Secrets We Keep

by Barbara Freethy

  "That's rough."

  "I first met Tommy at a group home run by a church. I was moved there after the family I was with decided to stop fostering kids because the mom got pregnant with twins, and she had to go on bedrest. The group home was pretty bad. It was four to a room, in bunk beds. Some of the kids were mean. Tommy watched out for me. I'd only been in foster care since I was thirteen, so I was kind of an innocent. At any rate, that place got too crowded, and I got sent to the Faulkners. I was there four months before Tommy showed up. The rest you know."

  He thought about her story, about Tommy's story, and realized again how very privileged he'd been. "I always took my family for granted. I shouldn't have."

  "No, you shouldn't have, but everyone does. I did, too, until they were gone. Losing them was the most difficult, painful, horrible thing I've ever had to go through." She paused. "The second hardest thing was leaving you, losing you."

  His gut clenched at her words. He wanted to take her in his arms, but he was driving.

  "Oh, hell," he said, wrenching the wheel to the right.

  "What are you doing?" she asked in alarm.

  He pulled over to the side of the road, threw the Jeep into park and then put his arms around her. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair, the beautiful essence that was all her. "I wish you'd never had to go through so much pain," he murmured, stroking her back.

  She'd been stiff in his arms, but at his words, she sank into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

  "Don't be so sweet, Hunter. You're going to make me cry. And I've cried too many tears already."

  He pulled away, so he could look at her. "I don't want you to cry. I just want you to know you're not alone."

  "I do know that. I just don't know why you would want to stick by me after everything that went down between us."

  "Because I want to. Don't overanalyze it."

  "Okay, I won't overanalyze; I'll just say thanks." She sat back in her seat. "You should take me to my car now."

  "All right."

  A few minutes later, he pulled into the driveway behind her van. The house was dark, and he kept the lights on, so she could see her way. "Do you want me to pick you up at the nursery tomorrow—before we go to church?"

  "The church—I almost forgot about that."

  "You still want to go, don't you?"

  "I do, but it's silly for you to drive to Half Moon Bay. I can meet you at the church."

  "Come to my apartment instead. I'd rather go in one car, in case that's just the first stop, and we have other places to go."

  "Do you think we'll get a lead on Molly?"

  "I'm hoping."

  She gave him a smile. "Me, too. Thanks again, Hunter. For everything. Good night."

  "Night." As he watched her get into her van, he realized he didn't really want her thanks; he wanted a lot more. He just didn't know if they could ever get beyond their past.

  Fifteen

  Cassidy thought about Hunter as she wove her way through the dark city streets, finally making her way to the ocean and the Pacific Coast Highway. The sunny day had given way to a foggy night, and fingers of dark mist clouded her vision as she drove south toward Half Moon Bay.

  The weather seemed to be following her mood. One minute, she felt bright and hopeful; the next minute, she was lost in a dark maze. Hunter was the light that kept drawing her out of the shadows.

  But was that fair to him? He didn't need to be involved in any of this. He had a good life, an amazing family, lots of friends. And she was just like what she'd been before—a dead-weight anchor, dragging him down.

  That's what one of the cheerleaders had told her once, that Hunter would have been prom king if he hadn't been taking her to the dance. Hunter probably hadn't cared about being prom king, but the girl's words had stung, because they'd had truth to them. She had held Hunter back. Her fears, her shyness, his need to protect her…what kind of a relationship was that?

  She wished she could say it was different now. She had changed, but a lot of the world around her had not. She was still mired in ugly, dirty business, and she didn't want to bring Hunter down with her.

  She blinked as a pair of high beams lit up her car, almost blinding her. She sped up a little, but the car behind her stayed right on her tail.

  She wanted to pull off and let them go by, but there was no shoulder, no extra lane along this part of the road that clung to the edge of a high bluff.

  She pushed down on the gas again, going far faster than she wanted to go.

  The other car did the same. She couldn't see who was driving; she couldn't even tell what kind of car it was, but she was starting to think it wasn't just a tailgater.

  David's words from earlier that day rang through her head.

  Donald had died when his car went off the road on the coast highway.

  Oh, God!

  Was that what was happening now? Was someone trying to kill her? Was it going to look like she was upset or drunk or reckless and just missed a turn?

  And then no one would ever know what had happened to her.

  She'd disappear…just like Molly…just like Tommy.

  But she couldn't let that happen.

  The car behind her tapped her bumper, and she gripped the wheel tighter, as she sped up again. If she could make it a few more miles, she could get past this deserted part of the coast; she could be around other cars, other people.

  She grabbed her phone out of her purse and hit Hunter's number.

  She'd just told herself to break away from him, but if she lost this battle on the highway, she couldn't stand the thought of no one knowing what had happened to her.

  "Hunter," she said.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Someone is following me down the highway. They're trying to run me off the road. If something happens to me, tell the police, tell them it wasn't an accident."

  "Where are you?"

  "South of Pacifica." She screamed as the car behind her hit her harder, and the tires squealed as she tried to regain control. Somehow, she managed to stay on the road.

  "Cassidy? Cassidy?"

  She heard the panic in his voice. "I'm sorry to bring you into this. I didn't know who else to call. George's heart isn't good. I didn't want to tell him. It's not fair."

  "I'm on my way. Can you pull off the highway?"

  "No. But if I can make it three more miles, he'll run out of cliff. I can't talk. I have to concentrate."

  "Keep the phone on. You can do this, Cassidy. Just stay toward the middle of the road as much as you can."

  She set the phone on the console, grateful for his positive voice coming across the speaker.

  He kept up a nonstop pep talk, encouraging her to move back and forth across the lanes, so she would be more of a moving target. That seemed to be working. Although, even as she thought that, a huge bump from the car behind her bounced her off the low wall, which thankfully stopped her from going over the side.

  She swerved back into the middle, her heart beating so fast, she could barely breathe. And then she saw the lights.

  "I'm almost there, Hunter."

  "You can do it, babe. Just keep driving."

  His words gave her more confidence. She sped ahead again, thrilled when she passed the first of several restaurants. And then there were hotels, parking lots, and turnouts. She slowed enough to take a fast turn into one of those lots, coming to a stop under a big shining light. A group of people exiting the restaurant gave her a startled look, but she didn't care. She was too busy looking in the rearview mirror. The car behind her was gone. It had not followed her into the lot. She was safe. Apparently, they'd decided to let her go.

  Hunter's shouting voice finally penetrated her consciousness. She picked up the phone. "I'm okay. I turned in to a restaurant parking lot. They kept going."

  "Good job. Did you see the car?"

  "I think it was an SUV. It was big and dark. It had its high beams on, so I couldn't see the driver or
the license plate." She blew out a breath, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. "Someone just tried to kill me, Hunter."

  "But they didn't. You made it."

  "This time. Who could it have been?"

  "Maybe someone we talked to today."

  She thought about the three men from her past, about Lindsay, about the woman who might have known Molly. Her hand went to the necklace that she'd worn boldly as a reminder of a girl no one wanted to remember. "I must have made someone nervous."

  "They think you're getting too close to something."

  "Donald died when his car went off the road. Maybe David was right, and the same thing happened to Donald that happened to me, only I managed to survive."

  "We need to talk about that. I'm probably fifteen minutes away from you."

  "You're driving down here?"

  "Yes. Do you want to wait for me or go home and I'll meet you there?"

  "You can go home. I'm all right now. There's no danger on this section of the road. I can make it home."

  "No way. I'll meet you at the nursery. Leave the phone on. We'll keep talking."

  "It helped hearing your voice," she told him as she nervously pulled back onto the highway. She was glad she still had the connection with him. "You don't think they're waiting for me at my house, do you?"

  "No, I think it's over—for tonight."

  She didn't care for his ominous words, but she couldn't deny them. "You know what the scariest part of this is?"

  "I can't imagine."

  "Whoever just tried to kill me is not Geralyn or Donald. All these years, I thought they were the evil people, but maybe I was wrong."

  "They could still have been evil. They just might not have been the only ones."

  * * *

  Hunter made it to the nursery ten minutes after Cassidy arrived. He'd talked to her the entire time she was parking and walking into her apartment, so he shouldn't still be worried that she was okay, but when she opened the door, he felt a rush of relief that was almost overwhelming.

  He pulled her into his arms, needing to feel her body against his, needing to know she was truly all right. The last hour had been a nightmare, not knowing what she was facing, whether she'd be able to get out of it, if she'd survive. He didn't think he'd ever been that scared.

  "You're crushing me, Hunter."

  He eased his grip on her, but he didn't completely let go. "Sorry. I'm just glad you're all right. I have to say I've faced some dicey situations in my life, but hearing what you were going through and not being able to be there—"

  "It was selfish of me to call you. I just didn't want anyone to not know what had happened."

  "It wasn't selfish. It was smart. And now I want to call Max."

  "There's nothing he can do. I didn't see the car. There are no cameras along that stretch of road."

  "There might be by the restaurant you pulled into."

  "Possibly, but there were a lot of cars in there, which is why I stopped."

  He ran his hands down her arms, his gaze sweeping her face. There wasn't a scratch on her, but her brown eyes were wide and still a little shocked. There was, however, a gleam of pride in her gaze. "You handled yourself really well."

  "I should thank you for that. You were my first driving instructor."

  "I forgot about that. We used to go to the parking lot by City College, so you could practice."

  "And I was terrible. I gave you whiplash on a quick stop."

  "But you kissed me and made me feel better." He was happy to see that memory replace the fear in her eyes. "When did you get your license?"

  "Not until I was twenty. I didn't want to go near the DMV or any other governmental building until I was officially an adult, and I let it go a few years after that, because I didn't have a car. George and Mary actually got me driving. They wanted a delivery person, and they thought that should be me. It was probably good I was in the big van tonight."

  "Was there any damage?"

  "I didn’t even look. I just came inside. I didn't want to run into George while I was feeling so crazed."

  "Does he live in the house on the hill?"

  "Yes, just up the road." She let out a breath. "I was going to make some tea. Do you want some?"

  "Sure. Can you put a shot of whiskey in it?"

  "Sorry, I don't have any alcohol in the house."

  He followed her into the kitchen, noting the cozy warmth of her apartment. There were indoor plants everywhere, of course, as well as soft couches and armchairs, colorful hand-knitted blankets on the furniture, and lots of books—some in the bookcase, others strewn across the coffee table.

  He slid onto a counter stool. "This place feels like you."

  "I've been here a long time. George and Mary lived here when they first opened the nursery. They built the house on the hill shortly after their tenth wedding anniversary and moved over there, turning this into a storage room, until I showed up needing a place to stay."

  "You said Mary passed away?"

  "Last year. She was sick for a while, so it was probably a blessing, but George is lost without her. They had a great love story. They met when they were thirteen years old and got married at nineteen and were together for fifty more years before she passed. Thank goodness George has the business to keep him occupied. Otherwise, he'd really be depressed."

  "It's good he has you, too. I get the feeling you're like a daughter to him."

  "He and Mary never had kids, so they liked being able to teach me the business, especially because I wanted to learn everything I could about it. But you're no stranger to a good love story. Your parents have been married for a long time, too."

  "Thirty-six years and still going strong."

  "What do you think keeps them going?"

  "They both find each other hilarious," he said dryly. "Which is quite a feat, because my dad is not really that funny. My mom is witty, but it's not like she could do standup. But I swear whenever I go over to the house, one or the other is laughing at something."

  Cassidy pushed a mug of tea across the counter. "I like that. I forgot how to laugh for a long time. I almost wasn't sure I could do it anymore, and then one day, something really funny happened at work, and it was like whatever rope had been tied around my funny bone was suddenly gone. I just let out this crazy belly laugh that almost turned into a snort, and I shocked myself as much as everyone else."

  They'd talked so much about the darkness of her past, he was happy to know it had gotten brighter. "I'm going to have to see if I can hear one of those laugh/snorts."

  "That's not going to happen. It's not pretty." She dipped her tea bag in and out of her mug. "I feel better now. It almost feels like I imagined the whole car chase thing."

  "But you didn't. And I have to say it scared the crap out of me."

  "Me, too. I'm not used to being in danger, although I know you are."

  "It's different when it's me, when I have some semblance of control over what might happen. But knowing you were in terrible danger and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it—that was the worst. But don't apologize again for calling me. I'm glad you did."

  "I'm glad I did, too. You gave me the courage to fight."

  "I think you would have fought no matter what."

  "I feel bad you drove all the way down here."

  "Bad enough to let me sleep on your couch tonight?"

  She licked her lips. "Uh, I don't know. That seems a little…"

  She didn't have to finish her sentence. He knew what she was going to say. "I promise to stay in the living room. I don't want you to be alone tonight, and we were going to meet up in the morning anyway, so…"

  "I guess you could sleep on the couch. It's actually pretty comfortable."

  "It looks like it. And I can sleep anywhere." He paused. "I won't bother Max tonight, but we need to talk to him tomorrow. Let him know what's going on."

  "All right." She sipped her tea. "I was thinking that I probably annoyed quite a
few people today. The guys weren't happy with me. Lindsay wasn't thrilled to see me, either."

  "I wouldn’t say that."

  "Oh, come on, Hunter, she still likes you. I don't know what happened between you, but she was flirting with you when I went into the bathroom."

  "Are you sure you're not jealous?"

  "It's possible that there's a part of me that doesn't like the fact that you were with her. It feels like a betrayal on her part—not yours, because I left you. But she knew how I felt about you. It's like she was waiting for me to be out of the picture. And now she's jumped on the chance to see you again. I don't think she came by because she wanted to know who killed Tommy; I think it was all about you."

  "I can't say I completely disagree with you," he said slowly. "I figured out a little too late in high school that she liked me more than I liked her."

  "I think she still has feelings for you."

  "I hope not. But we don't need to see her again."

  "That might not be our choice. I have a feeling Lindsay is going to stay as close as she can."

  "I hope she's grown up enough to realize when someone is not interested in her."

  "Some men are hard to let go of." She cleared her throat. "I'm going to get you a pillow and a blanket." She set down her tea and moved around the counter.

  He caught her by the arm. "Cassidy."

  "What?" she asked, a wary note in her voice.

  "Some women are hard to let go of, too."

  "You should let go, Hunter. Look at all the trouble I bring you."

  "Well, you could try to balance that out." He got to his feet, then moved his hand on her arm to the back of her neck. "I want to kiss you."

  "I could hurt you again," she whispered. "I wouldn't want to, but it might happen."

  "Or I could hurt you. You might fall in love with me all over again."

  "Would you really want that, Hunter?"

  He had to admit it was a question he wasn't sure how to answer. This woman had broken his heart once. Did he really need to give her the chance to do it again?