by Debra Webb
Newton pushed her lips into a forged smile. "I'm afraid you couldn't afford me, Chief."
"And I'm afraid," the chief suggested, "that you've wasted your time and your magazine's money on this one. I don't think you're going to find the kind of story you were looking for here now that the true nature of the crime has been revealed."
"That's the thing, Chief." Newton stood. "The true nature—the truth—is my story."
CHAPTER 16
The chief wanted her out of here.
Not surprising. The only real surprises were that he actually thought he now had the perfect grounds to send her packing.
And the fact that Kale Conner had lied to her.
By omission, but a lie nonetheless.
That shouldn't have surprised her… but somehow it had.
Maybe even she wasn't so jaded that she couldn't hold out hope.
Flaw number two… capable of withholding information.
When she'd snapped her seat belt into place and he'd backed out of the parking slot she made the statement his shuttered expression silently validated that he fully anticipated. "You lied to me."
"I didn't exactly lie. Some parts I didn't even know." He eased the Jeep into the flow of traffic, purposely didn't meet her eyes. "As a journalist you should understand how that works. I left out the part I wasn't authorized to share with you or anyone else."
"Same thing."
When he would have argued, she added, "Doesn't really matter. I already knew about the message the killer left."
He braked at the four-way stop, aiming a questioning look at her. "That detail wasn't released to the press."
She laughed softly, directed her attention forward just to keep him guessing. "I have my ways, Conner. Secrets can only really be secret if no one knows them but you. That's the only person you can really trust."
Silence.
Next he would ask the question, no doubt pushing the limits of his well-ingrained sense of propriety. She'd give him another minute tops.
Through the intersection of High and Main.
Past Bay View Cemetery.
A right up the twisty, steep drive that ascended the cliff-side to the inn. Home sweet home. She expected to find snakes in her bed before this was over.
The Jeep rolled to a stop, he shifted into park, propped both hands on the steering wheel then stared out at the ocean. "Does this mean you're leaving?"
Forty-five seconds.
Not bad for a guy who no doubt wanted his life back. The commercial aspects of the whodunit mystery had been solved. There was no need for the debunking lady to hang around. Time for him to go back to being plain old fisherman Kale Conner. No more babysitting the crazy woman from New York.
Nothing was ever that simple.
Not for Sarah Newton.
Things had a way of dragging her deeper into the current.
She watched the seagulls float over the harbor, the occasional one or two skimming close to the cold water. No would be the simplest answer to his question, but that wasn't completely accurate and there wasn't any reason not to tell him the truth. She would leave when her instincts told her it was time to go.
Not when the chief or any damned body else suggested she do so.
"I could," she admitted, which she didn't usually do, particularly when in the presence of the other side. "Probably should, but I'm not ready to go yet." Maybe it was her visit with Rachel Appleton. Whatever it was, something about this place wasn't ready to let her go.
That was as close to the truth as she understood herself at the moment.
No comment.
Interesting. She'd expected a "why not," definitely a disappointed sigh.
"Lunch sounds good to me right now." He shifted that dark, dark gaze back to her. "You want to join me? Or did you have more names on that interview list? We can move on to the next name if you like."
Her lips itched to stretch into a smile. He'd done something few people were able to. He'd surprised her a second time. Rather than question her decision, he'd accepted it and moved on to the next point: keeping up with her every move.
As for her list, she had lots more names. For now, she needed to work alone. He'd answered her call for help last night. Taken her to his place and cared for her when he could have dropped her off here to fend for herself. She appreciated his hospitality, but he was still one of them.
And she was… the enemy. Pure and simple.
That didn't even cover the aspect that should actually have been at the top of her list. He was a distraction. Too good-looking. Too earnest. Too… fucking tempting.
"I have to check in with my editor," she lied. "He's called about ten times already." That much was true. "I'll catch up with you later."
His hesitation warned that he wasn't sure leaving her to her own devices was a good idea, but he had no socially acceptable or otherwise logical excuse for arguing.
He rearranged his face into an agreeable expression. "I guess I'll see you later then."
"Yeah." She climbed out of the Jeep.
"Don't go out in the middle of the night without me," he suggested when she reached for the door.
"Right." She gave the door a shove and trudged across the parking area. He didn't leave right away. She didn't dismiss immediately as she should have the thought that lunch might have been nice. Resisting the urge to look back, she twisted the doorknob and pushed into the lobby. She didn't need Kale Conner to do her work.
She always worked alone.
No reason for that to change now.
"Afternoon, Ms. Newton."
A new face was behind the counter of the registration desk. Young. Male. The son.
And he was on her list. Excellent.
"You must be Brady." She gifted him with her best smile, the one some went so far as to call charming.
"Yes, ma'am." He returned the gesture with a pretty damned charming smile of his own. Totally opposite from his sour-natured father.
Sarah crossed the lobby and extended her hand. He gave it a shake. "I'm Sarah Newton." Tentative grip. Nervous, she decided.
"I know who you are." His pleasant expression slipped a measurable notch. "You're here about Valerie and… Alicia."
Alicia was his girlfriend.
"That's right." She searched those hazel eyes, noted the uncertainty and frustration. "I'm genuinely sorry about your friends."
He lowered his gaze, busied himself with something behind the counter. "Me, too."
"I'm glad to finally have the opportunity to meet you." Sarah hadn't seen the first sign of the wife or the kids. She'd begun to think the innkeeper's family was another of the village myths.
"I have school, you know." Almost reluctantly, he met her gaze once more. "After school I've been helping with the… search."
She'd suspected so. "Alicia is a beautiful girl."
That uncertain expression melted back into a warm boyish smile. Cute kid. With that blond hair, if he had a tan he would fit neatly into the surfer dude category. "She sure is. I'm lucky she took a second look at me."
Where had boys like this been when Sarah was eighteen? They'd all been jerks. "She's made quite a mark in the world of beauty pageants."
He nodded with unabashed enthusiasm. "But she's got a lot more going for her than just that kind of thing. She has big plans."
"Yeah." Sarah gave an acknowledging nod. "Her mother told me." Not exactly a lie.
"She's going to New York for the summer." He shrugged. "After graduation and all. She's trying out for one of those model shows. You know, the reality kind."
"I can absolutely see her winning." The girl had the look. If she had half the ambition, she would have a very good chance of breaking in on some level. Sarah dug in her bag for a card and passed it across the counter. "You and Alicia call me when you get to Manhattan. I'll show you around. Take you out to dinner. It'll be fun."
That got his full attention.
"Cool, thanks." He pulled out his wallet and tucked the car
d away. "She'll be real excited to hear that. We don't know anybody there and"—he glanced around as if ensuring no one overheard—"the thought's a little scary even for me."
He had no idea he'd just told off on himself. Sarah would wager that no one else knew he'd planned to escape the land of maple trees and moose with his girlfriend. She mentally marked his name off her potential-suspect list. The boy was in love. Love could certainly end in murder, but not this time. He was still holding out hope Alicia would return and their plans to escape would see fruition.
"It can be a little scary for anyone if you don't know your way around." Sarah laughed, recalling her first day in New York. "Trust me, the bark is bigger than the bite. Many of the rumors you hear are blown way out of proportion. New York is just a bunch of little villages clustered together, that's all."
He laughed, probably the first in several days. "Definitely good to hear."
"How long have you and Alicia been together?"
"Almost a year."
He blushed. Definitely something you didn't see often anymore. Sarah bit back a smile.
"Prom's coming up. That's our anniversary."
Senior prom. And Alicia wasn't going to make it. Sarah wished that wasn't the case but she had that feeling. Her gut never failed her.
Alicia Appleton wasn't coming home.
"I know this is difficult to talk about," Sarah said carefully, not wanting to sound like an interrogator, "but some people are saying that Alicia left for New York early." She watched his eyes very closely and hated herself for what she was about to do. "Without you."
Her pulse reacted to the instant change in his demeanor. The shy, naive little boy vanished. Testosterone-fueled, outraged man took his place.
"Whoever said that's a liar. Alicia would never do that to me." He looked around again, abruptly realizing he'd shouted, then he bent forward. "It's the curse," he said for Sarah's ears only. Another covert check of the lobby. "Some of the other guys make fun of me for believing it. But Alicia knew. She said somebody had been following her. She was worried that something was going to happen to her. She said it was the devil."
Her pulse thumping harder, Sarah leaned in closer. "That information could be very helpful to the investigation. Did you tell Chief Willard?"
He nodded, looked around again. "He thanked me, but didn't seem to take me all that seriously since I didn't have any other details. Alicia never saw the person. No notes or calls. Nothing like that. That's what makes it so creepy. She said she'd wake up at night and feel like somebody had been in the room with her. Or turn around and no one was there when she'd felt like someone was right behind her."
"Does Alicia have any enemies that you know of?"
He lifted his shoulders and let them fall with visible disgust. "That's what the cops are focusing on. But I can't think of nobody. Everybody likes her. I swear. She's the most popular girl in school."
"I guess when you're that gorgeous you get used to the jealousy." Even a girl with no enemies in the broadest sense of the term had to have experienced envy, particularly one as physically beautiful as Alicia. "After all, whenever there's a winner, there are always losers, too."
Another of those disheartened shrugs. "I don't think that really bothers anybody. Alicia is Alicia. If she walks across that stage she's gonna win. The other girls just accept it." His forehead lined as he hesitated, obviously reconsidering. "Except maybe…"
Sarah waited, the tension swelling in her chest. Give me a name, Brady. Some damned place to start!
"I don't think Polly likes Alicia too much. She sort of had a crush on me and that caused some trouble a while back. But it wasn't that big a deal."
Polly… where had Sarah heard or read that name? "What kind of trouble?"
"You know, the whole talking behind Alicia's back, saying she was a snob and crap like that. Polly's kinda got a reputation for running her mouth, so nobody pays much attention to what she says. Sometimes her mouth gets her in trouble, though. But she's okay."
Polly… Polly.
Damn. Polly Conner.
Kale's little sister.
Holy cow.
"Polly Conner is a senior this year, too, right?" Sarah asked, confirming her conclusion that the Conner girl was the Polly he meant.
He nodded. "She feels real bad about Alicia and the stuff she said in the past. I told her Alicia didn't take it seriously, but I'm not sure it helped Polly feel any better."
"Brady, I need you out back."
Sarah's attention swung to the corridor on the left of the registration desk just as the owner of the very unhappy female voice appeared.
"Coming, Mom." Brady glanced at Sarah. "Gotta go."
"Fill the wood box and see that the cord Mr. Jacobs just delivered is stacked neatly in the barn," his mother ordered as he swaggered past her. "I'll take care of things in here."
That last part hadn't been intended for Brady. She'd stared straight at Sarah as she made the statement, disapproval and distaste radiating from every square inch of her petite frame. Sarah didn't let that stop her from pushing a greeting smile into place. If Brenda Harvey expected her to run for cover she could forget about it. Tougher broads than her had tried that tactic.
"Is there something you need, Ms. Newton?" Brenda took her son's place behind the counter. "I can help you if you're ready to check out."
News traveled fast. "Thanks, but I'll be staying a while longer." The tightening of lips told Sarah that Mrs. Brenda Harvey wasn't too happy to hear that.
"You stopped at the counter," she maintained, "you must've wanted something."
Touché. "Just checking to see if I had any messages." Good one. Sarah gave herself a pat on the back.
The silent stare dragged on. Gave Sarah time to analyze the lady. Well-fitting green dress that brought out the emerald flecks in her eyes. Brenda Harvey was slender, maybe five one, with blond, graying hair arranged in a neat braid that coiled around the back of her head. She wore small, wire-framed reading glasses that hovered on the end of her thin nose.
"You don't have any messages," she finally said with a distinct snap.
"Thanks." Sarah threw in another smile, just to be a good sport before turning away. She'd gotten two steps away from the desk when the innkeeper's wife spoke again.
"I don't want you talking to my children."
Sarah hesitated, considered ignoring the comment, but then she wouldn't learn anything that way.
She faced the indignant lady. "Rest assured, Mrs. Harvey, you have nothing to fear from me. All I'm looking for is the truth. Unless, of course, you're hiding relevant information that would help this investigation in some way."
Brenda's eyes flared wide and the indignation shifted the tiniest bit, to something more like uncertainty or maybe… fear. The transition roused Sarah's curiosity. She'd been fishing, casting lines wherever and whenever. It was her tried-and-true strategy. Seemed she'd gotten a nibble.
"The Gerards and Appletons are friends of ours," Brenda said firmly but without the fire and brimstone of before. "If we knew anything at all, don't you think we would have told the police?"
"I'm certain you would." And yet, there was something the lady worried about… something she wasn't about to tell a soul. Especially not Sarah.
"It's just that Brady"—Brenda glanced in the direction her son had gone—"is taking all of this very hard." She blinked several times but the shine of emotion in her eyes wouldn't be exiled. Nor would the palpable sense that she felt somehow cornered by Sarah's very presence. "It's difficult for us all…"
Don't say a word. As much as Sarah wanted to ask what she meant, she knew better than to break the spell. Let the woman talk. Don't even breathe.
"My husband and I are worried sick. We don't want our children exposed any more than they've already been. God only knows what might happen next. We don't—"
"Brenda, have you seen—"
The innkeeper strode into the room, drew up short when his gaze bumped into Sarah.
He looked from her to his wife. Suspicion immediately narrowed his gaze.
"Is there something you need, Ms. Newton?"
Here she went again. "No, thanks."
He glared at his wife before cutting his attention back to Sarah.
That would be her cue to exit. Except that… she stared at his face, specifically his left cheek. A little puffy and the pale skin there was a deep reddish color as if he'd been punched or… kicked.
The tingle of adrenaline rushed over her nerve endings as the images from last night's encounter zoomed into high-def clarity in her mind's eye. Right height… right build…
"Barton slipped on the ice last night when he was carrying in firewood," his wife said. She sent a look of concern at her husband's face. "Poor dear, almost gave himself a Hack eye."
The innkeeper waved off her worries. "I should have been more careful." He stared straight at Sarah then. "You can never be too careful in the dark… especially this time of year." His meaning was crystal clear.
He'd been the one and, on some level, he wanted her to know it.
"I'm always careful, Mr. Harvey," Sarah returned, her own meaning unmistakable. "There's no telling what or who you'll run into."
Their gazes held a moment longer before Sarah turned her back and headed for her room.
If the innkeeper thought he could scare her off, he should give it his best shot. Sure, he'd shaken her up last night, but she wasn't running.
No way.
"I understand you're leaving us," he called after Sarah.
Was there an echo in this village?
Sarah paused near the newel post at the bottom of the staircase. She met the man's haughty expression. "Not yet, Mr. Harvey. When the time comes you'll be the first to know."
If looks could kill Sarah would have dropped dead right there on the polished hardwood. Instead, she mounted the stairs to the second floor.
The harsh murmur of voices told her that Mr. Harvey was letting Mrs. Harvey know that she was not to be fraternizing with the inn's one guest.
Nothing like being the most popular girl in town.