In Confidence

by Karen Young

  “He’s not as happy as he was before it happened, but we’re doing okay.” She was here fishing for a reason to explain Nick’s “unease” over accepting favors from Monk. She didn’t consider it any of his business that he was having trouble doing his class work. Or breaking curfew. “I wondered if you’ve noticed anything, any change in his playing, anything like that?”

  “Nope. Nothing.”

  “Good,” she said after a moment, then got to her feet. “I’m glad he’s coming along if it makes him happy. Baseball has been Nick’s passion since he first learned to throw a ball.”

  “Yeah, a kid like Nick is a natural.”

  His expression was bland and she read nothing in it. If there was anything going on, she wasn’t going to learn about it from Monk. She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got a one-thirty appointment, so I’d better be going.”

  Monk stood up. “Hey, if all my boys were as together as Nick, you’d be out of a job. Don’t worry about him. He’s got his head screwed on right.”

  “That seems to be the general consensus,” she said dryly, and headed for the door. “Thanks, Monk.”

  She almost bumped into Ward Rivers as she turned the corner leaving the gym. “Ward, don’t you have a class scheduled for this hour?”

  “Yes, ma’am, social studies.” His fair skin turned bright pink. “Coach called and got me excused.”

  “Why? It’s too early for practice, isn’t it?”

  “I’m getting some special coaching,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “Me and Nick.”

  She frowned. “You’re not supposed to be using class time to do it. Does this happen often?”

  He looked at his feet, obviously uncomfortable with her questions. “Coach has a pretty tight schedule.”

  Something about his demeanor bothered her. Was Ward, as well as Nick, feeling—what was Cam’s word—uneasy over these special sessions with Monk? But even so, Ward would probably go along with anything Tyson dictated, just as all his athletes would. She conjured up a smile for the boy. “Well, go ahead, Ward, but I wouldn’t like for you to make a habit of this. I’ll speak to Coach Tyson myself.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She made a mental note to ask Nick whether or not any of the private coaching he got from Tyson had taken place during class time. Although, if he made good on his vow to quit, she supposed it didn’t matter. But really, Monk was impossible, enticing these athletes to break rules, not to mention that they missed important class work. The man behaved as if he was running a little empire here. With a sigh of disgust, she left, glad to be off his territory.

  The next couple of weeks passed without another incident. Ted skipped his usual midweek pizza treat for the kids twice in a row, but since neither Nick nor Kendall were quite ready to forgive him for the disastrous rodeo weekend, nobody cared. On Saturday, Rachel insisted that Nick go with her to Home Depot to help her choose ready-to-assemble shelving to install in Dinah’s garage. Although they’d found room for a lot of their things, there was still sports gear and bikes, plus other odds and ends that rightfully belonged in a garage. Dinah simply wasn’t equipped for a family with two kids.

  “I’m told it doesn’t require a skilled carpenter to install shelves,” Rachel said to Nick upon entering the huge warehouse-like building, and hoped it was true. Ted had never been the handy type, and now with money being scarce, she tried to avoid paying someone for simple projects. Nick could do it, although he certainly hadn’t been happy at the prospect. She hoped that by including him in shopping for the shelves, he’d be less negative about having to install them. Negative or not, he was going to do it.

  “They’re over there, Mom, aisle twelve,” he told her, pointing in the opposite direction from where she headed. Like most males, he knew the layout of Home Depot almost as well as he knew the layout of his bedroom. Rachel had long ago decided it must be a gender thing. “We’re gonna need a heavy-duty cart to carry the stuff,” he informed her without making a move to go get one.

  “I’ll find the shelves while you get the cart,” she said, “but don’t dawdle. There are several different kinds. We’ll need to look them over to see what’s available, and then decide.”

  “Steel shelving’s best,” he told her, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “But you’ll probably want to go with the snap-together plastic stuff. It’s lightweight and any female can do it.”

  “We’ve discussed this, Nick. I won’t have to do it, you will.”

  Rolling his eyes, he turned and left.

  “And let’s hope you’re better at it than you were when you were five years old and insisted on putting together your first bike,” she muttered to his disappearing backside as she searched the overhead signs. Where was aisle twelve?

  More and more, Nick’s bad attitude troubled her. The rodeo debacle seemed to have crystallized the reality of divorce for both her kids, but neither of them were open to talking about it, at least not to her. In fact, neither had mentioned Ted or Francine since. Maybe Ted’s defense of Francine had resigned them to his new priorities and they figured what’s the use. But contrary to what Ted said, Rachel was open to trying to mend the rift between them, especially since he said he was going to marry Francine. It would take time and effort by all, scarce commodities for Ted at the moment. He was much too busy trying to save his career.

  The odds against him were formidable. He needed to retain as many of his patients as possible, even as he pulled out of the practice he’d shared with Walter and their partners. Meanwhile, word was that Francine was still pushing him to take a position in an established practice in Dallas. How long he could stall her on that was anyone’s guess. Hovering over all was the lawsuit. Yes, indeed, Ted had his problems, which meant he had little time to devote to Nick or Kendall.

  After the last bitter words he’d flung at her, Rachel found she had little sympathy for him. It had stung to hear him say that what she’d always considered her strengths were, in his mind, faults. And she’d naturally assumed that sex played a big part in his decision to leave her for another woman, but she hadn’t realized how unsatisfactory in bed he thought she was. She found herself recalling how Cam had dismissed Ted’s opinion and it eased her wounded pride.

  Otherwise, she shied away from thinking too much about Cam.

  Fortunately, as a divorced woman, there was plenty to occupy her mind in the mountain of things for which she now assumed full responsibility. At night, she shuffled through bills and legal papers defining the division of assets shared by her and Ted. She realized that she’d been assuming more and more of the details of their married life long before Ted decided to leave. Had he been unconsciously distancing himself or had his loss of interest in their personal affairs been planned, knowing he would soon want out? And when would she have finally noticed?

  As she stood puzzling over that thought and the store layout, someone spoke close behind her. “Shelving is down four aisles, past the lawn equipment and turn left.”

  She knew that voice and hearing it made her heart do a little dip. Turning, she found herself looking into Cam’s eyes. Today they were a cool, smoky hue, not the silvery shade of blue. “Um, hi. Was I looking lost?”

  “Maybe just a little. And you would have been lost had you kept on in the direction you’re headed.”

  “How did you know I was looking for shelving?”

  “I passed Nick on his way to get a cart.” He took her arm and gently turned her around. “Go thataway.”

  Her pulse hummed at his touch while something deeply feminine in her stirred as if emerging from a long, wintry chill. He wore a sweatshirt with a Houston Texans logo on it, jeans faded to a washed-out shade and running shoes that looked as if they had major mileage on them. She’d taken barely a split second look at him directly, so how, she wondered, had she taken it all in? She blinked, realizing that she was staring, and remarked inanely, “I’m not too familiar with the store.”

  He nodded, a hint of a smil
e teasing the corner of his mouth. “I guessed that. When you get to know it, you’ll love it.” He touched her waist to steer her in the right direction and, to her surprise, fell into step beside her.

  He tended to look a little rumpled most of the time, she realized, noting from a sidelong glance that his near-black hair needed a trim. It was as if his physical appearance was of minimum concern to him. And why would it be otherwise, a voice in her head retorted, when a man looked that good no matter what he wore? Dodging a man wheeling a cart loaded with lumber, she said, “We need space in the garage to store overload. We seem to have brought more stuff than Mom has room for. I’m counting on Nick to install shelves.” She sounded breathless and flustered. Actually, she felt breathless and flustered. Good gracious!

  “He can,” Cam said. “For that matter, you can, too. You don’t have to be handy. You just have to be able to read instructions and fit part A into part B.” They’d reached their destination now and he closed his fingers on her elbow, guiding her midway down the aisle. “But if you find you still need more room, I’ve got storage space to spare, both in the loft of my garage and in the basement in the house. It’s unused. I don’t have nearly enough stuff to fill up a house that size.”

  She gave him a startled glance but recovered enough to say, “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I’m hoping it won’t be necessary.” They’d reached the shelving section now and she saw immediately that there was, indeed, a lot to choose from.

  “What’re you planning to put on the shelves?” Cam asked, watching her face.

  “Toys, Nick’s sports stuff, some boxed china that I didn’t feel comfortable storing in the commercial storage we rented.” She shrugged. “Just the general junk people put in garages.”

  “Steel is best and permanent, but in your case, the heavy-duty plastic would work,” he said, pointing it out. “It’s strong and quick to install. Cheap, too, since it isn’t your house you’re equipping.”

  “Actually, plastic is what Nick expected me to choose. He—” She stopped, suddenly recognizing the man coming down the aisle toward them. “Pete! Pete Singletary,” she said, her face lighting up. “What a nice surprise.”

  “Hi, Rachel. I was at the checkout and saw you heading this way.” Tall, broad-shouldered and blond, Marta’s former fiancé was dressed for work in jeans and a leather bomber jacket. It had been some time since she’d seen him, at least five years ago when Marta abruptly broke off their engagement. Living in Dallas and no longer engaged to Marta, he’d had little reason to be in Rose Hill.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Dallas must have half a dozen Home Depots.”

  “I’m living here now. I’ve bought a house in Olde Towne, but nothing’s in it yet, just a few clothes, a bedroll and a TV set. The movers were scheduled to arrive Monday, but I’ve got a conflict and it’ll have to be Tuesday.”

  Rachel’s surprise showed on her face. “Have you given up police work?”

  “I think he’s the new police chief,” Cam said, stepping forward and putting out his hand. “Cam Ford. Welcome to Rose Hill.”

  Rachel’s jaw dropped as they shook hands. “Well, for heaven’s sake, Pete. I had no idea.” Pete had been on the police force in Dallas and very ambitious when he and Marta were engaged. The last she heard, he’d been on a fast track there careerwise. She couldn’t imagine him leaving DPD for the slower pace of a town like Rose Hill. “When did this happen? How did it happen?”

  “Two days ago and I lobbied like hell for the job,” Pete admitted with a wry grin. Then he turned to Cam. “How did you know? I wasn’t notified myself until the middle of the week and the official announcement isn’t happening until Monday morning.”

  “I’ve got some connections at city hall,” Cam explained. “You’ve stirred some excitement there. I should warn you, they’re expecting good things.”

  “I’ll try not to disappoint them, then.” Pete shifted the bag containing his purchases to the opposite hand and looked at Rachel. “How’s Marta?”

  Breaking the engagement had not been Pete’s idea, but Marta had been unable to get beyond the fact of his betrayal and had cut him out of her life. She hadn’t bought his argument that it was “just that one time and meant nothing.”

  “She’s well, Pete. As sassy as ever. She’s teaching honors English now.”

  “Good, good.” He looked away. “She wanted that spot and worked hard for it. I’m glad the school board came around.”

  “Yes. They know she’s a terrific teacher.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other, looking a little uncomfortable before adding, “I didn’t hear about Jorge dying until months afterward. That must have been really tough, them being married only a year and a half.”

  “It was tough. And very sudden. Jorge got sick just a few months after they were married and he went steadily downhill in spite of very aggressive treatment. It happened so fast, they never really had a chance to experience much married life.”

  “Yeah. Well…” He cleared his throat, as if preparing to say something else, but whatever it was, it went unsaid as he shifted his purchases yet again. “I guess I’d better go get started. I’m installing a ceiling fan in the bedroom.” He gave Rachel a smile and nodded to Cam, then paused. His expression changed and he snapped his fingers. “Cam Ford. Wait a minute, you’re the guy who wrote the book about Ray David Jenkins, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You did a great job on that. I once saw a tape of his interrogation when he began describing how he killed his victims. He was as casual as if he was talking about the weather. Gave me the creeps, just listening to him.”

  “Gave me the creeps writing about him,” Cam said, giving a grimace at the recollection. “He was definitely thinking and playing outside the box.”

  “But maybe not as prolific a killer as he pretended to be, huh? You built a good case for questioning many of his confessions,” Pete said. “A damn good case. Are you working on a book now?”

  “In a sense. I’m doing some preliminary research.”

  “Anybody I know?” Pete asked, looking intrigued. “I worked in Homicide in Dallas.”

  Listening, Rachel recalled now that Pete had been slated for management at Homicide in Dallas, which made his appearance in Rose Hill even more puzzling. Why in the world had he walked away from that kind of career opportunity?

  “You wouldn’t remember this case,” Cam said. “The crime occurred in Texas, but it was over seventy-five years ago on a huge ranch near San Antonio. The owner of the ranch and his paramour, who’d once been a dance hall girl, were murdered and his wife was believed to have done it, although it was never proved.”

  “A woman scorned,” Rachel said.

  “That was the conventional wisdom at the time,” Cam said, giving her a wry smile.

  Pete snapped his fingers. “Diablo D Ranch. Way back in the thirties, right?”

  “That’s the one.” Cam moved to allow a customer with a loaded cart to pass.

  “As I recall, she was never convicted,” Pete said.

  “Never even arrested.” Cam turned to Rachel. “The wife had more motive than the fact that her husband was cheating on her. About that time, oil was discovered on the property. She stood to be one of the richest women in Texas…and that was saying something in those early days of the depression.”

  “If you write the book,” Rachel said, “will you build a case that proves she did it?”

  “I don’t think she did it, just as I don’t think Ray David Jenkins committed all the crimes the police claimed he did.”

  “Cops can be overzealous trying to close cases when they get a likely killer,” Pete said, backing away. “I’ll look forward to reading it, and if you need insight into the methods of a homicide cop, feel free to call me. Or better yet, drop by and I’ll offer you a cup of what’s bound to be the worst coffee you ever had.”

  “I’ll do that,” Cam said, putting out his hand for a shake. “Thanks. Nice t
o meet you.”

  “Same here.” Turning to go, Pete waved to Rachel. “Good to see you, Rachel. My place is going to need a lot of fixing up, but I bought a barbecue grill yesterday. As soon as I get settled, I’ll have you and Ted over. We’ll cook some steaks.”

  She hesitated only a moment before telling the truth. “You’ll have to settle for me by myself,” she said. “Ted and I are getting a divorce.”

  He looked at her in astonishment. “Are you serious?” Then, shaking his head, “Dumb question, I guess. I’m sorry, Rachel. When—” He glanced at Cam helplessly, then back at Rachel. “Hell, I hate to hear that.”

  She shrugged. “It happens, Pete. Thanks.” She summoned a smile. “But I just may take you up on that offer of a steak one day.”

  “Just name the day, lady.” He studied her face for another moment, then lifted the bag with his purchases. “Ceiling fan. It’s waiting.”

  “Bye,” she said, and watched him leave, her smile lingering until she felt Cam’s gaze on her face. “What?”

  “Your first post-divorce date?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I think he’s interested.”

  She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “That’s absurd.” She gave an impatient look toward the opposite end of the aisle. “What is keeping Nick? He knows we can’t load these shelves without that cart.”

  “Why is it ridiculous?”

  She looked at him. “Because Pete’s just a friend. And he used to be Marta’s fiancé. And he still loves her.”

  “Oh? You know that?”

  “I do.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “It’s ancient history, but if you’re so interested, you can always ask him.” She turned to go. “You two can have a chat over really bad coffee. And right now, if I’m going to get these shelves bought before nightfall, I guess I’ll have to find that cart myself.”

  Nick was headed for the rear of the store in search of the heavy-duty carts when two people fell into step with him, one on each side.

  “Hey, my man,” Ferdy Jordan said, draping an arm around Nick’s shoulder. “We saw you come in. You have a lot of fun shopping with your mommy?”