Living Lies (15 page)

Shifting from one foot to the other, she waited for Billy to finish taking down an order over the phone. As he hung up, she nudged him out of the way, lifted the receiver and dialed.

“Helen Campbell wants a quote on a desk. Today, if possible,” Billy said as Haley waited for someone to answer.

“Give me a sec,” she told him.

“Good afternoon, Williams’ Family Textile,” a perky voiced receptionist said.

“Jonathan Williams, please.” She used her best phony professional voice.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Haley Carling.” Maybe she should have lied.

“One moment please.” The receptionist put her on hold and a disturbing Muzak version the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” filled her ear. A moment later the music cut out and the receptionist returned. “I’ll transfer you now.”

He was going to speak to her? She actually hadn’t expected him to take her call. What would she say? She barely had time to think as Jonathan picked up before the first ring concluded.

“Haley,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “This is a surprise.”

“I’m sorry to bother you at work,” she told him, still trying to script what she planned to say in her head.

“Not at all. I didn’t have a chance to speak to you at Michelle’s memorial, and I wanted to let you know how sorry I am that things turned out as they did. For you and your family.”

His attempt at earnest sincerity had the opposite effect, sounding smarmy to her ears. “Thank you,” she said anyway. “I did call because of Michelle.”

“Really? How so?”

He didn’t sound surprised. Not by her phone call, or the topic of conversation. Had he been expecting a call? Did he know that she and Dean were looking for answers?

“I was wondering if you might be able to speak to me about her. I was very young when she disappeared and the age gap didn’t leave us very close. I’m trying to get an idea of the person she was when she went missing. You and she were an item for a long time, I thought maybe you might be able to help me.”

“I’d be happy to. When would you like to sit down?”

“The sooner the better.”

“I’m here until six tonight. Would that be convenient, or too last minute?”

This was way too easy. “I can be there in a half hour.”

“I look forward to seeing you.”

Haley hung up the phone, her stomach curling in knots. Something was off, maybe she should call Dean. Her hand hovered over the receiver, but she stopped herself. She could manage on her own. She didn’t need him to do anything for her.

With a few quick instructions to Billy, and an angry scowl from Al, she grabbed her purse and left. As she hurried to her car, she couldn’t shake the gnawing sense that something was wrong.

Chapter Eighteen

Snow fell softly from the darkening sky as Haley pulled into the gravel lot next to the old warehouse. After zipping her coat and grabbing her purse from the passenger seat, she climbed out of the car and started toward the large, crumbling brick building.

She pulled opened the front door, a hundred scenarios playing in her head, but she had no idea how to word the questions she needed to ask without sounding accusatory.

Too late to turn back now.

Inside a cramped foyer, a notice on the wall indicated the office upstairs. She climbed the worn wood steps until she came to a security door at the top, then pressed the buzzer on the wall. After a moment, the lock clicked and she pulled the door open.

To her surprise Jonathan sat on the edge of the reception desk, alone in the empty office space. Dressed in a dark suit, his black hair, peppered with gray, cut short and neat, he could have stepped off the pages of a
GQ
magazine.

“Are you the only person here?” she asked, a flicker of apprehension tickling the length of her spine.

“It’s after five, most of the office staff has left.” His smile was wide and reminded her of a shark. “I didn’t think you’d mind. You’re here to see me, aren’t you?”

She smiled her own fake smile. “Yes. I’m not keeping you from getting home, am I?”

“I’m in no rush. Come in and sit down.”

He led her past a row of dreary gray cubicles, made more so by the pale fluorescent lights overhead. Behind the desks a wall of windows opened onto the factory below. His office was at the end of the hall. A big square room, with ultramodern furniture.

“Have a seat.” He nodded to the low chrome and leather chairs in front of the glass and chrome desk.

She did, taking in the stark white walls, broken only by floating ebony shelves. He lowered himself into a throne-like leather chair.

“You look surprised.”

“Your office isn’t what I expected,” she admitted.

“You were expecting something more traditional?”

“Less sterile, actually.”

He shrugged. “My home is very traditional. I wanted something different for work, but you didn’t come here to discuss decorating themes.”

“No, I didn’t. I wanted to ask you about Michelle.”

Again that toothy smile. “Ask away.” His indulgent tone irritated her.

“What happened between you the night Michelle disappeared?”

“No dancing around the issue for you.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

The smile faltered and anger flashed in his pale blue eyes. “I gave my statement to the police years ago. You’d be better to read that, over time I’m sure my memory of that night has turned a little hazy. I’ve probably forgotten a detail here and there.”

Condescension dripped from his saccharine voice, igniting a slow fire inside her. “Why did you fight that night?”

“Because she was sleeping with Lawson and I was not impressed.”

Another question burned in her brain, but asking it would give credibility to the fear lurking inside her. The hell with it. “Did you send her flowers before she went missing?”

“No.” He frowned. “Lawson had been.”

Another layer to the lies and rumors Lara had been spreading? Or was Jonathan lying?

“I understand why you’re asking these questions,” he said. “I suppose finding Michelle has renewed your interest in discovering what happened to her, but I doubt there’s more to be learned after all this time.”

Haley’s fingers tightened around the arms of the chair until her knuckles ached. “You say that like I lost interest somewhere over the years, as though I forgot. Let me make this very clear, for the past twelve years not a day went by when I didn’t wonder what happened to her.”

“Of course,” Jonathan said. The smile was gone, and for the first time since she spoke to him on the phone, the overly sweet sincerity left his voice.

“Did you know that there was nothing between Michelle and Dean back then? Lara spread the rumor, I suspect to get close to you.”

“Sweet Lara,” he said. “Is that what Dean told you?”

“Yes. She’d actually agreed to go to the police and admit it to help clear his name, but backed out at the last moment.”

“Convenient. Has it occurred to you that Lawson’s lying?”

She shook her head, refusing to get caught up in defending Dean. “Nope.”

“Really? That’s interesting. When I heard that you two had become an item I suspected he was working his way through sisters. Maybe he’ll move on to Paige next. That might be embarrassing for you, though. A case of history repeating itself."

She bit back on the choking anger, and fought the urge to storm out. Jonathan was intentionally being crude, and bringing up Jason was a strike meant to sting. Instead of smacking the smug expression off his face, as she would have liked, she merely chuckled, feigning indifference. “Low blow. Did I touch a nerve? Maybe you know more about what happened to Michelle than you’re letting on.”

“How could I? My housekeeper saw her leave and will tell you that I didn’t go after her. Just like she told the police.”

“I wonder how hard it would be to look for a pay off, or if she would admit to being intimidated by her employer.”

His smile evaporated and his eyes suddenly blazed. “I don’t like what you’re implying. This isn’t a game you’re playing, I will not have my business and reputation affected by being connected to your sister’s murder simply so you can justify a fling with Lawson. If you don’t drop this, I can, and will, make you very sorry.”

“Don’t you threaten me,” she snapped, her anger peaked. “You might be impressive in a crappy little town with a population under ten thousand, but outside Hareton you’re as much a no one as I am.”

Rather than angering him further, he laughed. “My God, I think you hate this town almost as much as I do. I know why I stay, why do you?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”

“Maybe another time.” He pretended to check his watch. “I’m afraid I really must go. I have another appointment.”

She didn’t believe him. “One last thing.”

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you go after her? It was cold and snowing, it would have taken her hours to get home walking, she could have frozen to death.”

“I assumed someone would pick her up, offer her a ride back to town.” He looked away.

“Someone probably did,” Haley agreed as she stood. “And that same someone killed her.”

He lifted his gaze and met her eyes, his face void of emotion. A chill settled over her. “As I said, I have an appointment.”

“Thanks for seeing me.”

She left his office and worked her way through the maze of cubicles to the security door. The conversation, combined with the events of the past few nights, had left her exhausted. She turned the knob, but the door remained locked.

“Damn it,” she muttered, studying the combination box beneath the doorknob. Now she would have to go back and get Jonathan to open the door for her. She really didn’t want to speak to him again.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to. He’d buzzed her in from the reception desk. She went to the high rounded counter and searched for a button to let her out.

“You have to know the code.”

Her heart skipped a beat and she jerked her head up. Jonathan’s younger brother, Richard, leaned against the wall next to the door. Unlike Jonathan, whose appearance was rigidly neat, Richard had a casual arrogance, from the curly dark hair in need of cutting, to the loosened tie and rolled up shirtsleeves.

“How did Jonathan let me in?”

“There’s a button on the switchboard, but it only works when someone’s buzzing in.”

“Okay. Could you please open the door for me?”

“What were you doing with Jonathan?”

She rolled her eyes. “None of your business.”

“I wondered if you were following in big sister’s footsteps. First Dean, and now a play for Jonathan.”

God, was there anyone in this stupid town who didn’t know her every move. “Just punch in the code.”

“Let’s play a game.” He pushed off from the wall and took a step toward her. Alarm bells jingled in her head. “I’ll ask a question and for every answer you give me, I’ll press a number for the code.”

“I have a better game. I ask you to open the door and every time you say no, I kick you where it hurts.”

He laughed a low almost menacing chuckle and the alarm bells turned to wailing sirens. The silver glint of scissors jammed in a cup with different colored pens caught her eye. She grabbed them and gripped the plastic handle tightly. He laughed again, the sound grating her nerves.

“Open the door, now.”

“You’re not at all like your sister are you?”

“Just do it.”

“She was a real slut, did Jonathan tell you that?”

Fear turned to incredulous fury almost instantly. “What is wrong with you? Were you dropped on your head as an infant?”

“My poor brother found out the hard way,” Richard continued, ignoring her question. “When she gave him all the proof he ever needed.”

“Open the damn door!”

“What are you doing, Richard?”

They both whirled to face Jonathan, his features drawn into a furious frown. How must it look? Richard slowly advancing, and her holding out a pair of scissors. Not that she cared, she’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

“I was just helping Haley with the door, but you’re here now.” Richard started down the hall, but turned to wink at her before disappearing into one of the offices.

A shiver raced up her spine. She could very easily imagine Richard peering in her window while she and Dean made love.

“Sorry about that,” Jonathan said, punching in the code. “Can I walk you to your car?”

She snorted as she set down the scissors. “No thanks, I’ll manage.”

He nodded and held the door open. With her stomach twisted in tight knots, she hurried down the stairs to the parking lot, eager to get home.

Dean pressed the small cell phone to his ear and slowly paced the wide veranda. The icy wind whipped around him, penetrating his thick sweater and adding to the numbing cold spreading inside him. The ringing in his ear stopped and Haley’s voice instructing him to leave a message after the beep played again.

Where was she? For the better part of an hour he’d been trying reach her. At the store, and at home. Still no answer.

How could she not have a cell phone? Who, in this day and age, did not carry a cell phone?

“Good news,” Matt said, joining him on the porch. “They’ve narrowed it down to two colors.”

“That’s good.” When he got back to Hareton, he’d buy her a cell phone then super-glue the damn thing to her hand.

“You okay?” Matt asked.

“Hmm?” Dean looked up. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just got my mind on something else.”

“Why don’t you head out? I can handle the rest.”

“You’ve been stuck handling everything while I’ve been away. The least I can do is bully these people into committing to a paint color.”

Matt snorted. “Not to worry. Once you’re back, I plan to take a nice long vacation.”

“You’ve earned it after helping that woman choose bathroom fixtures.”

“The longest afternoon of my life.”

Dean turned the cell phone over in his hand and glanced at the time on the screen. 6:47. Where in hell was she? He ran his free hand through his hair then clipped the phone to the belt loop on his jeans. He had to get back to Hareton. He had to see that she was okay. “Let’s hurry these people up.”

He followed Matt back inside the house. The smell of sawdust and primer made his nose twitch. A surge of pride welled inside him as he passed through the front hall to the roughed-in kitchen at the back of the house.

The ground-up renovation had turned out amazing. And having managed to keep from murdering two of the most indecisive homeowners he’d ever met showed he’d reached a new level of patience.

As the project neared completion, only the finishing touches remained outstanding. Unfortunately, this couple dragged their feet, and changed their minds about everything. From tiles, to fixtures, to moldings, and now, paint color.

As he approached, the Lintons stood comparing two paint chips under a bare bulb hooked on a stepladder. Shelly looked up. “Maybe you can help us decide, Dean.” She turned the chips so he could see. “Dreamy Avocado or Forest Sage?”

They looked exactly the same to him. “The avocado. It’ll go better with the granite on your counter.”

Shelly nodded and turned to her husband, Fred. “He’s right. Maybe we should rethink the granite.”

“No, no,” Dean said quickly. Next to him Matt tensed. “Both colors work. I personally like avocado. It’s warmer, but if you’re looking for something a little more formal then go with sage.” Every word out of his mouth was bullshit, but if the decision would be made quicker for it, and he could get back to Hareton and Haley then the lie was well worth it.

“He’s right,” Shelly said again. “What do you think, Fred?”

Fred scratched the spiky white hair on his head. “I like them both.”

Pick! Dean wanted to shout.

“Maybe we should take these chips home and think about it some more.”

“We really need a decision tonight so we can book the painters. It’s only a week until Christmas. People will be going on holiday, if they haven’t already. You need to decide now if you want the house to be ready by the end of January.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “The sage.”

“Good,” Dean plucked the chip from her hand and passed it to Matt. “Now, the floor guys are coming Thursday. I would like to meet you here to confirm the stain.” Just the thought made his head throb.

“Yes, good. What time?”

“I’ll call them tomorrow then let you know.”

Shelly nodded.

“I’m glad that’s resolved.” He fixed a smile he didn’t feel in place. “The house is coming along great, but I’ve got to get going.”

“So soon?”

Soon? He’d been dealing with these people since three o’clock, the past hour and half discussing the paint color alone. As guilty as he felt leaving Matt to fend for himself with the Lintons, he had to talk to Haley.

After a short good-bye, he slipped out the front door and got into his car. He dialed Haley’s number as soon as he climbed behind the wheel. Her machine picked up again. Where could she be?