To my loving husband, who encouraged me to reach for my dreams and supports me as I do so. I love you beyond measure.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Note from the Author
Secret Need Sneak Peak
About The Author
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my mom and sister for your insights and excitement throughout this past year. I couldn’t have done it without you. Also a big shout out to my WriNoShores writing group, most especially Lynne Favreau and Sara Leahy. Thank you for all the inspiration, write-ins, commiseration, and writing advice. Thank you to my editor, Debbie, and my beta readers for your invaluable input.
Lastly, to all the readers out there willing to take a chance on a new author like me, “Thank you!”
Prologue
Detective Mason Clark looked up from the file in his lap and watched the scenery pass by his window. Multi-family homes with peeling paint and sagging porches slumped alongside cracked sidewalks. Even the sky looked gray and dingy, as if it, too, suffered from the same socio-economic forces as the neighborhood it watched over.
Amidst the monochromatic backdrop, colored strands of lights were haphazardly draped in windows and interwoven between the slats in some of the fences. Mason turned to his partner of five years and grumbled, “It’s not even Halloween or Thanksgiving yet, and people already have their Christmas lights up. When did everybody start rushing through the holidays?”
Detective Ryan Miller shrugged and laughed at his best friend. “I don’t know, man. You’d think people would want to savor one holiday before rushing to the next. It’s not as if post-holiday winter holds some great prize. Late January and February are the worst, all the bad weather and none of the good stuff.”
He thought about that and nodded. “Speaking of which, you and Shauna getting along any better? She gonna let you see your kid for the holidays?”
Mason knew they’d been having some problems and had recently separated. He also knew Ryan was still hoping to work things out. He looked over at his friend, who now had a pained look on his face.
“Sort of, I get the day after Thanksgiving with her and will be stopping by for Christmas Eve. They’re heading over to Shauna’s parents’ house on Christmas Day.” Stopped at a traffic light, they stared out of the windshield as a wrinkled, drunk, old man stumbled past them on the crosswalk.
He chuckled, ruefully. “She told me she wants a MacBook.”
Ryan pulled the car to the curb. They paused a moment, taking in the details of the run-down, faded house sitting before them. At one point, Mason thought, it might have been blue, but the building had slowly become a faded gray over time. The color fled long ago, abandoning the inhabitants much like hope and prosperity had done before it.
Mason set the papers on the dash and removed his seatbelt. “So, this is where the bastard lives, huh? You want to take point on this, or should I?”
“I’ve got it. Something about this guy stinks. I think about scum like this stalking and hurting women and it makes me physically ill. All I can think is, what if someone like this got close to my Jenny? If he’s our guy, I’m hoping we can throw him away for good.”
“Alright, you get point, but don’t get overeager. Remember, we don’t have any solid evidence on him yet. They tried to get him for stalking over in Ohio, but couldn’t get anything to stick.”
Ryan sighed with exasperation. “It doesn’t help that stalking is so hard to prosecute. A woman practically has to be assaulted or kidnapped just to get any attention. By then, it’s usually too late.”
Mason agreed, “Well, hopefully, it’s not too late for this woman.”
They both swung out of the car and scanned their surroundings. The sun was just beginning to break through the clouds, but Mason could still see his breath coming out in little puffs. Gray patches of snow cowered in shadows, remnants of the last snowstorm.
Leading the way, Ryan walked up the steps in front of the door and rang the bell. “Mr. Mendez? Are you home? We need to ask you a few questions.”
Robert Mendez barely cracked the door open. He stood between it and the frame, his body blocking any view of the gloom behind him. He wasn’t very tall—only about 5’10” or so—but his shoulders were broad and it was obvious he kept himself in good shape. Mason noticed he was dressed completely in black: black cargo pants, combat boots and a black shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck.
“Officers,” Robert looked at the two men standing before him and scowled. “What do you want?”
In his most official tone, Ryan inquired, “Robert Mendez? We’re in the process of canvassing the area and have reason to believe you may know something about the disappearance of a young woman from this neighborhood. May we come in and ask you a few questions?”
Just then, they heard a thump, like something, or someone, falling and a soft, muffled cry from one of the back rooms. Mason watched Robert’s shoulders tense and his eyes give a quick flick before immediately smoothing his face back to an inscrutable expression.
“Sir, are you alone in the house? Who do you have back there with you?” Raising his voice, Ryan took a small step forward, lifting his hand to push the door further open…
Shock and surprise registered on Ryan’s face as his chest exploded in a sea of red. His expression seared itself into Mason’s memory just as a bullet slammed into his own body, slightly off-center since his partner shielded most of him.
The weight of the other detective stumbling back threw Mason off balance, sending both of them tumbling down the stoop. Mason struggled to see past the black spots beginning to form in his eyes and managed to whip his gun from its holster.
Desperately, he pulled the trigger, aiming towards the man now dashing out the front door towards them. The doorframe splin
tered as he took his only shot.
A second slug created a fiery trail of pain along his arm, grazing his shoulder. Gasping, he began to hear screams from across the street.
With adrenaline rushing through him, he attempted to get up, but his left arm didn’t seem to be working very well and he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. Each breath speared him with searing pain. For a moment, the entire world centered on his next inhalation.
With a feeling of detachment, almost as if he were watching a movie, Mason crumbled to the ground and lay there while the suspect bounded over him and Ryan, rushing towards his car. A woman with large, haunted eyes and a nest of stringy brown hair peered out from the shadows within the house.
Her mouth formed a hollow oval, reminding him of an Edward Munch painting. Her scream echoed throughout his soul, mirroring the one in his own head. As he succumbed to the blackness dragging him under, his last thought was of Ryan.
Chapter One
Olivia struggled to balance her purse, umbrella, and a large bag of baked goods as she unlocked the door to the restaurant. Fumbling for the lock, she quickly made a mental note to replace the bulb that had blown out at the back door…again. Didn’t she replace it just recently?
Coming in from the damp, she dropped everything on the counter and switched the kitchen lights on. First things first, she thought, and turned to the coffee maker, pouring a healthy dose of coffee beans into the grinder. The loud crunching and whirring from the grinder woke her up nearly as much as her alarm clock had earlier. Savoring the moment, she took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma.
Really, was there anything as wonderful as the smell of freshly ground coffee beans? She pondered the question for a moment. Well, unless it was the smell of bacon, she thought.
Shaking her head at her silly musings, she began her usual routine of checking the restaurant, making sure everything was ready to open. The Three Sisters Cafe was a popular morning stop in the charming town of Bath, Maine and she knew that it would probably be busy, despite the storm coming in later.
She loved these first few minutes to herself before things got busy. It was a moment when she could take stock and be proud of the little café she had built from the ground up.
The café was on the corner of Main and Centre Street, and she could practically see all of downtown from her vantage point. Big bay windows graced the front of the eating area and looked out onto the quaint street with its older store fronts. She loved the picturesque effect that white Christmas lights and pine boughs had on the small town. It looked just like the front of a holiday card, even with the dark gray clouds and overcast skies above.
Inside, the café boasted cheerful, pale yellow walls that brightened up the space even on the gloomiest days. A bakery counter inhabited the back corner of the waiting area, full of muffins, scones, and bagels for the people who were in a bit more of a rush and just wanted to pick something up quickly.
A bank of coffee pots was placed along the right wall where guests could come in, grab a mug, and select from a number of roasts—from light, medium, or dark, to flavored, or decaf. Granted, she could have chosen to stick with just regular or decaf, but in a small town with limited options, the added luxury seemed to go over well with people.
The coffee counter was a part of a small reception area with benches along a half-wall, just in case there was a line. On weekends, when the demand was high, people didn’t mind coming in, getting a mug of coffee and chatted while they waited for a table. In the summertime, she also made sure to have some benches out front so people could enjoy the warm weather and sun.
Not that it’s an issue today, she thought, giving a little shiver. This morning had been particularly frigid with a cold front coming in from the north, and they were due to have a bad Nor’easter sweep through later that afternoon.
To the left, past the half-wall separating the front waiting area and the dining room, were a number of two-and four-top tables with cheerful little bud vases - currently filled with bunches of autumn leaves. Even though Christmas lights had already been strung up around town, Olivia insisted on decorating for Thanksgiving until after the holiday. All the tables were light and easy enough to be re-arranged and were regularly moved around to accommodate larger parties during the holiday season.
Along the back wall of the dining area was a breakfast counter where people could perch on black and chrome stools and enjoy the activity in the kitchen, observe the people in the dining room, or just watch the morning talk shows from the large screen TV hanging on the wall. To the left was a hallway running to the bathrooms, a storage area for paper goods and various sundries, and Olivia’s shoebox of an office.
After making her usual rounds through the dining room, straightening a chair here and there, Olivia headed back to the kitchen to check on the coffee and start the prep work. One of the things she was most proud of was the way the kitchen looked and functioned.
She had remodeled it the first year she had gotten into the space, and now it had an expansive open griddle, a six-burner cooktop, and plenty of counter space. There were metal shelving units along one wall that held large covered bins of dried goods, each clearly labeled and dated. A modest sized walk-in fridge took up the back corner and had produce on one side, meat on the other. Everything was stainless steel, spotless and gleaming.
She liked that she could stand at the griddle and see the people sitting at the breakfast counter, all while handing plates laden with delicious, steaming breakfast food through the pass-through window. It made it easier to keep an eye on things and get a feel for how the shift was going on any given day.
From the kitchen, she heard the bells on the front door jingle, indicating her best friend and manager, Jackie, had arrived.
“Hey, you back here?” Jackie poked her head back into the kitchen. “Happy Birthday!”
The greeting made Olivia grin. “Well, technically, it’s tomorrow.”
With a flourish, Jackie presented her with a little box, beautifully gift-wrapped.
“Aww, you know you didn’t have to get me anything.” She gave her friend a quick hug and tore open the paper. Lifting the lid, she revealed a pair of sparkling, dangly earrings. “These are great, thanks!” Most of the time, she forgot she even had her ears pierced, but with the reminder, she promptly began to put them in.
“How do they look?” At her friend’s approving murmur, she kept them in and tossed the box. “It’s hard to believe I’m actually twenty-seven now. I feel like I should be older, somehow.”
“Oh, now,” Jackie gasped, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. My birthday is still a few months after yours and I’m already quivering at the idea that I’ll only be a few years from thirty. I’d rather not think about that milestone just yet, if it’s all the same to you.”
She glanced at her friend and thought she didn’t have to worry. Jackie was one of those people who would always look younger than she was. Partly because, at 5’3”, she was so petite. Olivia noticed her friend’s cute, blond, angled bob was mussed from the hat she’d been wearing and wondered how her friend’s cornflower blue eyes could be so sparkling and awake at this early hour. Then again, that was just like her—pretty, vibrant and always full of energy.
Not for the first time, she was thankful her high school friend had agreed to help her run the café all those years ago. It had been shortly after her parents had passed away and not only had she needed someone she could trust, but also someone who would be able to see her vision and believe in her. Her friend’s natural charm with people and her innate organizational skills had been a bonus.
Granted, offering her the job of café manager had helped Jackie out, too. When she’d floated the idea to her, Jackie had been a young, single mother with a little girl just under two years old. After discovering she was pregnant, the baby’s father had run as fast as he could to the nearest exit and never looked back. She never mentioned it, but Olivia suspected that was why her friend had such trust
issues when it came to meeting men now.
Not only that, but her strict, religious parents had disowned her when they’d found out what had happened, and had left town shortly thereafter. That had left Jackie juggling two part-time jobs and just barely paying the bills for a studio apartment, lacking both financial security and sleep.
It had been tough times for both of them, but together they had managed to power through. If leaving that all in the past required her getting older, then she would gladly greet her birthdays with a smile.
After admiring her present, Olivia said, “I got the first coffee pot going. I think it’s nearly finished. Tom will probably be here any minute. I’m just going to load up these baked goods in the case and then get started on the specials menu.”
“Sounds good. I’m assuming you already did your usual run through the dining room and made sure everything is in order. Do you know if Becky was planning on coming in today?”
“Yeah, she’s on winter break. She said she’d be in to help out for a few hours.”
Tom came in from the back door and nodded his greeting at the two women. Jackie rolled her eyes and shared a smile with Olivia. They knew it was the most interaction they’d get from him until he’d had at least two cups of coffee, and even then, it wouldn’t be much more than that.
He was an Army vet who had served three tours in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. His long, dark hair barely brushed his shoulders and was just beginning to streak with gray. He had it pulled back into a ponytail that accented his high cheekbones. It was obvious he had some Native American in his family lineage, but how much was hard to say. His nearly black eyes looked like deep pools, full of past memories and secret things left unsaid. Not for the first time, Olivia was reminded of that saying, “Still waters run deep.”
He’d shown up at her café about a year after it had opened, looking for a job. By that point, business had been taking off and she’d been struggling with the workload of running her own café, as well as raising her two sisters. She’d jumped at the chance to have a second pair of hands in the kitchen.
He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but one got the feeling he noticed everything around him. More importantly, he was good under pressure, which was essential during the morning breakfast rush on weekends. It didn’t hurt that he made the best hash browns in town.
Secret Hunger (The Harper Sisters) Page 1