How Secrets Die (6 page)

“Yes.” Kate sucked in a breath. “I was hoping you might have some ideas about what happened to him.”

Nikki looked blank. Obviously that was too general a comment.

“For instance, the days before he died. I assume he was coming to work as usual.”

“Oh, sure.” Nikki brightened. “He never missed a day. Always early, too. I told him he made me look bad.”

“Did you notice any change in his mood around that time? Was anything different that last day?” It was hard to keep her voice level—to talk about this as if Jason had been a stranger.

There was a long pause—long enough to be noticeable. Finally Nikki shrugged. “Guess I don't owe the old firm all that much loyalty. Yeah, something was going on that day, but I don't know what. There was a lot of hush-hush talk behind closed doors. Lina went around looking like she'd been sucking on a sour lemon. Bart blew up at everybody—'course, that's not unusual. You saw that. And Mr. Russell...well, I thought we were going to have to call an ambulance for him. He was so pale he looked gray.”

“What about Jason?” She held her breath, not sure she wanted to hear it. “Did this involve him?”

Nikki's gaze met hers and slid away. “Yeah, I guess. They called him in. I couldn't hear what went on.” She grimaced. “I tried, but no dice. When Jase came out he was white as a sheet, and his eyes looked all funny—like he wanted to cry, you know?”

Kate nodded. She knew that expression. It had meant Jason had been hurt beyond bearing. And she hadn't been here to soothe away the pain, the way she'd done when he was small.

“Did Jason leave the office then?”

“Right away. Packed up his stuff and left.” Nikki examined a chip in her scarlet nail polish, as if to distract herself. “I wanted to talk to him, you know, but everything was in an uproar, and I figured it was safer to keep my head down.” She darted a look at Kate.

“I understand.” She forced the words out. Would some expression of kindness at that moment have helped Jason? Maybe, maybe not. They'd never know.

“The next thing I heard was the next day when...you know. It was awful. Everybody was really shaken up.”

Here was the chance she'd been looking for. “What about the other people in the office?”

“Oh, yeah, them, too. Lina was nervy all day and looked like she'd been crying, and she never shows any emotion.”

That had been her impression of the woman, as well. Despite the sympathy she'd expressed when she'd talked of Jason, Lina had impressed her as the type of businesswoman who considered emotion would put her at a disadvantage.

“What about Bart Gordon?”

Nikki shrugged. “Well, he was shook up, for sure. 'Course, he kept saying that it wasn't his fault. He's always trying to find somebody else to blame.”

Their burgers arrived then, creating a diversion. Kate waited until the server had left and Nikki had started eating before venturing another question.

“I understand that Mr. Sheldon retired shortly after Jason's death. Was that unexpected?”

Nikki took a moment, considering. “Sort of. I mean, he'd talked sometimes about retiring, but usually in kind of a joking way, saying he was getting too old to deal with the difficult clients and that kind of thing. But I never thought he really would. That place was his baby, you know?”

That was the impression Emily had given her, too. “Do you think what happened to Jason had anything to do with it?”

“Maybe so.” She darted a quick, suspicious look at Kate. “Hey, you're not thinking about suing the firm, are you? I don't want to get involved in any trouble.”

She shook her head, smiling. Had Gordon been worrying about that possibility? “Believe me, that's the last thing on my mind. I'd just like to understand what happened that pushed Jason into what he did.”

“Well, it was funny, Mr. Sheldon leaving just then. I wasn't actually there. After the news broke about Jason, the office closed for the day, and then Lina called and told me not to bother coming in the rest of the week. When I got back on Monday, Mr. Sheldon's office was empty. At first I thought he was just taking some time off, but then I heard he wasn't coming back.” She shrugged. “Like I said, it was funny, but it wasn't my business.”

Kate's mind was spinning busily. Here was something that had to be explained. Surely people had talked about the fact that the man had retired so abruptly after Jason's death.

“Your lunch is getting cold,” Nikki pointed out between French fries.

Reminded, she bit into the burger, finding it surprisingly good. “Nice,” she said. “You were right about what to order.”

Nikki glanced at her watch. “I'll have to leave before long. Lina gives me that fish-eye look of hers if I take an extra minute.”

“Right. I don't want to hold you up. But I wondered if you might know of anyone else who was friendly with Jason while he was here.” He might have talked more to another guy than he would to Nikki, especially if he'd found a kindred spirit.

But Nikki was flicking through her phone and seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.

“Nikki? Anyone else Jason knew?” The server was approaching, and she wanted another lead, no matter how tentative.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Jason was sort of...like a loner, you know?”

Given much more of Nikki's conversation, and Kate would start inserting “you know” into her every sentence.

“You said that you'd shown him around a few times. Maybe you brought him here. Introduced him to some of your friends?”

“We did do that.” Nikki glanced around. “This place is pretty dead during the day, but it livens up after about nine or ten. I don't think he... Well, yeah, I did see him talking to a couple of guys who are into those computer games. And Larry Foust.” Diverted, she rolled her eyes. “What a slacker he is. Always talks big about how he's going to get out of Laurel Ridge as soon as he gets some money, and he still lives with his mother. Probably gets an allowance from her, because he sure doesn't work.” Her voice was filled with disdain.

“So, where might I find them?” Kate mentally filed the name.

Nikki shrugged. “Not sure I remember who any of the gamers were. I'll give it some thought. Maybe it will come to me but, you know, they weren't exactly my type. As for Larry...he used to come in here most nights, but I haven't been seeing much of him.” Before Kate could stop her, Nikki hailed the bartender. “Hey, Pete, you seen Larry Foust around lately?”

Pete revolved a stained cloth slowly around a glass, his gaze moving from Nikki's face to Kate's. “Who wants to know?”

“I'm asking, okay? I just haven't seen him around much.”

Pete shrugged ham-like shoulders. “Not my job to keep track of him. If he finds someplace else to drink, it's okay by me. He did come in last night, round about midnight.”

“Well, if you see him, tell him I was asking about him.” Nikki turned to Kate. “That'll bring him out of the woodwork. He's always hitting on me, like I'd have time for a loser.”

Kate nodded. “I'd appreciate a chance to talk to him, even for a few minutes.”

Nikki glanced at her watch and gave a little shriek. “I gotta run. Thanks for the lunch, Kate. I'll see you around.” She grinned. “Just not where my bosses will notice.”

“Right, thanks, Nikki.”

She watched as Nikki scurried to the door, realizing that the men at the bar were doing the same. Was there anything else she might usefully have asked? Surely there had been other people present on those nights when Nikki had taken Jason out, but apparently she wasn't eager to give up those names. Still—

“You're looking for Larry Foust, then?” Pete made it a question, his heavy frame leaning toward her.

“I'd like to talk to him.”

A frown settled on Pete's pudgy face. “Somebody like you doesn't want to hang around with the likes of Foust.”

She zeroed in on him, surprised. Was that well-meant or a veiled threat? She didn't read any antagonism in his manner. “I want to ask him a couple of questions, that's all.”

“Last night he had a couple of guys with him I didn't like the look of. I told him. Don't bring people like that into my bar. I got a respectable place here.”

“I'm sure you do.” Kate's pulse quickened, and she chose her words carefully. “You wouldn't want anybody undesirable in here. But what was wrong with them?”

But Pete seemed to have dried up as a source of information. His face went blank. “Didn't like the look of 'em. That's all. You ready for the bill?”

She'd push, but that might lose her the opportunity to get more from him another time. “Just about. You make a good burger.”

He didn't respond to the compliment, instead pulling a pad from his apron pocket and slapping the bill down in front of her. “Pay at the bar.”

All right, then. She wasn't going to get anything else from him now, but her brain teemed with possibilities. She needed to connect with this Foust character and find out about his friendship with Jason. And maybe he could lead her to those gamers Nikki mentioned.

And then there was the truth about what had happened that day at the office. Something had happened, and whatever it was, it sounded as if Mac Whiting hadn't known about it. If Jason had been fired, why keep it a secret?

She didn't cherish any hopes that Bart would open up about it, or even Lina. Somehow, she had to get to Russell Sheldon. And as much as she hated to admit it, Mac Whiting might be her best hope.

CHAPTER SIX

I
T
WAS
NEARLY
four that afternoon when Mac stalked back the walk toward the cottage. He paused to inhale a breath, reminding himself that he couldn't take the lousy day out on Kate. Still, he couldn't stop seeing the terrified faces of the parents whose teenage son had collapsed in the high school hallway, hit by a seizure after taking who knew what. A few pills had been found in his jeans pocket, nicely packaged in cellophane.

The state police crime lab had those now, so sooner or later he'd get their report, but the ER doctors suspected a cocktail of prescription pain meds mixed in alcohol. Mac's fists clenched at the sheer stupidity of it. The kid was an honor student—what on earth would make him take such a risk? And God only knew what the final outcome would be. Possible brain damage, one of the EMTs had told him privately.

Would that have been the result with Kate's brother, had they gotten to him sooner? As chance would have it, Jason had taken his deadly dose where he wouldn't be found very quickly.

He blew out a long breath, consciously trying to clear his mind. Going through that video diary might be his best chance of finding the conduit of drugs into his town. That was worth just about any concession he had to make, even to taking Kate Beaumont's mission seriously.

Kate came to the door almost before he had a chance to rap on it. Clearly she'd been waiting for him.

“I expected you an hour ago.” She stepped back to allow him entrance.

“I got held up,” he said shortly. “Ready to let me see the video?” He removed his cap and tossed it onto the sofa, glancing around the small living room. The computer sat open on the table by the window.

He could sense her reluctance in the way she hesitated, fingers brushing back through that honey-blond hair. “I warn you—you're not going to understand a lot of what Jason says.”

Mac forced a smile. “So we'll work on it together. You know how your brother thought, and I know the people in this town. We ought to be able to figure it out.”

But a few minutes into the first entry, he had to admit, to himself at least, that Kate had a point. He glanced at her. They sat side by side on kitchen chairs pulled up to the computer, and her hand brushed his as she paused the video.

“What?” she said, reacting to his stare.

“I thought I had a pretty good handle on fantasy—Tolkien, and all that. Obviously I was wrong.”

A smile tugged at her lips, and he had to gaze away from the appeal.

“Tolkien was his favorite when he was younger. I didn't consider it suitable bedtime reading then, but he was so determined, I figured it was safer to read it with him. But he's up on all the modern authors, too. Emily was just saying that today.”

“Yes, I heard you're working in Blackburn House now.” He tried to keep his tone neutral and probably failed.

Kate lifted her eyebrows. “Do you have an objection?”

“Several, but let's stay focused on the task. What do you think of these references to the old king?”

Maybe she didn't like his refusal to argue about her new job, because the look she flashed him was challenging. But when he didn't respond, she turned back to the screen, frowning a little.

“At first I thought it referred to Bart Gordon. I suppose he's the boss now. But from what Emily said, the firm was really Russell Sheldon's.”

“Right. If he's talking about the business, he has to mean Sheldon.”

“It had to be. The firm was the only thing he was involved with that early in his stay here,” Kate pointed out.

“I suppose.” Impatience rode him. “I assume you've been through the whole thing. Is there any reference to someone who might have provided him with drugs?”

Her fingers clenched on the edge of the table. “That's all you're interested in, isn't it? Any talk about helping me find out why was just a smoke screen. You just care about making an arrest.”

He swung round to face her. If he tightened his jaw any more, it would probably break. “That's right. I care. I'm a cop, and somebody, probably several somebodies, are wrecking lives with their dirty trade.”

“My brother was a victim, not a dealer!” Anger flared dangerously in her eyes.

“He wasn't the only victim. Try riding along to the ER with a kid found seizing on the floor of the high school. Try talking to his parents, the way I did today. You—” He stopped, knowing he'd gone too far.

For a moment she just stared at him, her face filling with pain. Then she reached out to cover his hand with hers, gripping it hard. “Oh, Lord.” She breathed it like a prayer. “I'm so sorry. Those poor people. Is he... Will he be all right?”

“Too soon to tell.” He exhaled some of the tension away. “He's alive, anyway. But if I can't find out who is peddling prescription painkillers to kids, he won't be the last.” Sheer frustration had him pounding one fist on the table. “Why? Why would a bright kid do something like that? That's what I don't get.”

Her fingers tightened on his, and something strong and elemental seemed to flow between them, shaking him. “I know.” Her breath caught. “That's what I keep asking. Why?”

Their gazes met, clung. He leaned toward her, driven by something he couldn't name. Close—so close he could feel her breath on his skin.

He pulled back, fighting the heat that rushed through him. “Sorry,” he muttered, not sure what he regretted most.
Get a grip
, he told himself. “I know. At least, I
should
know.”

Kate rubbed her forehead. “All right. You want to find the person who is distributing drugs. I want to find out why Jason died. That's clear, isn't it?”

“The two things aren't mutually exclusive. We work together on this, and we have a better chance of finding out anything there is to learn. Right?” He tried to sound casual, tried to ignore the feelings that sizzled along his skin.

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “It sounds like you've had a miserable day. If you want to put this off...”

“Let's push on a bit more. Maybe I can trade one guilt for another.”

Shaking her head, she reached toward the computer. “You can't take responsibility for everything that happens. If there was one thing I learned during Jason's hard times, it was that you can't prevent people from making bad decisions. No matter how much you care.”

“Yeah.” He tried to close the door on the memories that haunted him, but it refused to stay closed. Each time he felt that he let someone down, it was a reflection of that terrible failure.

Kate clearly felt she had let her brother down, whether she admitted it or not. How did that stack up against a whole village razed to the ground, with old people and children slaughtered?

Not that they were in a contest for who carried the most guilt. One life lost needlessly was too many.

He studied Kate's averted face, in profile as she looked at the computer screen. He'd told her something he'd had no intention of spilling, but in an odd way, it had brought them closer. He wanted to trust her, even though his logical mind was telling him not to take the risk. Still, if he didn't trust, how could they possibly work together?

* * *

“T
HAT
'
S
ENOUGH
,” K
ATE
SAID
, reaching across Mac to close down the file. They'd been at it for an hour, watching each segment and trying to figure out what had been in Jason's mind.

Mac glanced at his watch. “I can give it another half hour.”

“I can't,” she said shortly. As always when she'd been watching Jason on-screen, the reminder that this was all she had left of him ate at her, frazzling her nerves and tightening her chest until she felt she couldn't take a deep breath.

“Sorry.” Mac's voice went deep on the word, and his eyes seemed to darken. “I wasn't thinking. This has to be hard on you.”

Grief caught at her throat, and she nodded.

“I could take a copy of the file...” he began.

“No.” She nearly barked the word and was instantly sorry. There was no reason to expose more of her emotions to Mac, with his steady cop's gaze. “I'd rather not,” she said, managing a softer tone.

“It wouldn't do much good anyway, I guess.” Mac leaned back, still studying her face. “Without your help trying to figure it out, I wouldn't get anywhere.” He grinned, his expression softening. “I wonder how Nikki would like it if she knew he saw her as a chameleon who changed her persona by the moment.”

“She's young enough to be still figuring out who she wants to be.” Kate didn't remember being that way, but it didn't surprise her.

“You, on the other hand, always knew who you were,” he said.

Kate didn't bother denying it. Given her early life, she hadn't had a choice.

Mac stood, stretching, his lean body, looming over her until she stood as well, taking a step back.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Mac about her lunch with Nikki and what the Lamplight's bartender had said about Larry Foust and his buddies, but she hesitated. If she did that, it might get back to Foust and destroy any chance she had of finding out what he knew.

“I'll touch base with you tomorrow. Will you be working?”

“Just in the morning.”

He nodded, opening the door. “Okay, thanks. I'll see you...”

If he finished that sentence, Kate didn't hear it. She was staring at the stone slab that served as a step outside the cottage.

“Kate?” He caught her arm. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” It couldn't be anything. An optical illusion, created by the fact that she'd been so focused on Jason for the past hour. She drew her arm free. “I'll expect to hear from you tomorrow, then.” Putting a note of finality in her voice, she moved back into the cottage and closed the door.

But once Mac had disappeared around the bed-and-breakfast, she opened it again, went out and knelt by the stoop. The stone—slate, probably—was scratched and scarred from years of use. But there on the doorstep was the scratched image of a dragon, like the dragon on her key chain. Like the dragon her brother had always carried with him—the one that disappeared when he died. She ran her hand across the marks, but she couldn't tell how recent they were. Had Jason done it? Or someone else?

Kate frowned. Jason might have scratched the dragon image there. He often doodled that shape. But if he had, why hadn't she noticed it earlier?

And if it was more recent than that, then who? And why? She didn't have answers, only questions.

* * *

T
HINKING
ABOUT
J
ASON
and the silver dragon made her restless. To say nothing of those moments when she'd felt that current of desire flowing between her and Mac. Impossible, she reminded herself. She had no energy to spare for anything but the task at hand. And if she were in the mood for romance, it certainly wouldn't be with someone like Mac Whiting—a cop down to his bones.

To her,
cop
meant Tom Reilley, with his rigid insistence that everything had to be done his way. He'd been like that even before her mother died, and he had only become worse. He'd done his duty by her, she supposed. Like Mac, he'd always do his duty. But it had been a cheerless thing with him, with no wiggle room for anyone who approached life differently.

Like Jason. Poor Jason had spent his brief life torn between his own instincts and his father's expectations. Her jaw tightened so much that her teeth clenched.

As an adult, she'd been able to understand, at least a little, how difficult it must have been for him to deal with an angry adolescent girl. But his mistakes with Jason—those she couldn't forgive.

Eventually she found herself clicking through late shows, unable to keep her interest focused on them long enough to follow a single monologue or interview through to its conclusion. She switched off and tossed the remote aside.

Maybe, if that had been a dragon's shape scratched into the doorstep, Jason had done it. She couldn't think of any reason why, but still...

Or someone else had put it there. Perhaps someone who conceived it as a warning.

Far-fetched
, her logical mind insisted loudly.
You're getting as fanciful as Jason was.
Chances were it was an accidental resemblance, only there because she imagined it, the way people saw a face in the moon.

The phone rang, startling her, and she glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight. Who on earth would call her at this hour?

Most likely a wrong number, given how few people knew she was living here. Her friends would call or text on her cell. She picked up the landline phone.

“Is that Ms. Beaumont?” The voice was male and muffled by what sounded like country music and laughter in the background.

“Yes. Who is this, please?” she asked crisply.

“You wanted to know when Larry Foust came in to the Lamplight. He's here now.” The caller hung up.

Kate stared at the phone for a moment. The bartender, she supposed. He and Nikki were the only ones who'd have reason to call—not that she'd expected it after what he'd said about Larry.

A few minutes later she stepped out into the chilly darkness, pulling the door closed behind her and checking the lock automatically. If this was someone's idea of a joke, she was going to be seriously annoyed.

And speaking of annoyed, she hadn't mentioned Larry Foust to Mac. If he heard of this private expedition, he wouldn't be happy. Still, she'd never agreed to tell him everything. And she didn't doubt that there were things he'd kept from her.

The streets were deserted when she drove toward the bar, and the ridges loomed darkly over the town. Only the clock tower on what she supposed was the town hall was brightly illuminated, its face declaring the hour.