by Debra Webb
Sasha tugged the envelope from the mailbox, then went back inside and closed the door. Her name was scrawled across the front. She turned the envelope over, noted the bold H stamped on the flap. Her heart stumbled as she opened it. The single page inside was folded twice. Frowning, Sasha unfurled the page and read the brief note that went straight to the point and then the name signed across the bottom of the page.
There are things your grandmother should have told you...about your parents. We should talk. Arlene Holloway.
For twenty-seven years the world had believed Sasha’s father had killed her mother and then himself.
Deep down she’d had questions, had doubts. But each time Sasha had broached the subject, her grandmother hugged her and said that sometimes bad things happened to good people. Her grandmother was like the policemen who came to her parents’ house that night. They didn’t want to listen to what a traumatized nine-year-old had to say. Two people were dead and nothing on earth was going to bring them back.
But Sasha remembered vividly what no one had wanted to believe.
She had heard at least one stranger’s voice that night...maybe two. Voices that didn’t belong to her mother or to her father or to anyone else she recognized.
Someone else had been in the house the night her parents died.
Chapter Two
Arlene Holloway was born and raised in Winchester. Sasha stood at the woman’s front door as the sun dipped behind the trees and mountains that surrounded her hometown. Mrs. Holloway was—had been—Vi’s best friend. Didn’t matter that Vi was black and Arlene was white and that their childhood era had not been amenable to multicultural relationships of any sort. The two had weathered that storm and become stronger because of it. Through marriage and childbearing and widowhood Vi and Arlene had grown even closer over the years. Both had warned Sasha’s mother nearly forty years ago how difficult life could potentially be if she chose to marry a white man. Alexandra had ignored the warning and married Sasha’s father. Sasha had the dark curly hair of her mother and the pale skin and green eyes of her father.
More important, she had the determination and relentlessness of her grandmother. Both had served her well in the high-stakes world of celebrities and politicians where ruthless tactics and colliding egos were par for the course. Handling the high-profile issues of the rich and famous as well as the influential and powerful required a certain skill set, including fearlessness. The fearlessness as well she had inherited from her grandmother.
But for her parents, as predicted, life had been difficult and far too short.
Sasha knocked on the door a second time, and when the knob turned, her heart took another of those troubling tumbles. Was it possible that after all these years she might be on the verge of learning something new about what happened that night? If her grandmother had possessed some knowledge as to the events that unfolded that fateful night, why would she not have told Sasha years ago? The answer was easy—Viola Simmons would have done anything, gone to any lengths to protect her only grandchild. She firmly believed the past should stay in the past. Viola had wanted desperately for Sasha to move forward with no dwelling in a history that could not be changed.
But what if some aspects of it could change?
Why would Vi ignore that possibility?
The door swung inward and Sasha prepared to launch into her planned spiel about how she and Mrs. Holloway hadn’t had the opportunity to properly catch up during the funeral or later at the graveside service or even at the gathering. She decided she wouldn’t bring up the mysterious letter until the older woman did.
Except it wasn’t eighty-five-year-old Arlene Holloway staring at Sasha when the door opened fully. It was Branch... Mrs. Holloway’s grandson.
US Marshal Branch Holloway.
The boy Sasha had loved from afar since she was thirteen years old. The man she’d finally—after a decade of fostering a secret crush—made love with in his truck on the heels of having had far too much champagne at her five-year high school reunion.
The man who was the father of her twelve-year-old blond-haired, blue-eyed daughter.
A fact the man in question did not know.
That trademark grin spread across his handsome face—the same face she saw in her daughter every day. “Sasha Lenoir...aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
And just like that her heart melted and she wanted to lean into him the way she had that one night almost thirteen years ago. It would be so easy to cry on his wide shoulders after losing the only real parent she’d had. To lose herself in the warmth and promise of his arms and forget that she, like her grandmother had been, was on her own now, raising a child.
Except Sasha had far too much to lose to even think of going down that path. Her decision not to tell Branch about her pregnancy and the daughter she’d had nine months later had been based on fear and self-doubt during an intensely stressful time. She’d just graduated with her master’s and had dozens of job interviews in front of her. Two months later she’d barely settled into her new career when she realized she was pregnant. Her life had already been far too complicated; she couldn’t drag Branch into it. He was kicking butt and taking names in Chicago. There simply was no common ground for them to find for raising a child together. She’d made the decision not to tell him and her grandmother and Rey had kept her secret.
Now the decision seemed like the mistake it no doubt was. Brianne was missing out on the wonderful man who was her father and the still unmarried Branch had no idea what an amazing daughter he had helped create.
Remorse heaped onto Sasha’s shoulders. What had she done?
She’d also caused her grandmother to keep that secret from her lifelong best friend. Her poor grandmother had taken that weight with her to her grave.
More guilt accumulated to the point Sasha almost sagged. But didn’t.
All at once regret claimed Branch’s expression. “I’m as sorry as I can be about your grandmother. I would have been at the funeral today but there was an emergency with a prisoner transfer.”
Arlene had explained Branch’s absence. Not that Sasha had really expected him to come to the funeral. They hadn’t exactly been close friends back in school. He was two years older and had been too popular to have time for a mere human like Sasha and her friends. But he’d always been kind. Besides being incredibly handsome and spectacularly charming, one thing Branch Holloway had always been was kind. Fear abruptly clutched Sasha’s heart. How kind would he be if he ever learned her secret? She had stolen a dozen years of his daughter’s life from him.
She pushed the negative thoughts away. No one was better at keeping shocking secrets or neutralizing the rumors around those secrets than Sasha. They didn’t call her the queen of spin doctors for nothing. As for her personal dilemma, she had made her bed; she would lie in it.
Steadying herself, Sasha produced a smile. “Thank you. I apologize for the unannounced visit. I was hoping for a few minutes with Mrs. Holloway.” Sasha leaned to the left and peered past him into the cavernous foyer beyond. “Is she home?”
“She sure is. Come on in.” The long fingers of one hand wrapped around her arm and ushered her across the threshold. “Gran and I have dinner together every Sunday. We were just about to sit down at the table. We’d be thrilled to have you join us. There’s always plenty to eat.”
Sasha dug in her heels, stopping their forward momentum. “I couldn’t possibly impose.” Good grief, she had forgotten how early people had dinner around here. It wasn’t even six o’clock.
“Nonsense. It’s no imposition.”
Before she could react to the statement, he’d taken her by the arm again and was guiding her through the house. Mrs. Holloway was beaming when they entered the dining room.
“Sassy, how sweet of you to come to dinner.”
Branch pulled out a chair at the table and ushered Sasha into it.
She managed a “Thank you.” Then she propped a smile into place for the elderly woman across the table while Branch laid a setting for her. “It wasn’t my intent to intrude. I came by to speak with you about—”
“Say grace, Branch,” his grandmother ordered. “This girl needs to eat. She’s as thin as a rail.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Branch shot Sasha a wink before sitting then bowing his head.
After the shortest dinner blessing she’d ever heard, he announced “Amen” and picked up the bowl of potatoes and passed it her way. “If you need anything at all while you’re in town, you let me know. I’m sure you have your hands full.”
“The hard part’s over,” Arlene insisted before Sasha could respond to Branch’s offer. “The rest is as easy or as difficult as you choose to make it.”
Funny, the older woman was far more right than she likely knew. “I appreciate the offer, Branch,” Sasha said, her voice steadier than she’d hoped for. “My grandmother was very organized. She left specific instructions for everything.”
Sasha nibbled at the food on her plate in an effort to appease her host and hostess. She listened avidly to their chatter about who had done what and the excitement of last month’s organized crime case. Branch was still fielding offers for top assignments across the country but Arlene was hoping he would stay in Winchester.
Coffee had been poured and dessert served before Sasha had the opportunity to speak openly to Mrs. Holloway. Branch had excused himself to take a work call. Sasha wasn’t sure how much time she had, so she went straight to the point.
“Mrs. Holloway, did my grandmother ever mention any second thoughts as to what happened to my parents? Did she feel satisfied with the police reports?”
Arlene stared at her for a long moment...long enough for Sasha to fear she’d shocked the poor woman.
“You received the note I had delivered.”
Sasha nodded. “I did. I was quite surprised. You’ve never mentioned anything before.”
“Your grandmother wanted the past left in the past. I felt her decision was a mistake but I held my tongue until today. Now it’s time for the truth to come out, so long as you understand there will be consequences.”
Sasha studied the older woman’s face for some indication of exactly what she meant. “Certainly, I understand. I want the truth and I’ve always felt as if the truth was swept under a rug all those years ago.”
There, she’d said it. It was past time she stopped pretending the truth didn’t matter. It wouldn’t bring her parents back but perhaps it would right a terrible wrong.
Arlene continued to stare at her, her blue eyes faded to a pale gray beneath the thick lenses of her glasses. “Your grandmother never wanted you to pick at that ugliness. Are you sure you want to go against her wishes? She’s scarcely cold in her grave.”
Flustered and frustrated, Sasha held her ground. “Mrs. Holloway, with all due respect, you are the one who contacted me.”
“I only made the offer—this is your journey to take.”
Grappling for patience, Sasha asked, “Do you or don’t you know what really happened?”
Arlene reached for her iced tea glass, took a long swallow. “I’m not sure anyone knows for certain but with the proper guidance I’m certain you could uncover the whole story.”
“I’m thinking of hiring a private detective,” Sasha confessed.
“A private detective?”
Branch’s deep voice shook her. Sasha’s attention swung to him. She hadn’t realized he’d walked into the room. When she found her voice, she said, “Yes.”
He pulled out his chair and dropped back into it, automatically reaching for his coffee. “Why do you need a PI?”
“She wants to know what really happened to her parents,” Arlene explained. “She doesn’t believe the police reports any more than I do.”
Sasha cringed, as much at Branch’s look of surprise as at Mrs. Holloway’s words. “It’s not that I don’t believe the reports—I’m just not certain the investigation was as thorough as it could have been.”
Branch nodded slowly. “I’m confident the investigators attempted to be thorough. Sometimes it’s a matter of a failure on the part of the investigator and sometimes it’s just a lack of communication. You were really young when your parents died—I can see how you would have questions now.”
Sasha reminded herself to breathe. “I think you’ve nailed my feelings on the matter.” She considered pointing out that she hadn’t just shown up at his door with these questions. His grandmother had sent her a note. But she decided against that route for now. She had a feeling his grandmother had set them up for precisely this result. Sasha cleared her throat and pushed on. “With my grandmother’s passing it feels like I need to settle my own affairs as well as hers. I would like to put the past to rest, I suppose.”
“You can help with that, can’t you, Branch?” Arlene suggested. “You’re on vacation. What else have you got to do?”
He smiled patiently at his grandmother but the gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“No.” Sasha shook her head. “I don’t want to bother anyone. This is really something I need to do on my own. It’s very personal.”
His gaze rested on hers. “Gran’s right. I’m on a long-overdue vacation and I don’t have a lot planned. I can help you look into the case—if you feel comfortable with me digging around in your personal business.”
If he’d said her hair was on fire she wouldn’t have been more startled. Anticipation seared through her. Branch was a lawman. He would know how to conduct an investigation—that much was true. He would be able to spot the holes in the decades-old investigation. She could trust him. He would be thorough. His assistance would be invaluable.
What on earth was she saying?
She couldn’t spend that kind of time with the man. There was too big a risk that he would discover her secret. Or that those old feelings that still stirred when she thought of him would be ignited all over again.
Either possibility was a chance she could not take.
“Perfect,” Arlene announced. “I’ve always wanted to know what really happened. Out of respect for Vi, I kept my questions to myself. She never wanted to talk about it. I’m certain she was afraid of the consequences.”
This was one aspect of the past Sasha had not considered. She knew in her heart that someone else was involved in the deaths of her parents. The fact that no one else seemed to feel that way and that her grandmother had been so opposed had prevented Sasha from pushing the theory over the years. But Arlene was right. If someone else was involved there would be consequences. That person or persons would want to keep the truth hidden as desperately as Sasha wanted to reveal it. Just another reason to be grateful she hadn’t brought her daughter back to Winchester.
Finding the truth might be more dangerous than she had anticipated.
“When would you like to begin?”
Branch’s deep voice drew her attention from the disturbing thoughts. Breathe. “I was hoping to start immediately.” She blinked, realized it was Sunday evening only hours after her grandmother’s funeral. “Tomorrow, I suppose.”
He nodded. “I have a lunch meeting in Nashville tomorrow, but I can pick up the file and meet with you first.”
“I would genuinely appreciate it.” Anticipation lit inside her. This was really happening. “I can work with your schedule.”
“I’ll call Billy and let him know I’m picking up the file and we’ll go from there.”
Billy Brannigan was the Winchester chief of police. Sasha nodded. “Sounds good.”
She thanked Mrs. Holloway for dinner and made her excuses for heading home without finishing her dessert. She wanted to spend some time going through papers and mementos at her grandmother’s. Primarily, she wanted to put some distance between her and her teenage idol. Except just whe
n she thought she was in the clear, Branch insisted on walking her out.
When they reached her car he opened the door for her and smiled; his expression looked a little sad. “I’m sure sorry about the circumstances,” he offered, “but it’s good to see you, Sasha. It’s been a long time.”
She wondered if he ever noticed that she carefully avoided him whenever she came home for a visit. Probably not. He was a busy man. She likely rarely crossed his mind, if at all. All these years, she had brought her daughter three times each year to see her g’ma and she had somehow avoided ever bumping into Branch. It was a miracle really in a town this small. And yet somehow she’d managed.
Doubt regarding the intelligence of this plan to investigate the past nudged her again. She at times second-guessed her decision about keeping Brianne a secret. But it was too late to undo that now.
All the more reason this was a really bad idea.
“It has been a while.” She moved around the door, using it as a shield between them. “I’m usually only here for a couple of days when I visit. Between G’ma and Rey, I hardly see anyone else.”
He nodded. “I hear you have a daughter.”
Uncertainty whooshed through her like the flames from a roaring fire catching on dry kindling. She managed a laugh. “We really are behind. The daughter came into the picture ages ago.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t know you’d gotten married.”
Her nerves jangled. “No wedding. The relationship was over before it began.”
Before he could ask anything else, she threw out a few questions of her own. “What about you? Wife? Kids?”
The answer to both was no, of course. The idea that she knew this was intensely sad.
“No and no.”
“Well, that’s a shame, Branch. You don’t know what you’re missing. My daughter is amazing and brilliant. Being a parent is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Had she really just said that? Her heart swelled into her throat. Obviously she needed to go home. Today had been overwhelming and she was clearly not thinking straight.