His Brother's Bride

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Scott?” she whispered, her hand trembling.

  “Yeah?” His voice sounded as though he hadn’t used it in years.

  “You okay?”

  She wanted to look up at him but couldn’t quite do it. Instead, she closed her eyes.

  “Yeah.”

  “You want me to stop?” she asked.

  “Not unless you want to.”

  She didn’t. She left her hand there, not moving. Teetering on the brink of something she knew she could never discover yet wanted to so badly.

  What she wanted was to feel the velvet of his skin. And more. She wanted it all.

  But it was for solace, she reminded herself. And she couldn’t make love for solace.

  Her hand slid off his leg.

  Grabbing her around the neck, Scott kissed her—hard. Then he stood, turning away.

  They walked back to the motel side by side and said good-night outside their respective doors.

  Neither of them said a word about what had just happened.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “IT’S ANOTHER DAY AND A HALF until Dennis is due to meet with Murphy, so what do you say we head back to Cooper’s Corner and show his picture around there?” Scott asked Laurel the second she stepped out of her door the next morning. His plan was double-edged. Not only did he need to get to Maureen and see if she recognized Arnett from any old pictures in her dossier on Carl Nevil, but he needed some time away from Laurel.

  “Sure beats hanging around here looking at deserted homes,” Laurel said.

  As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get last night out of his mind. Just the sight of her hand on the strap of her bag was driving him insane. He recalled that hand on his body...on his thigh...

  With clenched jaw, Scott moved up to the motel desk, paid their bills and pocketed his wallet. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t continue to be what Laurel needed—a perfect friend who was there for her if she needed him.

  That was who he wanted to be. But he wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t really even a friend—not by his definition. He hadn’t been honest with her or loyal to either Laurel or his brother. And he couldn’t be there for her, either.

  He was going to have to tell her the truth about his feelings for her all those years. About Paul’s death. There was nothing he could do to change things. No way he could go back and fix everything.

  And he was going to do his job. The lives of three people could be in danger. William Byrd, Cecilia Hamilton and possibly Leslie Renwick. And now, if Nevil was somehow involved, after all, the Coopers’ lives could be at risk as well. Or their livelihood at the very least.

  This was something he was good at. This was where he could make a difference. He needed to concentrate his efforts on solving this case.

  While they had their morning coffee and bagels, Laurel also seemed determined to concentrate on the case. She had her little tape recorder out, documenting every word they said.

  “Don’t you find it odd that Dennis is missing, too?” she asked. “That every single person we try to find in this case has disappeared?”

  “If nothing else, it makes things more difficult.”

  He took a sip of coffee, wishing he’d asked for less cream.

  “So, in light of the fact that Dennis is Leslie’s new boyfriend, you want to rethink the possibility that Cecilia is her mother?”

  That hand, holding her napkin. Last night it had been touching him...

  “I’d like to, but I’m not convinced we can. There’s nothing that says Dennis knows about Leslie and Cecilia.”

  She took a bite of bagel, licking the cream cheese off her upper lip.

  “I just don’t think Leslie’s in cahoots with Dennis. Katy’s a good woman and she seems too fond of Leslie for Leslie to be involved in something criminal.”

  “Bad people fool good people every day.” He should have had them put some Jack Daniel’s in the coffee.

  “So you think we’ve got a double blackmail going on?”

  “I don’t know what to think.” He was really bothered by Dennis’s absence on top of everything else. He was missing something vital. Something that would make sense out of all four players together. Why had William and Cecilia gone to visit Leslie? He just couldn’t get that to make sense.

  Scott’s gut tightened. “What hunches are we the most sure about?”

  Laurel glanced up. She hadn’t looked him in the eye all morning. “Cecilia is most likely Leslie’s mother.”

  “Right.”

  “William was using that knowledge to blackmail her for his half of the company.”

  Scott thought about that possibility. “I’ll go with that.”

  “Dennis is dating Leslie.”

  Was this what they’d left themselves with? Scott wondered. Business talk over cups of coffee with no personal connection at all. Nothing like the intimate conversation they’d had the morning before.

  “And Cecilia didn’t let her assistant know that her brother was out of jail,” he said, deciding to leave his bagel. He’d only ordered it out of habit. “I wonder if that means she didn’t know?”

  “I wondered that, too,” Laurel said. “But it doesn’t make much sense, does it? He knows she’d help him, and when would he need it more than after ten years of being locked up?”

  Scott didn’t have the answer to that.

  “Maybe they’re all just having some weird family reunion,” Laurel said, wiping her mouth one last time before throwing down her napkin.

  “You ready?” He was tired of sitting there. Tired of watching that damn hand holding the napkin. Taking the bagel to her lips. Wrapping itself around her coffee cup.

  And tired of knowing that William Byrd and Cecilia Hamilton were out in the world someplace, most likely needing help that they weren’t getting.

  * * *

  TALK OF THE CASE didn’t LAST them very long once they were on the road. Laurel tried to get Scott to talk to her about other things. The towns they were passing. The changes she’d noticed in Cooper’s Corner. She’d turned so she was facing him again—not that it did her much good.

  He wasn’t looking at her. Laurel knew she was going to have to do something about that. She just didn’t know what.

  Staring out the window at the village off to their right, she wondered what it would be like to live there. She thought of the mothers in those houses baking cookies, playing games with their children. Gardening.

  “Are you angry with me?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly,” he replied, staring straight ahead. “I’m not the least bit angry with you,” he said, emphasizing on that last word.

  “Who are you angry with?”

  “Nobody. Myself, maybe.”

  “What have you done to be angry at yourself?”

  He shifted, lifting his foot from the gas pedal as he did so. Laurel’s eye was drawn to the movement, to the muscled thigh closest to her.

  “I’m not angry.”

  “Then why do you sound that way?”

  Scott sighed and shook his head. “Now’s not the time.”

  If she’d thought it would do any good, she’d have continued badgering him until he was truthful with her. Instead she let the subject drop, promising herself she’d pursue it again later. Hopefully they’d have time to talk that night.

  She couldn’t imagine what Scott had done to bring that tight-lipped look to his face or the unemotional tone to his voice. But she wasn’t going to rest until she found out.

  Her mind wandered to William and Cecilia, wondering how much rest they’d had in the past few days. Did they really hate each other? Had Cecilia loved William’s father, or was it his money she’d married? For all their searching,
all she and Scott had so far was a series of disjointed clues.

  “I’m sorry.” She didn’t want to think about William and Cecilia—not until there was something more they could do. She didn’t want to think about either of them defenseless, in trouble. And Leslie. What if she didn’t know Dennis was her uncle? If Dennis was her uncle. Who was the bad guy in all this? And who were just innocent pawns in an evil game?

  “Sorry for what?” Scott had both hands on the wheel.

  “Last night.” She’d been trying all morning to bring that up. It had to be what was bothering him. He’d been fine until she’d lost her mind and...

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “But...”

  “Laurel—” his voice was sharp “—let it go.”

  “I can’t...”

  Finally he turned to look at her, and she wished he hadn’t. There was something in Scott’s eyes she’d never seen before. Resignation. Hopelessness. “Right now,” he said, “neither can I.”

  She had no idea what that meant, but she couldn’t ask. He was like a stranger, sitting there.

  Bereft, a little bit frightened, Laurel searched frantically for a way to fix things. As she sat there, finding it hard to breathe, she knew only one thing for sure. She had to find a way to get the old Scott back.

  She couldn’t imagine living life without him.

  * * *

  AS IT TURNED OUT, Laurel and Scott made another turn around Cooper’s Corner together before they headed up the hill to Twin Oaks. This time, rather than just one picture, they had four to show around—William, Cecilia, Leslie and Dennis.

  The results were exactly the same. Nothing. Except for a couple of people who’d been working at the diner, pretty much everyone had been at the Founders Day barbecue. And though they did have another confirmation from a waitress at the diner that William and Cecilia had had a late lunch together, no one had seen either Dennis Arnett or Leslie Renwick.

  Back at Twin Oaks, while Laurel went upstairs to freshen up and see if the twins were awake from their afternoon nap, Scott took the opportunity to have a moment alone with Maureen in her office. He and Laurel had already filled she and her brother in on the new developments in the case, but Scott had some private business he needed to discuss with the ex-NYPD detective.

  The first thing she wanted to know, of course, was if there had been any word on Owen Nevil.

  Scott shook his head. “His sources say he could be gone as long as a week or two, mountain trekking in the wilderness. They claim they have no way to reach him and weren’t even sure where he’d gone, though he tended to favor the Appalachians. After his time in prison, the wilderness appealed to him.”

  “Do you believe them?”

  Hands in the pockets of his slacks, Scott shrugged. “There could be some truth to the cabin fever bit—being cooped up in a four-by-ten cell could give anyone claustrophobia...”

  “...and it’s also one hell of a convenient alibi.”

  He couldn’t argue with her there.

  “I need you to look at this picture.” Scott pulled the photo of Dennis Arnett out of his shirt pocket. “You recognize him?”

  Ponytail falling over her shoulder, Maureen leaned forward to take a thorough look.

  “Yeah,” she said almost immediately. “Who is he?”

  Scott’s stomach plummeted. “You knew him in New York?”

  It was going to turn out that the Nevils were involved after all, and things were going to get a hell of a lot worse before they got better.

  “No,” Maureen surprised him by saying. “I ran into him, literally, on the evening of the Founders Day barbecue. I’d come back to Twin Oaks to get the kids’ sweaters and stopped in town to put a couple of letters in the mailbox so they’d go out first thing Monday morning. He was coming up the street so fast he didn’t see me. Nearly ran me over. Who is he?” she asked again, frowning. She took one more long look at the photo as she handed it back.

  “Dennis Arnett.”

  “Cecilia’s brother?”

  “The very same.”

  “And you think he had something to do with William’s disappearance?”

  “Seems pretty likely.”

  Leaning back against the closed office door, arms folded across his chest, Scott hated to bring up the rest.

  “He’s thick with Carl Nevil,” he said softly.

  “Oh, God.”

  “I guess Carl saved Arnett from some bad stuff when Arnett was first sent up.”

  “You said that was more than ten years ago.”

  “Right.”

  “They’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “And you know how guys can bond in prison.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Don’t panic yet,” Scott reassured Maureen. “This really could be a coincidence.”

  “And how many times have you seen that happen since you’ve been on the force, Detective?” Maureen asked, her shoulders straight as she looked Scott in the eye.

  “Not many.” He paused. “But there were some.”

  They all just had to hope like hell that this was one of those times.

  Either that or the situation was even more grim than he’d feared. If the Nevils were involved and this was all some nefarious plot to wreak revenge on Maureen Maguire, not only were at least three of Scott’s four missing persons likely to end up dead, but the Coopers’ futures didn’t look good, either.

  * * *

  IT WAS ANOTHER long day. Laurel called the station, extending her vacation. Because she hadn’t taken much time off since she’d started there, they didn’t give her a hard time about the change of plans. At that point, she wouldn’t have cared if they had. As much as she loved her job, this time with Scott was a lifeline, and finding William Byrd had become a need far greater than earning money. Besides, her boss was eager for her to continue with her investigation, since it was looking more and more like she was going to have one hell of a story.

  She just wasn’t sure if it was going to be human interest or a murder story.

  * * *

  BY DINNERTIME, HAVING exhausted every idea they had for follow-up in Cooper’s Corner, Scott and Laurel decided to head back to Worcester. At least there they could keep a watch on both Dennis’s and Leslie’s deserted homes and be close by in case Dennis contacted Officer Murphy.

  “Two people just can’t vanish into thin air,” Laurel said, frustrated, hot and tired as they pulled into a motel in Worcester later that night.

  “No, though they could hide out for a long time....”

  “Or be hidden.”

  “It’s beginning to look more like that’s what’s happening,” Scott said.

  It was what she’d been thinking, but it still scared her to hear him put her fears into words. The only other alternative was far worse.

  That they were dead.

  “For ransom?”

  “Possibly, though I would have thought Hamilton Lending would have received some kind of demands by now if that were the case. Besides, there’s the million dollars that’s already been taken from Cecilia’s account.”

  Following him in to get rooms for the night, Laurel shivered. William, Cecilia, Leslie. Were they together?

  “Scott?” she asked as they crossed the lobby. She knew if she waited any longer—until she had a room to run to and hide—she’d chicken out.

  “Yeah?”

  He was the stranger still—that pleasant but distant man who’d looked at her infrequently that day. The one who was freezing her out of the most valuable friendship of her life.

  “After we get settled in our rooms, I need to talk to you, okay?”

  He surprised her by agreeing at once. “Sure I need to talk to you, too.”


  That didn’t sound good.

  * * *

  THE EVENING WAS COOL, pleasant. They decided to walk around the corner where they’d seen a deli and pick up sandwiches for dinner. They ate them under a tree in a field across the street from the motel. It felt good to Laurel to be outside, and now that it was getting dark, the night surrounded them in a cocoon of anonymity.

  She took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t continue to avoid the difficult conversation ahead of her. She’d done Scott a horrible disservice the night before. Somehow she had to make that right.

  She loved Paul.

  But wanted Scott.

  Even now, after an entire day of being shut out, an entire day of knowing that what she’d done was wrong, she wanted him.

  Just thinking about the night before when Scott had allowed her to touch him so intimately, her belly curled with desire. And when she thought of Paul, her heart filled with love.

  “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.” They were through eating, leaning back against the tree, shoulders touching.

  He was engrossed with a blade of grass, smoothing it between thumb and forefinger, watching it curl. “What makes you think something’s wrong with you?”

  She took a deep breath. “Last night.”

  “You don’t...”

  “Let me finish.” She hadn’t meant the words to be so loud. “I’m in love with Paul,” she admitted flatly, almost wishing that when she looked, she’d find her fiancé missing from her heart so she would be free.

  She’d never expected to think that, to want that, but she did. Fresh shame engulfed her.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “But for some reason, I want you so desperately I’m thinking about...being with you...all the time.”

  She was glad for the falling night, the fact that they weren’t facing each other. Speaking out to the open field made the humiliating confession possible.

  He raised one knee, and rested a forearm across it, but said nothing.

  “If it were just sex, I’d understand,” she said, thinking things through as she talked. “It’s been three and a half years, we’ve been in close proximity the last few days, there’s the fact that you’re an almost perfect specimen of manhood...”