After Caroline

by Kay Hooper

  “Maybe she went into Portland to shop,” Joanna suggested, not about to mention her planned meeting at the old barn. Would you know about that place, Dylan? Did you meet her there?

  “She wasn’t dressed for shopping in Portland, not that morning,” Dylan said. “Caroline always dressed to the teeth if she was going into the city, and not in jeans and a sweater. But maybe she changed later.”

  “Probably,” Joanna said. “Anyway, I guess I’ve just been looking for a reason when it doesn’t really matter.”

  He was looking at her intently, his face grave and his eyes seemingly without shadows. “You feel a kind of connection with her, don’t you? Because of the resemblance?”

  “Maybe. It’s unnerving enough to find out you look so much like someone else; finding out they died suddenly is an even bigger shock. And … Regan seems to have taken to me.”

  “I feel sorry for that kid,” Dylan said, sighing. “Barely see her at the house these days; she’s almost like a shadow, vanishing around a corner when you get a glimpse of her.”

  Deciding to ask at least one blunt question, Joanna said, “Has Scott always been so indifferent to her?”

  Dylan immediately shook his head. “Not at all. When she was born, he doted on her. I mean, really doted. Nothing was too good for his little girl. And it was obvious she adored him. Then, about—I don’t know—three or four years later, everything changed. At first, I just thought he was working harder than before, going up to Portland and down to San Francisco pretty often; he didn’t seem to have time for Regan anymore. Caroline was … fussing over her, reading to her, taking her to dancing lessons and to parties at friends’ houses.

  “I thought she was just trying to make up to Regan for Scott always being too busy for her. But gradually, I realized that Scott’s attitude had completely changed toward his daughter. There was no feeling on his face when he looked at her. I even saw him physically push her away a couple of times when she was smaller. After that, she stopped trying to get close to him.”

  “Do you have any idea why he changed so drastically?” Joanna had an idea. A simple, chilling idea.

  Dylan’s smile was twisted. “What I know, I picked up from observation, nothing more. I doubt Scott confides in anyone—certainly not me. No, Joanna, I don’t have a clue.”

  Joanna sipped her coffee and brooded. Had Dylan been Caroline’s lover? Her last lover? She wanted badly to ask, but in this public place dared not bring up the subject. And what about Scott’s emotional abandonment of Regan? Joanna’s feelings about Scott were still ambivalent and uncertain, but she was convinced he was a long way from being an unfeeling man. Which left, in her mind, only one explanation as to why he had pushed an adored daughter away.

  “Oh, damn,” Dylan said suddenly, glancing at his watch. “I have to get back to the courthouse. Joanna, stay as long as you want—my treat.”

  “Thanks, Dylan.”

  He slid from the booth, smiling. “My pleasure. See you later.”

  “Sure.” Joanna watched him head toward the cashier to pay, then turned her gaze down to her cup briefly before pushing it away. Griffin was probably wondering where she was, she thought. And if she sat here much longer, she’d undoubtedly be drawn into a conversation with Liz or someone else.

  She waited until Dylan had left the cafe and crossed the street to get to the courthouse, then left the cafe herself, waving good-bye to Liz without pausing to encourage conversation.

  It was her intention to head toward the Sheriff’s Department, skipping her planned errands for the time being, but when she saw Doc come out of the drugstore, she immediately turned in that direction and swiftly caught up with him.

  “Doc?”

  He stopped and turned, looking at her with brows lifted. “Hello, Joanna. What can I do for you?”

  There was no one near them, and the door of the nearest store was closed, so Joanna didn’t hesitate. Politeness hadn’t been effective on Doc before; maybe sheer effrontery would. “You can tell me the truth,” she said. I’m sorry, but I think I’m running out of time ….

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was still pleasant, and he wore a small smile, but his eyes were guarded.

  “Oh yes you do. You lied to me about having seen Caroline before she was killed.”

  His mouth tightened. “It slipped my mind, that’s all.”

  “Did it?” Joanna leaned back against the railing and crossed her arms, managing a smile. “Or was it just a case of one more man feeling guilty because he wasn’t there for Caroline when she needed him?”

  “What do you mean, one more man?”

  She had his full and complete attention now, and Joanna braced herself inwardly. She didn’t like what she was about to do, not one bit, but she didn’t have a choice. “Oh, she spread the guilt around, Doc—especially among her past lovers. Don’t tell me you thought you were the only one? Even Scott says there must have been at least half a dozen during their marriage.”

  Doc didn’t change expression, but his voice was very soft when he said, “Thanks a lot for telling me.”

  “Maybe you needed to know.” Joanna let the mockery seep out of her voice until there was only weariness. “Maybe you all need to know. Because as far as I can see, not one of you has been able to let her go.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No? Then explain it to me, Doc. Explain to me how she managed to emotionally destroy a man without destroying his obsession with her.”

  He opened his mouth, then shut it and shook his head. “I can’t. She was … there was just something about her.”

  “I guess so.” Joanna shook her head. “Destructive yet seductive. Some people would call that the definition of evil.”

  Doc immediately shook his head. “No, not evil. Caroline was … always at war with herself, always struggling. She was never satisfied with what she was or what she had, but always needed more of everything. She was never deliberately cruel, you have to understand that. But she had to get what she wanted, no matter what the cost to someone else.”

  “She sounds like a spoiled child to me,” Joanna observed.

  His thin face softened in a way that made Joanna feel nothing but pity for him, and he said, “There was something childlike about her, something inherently innocent. Yes, she could be spoiled—but she could also be incredibly generous and loving. That’s the Caroline I remember.”

  “You weren’t having an affair with her right before she died, were you?”

  “No,” he answered almost absently. “It was a couple of years ago.”

  Joanna didn’t bother asking him if he knew who had been having an affair with Caroline; the news that he wasn’t her only discarded lover had shocked him. “Did she tell you why she needed to talk to you the last time you saw her?”

  Doc seemed to come back from a great distance, blinking as he looked at Joanna. “No. I had an emergency—I was in a hurry. She said she needed to talk to me … and I brushed her aside.”

  Joanna sighed, unsurprised by the guilt in his voice. “You weren’t the only one, Doc,” she said. “Try to remember that. And thanks for telling me the truth.”

  He nodded slightly, then turned away from her without another word and went on his way.

  She remained there for a moment, staring after him, then continued on her interrupted walk toward Griffin’s office. He probably wouldn’t be happy with her that she had backed Doc into a corner and questioned him, but at least she’d done it in the middle of town under myriad eyes.

  There was still a chance that it had been some secret of Doc’s that had so frightened Caroline, Joanna thought, but the chance felt slim to her. And she still didn’t know who had been Caroline’s lover when she was killed. Unless it was Dylan.

  She was feeling upset and discouraged when she went into Griffin’s office and sat down in his visitor’s chair, and she knew he saw it. “I hope you have some good news,” she told him.

  Griff
in looked up from the papers covering his desk and smiled wryly. “I don’t have any kind of news, good or bad. Except that Cain’s still among the missing. How was your morning?”

  Joanna sighed. “Mrs. Chandler says Caroline was in shortly before the accident asking about which countries don’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S. So it looks more and more like she was involved in something illegal, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’d say the possibility looks stronger,” he agreed.

  “I also talked to Doc,” Joanna said. “And he wasn’t a lot of help. He wasn’t having an affair with Caroline before she died, but he did a couple of years ago. You don’t have to put that in a report or anything, do you? I probably shouldn’t have told you.”

  “That kind of information doesn’t belong in a report unless it becomes relevant. And I already knew,” Griffin said.

  She eyed him thoughtfully. “I seem to recall you looking surprised when I first mentioned the possibility that Caroline might have been having an affair.”

  “I was surprised. As far as I could tell, there was no talk about Doc and Caroline, so I was startled you could have found out so quickly.”

  Joanna didn’t ask him how he had found out, she merely nodded. “Anyway, I suppose he could have a secret to protect, but I can’t see him scaring Caroline in any way—or pushing somebody over the cliffs.”

  “No, me either.”

  Joanna was about to mention her meeting with Dylan and her suspicions about him, but before she could, there was a sharp rap at the door and Scott McKenna walked in, closing the door behind him with a deliberate gesture.

  Joanna was rather glad she sat to one side and out of the direct line of sight between the two men. She could literally feel Griffin tense, and to call Scott’s eyes unfriendly was a bit like calling a diamond hard; the word didn’t begin to describe the subject. Definitely uneasy herself, she looked between them and waited.

  “Scott.” Griffin’s voice was cordial, but he didn’t get to his feet.

  The other man merely nodded, and said abruptly, “According to Joanna, there’s some question about Caroline’s death. True?”

  “True enough. Sit down.”

  Ignoring the invitation, Scott looked at Joanna. “After you left yesterday, I wondered if I might be wrong about Caroline not keeping a diary or journal. So I went through her things.”

  “Did you find a diary or journal?”

  He shook his head, then reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small brass key. “But I found this.” He dropped the key onto Griffin’s desk and looked at the sheriff once again. “It was in her bedroom desk. I’ve never seen it before. As far as I can determine, that key fits nothing at the house.”

  Joanna looked at Griffin. “Somebody told me Caroline bought a little antique box shortly before she died.”

  “There’s no sign of one among her things,” Scott said.

  Griffin reached for his phone. “Did she get it at One More Thing, Joanna?”

  “I think so.”

  Scott didn’t move and watched with no expression as Griffin placed the call.

  “Bonnie? Griff. Listen, did Mrs. McKenna buy a small antique box from you last summer? When? I see. Did the box have a lock and key?” He held the small brass key in his palm as he said, “Describe the key for me.” Then he nodded, said, “Thanks, Bonnie,” and cradled the receiver.

  “It’s the key to the box?” Joanna asked.

  “Or an exact duplicate. The question is, where’s the box this key fits?”

  “And what did she put in the box?”

  Scott looked between them for a moment, then fixed his gaze on Joanna. “What makes you believe she had anything to hide like that?”

  Since Griffin didn’t seem disposed to object, Joanna said, “It’s a guess, Scott. We think Caroline knew something that was dangerous to someone. And she was scared. She tried to talk to a few people here in town in the days before the accident, people she thought she could trust, but for one reason or another, she wasn’t able to confide in any of them.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked flatly.

  Joanna shook her head. “’I can’t answer that. But we’re reasonably sure she was ready to confide in Griffin when she was killed.”

  Scott looked at the other man. “How are you sure?” he asked.

  “She sent me a note, asking me to meet her,” Griffin answered readily enough. “I got tied up here and didn’t make it. That was the day she died.”

  Scott’s face tightened slightly. “So for once, you weren’t Johnnie-on-the-spot.”

  There was a moment of icy silence. Then, with precise emphasis, Griffin demanded, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Scott shrugged, a smile that was ugly curving his lips. “Why, nothing, Sheriff. I just assumed you were always at the ready when my wife needed something.”

  Joanna winced slightly, wondering silently how long the tension had been building toward this confrontation. It had to happen, of course, sooner or later. She had known that the day these two men had faced each other on the peaceful sidewalk of Cliffside.

  “Look, I don’t know what your problem is,” Griffin snapped, surging to his feet behind the desk, “but I’ve had about enough of your bullshit. You want to say something to me? Say it straight out. You want to take me on? Name a time and place outside this office and I’ll be there. But in the meantime, why don’t you go home and spend some time with that sad little kid of yours. She needs a father a lot worse than I need this hassle from you.”

  “Then maybe you’d better go,” Scott muttered, turning away from the desk.

  “What?”

  He had taken no more than a step, when Scott turned back, the pain on his face so raw that Joanna wanted to flinch away from it, and his voice was ragged.

  “I said maybe you should go comfort Regan. Goddamn you, she isn’t my daughter. She’s yours”

  ON SOME LEVEL of her mind, Joanna had been preparing herself for Scott’s stark words ever since she had learned of his sudden change of attitude toward Regan years before. It was the only thing that made sense, the only reason to explain a father’s sudden coldness to a small and innocent child. And given Caroline’s history, it was certainly possible.

  What Joanna hadn’t prepared herself for was her own pain when she heard that accusation leveled at Griffin.

  “No,” Griffin said. He hadn’t glanced at Joanna, but kept his gaze fixed on Scott.

  “You think I’d make up something like this? Caroline told me. She told me, years ago.”

  Griffin put his hands on his desk and leaned forward, his eyes unwavering on Scott, and his voice was very quiet. “Listen to me. She lied to you. I don’t know why, but she did. There was no affair. We never had sex, not once. There is no possibility that Regan could be mine.”

  Joanna began to breathe again.

  “I don’t believe you.” Scott’s voice was still ragged. “She wouldn’t have lied to me about that. Not that.”

  “You want me to take a paternity test to prove it? Gladly. But you take one too. She’s your daughter, Scott.”

  Into the thick silence, Joanna said quietly, “I know you think she looks like Caroline, Scott, but look at her more closely. The shape of her eyes is yours, and her ears. Many of her expressions. And her hands, they’re a feminine duplicate of yours. The first time I saw you two together, I thought she resembled you more than Caroline.”

  Scott stepped back toward the desk and reached out to grip the back of the other visitor’s chair. He was looking past Griffin, past everything except his own anguish. His face was white, but his voice was steadier when he said, “I can’t have been that blind.”

  “She blinded you,” Joanna told him. “After what she told you, you had to look at Regan with doubt. And once you did that, the damage was done. Caroline must have wanted to hurt you very badly.”

  After a moment, Scott shook his head, still with that blind
expression. “No, not hurt me. She wanted Regan all to herself, and I was in her way. So she said what she knew would make me turn away from the child, what she knew I wouldn’t be able to bear.”

  Doc was right—she had to get what she wanted, no matter what. It rang true to Joanna, that Caroline would have taken that drastic, incredibly selfish and cruel action to have her child’s entire focus and love. And it had probably never occurred to her that she would be hurting Regan by depriving her of a father’s love; in her mind, her love was enough for Regan. And, to be fair, she had been an excellent mother, devoting herself to her child with lavish attention. But at what cost to Regan?

  At what cost to Scott?

  Neither Joanna nor Griffin said anything else, waiting silently for Scott to return from whatever distant hell he had been thrown into so suddenly. He did come back, slowly, his eyes gradually focusing on the here and now. And it must have been painfully difficult for such a proud and reserved man to realize how much of himself had been stripped bare in this small office.

  He looked at them both, then turned and went to the door. He paused after he’d opened it, and looked back at Joanna. “You were right,” he said, and then left the office, closing the door very quietly behind him.

  “Right about what?” Griffin asked.

  Still gazing after Scott, Joanna murmured, “He was in love with Caroline. No matter what she did, all these years he’s been in love with her.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Griffin said, sitting down rather heavily in his chair. “No wonder he’s hated my guts for years.”

  Joanna drew a breath and looked at him. “I guess it never crossed your mind that he might think Regan was your child?”

  “God, no. If it had, I would have faced him about it long ago.” He shook his head. “Since there was no possibility of that, and since, to me, Regan was so obviously Scott’s daughter, I just never considered it. He didn’t seem close to the child, but, hell, he didn’t seem close to anyone.”

  Joanna didn’t wonder that Scott’s indifference to Regan had passed virtually unremarked upon by Griffin and others. Only someone who had spent a great deal of time closer to the family—like Dylan, for instance—was likely to have noticed what had been, in effect, a sudden and drastic change, and to wonder at it.