by Cara Summers
OAKWOOD HADN’T CHANGED MUCH in the ten years since Hunter had last seen it. As Tracker drove the rental car down Main Street, he noted that most of the family-owned stores were still in operation—Maisie’s Diner, Bob’s Barbershop, the Law Offices of Thorne and Grayson. It had been Marshall Thorne Sr. who’d sat on the bank’s board and advised his family.
The only new business he saw was an antique shop where Dennison’s Jewelers used to be. When they pulled to a stop at the traffic light, Hunter glanced at the library first. The large redbrick building stood in the center of the block, flanked by parking lots on two sides. He wondered if Daisy Brinkman still patrolled her building, breaking up necking sessions in the stacks.
Even when the light turned green, he waited until the last moment to shift his gaze across the street to Marks Banking and Investments. The three-story structure stood at the intersection of Main and First streets. The solid look of gray stone and the clean lines of the Federal-style architecture projected security. How often had he stood in front of it as a boy and known that one day he would work there?
As they pulled into the curb in front of it, Hunter noted that the sign on the door was just the same. Come In and Bank with People You Trust.
Right. The last time he’d seen those words had been the night he’d left town, and he’d hurled a rock through the window, breaking the glass. One last hurrah to assuage the mix of fury and disillusionment that had been burning inside of him.
Odd, but he felt none of those things now. And yet nothing had changed, neither the building nor the reasons why he’d given up all ties to his family ten years ago. Still, just looking at the building had some of his tension easing.
Perhaps he’d changed. If he had, he owed it to Rory.
Firmly, he pushed her out of his mind. She was safe, and he’d see to it personally just as soon as he finished what he’d come back to Oakwood to do.
“I’ll go in alone,” Hunter said.
“No way.” Tracker let himself out the driver’s side and caught up to Hunter as he pushed through the glass doors. “Until we catch whoever’s out to get you, just think of me as your guardian angel. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“I need to talk to my brother alone,” Hunter said, and he was surprised to find it was true. He did need to talk to Carter and not just about who might be threatening him.
The building smelled just the same, a mix of lemon wax and old leather. The tellers still worked in little cubicles behind a row of brass bars. Miss Tolley, his father’s secretary, still had a vase of fresh flowers from her garden on her desk. But when he shifted his gaze, he saw there was young a woman in a neat black business suit sitting at the desk that used to belong to his brother.
“Miss Tolley,” he said as he reached the secretary’s desk. He saw recognition flash into her eyes the moment she glanced up at him.
“Hunter?”
He grinned at her. “Still sharp as ever.” His smile faded. “I want to see my brother.”
She lifted the phone. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Hunter strode toward the door behind Miss Tolley’s desk, the door that now had his brother’s name on it.
“I’ll be right here,” Tracker murmured.
For a moment, Hunter continued to stare at his brother’s name on the door. Why hadn’t Michael or Alex mentioned that it was Carter Marks III who was now running the bank? With his hand on the knob, he hesitated another moment, and then he walked into the office.
Carter rose from behind the desk, but he didn’t move. As Hunter walked toward him, he saw a flood of emotions flash over his brother’s features—shock, apprehension. And was there some guilt? He’d imagined this scene so many times in the first few years after he’d left home.
And then he saw in his brother’s eyes what he’d never seen in his dreams—pleasure.
“Hunter.” Carter circled his desk. “I’d given up. I never thought I’d see you again—or that you’d want to see me. Welcome back.” He held out his hand.
Was it just that simple? When Hunter grasped his brother’s hand, he felt his tension ease. “How are you?”
“A bit harried. Mandy, that’s my wife—your sister-in-law—she’s expecting twins in a week or so. The doctor says it could be anytime.” He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s other stuff—business. Someone’s trying to buy us out, but we’ve been able to prevent it so far.”
Not much longer, Hunter thought. Not with the sweetened deal that he was going to offer the board and the town council. “Where’s Dad?” he asked.
“Dad hasn’t been here at the bank for almost ten years.”
Once again, Hunter wondered how this information hadn’t been in the reports he’d been presented with. “What happened?”
Carter flushed a little. “He couldn’t get the gambling thing under control, and so the board forced him into retirement.”
Hunter studied his brother and saw what he wasn’t saying. “You caught him with his hand in the till again?”
Carter nodded. “About six months after you left, Mother moved him to a nice retirement community in North Carolina. He still has his horses, but she holds on to the purse strings and sits on the town council. They visit up here twice a year, and she doesn’t let him near the bank or any casinos.”
“How about you?” Hunter asked. “Do you ever get the urge to gamble?”
Carter met his eyes steadily. “If you’re asking if I visit casinos, no. The only gambling I’ve done in the last ten years was to marry Mandy. So far it’s paid off.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Yes, I am. Hunter, I—I’m glad you’re here.”
Hunter felt something inside of himself loosen. And although he never would have predicted it, he found that he was glad, too. But he wasn’t ready to say it, wasn’t ready to trust completely.
“I came because I have some questions.”
“Sure. Sit down. I’ll have Miss Tolley bring us coffee.”
Hunter waited, happy for the reprieve as the coffee was served. Finally, when Carter was seated in the chair beside him, he said, “I need some information about what happened after I left. Did anyone in town lose money because of the embezzlement?”
“Absolutely not. I made sure of that.”
Hunter studied his brother. Carter had been less than a year out of college when he’d taken over the bank. “You must have put in a lot of hours.”
Carter shrugged. “I’d do it again.”
“Why did you ever get mixed up in gambling and embezzlement in the first place?”
Carter shrugged. “In those days I did everything that Dad did. I figured it was the only way to really fill his shoes. And I didn’t know about the embezzlement until you did.”
For a moment, Hunter let the silence stretch between them. Then finally, he said, “Someone told me recently that the thing about revisiting the past is that you see it in a different perspective.” Then taking a sip of his coffee, he refocused his thoughts on the problem at hand. “Are you sure that no one in town was hurt by the embezzlement?”
Carter hesitated for a moment, then said, “Well, there was Mike Dennison, the jeweler. He committed suicide the night before the story hit the papers.”
“I was still here. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“No one knew. The body wasn’t discovered for three days or so. His wife claimed that he learned about the embezzlement and panicked. She always blamed us for his death. We never accepted the responsibility, of course.”
“I thought the board and our attorney had the news sewn up tight. They were so afraid of a run on the bank. Who would have leaked the information?”
Carter shook his head. “We never found out.”
“Would you still have a list of employees from that time?”
“Sure.” Carter studied him for a moment. “This is important?”
“Yes.”
Carter reached for the phone and instructed Miss Tolley to gather th
e information. When he finished, he glanced around the office again. “It’ll be tight for a bit. There won’t be as much money as you might expect, but there’s room for you here. You can have a desk in here if you want. We’ll move mine. There should be room.”
Hunter frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You coming on board. I’ve been trying to track you down for years. To tell you the truth we could use some help in handling investments. If we can strengthen that department, we can discourage any future attempts at a buyout.”
Hunter’s brows shot up. “You’re offering me a job? You don’t even know what I’ve been doing for the past ten years.”
Carter met his eyes steadily. “You’re my brother, and you took a fall for Dad and me ten years ago. I never should have let you do it. I wouldn’t have if I could have figured out a better way to save the bank. I certainly wouldn’t have let you do it if I’d known I wouldn’t see you again. But what you did—it saved Marks Banking and Investments. This place is here because of you, so you have a job here anytime you want.”
Carter held out his hand.
Perhaps it was just that simple, Hunter thought as he took his brother’s hand and then pulled him into his arms.
When he drew back, he said, “There are some things I need to tell you first.”
“About what you’ve been doing for the past ten years?”
Hunter smiled. “That, too.” And Hunter began to fill him in.
14
IT WAS AFTER TEN when Rory pulled into the driveway next to the Oakwood Public Library. During the drive from D.C., she’d had plenty of time to debate where to start—the newspaper office or the library. When she spotted the latter first, she went with it.
At least she had a name. Natalie had found the name Hunter Marks and the small town of Oakwood for her within an hour. But it had taken Rory another three hours to gather all the information about the embezzling scandal she could find online. Then, since her sister hadn’t been keen on her visiting Oakwood, she’d had to be sure that Nat was asleep before she’d sneaked out of her sister’s apartment.
After parking her car at the back of the brick building, Rory climbed up the short flight of wooden steps to the back entrance. The moment she walked through the door, she found herself in a small room where a group of children, either sitting or stretched out flat on the floor, were listening to a young woman reading aloud. They paid her no heed as she moved quietly into the next room. Here, sun poured through immaculately clean windows, and she had to shade her eyes to see the woman behind the information desk.
As she drew closer, Rory saw that the woman was a perfect fit to the image she carried in her mind of a small-town librarian—tall and thin, wearing Victorian-style clothes, with gray hair pulled back neatly into a bun. At first, Rory guessed her age to be about seventy, but up close, she could see that the dark eyes held both intelligence and humor, and the welcoming smile softened the older woman’s features in ways that shaved years away. Daisy Brinkman was the name on the little brass plate on her desk. It suited her to a T.
“Well, this is Oakwood’s day for visitors. What can I do for you?” Daisy asked.
“My name is Rory Gibbs.” She handed the woman a card and drew in a deep breath. “I work freelance for Celebs magazine, and I’m researching an article on Hunter Marks and the scandal that drove him out of town ten years ago.”
Daisy studied her for a moment. “Hogwash.”
Rory just stared at her. “What?”
“I said hogwash. You’re lying. And you don’t have the eyes for it. Plus, I read Celebs magazine. The Marks embezzlement is an old story, not at all the kind of piece your magazine would run. The editorial staff there likes its scandals current.” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless Hunter Marks has resurfaced as some sort of celebrity in his own right?”
When Rory continued to stare, Daisy tapped a pencil on her desk. “That might explain why he’s come back to town to talk to his brother after all these years. The return of the prodigal—now rich and famous, is he?”
Rory swallowed. “He’s with his brother?”
Daisy nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Leona Tolley over at the bank called me not half an hour ago. And Lea Roberts, the reporter who broke the embezzlement story, is hanging out at Maisie’s Diner. Add that to the mix and there’s got to be a good story. She hasn’t been back here in ten years. You working for her?”
“No.” Rory studied the woman for a moment and then went with her instincts. “What I just said was hogwash. I don’t work for Lea Roberts or Celebs anymore. She fired me. But I am here to find out everything I can about that old scandal.”
“Why?”
Rory was beginning to think the tiny woman in front of her had picked the wrong profession entirely. She’d have made a good cop or P.I. And Rory didn’t think she was going to get much information unless she came clean. “What if I told you that I’m trying to prove that years ago Hunter Marks took the blame for someone else?”
“Hmmph. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. The story that Lea Roberts printed in the papers had cover-up written all over it. But it saved the bank and the town. Why do you want to dig up that old scandal after all these years? Young Carter has done a fine job of running the bank.”
“Because the truth might save someone’s life,” Rory said. “Hunter Marks’s life. Someone is trying to kill him, and I’m pretty sure it’s connected to that old embezzlement scandal. Can you help me?”
Daisy studied Rory for a long moment, then said, “What exactly do you want to know?”
“Who was hurt enough by the embezzlement to want to kill Hunter Marks?”
“Come with me,” Daisy said, stepping out from behind the circulation desk and leading the way to a staircase. “I store files on the third floor. Now mind the railing. It needs tightening.”
The narrow room that she led Rory into was dim and almost airless. The light filtering through one low dormer window was thick with dust motes. One wall of shelves was lined with books, the other filled with storage boxes. Daisy threw a light switch and began to scan the boxes. “Here it is.”
Rory helped her set the box on the floor and opened it.
“I kept a folder with all the stories. But you won’t find much about the one tragedy that was linked to the rumors of embezzlement at the bank.”
“A tragedy?”
“Yes. Ah, here it is.” Daisy pulled out a file and flipped through it. “Very unfortunate. Mike Dennison who ran Dennison’s Jewelers—the store used to be right on the corner where the antique shop is—he killed himself. His wife maintained that he got wind of the scandal and knew that he would be wiped out if there was a run on the bank. The Marks family was able to keep the suicide from getting much news coverage. Mrs. Dennison did file a civil suit against the family on behalf of her son and herself. It was settled.” Daisy fished out another clipping.
Rory looked down at a yellowed picture of a stocky woman and a thin boy. “How old was the boy?”
Daisy thought for a moment. “Twelve or thirteen.”
“Where are they now?”
Daisy’s eyebrows shot up. “I can keep pretty good track of people while they’re in town, but Michael and his mom moved out of town right after he graduated from high school. Rumor was young Mike got a free trip to the college of his choice as part of the settlement. When he left for his freshman year, she moved out of town, too. I heard she got married again.”
Rory was still studying the picture. The story was interesting, but it didn’t sound like the Dennisons had been hell-bent on revenge. “You don’t happen to have a more recent picture of young Mike, do you?”
Daisy shot her a smile. “I keep copies of all the high-school yearbooks. Wait right here.”
Rory knelt down to inspect the file again. All there was on the Dennison family was an obituary. She’d been so sure that she could help, but she had the feeling that she was following a dead end. No. She started through the files again. Ther
e had to be something here. All of her instincts told her that what was happening now had to be tied to this old tragedy.
“Here it is,” Daisy said as she hurried into the room. “Michael was the valedictorian of his class, a very bright boy. Word was he was going to major in business.”
As Rory studied the picture, she saw a blond young man, very preppy looking, and a little flutter of recognition moved through her. In her mind, she attempted to add on ten years, and the flutter grew stronger.
“YOU’RE SURE THAT NO ONE ELSE was hurt by the possible collapse of the bank?” Hunter asked.
Frowning, Carter shook his head. “You of all people know what the family did to keep anyone from being hurt, how quickly we acted. Dennison panicked.”
Dennison. Hunter had only been able to come up with a vague image of the jeweler in his mind. The store he could picture, but at nineteen, he hadn’t had any reason to go in or get to know the family. “How did he learn about the embezzlement? I didn’t even know until the night before the press release. And that was the night he hung himself.”
Carter nodded. “The widow claimed that it was her son who brought the news home.”
“So the son brings home a rumor, and his dad kills himself before the truth comes out.” Hunter shook his head. “That’s a huge burden to carry around with you for the rest of your life.”
“When we made the settlement, we urged Mrs. Dennison to move out of town and make a new start. But she wanted her son to remain in Oakwood.” Carter sent him a troubled look. “I can’t see any connection between Mike Dennison’s suicide and these threats on your life.”
Hunter couldn’t, either. Tracker was having his men trace the mother and the son, but that would take time. A fresh wave of frustration rolled through him along with a feeling deep in his gut that time was running out.