"Well?" she asked, as they got into the elevator. "Do you think what I said was helpful?"
"I hope so."
"I don't know if anything I told them will matter. I believe Mrs. Faulkner and/or Donald killed Tommy and that's who they need to focus on, not any of the kids or neighbors or relatives. It's so obvious."
"They're covering all the bases."
"I guess." She stepped off the elevator, walking down the ramp toward her car.
"I can't believe that I didn't realize how unhappy you were in that house," Hunter said. "I should have known something was up. You said Molly disappeared two weeks before you left town, and that's when you were talking to the social worker and fighting with the Faulkners, and I was completely oblivious. Was I that selfish? That self-absorbed?"
As she paused by her car, she saw the self-condemnation in his eyes. Hunter had always had high expectations of himself. It was the Callaway way, and while it would have been easier to let him take the blame, she couldn't do that. "I didn't want you to know anything. When I was with you, I just wanted to be with you and forget the rest."
"I really thought we were happy. That's why it was so shocking when you left. It wasn't like we'd been fighting. We'd had a few words about Tommy coming between us, but it wasn't that big of a deal. But then you were gone, and the kid you said was only a friend was the one you wanted to be with. You deliberately let me think there was more between you. Did you want there to be more?"
"No, never. Tommy and I were lost souls. We weren't romantic. I let you think we were, because I figured you'd get mad, and that anger would stop you from trying to find me."
"It worked. I was angry. And I did not want to see you again."
"So, you didn't look for me at all?"
He shrugged. "Where was I supposed to look? I had no idea where you were. And if you ran away from your home, then I doubted you'd told the Faulkners where you were going. I did talk to Lindsay Grayson to see what she knew."
Lindsay had lived next door to the Faulkners and had been her one and only girlfriend, but she hadn't confided in Lindsay, either. They'd just walked to school together and talked about boys.
"Lindsay was as shocked as I was that you left. She thought you were in love with me."
"I didn't tell her anything, either."
He shook his head in bewilderment. "I still don't understand why you didn't say anything to me, Cassidy. You were my girlfriend."
"We were sixteen years old, Hunter. We knew each other for four months. Were we in love or lust—who knows? You were driven by hormones. I was desperate for someone to care about me. It wouldn't have lasted, even if I hadn’t left. We were kids."
A dark shadow passed through his eyes. "Is that what you really think or just what you told yourself, so it wouldn't hurt so much?"
"Maybe a little of both," she admitted. "But our past doesn't matter anymore. I can't change what I did, no matter how much I might want to. I'm sorry. But it's done."
"You're right. The past is done, but we can still figure out what happened to Tommy and maybe to that girl who disappeared."
She was surprised by his words. "You believe me about Molly? Because I didn't think either of those detectives believed me."
"Well, I do. I don't think you made her up."
She felt enormously relieved. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me, but you do have to start being honest. No more secrets. We need to work together on this, and don't tell me it's not my problem."
"It isn't your problem," she couldn't help saying.
"I found Tommy's bones, and I'm going to help find his killer." Determination darkened his gaze. "That's what's going to happen. I'd like your cooperation. So, what do you say—can we be partners on this?"
Work with Hunter? Spend more time with him? Be partners with a man she'd once been madly in love with?
Those all seemed like really bad ideas. "I don't know."
"What are you worried about? That I'll fall in love with you again?" he challenged. "Trust me, that's not going to happen."
The biting tone in his voice made it clear he wasn't at risk of falling for her again, but she couldn't say the same for herself. Hunter had gotten under her skin a very long time ago and walking away from him had taken a lot out of her. Getting to know him again was risky. However, with Hunter's connection to Detective Harrison, he was more likely to get information than she was, and she did want justice for Tommy and for Molly.
"All right. I guess we could work together. Although, I feel like this is up to the police to solve. I don't know what we can do on our own."
"We might be able to get people to talk to us that they can't. The other kids might be more willing to reveal things to you than to the cops."
"That's doubtful. Most of them didn't like me much, especially after I got everyone stirred up about Molly. And I don't know where they are now."
"Max will find them. Once he's had his chance to interview them, we might be able to get in the door. And as far as Molly goes, I'm thinking my sister Kate might be able to help. She's an FBI agent and her husband is a former agent turned private investigator."
"That's a good idea." She felt a twinge of hope at his words. She really would like to know what had happened to Molly, although there was the very real possibility that Molly had come to the same sad end as Tommy.
"I'll call Kate later. Are you going home now?"
"I should. But…"
He met her gaze. "Don't do it, Cassidy."
"I don't want to, but I feel like I have to. I need to see the house."
"Are you sure you're up for it? "If you are, I'll take you."
His question hung in the air for a long moment. Was she up for it?
Six
"This is a bad idea," Cassidy muttered. If she'd been in her own car, as she'd wanted to be, she would have turned around and left the city as fast as she could, but once she'd said she wanted to go to the house, Hunter had insisted upon driving her there.
Hunter glanced over at her. "You want to abort? Run for the hills?"
There was an edge behind his words, a reminder that she was a runner. When things got tough, she left. He wasn't completely wrong.
But if she'd learned anything from the day so far, it was that she couldn't keep running away, because it was pointless. Eventually the past would catch up.
"Cassidy?" Hunter stopped at a light and gave her a pointed, questioning look. "If you want to go back, just say so."
"No. Keep going."
As he drove through the intersection, she saw Herbert Hoover High School, the place where she and Hunter had first met. The two-story building had gotten a new paint job sometime in the past fourteen years, but the lunch tables in the front courtyard were the same. The parking lot was empty despite the fact that it was only half past two. School must be already out for summer. Instead of daydreaming in class, the kids were off having adventures, seeing their friends, loafing by a pool or a lake.
More memories washed over her. Hunter had found a camp in Yosemite where they could both be counselors. They were going to go to the national park the summer between their junior and senior year. When they weren't working, they'd go hiking, rock climbing, and swimming. They'd be away from family, from the Faulkners, but most importantly, they'd be together. Hunter would bring his camera. He loved taking photos, and she would study the trees, the plants, the flowers, learning all she could about one of the most special places on Earth.
It had all been a beautiful dream, a summer to remember…
She wondered if Hunter had gone without her.
"What are you thinking about?" Hunter's voice cut into her reverie.
She shifted in her seat, glancing over at him. "High school, summer vacation, all our crazy plans."
"They didn't seem crazy at the time."
"Did you go to Yosemite that summer?"
"No. I worked in construction for my uncle."
Which had been the last thing h
e wanted to do. She wondered if he blamed her for that missed opportunity in Yosemite. Probably.
But those summer plans faded from her mind as Hunter turned right at the next corner. Every muscle in her body tightened, her nerves screaming out warnings to leave now, before it was too late.
Too late for what? Tommy was dead. And the house was…
She sucked in a breath as she saw the blackened structure. The windows in the front were shattered. Some of the walls were gone or there were large gaping holes that anyone could walk through. The fire had been completely destructive, worse than she'd realized.
Hunter stopped the Jeep, and she got out of the vehicle and stood on the sidewalk. Despite the devastation in front of her, she could see the old house as it had once been. She could picture the uncomfortable antique couches in the living room where no one had ever sat. She could smell the tomato sauce that Mrs. Faulkner made at least four times a week, believing the best way to spend her food budget was on some sort of noodle covered in canned tomato sauce. She could hear the heavy footsteps of Mr. Faulkner every night when he came up the stairs, sometimes pausing just outside her door.
She hadn't been abused and probably no one else could understand the fear that those footsteps had brought, but her memories were so vivid, she jumped when Hunter put his hand on her arm.
For a split second, she thought it was Mr. Faulkner who had come back from the dead to put his hands on her.
"Easy," Hunter said quietly. "You don't have to go inside. Everything was destroyed by the fire, the water, or the smoke. There's nothing left."
"What about the garage?"
He shook his head. "You don't want to go in there, Cassidy."
"I don't want to, but I feel like I should."
"It's still a crime scene." Hunter waved his hand toward the police tape that ran around the perimeter of the yard, but there was no one around, no one investigating, and from what she'd heard at the station, everything that could be found had already been found.
"You're not the type to let a little tape keep you out," she murmured.
His lips tightened. "No. It's not the tape. It's what I know you'll see, and you won't be able to un-see it. You can trust me on that. The body might not be there anymore, but the wall where it was hidden is still there, and it will rip your heart out."
"What was in the garage besides…"
"Nothing that I could recognize. Everything was turned to ash. One of the ignition points of the fire was in the garage. There were several explosions—probably the gasoline coming in contact with other accelerants like paint, the kinds of things you'd keep in a garage."
"It's weird because Tommy once said that a few matches, some gasoline, and we could burn the house down and be free. Only problem was, we'd just get sent somewhere else, and who knew where that would be? Of course, it was just talk anyway. We never really considered it."
"Well, someone else had the same idea. Someone who hated the Faulkners as much as you and Tommy did."
"But they waited a long time to do it."
"Or not. Who's to say that one of the kids who lived here more recently didn't do this?"
"That's true. I keep thinking the two events are connected, but maybe they're not. I wonder when the Faulkners stopped taking in kids. Maybe my list won't be of any help to the police. The arsonist could be someone I never met."
"That's possible, but Tommy's murder took place in your time. We have two crimes."
A movement next door drew her eye. A woman came out of the house. She was in her fifties, wearing yoga pants and a fleece jacket. She started for her car in the driveway, but then stopped when she saw them, her expression slowly changing as recognition flashed across her face.
"Cassidy?" The woman took a few steps in their direction. "Is that you?"
"Mrs. Grayson," she said, feeling a rush of warmth. Lindsay's mother, Valerie, had always been very nice to her.
"I can't believe it's you." Surprise moved through Valerie's eyes as she came over to join them. "I always wondered what happened to you, Cassidy. Mrs. Faulkner first told us that you were transferred to another home, but then Lindsay found out you ran away with one of the other kids. What happened to make you want to run away?"
"It doesn't matter now."
"Are you sure?" Valerie's gaze moved to the burned-out structure and then returned to her. "I was at work yesterday when the fire started. I couldn't believe what I saw when I got home. The police were here last night for a long time, and there was a van from the coroner's office as well. I've been trying to find out what happened, but no one will tell me anything. The neighbor said that Geralyn wasn't home, so I don't understand why the coroner was here. Do you know?"
Cassidy debated telling Valerie the truth. In the end, she decided that the Faulkners had already been allowed to hide too many secrets over the years. "They found human remains in the garage."
Valerie gasped, putting a hand to her chest. "Oh, my God. Who? How?"
"I don't know." She didn't want to mention Tommy. "But the police are looking into it. Geralyn has a lot to explain."
"Geralyn couldn't have known."
"How could she not have known? She lived here for twenty-five years. The body was hidden in the walls of the garage during that time period."
"But she's so nice. And Donald was a good man."
"I don't think you knew the Faulkners as well as you thought you did."
Valerie's gaze sharpened. "Why are you here, Cassidy? Because of this? Because of the body?"
"Yes. I just found out a few hours ago and after speaking to the police, I had to come by and see for myself."
"Where is Geralyn now?"
"She's in the hospital. She's apparently very upset."
"Well, of course, she would be. I'll have to go see her. Or maybe I shouldn’t." Suddenly, Valerie was indecisive. "I guess I'll talk to Jim about it," she added, referring to her husband. Valerie's gaze moved to Hunter. "You look familiar. Wait a second. I know you, too. You're Hunter Callaway."
"Yes," he said with a nod.
"You took Lindsay to your senior prom. Your mom had a party beforehand. We came over for the pictures."
"That's right," he muttered.
"You took Lindsay to the senior prom?" Cassidy asked, unable to stop the shock running through her voice.
Hunter looked a bit uncomfortable. "Yes. I told you that Lindsay and I became friends after you left."
"She was quite sad that things didn't work out between you." Valerie gave Hunter a thoughtful look. "You should call her, unless you and Cassidy are together?"
"We're not together," she said quickly. "Hunter is a firefighter. He was here yesterday when the body was discovered."
"I actually discovered the body," Hunter said. "And I really hope you'll talk to the police, Mrs. Grayson. I'm sure they'll want to know everything you know about the Faulkners."
"I don't know that much. We exchanged brief conversations on our way in and out of the house. Occasionally, we had them over for dinner, but our conversations were never that personal. This is just terrible, so awful. I don't know what to think." She paused. "But I'm glad you're well, Cassidy. I'll tell Lindsay. She'll be happy to know that. You know, she lives here in the city. She works at an art gallery. What do you do now, Cassidy?"
"I'm a landscaper. I work at a nursery in Half Moon Bay."
Valerie smiled. "That suits you. I remember when you planted flowers by our back fence. You were so happy digging in the dirt."
She remembered that, too. She'd put the flowers on Valerie's side of the fence, so she wouldn't get in trouble. She'd been able to see them from her upstairs window, and they'd reminded her of the life she'd lived before her parents had died.
"I should go. I have to get my hair cut." Valerie paused. "The body—it didn't belong to a child, did it?"
"It was a teenager," she answered, again not really wanting to say Tommy's name.
"Oh, no. Not one of the kids. I don't understand h
ow this could happen. I thought I was living next door to good people. I guess you really don't know what goes on behind closed doors. Take care—both of you."
"I wonder if she knows more than she's saying," Hunter muttered, as Valerie pulled out of the driveway.
"I have no idea."
"You were never tempted to confide in Lindsay or her mother?"
"No. I was afraid that Valerie would say something to Geralyn or Donald." She drew in a breath. "So, you and Lindsay dated? I thought you just had a few conversations."
An uneasy gleam ran through his eyes. "That's the way it started."
She wondered why his words brought a stabbing pain of jealousy. Hunter had no doubt dated and loved a lot of women since their brief relationship. But Lindsay had been her friend, and it seemed weird to imagine the two of them together. It felt disloyal. But who was she to judge them? She was the one who'd left.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Hunter challenged, as silence lengthened between them. "What did you think was going to happen when you ran out on me? Did you believe I would spend the rest of my life waiting for you to come back?"
"Of course not. I was just surprised that you would have been with Lindsay. She knew how much I liked you. She was probably the only person who knew that."
He shrugged. "She was a little pissed off that you hadn't told her you were leaving. Maybe that's when her loyalty ended. And we both thought you were with Tommy." He paused. "Why didn't you tell Valerie the body was Tommy's?"
"I don't know. I just didn't want to say his name."
"So it wouldn't be real?"
"I know it's real," she said with a heavy heart. "I just felt like I should protect his privacy. It's silly. His name will be on the news soon. I can't stop that from happening."
"Why would you want to? Isn't it time Tommy's death came to light? That light is the only way Tommy gets justice."
"I really hope that happens."
A drop of rain hit her face, followed by another.
They dashed to the car as the skies that had been threatening all day finally opened up.
She'd been longing for the rain, but once inside the car with Hunter, with the rain pounding on the windshield, she felt very aware of how close they were to each other, how far away the rest of the world seemed to be.
Secrets We Keep GO PL Page 6