Secrets We Keep

by Barbara Freethy

  "I agree."

  Cassidy lifted her gaze to the sun, closing her eyes for just a moment, and he loved the fact that he could stare at her unabashedly for those few seconds. While she was enjoying the moment, he was enjoying her.

  She opened her eyes and said, "Don't you wish you had a camera now?"

  He pulled out his phone. "I've got one. Stay right there." He snapped a photo of her against the amazing background.

  "Are you getting the bridge behind me?"

  He muttered, "Yes," but he was really just focusing on her face. He realized now why he had loved taking pictures of her. He'd been trying to freeze her in time, keep her with him always.

  Had he sensed even before she left that she might one day disappear?

  He was beginning to think he had.

  "Let me take one of you," she said, pulling out her own phone.

  "Let's make it a selfie." He walked over and put his arm around her shoulders.

  They smiled together into the lens. And in that moment in time, it felt like his world shifted. Something clicked back into place.

  He was suddenly afraid that what he'd been missing all these years was her.

  Twelve

  It was almost five when they got to the final jewelry store in the Marina. While it was probably a lost cause at this point, Hunter wanted to check it off the list, and they still had a half hour before they were supposed to meet David.

  "One last shot before we call this plan a bust," Cassidy said, as they walked down the street. "It was a good idea, but it was a very long shot."

  "I like long odds. When you win, you win big."

  "You're used to winning; I am not."

  "That might have been true once, but I don't think it's true anymore. You're doing well in your business. You had to have beaten out a lot of other designers to win your current job at that big estate."

  "I did have to compete for that one. I came up with three different plans before I found one they loved. And, frankly, they only gave me a shot because the Holmans' housekeeper knew Mary and said they should give me a chance to pitch. They had a lot of other architects and designers who wanted the job, but somehow they picked me."

  "Because they recognized your talent. A connection might have gotten you into the pitch, but you did the rest."

  "Well, I'll be proud when it's done, and everyone is happy."

  His steps slowed as they neared the front of the jewelry store. "Here we are. This looks interesting." The window display featured silver and turquoise jewelry: several sets of earrings, two necklaces, and a bracelet.

  "It does," Cassidy agreed. "That necklace there reminds me of the one that Molly wore."

  She was referring to a turquoise pendant with strands of silver woven around the stone as if it were a protective shield.

  "Let's check it out." He opened the door and waved her inside.

  There was an older woman standing by the cash register, finishing up a transaction with a gray-haired gentleman, who was having something gift wrapped for his wife. While they were waiting for the clerk to be free, they wandered around, perusing not only the jewelry but also hand-designed scarves as well as some beautiful watercolor paintings.

  Cassidy took a very long look at one painting in particular. It featured a Native American girl standing by a window, looking out at a mountainous vista. Around the girl's neck was a silver chain. She was in profile, one side of her face in the light, the other in the shadows.

  "This kind of looks like Molly, wearing her necklace, looking out the window of our bedroom," Cassidy murmured. "She wanted to escape as much as I did. Sometimes, we'd bump into each other, trying to get to that window."

  "I remember you standing by the window every night after I dropped you off. I'd wait until I saw you there, until you waved good-bye."

  She turned her head to look at him. "I always felt better when you were there after I went upstairs. I didn't realize you waited, though. I usually raced up the stairs, so no one would try to talk to me."

  "I always waited." As her eyes shimmered with moisture, he felt an ache in his heart, followed by an anger at himself for letting her emotions get to him. He wanted to get answers. He wanted to help her. But he couldn't let himself fall for her again. As much as he wanted her to trust him, he wasn't entirely sure he could trust her.

  "Can I help you?" the clerk interrupted, as her former customer left the shop. "Are you looking for something in particular? That painting is lovely, isn't it?"

  "It's beautiful," Cassidy said. "It reminds me of someone I used to know."

  "Art will do that."

  "We're actually looking for someone who might have worked here a very long time ago," Cassidy added.

  "Well, I've been here twenty years," the woman replied. "My sister owns the store, but I run it for her. My name is Helen Barkley. Who are you talking about?"

  "Her first name was Lily and she had a granddaughter named Molly," Cassidy said.

  Helen's face paled. "Oh, my goodness. I haven't heard those names in a very long time. Lily died years ago. She got cancer. It was very fast. She was only in her early sixties."

  "Do you remember Molly as well?" Cassidy asked, excitement in her voice.

  "I don't remember that name, but I do recall Lily's granddaughter. She was a sweet thing. She had long hair down to her waist. Sometimes she'd ask me to help her braid it, but I was never very good at it."

  Cassidy shot him an impossibly hopeful look.

  He'd wanted her to be optimistic, but now he was worried about the fallout. They might find Molly, but they might also find out she was dead, and that might hurt Cassidy even more. But he'd started them down this path, and there was no turning back.

  "Lily's daughter was trouble, though," Helen said. "She even tried to steal something from the store one day. I remember it so vividly. Lily grabbed her daughter by the arm and yanked her purse open and took the necklace right back. I'd never seen her so angry. She told her daughter that she had dishonored her and that she needed to get help. If she didn't do that, she shouldn't come back. I'm not sure she ever did." Helen paused. "Now I know why this picture feels familiar to you. The little girl looks like Lily's granddaughter. How did you know her?"

  "I was in a foster home with her—when her grandmother was sick. She wore a beautiful turquoise necklace, similar to the one in your window."

  "Those pieces are gorgeous, aren't they? I recently acquired them. They're part of a collection by a designer named Kenna; it's a Native American name for a girl born of the flames."

  A chill ran through him at the mention of fire.

  Cassidy also appeared a bit rattled by Helen's words. "Have you met the designer?"

  "I have not. My daughter does all the ordering now. She found those pieces. I can ask her for more information, or you can probably find it online. I think the designer has a website. You said you were here looking for Lily, but it's the little girl you want to find, isn't it?"

  "She wouldn't be a little girl anymore," Cassidy replied. "She'd be close to thirty now. But, yes, we are looking for her. I don't suppose you'd have any idea where she might be? Did Lily have friends or other family who came around?"

  "I don't know. I'm sorry. I haven't thought of them in years."

  He saw the disappointment run through Cassidy's eyes, but they were as close to Molly's family as they'd ever been, and he wanted to press a bit further. "Do you remember where Lily lived when she worked here?" he asked.

  "She lived in an apartment in lower Nob Hill. I dropped her off there a few times."

  "Would you remember the address?"

  "You're really pushing my memory skills. Let's see. I think it was on California Street. Yes, that's right. It was next door to a church, one of those churches with the really pretty names. I think sky was in the name somewhere. In fact, Lily volunteered at that church. You might find some people there who remember her, or who might still be in contact with her daughter."

  "Thank you," he
said. "That's a very big help."

  "No problem. I'm curious. How did you know to come here?"

  "We've actually been to several jewelry stores," he admitted. "We thought we were about out of luck." He turned to Cassidy. "Ready to go?"

  "In a second. I'd like to buy a necklace in the window display," she said, leading the clerk to the front to show her which one she wanted.

  While Cassidy was making her purchase, he pulled out his phone and looked up churches on California Street and found a Church of the Sky. His heart leapt. That had to be the place. They were closing in on Lily's past. Hopefully, it would get them closer to Molly.

  * * *

  "Molly was real." Cassidy said the words as soon as they walked out of the shop. "Her grandmother was Lily. She used to hang out in this shop. It's all coming together."

  "It is."

  "Why aren't you more excited?" she asked, her bright eyes dimming.

  "I'm excited."

  "You're not jumping up and down."

  "I just wish we could go to that church right now and ask some questions."

  "Why can't we?"

  "It's closed. I looked it up while you were buying the necklace. But there is a service tomorrow morning at ten thirty."

  "Then it looks like we're going to church. Should we call Max and tell him what we've found?"

  "Let's wait until tomorrow. We might have more to report after we talk to some church members. Or if he calls us before that about Geralyn, I can fill him in."

  "It is weird that we haven't heard from him yet. It has been hours."

  "Hopefully, that means it's a long, productive interview." He checked his watch. "Looks like it's time to meet David. Should we walk there? It's only about three blocks."

  "Yes. Let's not mention Molly to David. He wouldn't acknowledge her existence when we were on the phone earlier, and I don't want him to know anything until we find her."

  "That makes sense, but…"

  "What?" she asked warily.

  "I just want you to prepare yourself for the possibility that Molly might not be alive. This story might not have the happy ending you're looking for."

  "Now who's being negative?" she returned. "I'm very aware that she could be dead. But until I know for sure, I'm going to take a page out of your book and think positively."

  "Well, I can't argue with my own book," he said with a laugh.

  "No, you can't. Right now, I'm just thrilled to have third-party confirmation that Lily and Molly did exist. The story that Molly told me about her grandmother and her mother was true. I didn't make it up."

  "I never thought you did, for what that's worth."

  "It's worth a lot. Could you hold my bag?"

  "Sure." He took her purse while she retrieved the necklace she'd just purchased from the gift bag. "I'm going to wear this to our meeting with David."

  He smiled at the mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Good idea."

  "I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who noticed Molly's necklace. She wore it all the time. She wouldn't even take it off when she got in the shower. And this necklace looks remarkably similar. I'm not going to say anything about it. I just want to see if David has a reaction."

  "I like the way you think." He handed her back her purse, and they headed to Jack's.

  A few minutes later, they walked into the bar. Cassidy suddenly put her hand on his arm. The unexpected touch sent a jolt right through him, but she didn't seem to be aware of their sudden connection; her gaze was on a table by the window.

  "It's not just David," she said. "It's Quan and Jeremiah, too. I didn't know they were all going to be here."

  There was panic in her voice. Her past was coming to life in those three men, and he could feel her need to flee. "It's going to be all right. You're not alone. I'm here."

  She looked at him with a painful struggle in her eyes. "I don't want to do this."

  "You don't have to do this, but I know you can do it. No matter what they say about Molly, you know the truth. The truth gives you power."

  "You're right. It just feels so weird seeing them again. Like I'm sixteen again, and they're all ganging up on me."

  "This isn't about Molly; it's about Tommy. Maybe you're all on the same side."

  "I seriously doubt that, but I guess I need to find out." She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and then headed across the room.

  He quickly followed.

  Out of the three guys, the only one he recognized was the balding David Bellerman, who'd had a receding hairline even when they'd played on the high school basketball team. He hadn't known David beyond that since David had been a grade ahead of him.

  The man next to David was Asian with dark hair and eyes and was quite thin; he assumed that was Quan. The third guy with the dark-blond hair and linebacker build had to be Jeremiah.

  David got up when he saw Cassidy. "Cassidy, you came. And you brought someone." His gaze narrowed. "You look familiar."

  "Hunter Callaway," he said.

  "Right. We played basketball together. It's been a long time."

  David extended his hand, so he shook it. He didn't think David had aged all that well. In addition to losing his hair, he'd put on some pounds around the middle and his skin was very pale.

  He turned to the other two men. "I don't think we've met."

  "Quan Tran," the Asian man said with a nod.

  "Nice to meet you."

  "Jeremiah Hunt," the third man said shortly. "I thought you were coming alone, Cassidy."

  "And I thought David was coming alone," she replied. "Does it matter?"

  "This is family business," Jeremiah said.

  She uttered a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "What family could you possibly be talking about?"

  "The Faulkners," Jeremiah said.

  "They weren't my family."

  "Why don't we all sit down?" David suggested, grabbing extra chairs from a nearby table.

  As they sat down, Jeremiah said, "Look, we get that you didn't like the Faulkners, Cassidy, and that you and Tommy decided to run away, but they took care of us. And while you were only there a few months, we lived in that house a long time."

  "I don't know what you want me to say," Cassidy replied. "The Faulkners killed Tommy while you all were living in that house."

  "They did not do that," Jeremiah said.

  "They didn't," David echoed, both men appearing very certain in their opinions.

  Hunter couldn't help noticing that Quan didn't seem as eager to make that statement.

  "If they didn't kill Tommy, who did?" he asked. "Got any ideas?"

  "Like I said, this is family business," Jeremiah repeated, giving him a pointed look through mean, beady eyes. "Why don't you give us some space?"

  "Cassidy and I are a package deal. You want to talk to her, you talk to me."

  "Are you her bodyguard?" Jeremiah drawled.

  "I'm her friend."

  "He was her boyfriend before she dumped him and ran off with Tommy," David put in, obviously eager to get that dig in.

  "That's enough." Cassidy put up a hand. "I didn't come here to get into a fight, so Hunter and I can leave."

  "No," David said. "Please don’t go, Cassidy. We do need to talk."

  "Where are the girls?" she asked. "Jada and Rhea? Why aren't they here? It seems like all of you have kept in touch."

  "Jada and Rhea moved to Los Angeles several years ago," David said. "I spoke to both of them on the phone. They were horrified, but they barely remembered Tommy. They were young, and he wasn't there very long."

  "Just long enough to get killed," Cassidy said, her hand creeping to her necklace.

  Hunter didn't think she was making a deliberate point of touching the pendant, but her gesture did bring Quan's attention to the necklace, and he seemed to stiffen.

  "Everything okay, Quan?" he asked sharply.

  Quan flinched, quickly averting his gaze, as he drank what appeared to be a vodka tonic. "Fine," he muttered.

  Cassid
y dropped her hand, exchanging a quick look with him before turning her attention back to the guys. "So, what do you want to talk about, David?"

  "I was wondering if you'd heard anything else from the police about the case."

  "I heard they were going to talk to Geralyn, but I don't know if they did. Do you?"

  David shook his head. "I went by there again after I spoke to you this morning. The nurse told me she was still sedated. I didn't run into the police, but they might have shown up later."

  "She's not capable of murder," Jeremiah said. "I think we all know that. So how are we going to get her out of this?"

  "I don't want to get her out of this," Cassidy said hotly. "Maybe you're all still under her spell, but I'm not. There's no way Tommy got buried in the wall of the garage without Donald or Geralyn or both of them knowing about it."

  "We think it was Evan or Colin," David said. "Dad's younger brother was around that day. He was drinking a lot. He got into a fight with his son Colin and then with Dad. I heard them arguing in the garage before I left for baseball practice."

  "How does that involve Tommy?" she asked.

  David looked over at Quan. "Tell them what you heard."

  "I heard Colin and Tommy talking about going in the garage after Evan and Donald left the house. Colin said there was something in the garage that Tommy might want to see."

  Cassidy frowned, folding her arms across her chest. He could see she wasn't buying their story, and he was glad, because it sounded to him like they were trying out possible defenses for Geralyn.

  Cassidy looked at Jeremiah. "What about you? Were you there that day?"

  "How do we know what day it was?" Jeremiah countered.

  "We all think it was the day Cassidy left," David put in. "Because we didn't see Tommy after that, remember?"

  "Right. I didn't hear any arguments. I didn't see anything, but Geralyn couldn't have killed anyone."

  "So, you're discounting Geralyn, but not necessarily Donald?" Cassidy asked.

  "I think David is probably right—that it was Evan," Jeremiah said. "Evan had a bad temper, especially when he was drinking, and he was always drinking when he came over."

  "That's true," Quan said with a nod.