No Safe Secret (14 page)

“Here it is,” the woman said, holding up the card so the cashier could scan the bar code.

Molly watched as the woman made a chore out of counting out the required amount of change. She swore that if she could have, she would have pushed her out of the way. She was being impatient, and that wasn't like her. She took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing heart. Did she really believe Tanner would find her seventy miles out of Goldenhills in an Office Depot? The way her heart hammered, she actually considered it. What if he'd had her followed when she left the house today? No, he couldn't have. She'd called a taxi and had actually checked to make sure she wasn't being followed.

“Ma'am?” the cashier said.

Finally, she thought, as she placed her purchases on the counter. She left the laptop in the large box in the cart and positioned the box so the cashier could scan the bar code. “For thirty dollars you can purchase an extra year warranty.”

“It's okay, I don't need it,” Molly said.

“It's only thirty dollars, ma'am. You really should consider buying it, just in case,” she said.

In case what, Molly wanted to shout but didn't. “I just want the computer. I don't need the warranty.”

“It's your loss,” the cashier said. She was probably around her own age, but Molly wasn't good at judging people's ages. She herself looked much older than her thirty-eight years.

“Then it will be
my
loss, okay?” she said in a smart-ass tone. What the hell? Did they get some sort of commission for selling the extended warranty?

“Yep,” the clerk said as she scanned the rest of her items, tossing them carelessly into a plastic bag.

Molly was really ticked at this woman. How dare she make a frigging issue out of something that was none of her business? Again, in different circumstances, she would've asked to see the manager, but she didn't now as she couldn't draw any unwanted attention to herself.

“That will be seven hundred sixty-three dollars and fifty-five cents.”

Molly thought she took great pleasure in stating the amount. If she only knew. This was peanuts. “Sure,” she said and removed eight one-hundred dollar bills from the manila envelope in her purse. She held them out fanlike for the woman.

“Figures,” the annoying woman said before she turned her back and picked up the phone.

Her tone sharp, Molly asked, “What are you doing?”

“I'm calling the manager. It's store policy when customers pay with this much cash.”

Taking another deep breath, Molly did her best to appear as though she were calm, but she was anything but. What the hell was the world coming to when
cash money
was questioned? Though she rarely used cash, she'd spent years stashing this money away because she knew the day would come when she would need it. Maybe she should consider purchasing a gift card or two. She had almost thirty thousand dollars in that envelope, all in large bills. That was a mistake, she thought, as the manager approached the cashier with a look that said he didn't want to be bothered.
Tough
, Molly thought as she watched him run a scanner over the bills to make sure they weren't counterfeit.

“Lady, you might want to write a check next time,” he said, then strode off down the main aisle.

And you might want to kiss my ass
, she thought.

The cashier practically threw the change at her, but took extra time to tape her sales receipt to the top of the laptop box. “That's good,” Molly said, then pushed the cart forward, leaving the woman no other choice but to step out of the way.

She breathed a small sigh of relief when she was in the parking lot. However, there was a part of her that was extremely paranoid, and rightfully so, given her current circumstances. She pushed the cart to the back of the Mustang and hurriedly opened the deep trunk and placed her purchases inside. Once she was in the driver's seat, she saw that her hands were shaking, and she felt light-headed, faint. She tried to calm herself before pulling out of the parking lot. An accident wasn't in her plans. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she released them, slowly. She waited another minute, then cranked the engine over and backed out of the empty parking lot. Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn't eaten since dinner last night. She'd been so nervous that she hadn't eaten much, then add the fight with Tanner and the sickening knowledge that Holden was a rapist, not to mention that this trip might very well be her last hurrah as a free woman, it was no wonder she was light-headed.

She spied a convenience store across the main road and pulled into the parking lot. She grabbed her purse, looping the long strap around her neck, holding the purse close to her chest. The last thing she needed was a thief trying to rip her purse out of her hands. Happened all the time. In her current circumstances, she was ripe for the picking.

Where did “ripe for the picking” come from? Are my Florida roots returning already?
She remembered that Marcus used to say that very thing.

With a death grip on her purse, she entered the store, relieved when she saw an older man and woman behind the counter. “Hello,” the woman said.

Molly smiled and took a blue basket from the stack by the entrance. She might as well load up for the road while she was here. She went up and down the aisles, shocked at the lack of any real food. Shopping at Gloria's all these years had spoiled her. She put a loaf of whole-wheat bread in the basket, a jar of peanut butter, and a squeeze bottle of grape jelly. A six pack of water, a box of cherry Pop-Tarts, three Payday bars, and a large pack of beef jerky. She tossed a large bag of cheese puffs in the cart, figuring if this were her last few days of freedom, she might as well eat the garbage she'd spent so many years avoiding. She grabbed three bottles of Starbuck's coffee and three Cokes. She'd need the caffeine, as she planned on driving straight through, stopping only for gas and bathroom breaks.

She hefted her shopping basket onto the counter. Behind the register was a wall of cigarettes, and above that were several Styrofoam coolers.

“You need a cooler, young lady?” the man asked kindly.

Molly gave up a slight smile. “I was thinking about it. Do you have ice?” She hadn't thought about keeping her drinks cool, but now she decided it was a good idea.

“Yes, the machine is in the back. We fill it for free the first time,” he said.

“Then I'll take one. Thanks for asking,” she said.

The woman, short and a little roly-poly, managed to waddle out of her cushy chair. “Herman, get her ice, and I'll take care of the rest,” she said.

Under different circumstances, Molly would've been quite amused at the elderly couple, but right now she just wished Herman and Wobbly would get a move on.

One by one, Wobbly removed her items from the basket, and with a bright-pink, pointed fingernail, she punched the keys on the old-fashioned cash register. Molly was shocked when she saw this. It reminded her of Blossom City and her childhood, and even then, this type of register was ancient.

Molly could've written the figures down and added them quicker manually. The poor woman was so slow that when Herman returned with the cooler full of ice, she'd just hit the TOTAL button.

“Go on, hon, I'll finish up,” Herman said when he saw his wife stooping for a shopping bag. She waddled back to her chair, and Molly swore she could hear an “ouch” sound coming from the chair as she sat down. She smiled to herself. She really needed to eat and get a good night's rest—if that were humanly possible. She had run out of the house without bothering to grab her prescription sleeping pills. She'd never sleep without them, but under her current circumstances, sleep was not at the top of her list.

After Herman bagged her items in a brown paper bag with handles, he offered to carry it out to her car.

“No, please, I'm fine. It'll just take me a minute.” Molly grabbed the bag and was out the door before he had a chance to respond. She unlocked the door and tossed the bag onto the passenger seat. Leaving the door open, she went back inside for the cooler. She lifted it off the floor, surprised by its weight, and felt guilty that Herman had had to lift it in the first place. “Thanks so much. You all have a nice evening,” she said, and raced for the door. Before she could use her hip to push the door open, Herman, ever the gentleman, was there opening it for her.

“Thanks,” she said again, hoping he would take the hint and leave her to finish loading the car, but she wasn't that lucky. He followed her around to the passenger door.

He whistled in admiration. “Now this is a car. I haven't seen one this immaculate in years.” He ran his hand over the top of the car, as if he were gently caressing a woman. He whistled again, though this time it was low and slow.

“Yes, well, thanks, but I have to go now,” she said, hoping she didn't sound rude.

“You put a lot of money into her, huh?” he asked.

Of all nights, why now? When the last thing she wanted was to be noticed.

Preparing her answer, she decided to stick as close to the truth as possible, given her circumstances. “It was a gift,” she said, hoping that would put any talk of money to rest. If he was as mannerly as she thought, he wouldn't engage in any talk of money where the car was concerned.

“Well, then I'd say that somebody sure has good taste. In gifts, of course,” he added, and again, Molly thought the old guy charming, but now just wasn't the time.

“Thanks, I'll tell my . . . father, who is waiting for me, so thanks again,” she said, closing the door and forcing Herman to move away from the car.

“Well, have a good night, then,” he responded, as she slid onto the driver's seat.

“Sure thing.” She gave him a big smile and a wave as she cranked the engine over. Shifting into reverse, she squealed out of the parking lot. “Damn!” she said out loud. For someone wanting to just get through the night without being noticed, she seemed to be doing everything but. Peeling out of a parking lot in a snazzy red Mustang wouldn't go unnoticed if anyone were to question Herman or his wife.

On the main highway, she breathed a sigh of relief. She needed to rethink her plans. She spied the hotel's sign and pulled into the parking lot. She parked as far away from the main road as possible, which meant she'd have to lug the cooler a bit farther, but she didn't care. She took the bread, peanut butter, and jelly, and two bottles of water, stashing them inside the cooler. She'd leave the rest of the food in the car since none of it needed to be refrigerated.

With her purse still slung around her neck, she managed to carry the cooler to the elevator, without being noticed. The door pinged open before she had a chance to get her key card out of her purse. She raced out of the elevator and down the hall to her room. Fumbling around in her purse, she located the key and slid it into the lock. When the green light flashed, she practically fell inside the room. She used her foot to push the cooler inside, then locked the door and slid the dead bolt in place.

An hour later, she'd eaten a peanut butter sandwich, washed it down with some bottled water, and taken a shower. Then she returned to her car to get her new laptop and two of the Cokes—she'd need the caffeine. She removed the computer from its box while it was still in the trunk. She knew how odd it would look if she were to be seen lugging a giant box to her room. Or maybe not. She wasn't sure of today's protocol when it came to hotels, motels, and inns. It had been years since she and Tanner had taken a trip together that required an overnight stay. She'd spent most of her time at home, raising kids and seeing to Tanner's needs.

Quickly, she had the computer up and running. The hotel offered free Wi-Fi, so she created a Google e-mail account and began her search.

“W
here in the hell were you two when she left?” Tanner demanded. “I told both of you to watch her, and now look at this load of crap.” He took one of the pans of banana-nut bread and hurled it across the kitchen, where it smashed into the cabinet, leaving a slight nick in the woodwork.

“Hey, she's not our responsibility,” Graham shouted back. “Why are you just now getting home? Screwing that new hygienist, I bet.”

“Man, you two need to lower your voices. My head feels like it's been stepped on,” Holden complained. He was wearing nothing but a pair of light-blue boxer shorts. His hair stood up as though he'd purposely styled it that way, then sprayed it with hair spray.

With one sweep of his hand, Tanner cleared the remaining pans of banana bread from the counter and sent them flying through the kitchen. Seeing the mixing bowl in the sink, he picked it up, soap suds and all, and threw it at Graham. Lucky for Graham, he missed, but the sudsy water soaked the floor, and the bowl broke into dozens of pieces.

“What the hell is your problem?” Graham shouted. “Don't take your lousy excuse for a life out on me. I haven't done anything to you.”

Tanner punched the wall, his fist making a nice round hole in the drywall. “That bitch, she's just like all women. You can't trust them, you two understand this?” he yelled, then went on, “Your mother was a whore. I bet you didn't know that! She was going to divorce me, but no way was that going to happen, I told her. That woman paid the ultimate price, too.” Saliva dripped from his mouth, and his eyes bulged with rage, but he didn't care. No one walked away from Tanner McCann. No one.

“Dad, you need to calm down. You're gonna wake the neighbors.” Holden laughed. “Oh yeah, I forgot. We don't have any neighbors!” He roared with laughter. “That's why we live here, isn't it? So we can rant and rave all we want without anyone hearing.” He dropped to the floor, his back against the refrigerator. His laughter turned to sobs.

Tanner stood in front of Holden. “Get up!” He grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his son to his feet. “You are a worthless piece of crap. You hear me?” Tanner raged, then spit in Holden's face. “That's what I really think of you.” He whirled around just in time to see Graham start to leave the room. “Stop!”

“What is your problem, old man? Just because your wife isn't here to kiss your royal behind doesn't mean I'm taking her place.” Graham's eyes flashed, a burning, faraway look in them. “You don't frighten me,
Dad
.” He said
Dad
as though the title were poison. “You're a real freaking prize, you know that? You make me sick,” Graham said, then turned his gaze on his twin.

“And look at you, man! What the hell are you on now? You've already made a total mess of your life with that slut.”

Holden seemed to sober up immediately. “What are you talking about?” He pushed Tanner away from him, almost knocking the table over in the process.

“Yes, what is your brother talking about? I'd like to know. Who's pregnant now? I told you I wasn't going to spring for any more abortions for those tramps you seem to favor, you got that?” Tanner demanded. He'd calmed down a bit, his initial rage ebbing away as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

“No one is pregnant,” Graham confirmed. “Right, Holden?”

“It's not anyone's business but mine, okay? And I'm not that stupid,” he said.

“Sit down. Now.” Tanner pointed to the chairs that remained upright. “You too, Graham. I am not playing games either.”

Reluctantly, they did as they were told, knowing full well that their father could throw them out of the house and cut them off entirely if they pushed him too far.

“Something is up with your mother. She never leaves the house without telling me. If either of you had half a brain, you would've checked the garage. Her car is still there. The kitchen is a total mess. How hard is it to figure out something isn't quite right with this picture? Are you both so stoned out of your minds that you have no clue what's happening under the very roof that you sleep and eat under?” Tanner banged his fist on the table for emphasis.

“Do you?”

Graham spoke up. “If there'd been anything going on, we would've heard it. What about Kristen? Where in the name of all that's holy is Daddy's little princess today? Why don't we ask her? She's around her mother twenty-four seven.”

“She's in Paris, you stupid pieces of crud. If you weren't so messed up, you'd remember she is on her high-school graduation trip. She doesn't have anything to do with this, so just leave her out of it,” Tanner said firmly.

“Maybe your lovely wife decided to join her?” Holden suggested, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tanner had thought the same thing himself, but he was positive that Molly would have asked his permission, as any wife should. And she would never leave the house in such a mess. She knew how he liked an immaculate house. He'd made his wishes very clear when they'd first married. So what she had done today, disappearing without permission and leaving the house as if she had been unexpectedly called away and would be returning to finish what she had been doing, was completely inexcusable.

“Or maybe she's been in an accident,” Graham added, grinning broadly. The thought of Kristen's mother having been in a serious accident was a balm to his soul. He hated that woman and her prissy daughter so much.

Tanner hadn't considered that. It was possible, but how? Where? Her Mercedes was in the garage. She wouldn't take off on foot, at least he didn't think so. Unless she fell or something, and hit her head. For all he knew, she could be wandering around Goldenhills with a head injury. He considered this. Maybe he should report her missing. He could call Bryan Whitmore, a longtime patient who happened to be a detective with the Goldenhills Police Department.

But that could open up another can of worms. He needed to think. What if she was hurt and he made no attempt to find her? How would that look to his patients? The public? And any future investors?

“I want both of you to clean up this mess and get yourselves together,” Tanner said, leaving no room for argument. “I'm calling the police to report her missing. Now get your act together, for once. And Holden, lay off the goddamn roofies, okay?”

When neither responded, Tanner lit into them. “I mean right now, this very moment! The endless supply of money you both enjoy will be cut off immediately if you don't do as I say. And tonight will be the last night you spend under this roof. Do I make myself clear, boys?”

“Yes, sir,” Graham said, giving a mock salute. “Your wish is my command. Come on, Holden, get your ass in the shower.” Graham grabbed his brother by the arm and practically dragged him upstairs.

Tanner scrolled through his contacts, looking for Bryan Whitmore's number. He'd kept it in his personal contact list just in case he ever needed to call in a favor.

He located the number and was about to hit the CALL icon when he remembered that he'd installed the Friend Finder app on Molly's phone. He thumbed through his apps and clicked on Molly's name. A few seconds later the screen filled with “Molly is not available.”

“Damn. What the hell does this mean?” he said to no one, then tried dialing her number. It rang several times before going to her voice mail. “Hi, this is Molly. Sorry I can't get to the phone, but please leave your name and a number, and I'll call you as soon as I can.”

“That bitch,” he said, and was about to toss his phone across the kitchen but thought better of it. He'd need it to call Bryan. Maybe Molly was in trouble. Maybe her cell phone was in its charger upstairs, turned off.

Tanner raced upstairs to the master suite. Molly always left her phone charger plugged in on the night table on her side of the bed. The charger was there, but there was so sign of her phone. Before he changed his mind, he located Bryan's number and hit SEND.

“Dr. McCann, what can I do for you?” Bryan asked.

Tanner thought he must've seen his name before he answered. Sometimes a good thing, and sometimes not. “Bryan, hey, I appreciate your taking my call. I know it's late, but I have a problem, and I thought you might be able to help me out.”

“Anything, Dr. McCann, I'm on duty now. What's up?”

Tanner took a deep breath, hoping like hell Molly was missing. Because if she wasn't, he was going to make her wish she was when he found her. “I need to file a missing person report. I came home, and my wife is missing.”

“Man, I am sorry. Give me your address, and I'll send a unit out ASAP.”

“That's just it, I'm not sure if . . . Bryan, we had a bit of a fight last night. You know how women are. Molly's ticked and just might be screwing with me, but I just can't live with myself if I don't do something. I thought maybe you could stop by. I need some advice, and I don't want to blow this whole marital spat out of proportion if I don't have to. You understand?” He spoke in the voice he used with other professionals. Smooth and calm, but just the right tone to indicate he was more than a little worried. He knew how the police worked. And he knew that if he played his cards right, Bryan Whitmore could start searching for Molly off the record. He'd promise braces for his homely daughter if he had to.

“All right. I'll be right over. I just need an address,” the detective said.

Tanner gave him the address and began directing the cleanup to eliminate all traces of his earlier rampage.