Cherished Secrets

by C. B. Clark

  Marie’s brow creased.

  Carrie Ann pressed on. “Whoever murdered her is walking around free, has been for the past twelve years. Don’t you think it’s time the killer paid for his crime?”

  Marie peered around the small restaurant and leaned over the table. Her breath fanned Carrie Ann’s face. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.” Her voice was hushed. “Tommy would kill me if he knew I talked to you. He’s never liked Declan, and he’s positive he’s guilty.”

  “Tell me what he saw.”

  Marie took another sip of tea, swallowed, and set her cup on the table. “Tommy saw them. We’ve never discussed it, but he must have seen them because I remember he made some remark about Sheldon getting Declan’s leftovers.”

  Carrie Ann’s heart pounded. “Did you see Skye get into Sheldon’s car? Did she leave the party with him?”

  Marie shook her head. “Look, I have to go. The babysitter can’t stay long.”

  “Come on, Marie. What else did you see?”

  Marie struggled out of her seat and shrugged on her coat. “Like I said, most of that night’s a blur, but I’m pretty sure I saw Skye get into Sheldon’s car. They drove away together.” She picked up her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Nice seeing you again, Carrie Ann. Don’t get involved with Declan. Even if it turns out he didn’t kill Skye, he’s still a McAllister, and you know what they’re like. Trouble follows them like stink on a fish.” She waddled out of the restaurant.

  Carrie Ann sipped her coffee, her mind whirling. Sheldon and Sky…together? Why had Sheldon never told anyone? He could have been the last person, other than the killer, to see Skye alive. Why had he kept quiet all these years?

  There was only one way to find out. She tossed some bills on the table and hurried out of the restaurant.

  Chapter 17

  Declan turned down the radio as Carrie Ann climbed in the car. “You look like you’re on a mission. What did you find out?”

  “Marie thinks she saw Skye and Sheldon together.”

  “So?” Declan shrugged. “They were friends.”

  “This was the night of Prom.”

  “Like I said, they were friends. I was a jerk that night. She was upset. He was probably trying to make her feel better.”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “You don’t get it, do you? They left the party together in his car.”

  He blinked. “No way. Sheldon would have told me.”

  “What if it’s true?”

  “Is Marie certain the guy with Skye was Sheldon?”

  She nodded, but then hesitated. “She was drunk, but she’s pretty sure it was him.”

  “Pretty sure. In other words, it could have been anyone.”

  “Tommy Salston saw them too.”

  Declan sniggered. “I saw him that night. All Tommy could think about was getting into Marie’s pants. Little green men could have been doing cartwheels and flying a spaceship over his head, and he wouldn’t have noticed.”

  She pinned him with her gaze. “If Sheldon and Skye left the party together, he was the last person to see her alive. Maybe he noticed someone hanging around when he dropped her off. Maybe the person he saw was the murderer.”

  “I don’t believe it. Sheldon would have said something.”

  “You have to at least ask him.”

  His chin jutted stubbornly. “He would have told me if he knew anything.”

  “Look, you don’t have to come with me, but I’m going to ask him if he drove Skye home the night of Prom.”

  His brow furrowed, but he nodded. “Okay, let’s go, but I gotta tell you, this is a waste of time.”

  “Good. We’ll find out the truth together.”

  The drive across town didn’t take long. They parked across the street from a four-story, red brick building. Sheldon’s father’s accounting firm hadn’t changed, except for a large, gleaming, brass plaque announcing the offices of Dubrowski and Son Accountants, Incorporated, posted above the door on the brick wall. The last time she’d seen the accounting firm’s sign, there’d been no mention of a son.

  They climbed out of the car and crossed the street to the wide, glass-fronted, double doors. Holding the door open, Declan gestured for her to enter ahead of him.

  The lobby was expansive. Gleaming, marble floors reflected bright streaks of sunlight shining through a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. An entire rainforest had been felled to panel the lobby walls in polished hardwood. Works of modern art added splashes of vibrant color to the dark wood.

  A circular, wooden reception desk dominated the open space. An attractive blonde sat behind the desk, her attention focused on a computer screen in front of her. As they approached, she looked up, a welcoming smile pasted on her carefully made-up face. “Good morning. Welcome to Dubrowski and Son. May I help you?”

  “We’re here to see Sheldon,” Declan said.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have an appointment?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Dubrowski Junior is busy. Perhaps you’d like to make an appointment. I believe he has some time available a week from next Thursday.”

  “Tell Junior a couple of his old friends are here to see him.” Declan was quietly insistent. “I’m certain he’ll fit us in.”

  The receptionist assessed them for a long minute. “What did you say your names were?”

  “Declan McAllister and”—he shot a look at Carrie Ann—“a friend.”

  The receptionist’s eyes widened, and her face paled beneath her makeup. Her hand trembled as she picked up her phone and placed a call. She turned away and covered her mouth so they couldn’t hear what she said. After a few seconds, she swung back toward them, a strained smile affixed to her pretty face. “Mr. Dubrowski Junior will see you. You may go right up.”

  “I thought he would.” Declan led the way across the lobby to the elevator. He pressed the button, and the doors whooshed open.

  They stepped inside and began their ascent. Strains of classical music filtered from speakers placed high in the burnished, steel walls.

  “Sheldon’s done well for himself.” Declan’s tone was admiring. “The art in the lobby alone must have cost a fortune.”

  “And to think this was the last place he wanted to work.”

  “Sheldon hated accounting, but he knew he’d end up working for his dad.” He shrugged. “You know what his father was like. Sheldon didn’t really have a choice.”

  The doors opened, and they stepped into a large reception area.

  Another circular desk faced them manned by a clone of the woman in the main lobby. She rose to greet them, her mouth pursed in a moue of disapproval. “Mr. Dubrowski Junior is waiting for you.” She led them down a wide, carpeted hallway to a polished, mahogany door. A small, brass plaque set in the door announced this was Sheldon’s office.

  Carrie Ann eyed the heavy, wooden door. Another tree in the rainforest gone.

  After a quick tap, the receptionist opened the door and ushered them in.

  “Hey, you guys. Welcome to my lair.” Sheldon rose from behind a large, glass-and-brass desk. He and Declan shook hands, and then Sheldon turned to her. “Carrie Ann, what a nice surprise.” He grinned, his teeth gleaming white, leaning in for a hug.

  She sidestepped, evading his embrace.

  He raised his brows, but after a beat, flashed another wide grin. “Come and sit down. Can I get you some coffee, tea? A drink?”

  She shook her head. “This isn’t a social call.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he chuckled. “And here I thought you missed my charming personality.” He indicated two dark-brown, leather chairs situated in front of his desk. “Sit down then, and tell me why you’re here.”

  She ignored his false good humor and remained standing. Before she could demand answers, Declan cut her off.

  “We’d love to sit, wouldn’t we, Carrie Ann?”

  She hesitated, but then sat down in the leather chair. She’d
let Declan take the lead. At least, as long as he asked the hard questions.

  Sheldon walked behind his desk and sat in the padded, leather chair facing them. He crossed his thin legs and studied Declan, and then her. “It’s…ah…it’s weird to see you two together again.” His red brows rose. “Are you together?”

  Declan turned to her, his gaze piercing.

  She gulped and glanced away.

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

  Sheldon uncrossed and re-crossed his legs, his fingers playing with the knife-sharp creases in his black, dress pants. He coughed and asked, “So, what brings you two here?”

  Carrie Ann took a deep breath, preparing to ask him why he’d lied, but once again, Declan beat her to it.

  “Tell me about prom night,” he said.

  Sheldon’s brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you see Skye?”

  The furrow between Sheldon’s brows deepened. His gaze swung between her and Declan. “Of course I did. I was with you guys most of the night. Remember?”

  “Did you see her later, after she left the group by the bonfire?” Carrie Ann got to the point.

  “What is this?” His eyes narrowed. “You guys are making me nervous.”

  “Answer the question,” she said. “Were you with Skye after she left the bonfire?”

  “With her?” Sheldon’s face paled. “What do you mean?”

  “Tell us the truth.” Her frustration with his prevaricating mounted, making her voice sharp. “When was the last time you saw Skye?”

  Again, his gaze swiveled between Declan and her.

  “Come on, Sheldon.” Declan was less confrontational, but unyielding. “Tell us what you know.”

  Sheldon sank back in his chair and blew out a puff of air, shrinking into his fancy designer suit and yellow power tie. He yanked a folded, yellow handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his gleaming brow. “She was upset.” A crease formed between his brows. “You were drunk, Declan, and so busy feeling sorry for yourself, you totally ignored her. I wanted to help.” He shrugged. “You know, make her stop crying.”

  “What happened then?” Declan’s voice was cold.

  “I offered to drive her home.”

  “Christ, man! Are you kidding me?” Declan jumped to his feet, and leaned across the desk, towering over Sheldon.

  Sheldon yelped and scrunched into his seat, holding his trembling hands in front of him as if warding off a blow. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I mean, when she first disappeared, I thought she’d run away or something, so what difference did it make? She’d come back when she was ready. She’d left before without telling anyone, don’t you remember?”

  “But she hadn’t run away. Not this time,” said Declan.

  “I swear, man, I didn’t know. But when they found her body—”

  “What?” Declan demanded. “When they found her body, what? You didn’t think it important to tell the sheriff she’d left the party with you? You’d rather they think your best friend murdered her?” Declan’s hands were clenched, his body taut and vibrating, ready to spring.

  Carrie Ann placed a restraining hand on his arm.

  His muscles tightened and bunched beneath her touch, but he didn’t shake her off.

  “Let him talk, Declan,” she said. “Give him a chance to explain.”

  He blew out a ragged breath. “Okay, but he’d better tell the truth this time.” He strode over to the large picture window as if needing to put some distance between himself and Sheldon.

  “Come on, Sheldon,” she urged, “it’s time you told us what really happened.”

  Tears shone in his eyes, and he swiped at them with his handkerchief. “I never meant for you to take the blame, Declan. You gotta believe me, man.”

  Declan’s face remained closed and hard, his eyes narrow slits in his rugged face. “What happened?” he bit off.

  “Like I said, I saw her leave the fire, and I followed her. She was crying. I tried talking to her, tried to calm her down, but she wanted to go home.” He wiped his face again. “I offered to drive her. I mean, I couldn’t just leave her, not after the way you’d treated her. She was too upset.” He blew his nose, took a deep breath, and continued. “I had every intention of driving her home, but then…” His voice faded to a whisper.

  Carrie Ann leaned closer, straining to hear.

  “After we’d driven a few miles, I pulled over to the side of the road.” His eyes were pleading. “I wanted to make her feel better. I didn’t mean anything by what I did. It was just a few kisses.”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  She flinched at the harsh accusation in Declan’s voice.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Sheldon said. “I told you. I’d never hurt her. I was only…” He shrugged. “I guess I got a little carried away and she…” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his thin throat. “She got out of the car. I tried to convince her to get back in. I told her I wouldn’t touch her again, but she wouldn’t listen.” The sound of his ragged breathing filled the room.

  “What happened next?” Declan’s frigid voice rang out, harsh lines carved into his ravaged face.

  Sheldon wiped his eyes again. “Skye ran down the road a ways, I guess to get away from me. I didn’t know what to do. I hoped she’d come back, and I could drive her home like I’d said I would. I couldn’t leave her. It wouldn’t be right. I’m not a jerk. You know I’m not, right?” At that moment, he resembled a dog begging his master for forgiveness for chewing his favorite slippers.

  The smell of his sour sweat filled the room, and Carrie Ann wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  Declan’s eyes were cold, his face granite.

  Sheldon wiped his watering eyes and continued speaking. It was as if he’d kept his guilt and anxiety bottled up inside all these years, and once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. “I was going to get out of my car and try and talk to her again, but then a vehicle appeared, and she put out her thumb like she was hitchhiking. The car stopped, she climbed in, and they drove away. I didn’t see her again.” He snuffled. “You gotta believe me, man. I didn’t hurt her. You know me. I wouldn’t hurt a mouse.”

  “Did you see who was driving?” Carrie Ann asked.

  “It was too dark. I couldn’t see anything.”

  “You saw the car, though. What model was it?” Declan’s voice was shards of ice.

  “I don’t know. Like I said, it was dark. I couldn’t tell.”

  “Come on. You can do better,” Declan said. “Was it a car, a truck, a van? A two-door, four-door? What?”

  Sheldon scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know. Honestly. You have to believe me.”

  Declan’s lips curved in a tight, hard smile, his eyes bleak. “Believe you? After this? Never again.”

  Tears glistened in Sheldon’s blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know she’d get hurt. I didn’t know—”

  “Come on, Sheldon.” Carrie Ann refused to let him off the hook. “You must remember something.” If he was telling the truth, the person who’d given Skye a ride was the last person to see her alive, and Sheldon had seen his vehicle. “Think.”

  “I don’t know,” he whined, his lower lip trembling. “It was a car, a two-door, I think, dark color, navy, maybe black. All I can tell you is the car had so much fancy chrome, it gleamed even in the dark.” He stood and stumbled across the room to a glass-fronted cabinet. Removing a bottle and a crystal water glass, he filled the glass to the rim with whiskey. His hands shook and liquor spilled on the carpet. He slurped the amber liquid, coughing and sputtering, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  The booze must have given him courage because he straightened his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Declan. I should have told you this years ago, man.”

  Declan studied him for a long, hard moment, and then turned and headed toward the door. He paused with his hand on the brass handle and spoke over his shoulder. “You’d better
be ready to answer some tough questions. I’m going to tell the sheriff what you told me.”

  Sheldon nodded and gulped the rest of his drink. “Of course, I’ll talk to him. It’s the least I can do.”

  Declan flung open the door and strode out of the office.

  “Declan.” Sheldon’s voice was pleading as he called after him. “I’m sorry, man.” Sheldon sagged on a chair and ran his fingers through his thinning red hair. He faced Carrie Ann, his eyes red-rimmed. “I really messed up, didn’t I?”

  “You should have told the truth long ago.”

  “I’ll make it up to him. You know I will.” He slumped like a rag doll, his legs splayed, his expensive suit rumpled, tie askew.

  Pity filled her, but she bit it back. He didn’t deserve her concern. Not after what he’d done. “You just lost the only friend you’ve ever had.” She shook her head. “I hope lying to him all these years was worth it.” She followed Declan out of the office.

  Chapter 18

  “Have you told him?” Vivian asked.

  Carrie Ann glanced up from the sandwich she was eating.

  Vivian stood in the kitchen doorway watching her.

  “What are you doing home? Shouldn’t you be at the store?” Carrie Ann frowned. It was almost noon and Vivian was still in her nightgown.

  “I decided not to go in today.” Vivian tightened the sash of her silk robe around her narrow waist. A stray lock of lank, gray hair lay across her forehead. Her face was pale, her sunken eyes bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles.

  “Are you okay?” A flash of unexpected concern hit Carrie Ann. “You don’t look so well.”

  “Of course, I’m fine.” Vivian coughed, a wet, phlegmy wheeze from deep within her chest. “I’m tired, that’s all. I didn’t sleep well last night.” She tottered forward a few steps, but then the fire returned to her eyes, and she straightened and marched into the kitchen. “I asked you a question, Carrie Ann. Have you told Declan about Bonnie?”

  Carrie Ann choked on a bite of sandwich. Coughing, her eyes watering, she grabbed the glass on the table and gulped down water. “I already told you. I’m not going to tell him.”