Secrets We Keep

by Barbara Freethy

  He pulled out her phone and tried to open it, but the screen was locked. He stared at the numbers and tried her birthdate, then his birthdate—neither worked.

  He'd probably put his fingerprints all over it, too, not that he thought the police would have found any prints since it was in her bag when he'd retrieved it.

  Walking down the drive, he waited in front of the house for Max to arrive. Finally, two cars pulled up: one a police car, the other a sedan. Max and his partner Detective Randall got out of the sedan while two uniformed officers stepped out of the police vehicle.

  "There's nothing much to see." He led them to her van.

  "So, the bag and the water bottle were on the ground, the door was open, and that's it?" Detective Randall asked, as the officers inspected the vehicle and the driveway.

  "That's it. I checked in with her business. Her boss and coworker said she had told them she was leaving, but obviously she never did."

  Max pulled him aside as the others took a closer look at the vehicle and surrounding area. "Walk with me," he said, leading him back down to the sidewalk.

  "They took her, Max."

  "Who are you thinking?" Max asked.

  "David or Quan or…" His voice drifted away as he remembered her earlier message to him. "Wait a second. She left me a voicemail earlier. She said Evan Faulkner, Donald's brother, had come by the nursery and they'd had an interesting conversation, whatever that means. When I called her back, she didn't answer."

  "Okay. Evan must be back in town then. That's good. I'll check in with him and see what that was about."

  He wanted to feel reassured, but Cassidy's life was at stake, and Max's calm demeanor was actually making him feel more impatient. "They're going to kill her, Max. They already tried once when they attempted to run her off the road. I never should have let her be alone." Impotent rage welled within him. "I feel so helpless. I need to do something. I'm going to speak to David or I'll find this Evan."

  "You're not going anywhere except home. You need to let me handle this. You bungle something with Cassidy's life on the line, and it's over. You understand?" Max said sharply. "I will do everything that needs to be done."

  He knew Max would try. "I can't just sit and wait."

  "Yes, you can, because that's the best thing for you to do. We will find her."

  "How? You have no idea where she is."

  "We'll take it one step at a time, follow each clue."

  "That could take forever."

  "I understand what you're going through, Hunter. A similar thing happened when Emma and I were dating, but the best thing you can do for Cassidy is to let us do our job." Max paused as Detective Randall came down the drive.

  "Found this in the shrubs by the van," Randall said, holding a matchbook in his gloved hand. "It's from Harley's Bar in San Jose."

  "Harley's Bar?" Max echoed.

  "What? What's the significance of that?" he demanded, the name of the bar sounding familiar.

  "Evan Faulkner runs Harley's Bar," Max told him.

  His heart thudded against his chest. "Then it's him. He's the one who took her."

  "Maybe it's him," Max said. "That matchbook could have been planted. Go home, Hunter. Go see your family and let them distract you. I promise to stay in touch with any leads."

  He didn't want to leave, but there was no point in hanging around here, and clearly Max would not let him ride along on his investigation. "Can we put out an alert on Cassidy? I know she's not a missing kid, but we need people to be looking for her. We need her photo on the news."

  "If we do that, it might put her in more danger," Detective Randall put in.

  "How could she be in more danger?" he practically yelled.

  "Because it will make the kidnapper nervous," Max said. "Let me have the officers give you a ride home."

  "I don't need a ride. I don't need babysitters. Just find Cassidy."

  He didn't wait for a response from Max. He strode down the street to his car, got inside and pulled away from the curb with a squeal of his tires. He drove for six blocks before he had any idea where he wanted to go.

  As he stopped at a light, his gaze caught on the earring once more. Molly. Could she possibly help him find Cassidy? It was worth a shot.

  Unless she was a part of this?

  Were they on the wrong track about her? Was it Molly who wanted to shut Cassidy up, so her life would not be put in jeopardy?

  He needed to find out.

  Twenty-Two

  Hunter arrived at Molly's studio at four o'clock. There was more traffic on the street today as the weekday commute was just beginning, but he managed to squeeze the Jeep into a tight parking spot, hoping that the fact that he was a foot into the red wouldn't matter. But he wasn't worried about getting a parking ticket. He'd block the entire street if he had to.

  He jogged across the street to Molly's building and pressed the buzzer. When she didn't immediately answer, he hit it again.

  "Yes?" she said impatiently, an edge to her voice.

  "It's Hunter. Let me in."

  "I'm busy. I told Cassidy I don't want to talk about any of this anymore."

  "Too bad. You're not out of this. Cassidy is missing. Someone grabbed her."

  "What?"

  "Let me in," he repeated.

  The buzzer rang, and he ran into the building and up the stairs. Molly was once again waiting at the door, a troubled look on her face.

  "What do you mean—someone grabbed Cassidy?" she asked.

  He pushed past her, just to make sure Cassidy wasn't in the studio, even though he knew Molly wouldn't have let him in if she had been.

  Molly shut the door behind him. "You're saying she's been kidnapped?"

  "Probably by whoever tried to run her off the road the other night."

  "I told her she needed to stay away from the investigation into Tommy's death. I knew no good would come of it. Why are you here?"

  "Because I think you know more than you're telling."

  "I don't. I don't know anything. I wasn't at the house when Tommy was killed."

  "You keep making that point, but there's something in your eyes."

  She instinctively shifted her gaze at his words.

  "You have to tell me what I'm missing."

  "Nothing," she said, forcing herself to look at him again. "You're not missing anything."

  "Well, maybe you are—perhaps this earring?" He took it out of his pocket and held it up in the light.

  "That’s not mine," she said quickly, but he'd already seen the truth in her eyes.

  "It looks like something you would make."

  "It's just a silver hoop."

  "With a tiny line of turquoise, your signature."

  "You don't know anything."

  He gave her a hard look. "You set the Faulkners' house on fire, didn't you?"

  "No. That's crazy."

  He didn't believe her for a second. "I don't care about the fire. I'm not interested in getting the person who set it in trouble. I'm happy the house burned down. Tommy's body was found and hopefully someone will pay for killing him. But that fire is what started everything else. It's why Cassidy is in danger. You have to tell me the truth, Molly, because if you don't, Cassidy might die, and I can't let that happen. I don't think you can, either, because she was the best friend you ever had."

  He could see the waver in her eyes.

  "I don't know where she is," Molly said. "I swear."

  "Did you set the fire?" When she didn't reply, he said, "Fine. I'll just show this earring to the police and let them question you."

  "Wait! Yes. I set the fire. And that night was the first night I'd slept without a nightmare in fourteen years. But I didn't know about Tommy's body. I didn't know I was setting off a chain of events. I just wanted to destroy the house."

  "Did you also want to destroy Donald for what he did to you? Did you run his car off the road?"

  "No. I didn't do that. I don't care that he's dead, but I'm not respons
ible. I almost wish I could take credit for that, but I can't."

  He saw the pain in her eyes. "I know Donald abused you. I'm sorry for what you went through."

  "Did Cassidy tell you that?"

  "I pretty much guessed."

  She turned away from him and walked over to the window, her back as stiff as a poker.

  "See, now I think I'm missing something again." He walked over to join her. "Molly, what don't I know?"

  "I never told Cassidy that it was Donald. She just assumed."

  His gut clenched. "It wasn't him?"

  "No." She turned to face him. "It was David."

  "David?" he breathed.

  "Yes."

  "That's why he lied about you ever being in the house. Who else knew?"

  "His father. I told Donald. I begged him to help me. He slapped me hard across the face and told me to never say those words again or he would turn me over to the police. He would tell them that I had stolen from him. He would make up stories about me. He would make sure that I went to jail. I couldn't stay in the house, so I ran away. That's it. That’s the whole truth."

  "Why didn't you tell Cassidy that?"

  "Because I didn't want to give David a reason to come after me, and I was afraid she'd let something slip if she was talking to him."

  "That's why you also didn't want her to tell the police that she found you."

  "That…and the other thing."

  "The fire." It was all making sense. "What made you do that now?"

  "Every time I got even remotely close to that neighborhood, I felt sick to my stomach. I would break out in hives, get horrible migraines. And then I saw David get an award on the news a couple of weeks ago. He's some cyber expert now. All the memories came back. My therapist said I needed to find a way to cleanse my aura, to free myself of the dark shadows that surround me, and find a way to be reborn, to rise from the ashes. Fire is part of our tribal culture. I named myself Kenna because it means fire. And I suddenly knew what I had to do. I made sure that no one was in the house. I watched Geralyn leave. And then I went through Lindsay's backyard, the way we used to do when we were kids. I guess my earring got caught in the shrubs."

  She gave him a pained look. "I thought I would feel fantastic when I watched the flames take over the house, but it didn't feel as good as I imagined. I realized too late that I shouldn't have done it, but I can't take it back, and now I'm terrified of the idea that my actions to free myself might put me in jail, and I'll be trapped again."

  He didn't know what to say. He hated arson. He was a firefighter. He saw how fire ruined lives, but Molly's story was also compelling, and the Faulkners were evil people. So was David, which brought him back to the present. "Let's put the fire aside and talk about Cassidy."

  "I don't know who took her."

  "They found a matchbook for Harley's Bar in the bushes by where Cassidy was taken. Apparently, Evan Faulkner runs that bar. And Cassidy left me a message earlier that Evan talked to her. Do you know how he would have found her?"

  "No. I haven't seen him since I was fourteen. But it seems kind of convenient for that matchbook to be right next to the van. The most conniving person in that house was David. I think he's behind everything. He hides his sickness very well, but he's a terrible person."

  "If it's David, where would he take Cassidy?"

  "I don't know."

  "It has to be some place secluded, maybe tied to the Faulkners in some way, because I'm guessing Geralyn is there, too. Did they have a place where they went on vacation? A family cabin? Would they have gone to the mountains? To the beach? To the river?"

  "The river—the Russian River," she said with a light in her eyes. "David lived there before Donald adopted him, and he used to brag that he was the only one Donald would take there on vacation. Donald and Evan, actually, they always went together. Colin went, too. It was the two dads and the two sons. Maybe they're all in this together."

  The Russian River was about an hour north of the city. He'd been there a few times for rafting trips. "Do you know where on the river they would go? Do you know where the cabin was or where David used to live?"

  She thought for a moment. "David said his mom was a waitress. She worked at a pie shop. He used to go there after school and do his homework until she got sick. I think it might have been in Healdsburg. I'm not sure."

  "That's good," he said with a nod.

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm going to drive up there and find Cassidy."

  "She might be somewhere else. My memory is from a long time ago. And the Russian River is huge."

  "Yes, but how many pie shops can there be?" He paused by the door. "Look, I didn't intend to say anything, Molly, but I inadvertently mentioned to my cousin's husband, who is the police detective on the case, that I had found you. I didn't give him your new name or your phone number or address, but he'll probably ask me again at some point."

  "Then I'll disappear."

  "Don't do that."

  "Why not? You're going to tell him I set the fire, too, aren't you? You're a firefighter. How could you not?"

  "I'm going to have to wrestle with that one," he admitted. "But I don't have any proof that you did it, and arson is almost impossible to prove. I also need to know that you're not going to do something like this again. You have to go to counseling, someone different, someone who doesn't inspire you to burn down your past."

  "I could do that. I'm not going to hurt anyone, Hunter. And I don't have any other houses I want to burn down. If you find Cassidy, it will be because I helped you. That should count for something, shouldn't it?"

  "Yes, it counts," he said, knowing that this woman had suffered a lot in her life. "And I want to help you. For now, stay put. You don't have to be afraid. No one is looking for you; they're all looking for Cassidy."

  "I hope you find her."

  "I will," he vowed. "I'm not going to stop looking until I do."

  * * *

  Cassidy felt sick to her stomach. She'd woken up blindfolded, with her hands tied behind her back, and it was clear she was in a vehicle. Maybe the trunk, she thought as she banged around in a small space. She didn't know how much time had passed, but her head was aching, and her stomach was churning, and she really wanted air.

  A wave of panic ran through her as she considered what was happening. Obviously, someone had kidnapped her. But why? And where were they going? Was she just being taken to a more remote location, so someone could kill her?

  It felt like it was taking a long time to get wherever they were going.

  She kicked her legs around, trying to find some clue or some sort of weapon, but she came up with nothing. Still, she wasn't going down without a fight. She just didn't know who she was going to fight.

  Who had grabbed her? Jeremiah was in the hospital. That left David and Quan. There was also Molly. Had she misread that entire situation? What about Lindsay? That girl clearly hated her now and was almost stalking Hunter. Or was she focusing too much on people her age? She couldn't forget how Evan had threatened her earlier.

  The vehicle suddenly came to a stop and she bumped her already sore head once again. She heard two doors open and close. And then a latch clicked, a rush of air hit her face, and there was light behind the blindfold.

  Two hands grabbed her and roughly pulled her out of the trunk. She stumbled as her feet hit the ground. There were clearly men on either side of her, each with a hand on her arm. "Who are you?" she asked. "What do you want?"

  There was no answer. She strained her senses for clues. She could feel branches breaking under her feet. The path was dirt with pebbles, and then she was being urged up the steps. It felt like there was wood beneath her feet. Another door opened. She was going into a house. And as one of her captors pushed her forward, she could smell his cologne.

  She sucked in a breath as she realized the truth.

  And then her blindfold was stripped away from her face. She blinked as David's face came into focus.
Behind him was Quan. They were standing in what appeared to be a rustic cabin with wooden walls and a stone fireplace. A couch and an armchair were the only pieces of furniture. The shades were drawn, leaving only one dimly lit lamp to cast light into the room.

  "Why am I here? What's going on?"

  "You're here because you're a troublemaker," David said. "You always were. So was Tommy. I tried to be nice to both of you, but you weren't grateful."

  "Grateful? Why would I be grateful to you?"

  "Because I let you run away."

  "But that didn't happen with Tommy," she said slowly. "Did it? You killed him." She didn't need him to confess. She now knew that was the truth. "But why? He was your friend."

  "He threatened me. I don't like people who do that."

  She looked over at Quan. "Did you know he killed Tommy?"

  "Not until recently," Quan said, his voice clipped, edgy. "You should have kept your mouth shut, Cassidy. We tried to warn you that there would be trouble."

  "You both took Mrs. Faulkner out of the hospital, or you arranged for someone else to do it. Where is she?"

  "That's not important." David drew her attention back to him as he pulled a gun from the back waistband of his jeans.

  Her heart stopped. "You're going to shoot me? You think you'll get away with that?"

  "I might not shoot you, if you help me, if you show me the respect I deserve."

  "I don't understand. How could I possibly help you?"

  His angry, evil eyes met hers. "You can tell me where Molly is."

  "Molly?" She stared back at him in confusion. "Why do you care? She doesn't know you killed Tommy."

  "She knows…other stuff."

  "Oh, my God," she breathed, the truth hitting her in the face as she saw the fear in his eyes. "It wasn't Donald who abused Molly; it was you."

  "What?" A woman's voice came from behind her.

  She whirled around to see the woman she had been most afraid to see—Geralyn Faulkner. She'd obviously come out of the bedroom. Her blonde hair had gone completely gray. She was very thin and looked haggard, a little drugged, her brown-eyed gaze cloudy.

  "What's going on?" Geralyn asked again. "What is she talking about, David?"