, Emmy scrolled through the pages and read the first line. Madeline knew she had to kill him or she’d never be free. Hmm. Could be interesting or morbid. At least she knew one of her favorite authors would entertain her and have a hero she could drool about.

  Before losing herself in the new book, she descended the sweeping staircase to the main floor and then the narrower set to the basement. The commentator whispered about a bogey ruining someone’s chances. Grayson had the volume up. Emmy shook her head. Only Grayson would care to hear what the announcer said. She couldn’t get into golf in real life let alone on television. Last time they’d played, she’d hit Grayson’s ball into the pond, supposedly a huge faux pas.

  “Think you’ve got it loud enough?” she asked as she rounded the doorway.

  Blood ran down Grayson’s shirt and splattered the leather sofa and side tables. Emmy dropped her Kindle. A scream ripped from her throat as she ran to Grayson’s side.

  Though his head slumped to the side, he was upright, remote in hand, like he was actually watching the television.

  The screams kept coming. She couldn’t think. She wanted to help him, to stuff all that blood back into his body and make him be okay. Staring at him, tears ran down her face as horrendous shrieks came from her throat.

  She forced herself to press her fingers to his neck. Bile rose in her throat at all the blood. Grayson’s blood. She said a quick prayer: Please let him live.

  Even as she searched for a pulse, she knew he was gone. Her best friend. Her husband. Maybe there’s a pulse and I just can’t feel it. This thin thread of hope calmed her down enough to pick up the cordless on the side table, dial 911, and cry into the phone. “Husband. Stabbed. Help!”

  q

  Josh hadn’t enjoyed his day off as much as he should, and after flipping through a few television channels tonight, he found himself walking on the same stretch of beach as this morning. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to convince himself he was just out for a walk on the beach closest to his house, and not becoming more obsessed with a married woman. But the guy watching her house this morning bugged him. He wanted to make sure that guy didn’t come back. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  Sirens ruptured the peace of waves crashing against the sand. Red and blue light radiated into the night sky. When the lights converged on her house, Josh didn’t stop to think. Sand filled his shoes as he ran. He sprinted around the front and into the house, banging through the tall wooden door. Kaden, a young deputy, almost ran into him.

  “Hey, Campbell.” Kaden looked over his shoulder. “Where’s the fire truck?”

  “I’m not on duty. What happened?” Josh’s gut clenched tight. Please let her be okay. What if something happened to her?

  “Wife found the husband stabbed.”

  “The wife?”

  “Head case. She insists we take him to the hospital, but it’s an obvious DOA. Housley’s making sure we’ve got an all clear. You want to try to talk her into getting away from the body so we can get some evidence? The EMTs should be here any second.”

  This was one of the things Josh loved about this small-town police squad. They were too relaxed, but they were also willing to accept help rather than put a barrier between the different departments. “Where is she?”

  Kaden pointed down. Josh rushed through the huge foyer and took the stairs two at a time. He sensed her sobbing before he actually heard it. The scene was surreal, ugly, and more sickening than anyone should have to live through. The man had been stabbed multiple times; blood spattered the furniture. The beautiful woman from his every thought lay with her dark hair buried in her husband’s shoulder, crying like her world had ended. It probably had.

  Josh felt for a pulse, nothing. She didn’t seem to notice he was there until he touched her shoulder. “Ma’am?”

  Emmaline slowly turned and looked at him. Her mouth dropped open for a minute; then fire shot from her gaze as she leaped to her feet and slapped him in the face. Josh reeled back. She came at him with claws drawn like a momma cat protecting its kittens. Josh secured both of her hands with one of his and wrapped his other arm around her back to calm her down. She was so small he could’ve covered her entire back and abdomen with one arm.

  “You!” she screamed, struggling to break from his grasp. “How dare you come here!”

  “Please, ma’am, calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down, you murderer!”

  Murderer? She must be so upset. The poor confused woman. “I’m very sorry about your husband.”

  “I’ll bet you are.” Emmaline drew back her head and actually tried to ram him. Josh deflected the blow but unfortunately allowed one of her hands to get free, and she started hitting him again.

  “Campbell?” Housley rushed into the room. “Need some help?”

  “No.” Josh restrained her hands. Housley stood close by, ready to assist.

  “I’m with the fire department,” Josh said. “I know the police will do everything in their power to apprehend the person responsible, and I will try to help any way I can.”

  “Yeah right, you will! I told you I was married and you just couldn’t take that, could you?” She half turned and looked at her husband. “Did you think after you murdered him that I would come running to you?”

  “I, murdered …” She really did think he’d killed her husband. Josh released her, stunned. Thankfully she stood there like she’d been horse-whipped and didn’t try to pummel him again. “Why would you think I murdered your husband?”

  Emmaline swallowed. Her dark eyes sparkled with wetness. “The notes.”

  “What notes?” Josh felt as if he were watching a television show, like this couldn’t possibly be reality and he could just turn it off and walk away. It was then he noticed Kaden had entered the room, and both he and Housley were eyeing him like they weren’t sure what they were watching either. Men that trusted and respected him, looking at him like they thought this woman might not be insane.

  Housley held up a plastic sack with a quarter sheet of paper in it. Written boldly on blue cardstock were the words, Now we can be together. “She’s been receiving notes for a few months now. Jamison and I have documented everything.”

  “I had no idea.”

  Housley shrugged. “The perp never did anything, until …” He glanced at the body and reddened.

  “The other notes all came to the opera house,” she cut in, glaring at Josh and ignoring everyone else. “You were there the night I got the last one.”

  Josh swallowed several times before trusting himself to answer. “You can’t think because of what happened this morning …” He focused on her tortured brown eyes.

  She folded her arms underneath her chest. “What would you think?”

  Josh shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “I promise you I would never harm your husband so I could have a chance with you.”

  She just stared at him. “Get out of my house!” Her lip trembled and tears rolled through her dark lashes.

  “But, you can’t believe …” He reached out a hand to reassure her, but her icy stare froze more than his hand in place.

  “Campbell.” Kaden tugged at his arm. “Why don’t you go upstairs while we help Mrs. Henderson?”

  Josh blinked at him. Did they believe her?

  “I think it would help everyone calm down.” He glanced at Emmaline before looking back to Josh.

  “Fine.” Josh pulled his arm away. He looked at Emm
aline one more time as she stood there, defiantly glowering at him. The only sign of her trauma was the tears that trailed silently down her cheeks.

  “I know you have no reason to trust me,” he said, “but I’ll help the police in any way I can, and someday you’ll know that I would never put you through this kind of pain.”

  Fire shot from her eyes. “You have no idea what kind of pain I’m in, and nothing you do will make it better.”

  5

  One Year Later

  THE GROCERY STORE. It was a unique form of torture for Emmy. She used to be in her element picking out delicious produce and meats, envisioning the food she could create. Now she had no one to cook for, and it was the curse of living in a small town that she always ran into someone who knew her gruesome story. The pity in their eyes ruined what was once an enjoyable experience.

  The theater was different. Her fellow actors resided in their characters’ heads, and she was completely happy to pretend to be someone else when she was with them. Those who attended the theater saw the mask she wore and accepted it. They’d moved past the oozing compassion stage. But the rest of the Cannon Beach populace handed pity to her like a neighbor bringing cookies—well-meaning but still going to make you squishy if you take it all in.

  She lifted a gala apple to check for bruises, already anticipating the crunchy sweetness.

  “Oh, Emmy, you pretty little thing.”

  Mrs. Baxter. Not now.

  Emmy forced a smile, meeting the lady’s age-clouded eyes. The eyes were always the hardest thing to focus on, but she couldn’t allow herself to be a wimp. “Hello, Mrs. Baxter. How’s your new grandson?”

  The woman’s blue-veined hand reached out to grasp Emmy’s forearm as she leaned closer. “He’s fat and beautiful, but it’s you I’m concerned about. How are you holding up, my darling?”