Our Little Secret (6 page)

She expected something grainy and sleazy, but the photos were surprisingly well-focused, glossy, eight-by-ten black-and-white shots. Sleazy still applied.

The bed had no headboard, and the bare walls were only a few shades darker than the white linens. Nothing that would help them identify a place or time. Lighting was barely adequate and from the side, as if a single lamp across the room provided the only illumination. It shone softly on the man’s white legs and backside—unquestionably the lean, muscled body of a young man—and turned his long blond hair into a pale glow around his head. A well-built Scandinavian hunk. His body shadowed the naked woman beneath him, although not enough to hide the prurient details for anyone who cared to look, from the tight buds of nipples to the darkness between her thighs, ready to accept his—Lauren’s gaze darted toward the woman’s head on the pillow. The man’s head hovered above hers, high enough to allow light to fall directly on her face.

Lauren stared at an image of herself. Except it wasn’t her. It was Meg.

Sudden embarrassment washed over her. Drew had seen enough to guess this naked woman was Lauren’s sister. Her nearly identical sister. He might as well have been looking at Lauren’s splayed, aroused body, and he knew it.

She steadied her hands with an effort. No matter how much she wanted to shove the pictures back in the envelope, she had to look at them again. They had to know why Meg had hidden them. If there was information to be gained from these pictures, she was the one who had to look. And she had to do it without imagining what Drew thought about them, or what he thought about her.

Lauren closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Shuffling the first photo to the bottom, she took a cautious peek at the second one in the thin stack. The same man and woman, this time their positions reversed. The woman knelt upright on the bed, long, silky hair cascading back from her tipped head, while the man beneath her clasped her buttocks. Her knees were spread on either side of his head, while he—Lauren felt herself blush and flipped quickly through the others. Teeth clenched, she looked at four more pictures in various poses, some showing the perfectly featured and strangely characterless face of the handsome young man, and all showing the mussed hair, naked body, and ecstatic face of Lauren’s sister.

She shoved them back in the envelope. Her hands had gone cold and her heart pounded. Her mind scrambled to deny what her eyes had just seen. There had to be another explanation. Secret photos from a
wild college fling, or a mad, aberrant impulse to pose for one of those slimy sex magazines. Lauren grasped at explanations, but knew they weren’t true. The pictures weren’t of Meg ten years ago, they were Meg now.

Lauren felt ill. She handed the envelope back to Gerald, avoiding his and Drew’s gaze. Thankfully, they said nothing. But it was an uncomfortable silence, filled with questions no one wanted to ask.

The little room was starting to feel claustrophobic. Lauren nibbled a fingernail and willed Gerald to go faster as he fitted the jewelry boxes back inside the metal safe deposit box, recreating the snug pattern. She needed to get out of there, to find fresh air and open sky. She needed to think.

Her mind was preoccupied all the way to the parking lot. Drew took her elbow as she stepped over a slushy curb, noticeably less antagonistic now that the jewelry had been found in its proper place. In fact, his hand on her arm felt gentle, almost affectionate. Or maybe he was simply worried that she’d trip over the curb in her inattentive state.

“Those pictures really upset you, didn’t they?” he said. It was a simple question, but she thought she heard a trace of sympathy.

She didn’t want Drew’s sympathy. “They made me think.” Disregarding the cold wind that blew inside her open coat, she voiced the hope that had been going through her mind. “Pictures like that can be faked, can’t they?”

She watched them. Gerald’s morose expression turned thoughtful, but Drew gave a weary sigh like he’d expected her to say it.

“Did anything about them look fake?” he asked.

“No, of course not. At least, I don’t think so, because I didn’t look closely. But I know that couldn’t be Meg. It couldn’t be. She’s never done anything like that before.”

“That you know of,” Drew finished.

True. And she didn’t want to think about that. “Did you notice the quality of those pictures?”

“It wasn’t exactly art, Lauren.”

“But it wasn’t amateur photography, either. They didn’t have that grainy look of candid shots from some hidden location. I’ll bet that camera was right in the room with them. They must have known they were being photographed. And no matter what it looked like, I can’t believe the woman was my sister.”

“Hmm.” It was grudging, but at least he considered it. “Cameras can be hidden in walls, you know. You just make sure you have a good angle beforehand. And that no one can accidentally block the view. If the guy was in on it, the poses would naturally be good.”

“Good?” She didn’t care for that description.

“Revealing.”

Lauren imagined the Nordic hunk manipulating his partner into the best position for revealing pictures to use as blackmail. Disgusting. But the deliberate nature of the act made her think about what she’d seen.

She turned to face Drew as he stopped at their car. Impatiently brushing aside windblown strands of hair, she ignored the door he held open for her. “You called those pictures poses. I think you might be right.”

His eyes were slitted against more than the wind. “How so?” he asked, probably already suspicious of her explanation.

“Did you notice how her face was well-lit even though her body was shadowed? Every picture was like that,” she said. “I could see her face clearly, even though her body was obscured. Maybe it was Photoshopped, where one person’s head is put on another person’s body. Maybe they couldn’t show the body clearly because it might not look enough like Meg’s. You know, because of birthmarks, an appendectomy scar, a belly button that’s an innie instead of an outie, something like that.”

She’d made him think. “All the pictures were like that? The woman’s body was shadowed?”

“Yes.” She nodded vigorously, more convinced as she thought about it. “Everything was shadowed except faces. I could see the shape of her body, but no details on the skin.”

“You could see the shape?” A humorless smile tugged at his lips and the icy blue eyes watched her intently. “So what did you think? Was that Meg’s shape? The contours, the form, the size…”

When his glance strayed to her chest where the wind whipped against her and flattened her sweater to her breasts, she understood. He wondered if the naked body he’d seen was similar to hers. Before she could snap out a nasty retort, he held up a hand to stop her. “It’s a legitimate question, Lauren. Only you would know if that body could belong to your sister.”

She bit back her impulsive response to tell him to go to hell, and thought about it for several seconds. Reluctantly, she had to admit, “I can’t be sure. It could be.”

“Really.” He seemed to give it serious consideration, but eventually an eyebrow quirked and he looked her up and down.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Drew. We’re talking about my sister.”

“
You
are.” He smiled lazily. “I’m not.”

She met his smile with a glare and hoped the sharp wind blew away the heat she felt sweeping through her body. He was obviously his father’s son, and she couldn’t stand the fact that some brainless, primitive part of her responded. From his smug look, he knew it, too. She dropped onto the front seat and slammed the door.

Without another glance at her, Drew got behind the wheel. Gerald had been quiet during her theorizing about faked photographs, but as they pulled out of the parking lot, he leaned forward from the backseat. “I don’t know who was in those pictures, but I have one thing to say. If somehow I got hold of photos like that of myself, I wouldn’t be stashing them in a safe deposit box like they were a priceless keepsake. I’d destroy them.” Flipping his cashmere scarf over his shoulder, he plopped back against the seat.

Lauren and Drew looked at each other. She should have thought of it. “He’s right,” she said. “Meg would have ripped them and burned the pieces.”

Drew nodded. “Most convincing thing I’ve heard so far.”

“So you agree it can’t be Meg in those pictures?”

“No. I agree it’s one possibility. There’s also the possibility that she didn’t put them there.” He frowned as he drove. “But that doesn’t explain why she kept them. Or where she is.” His mouth pulled into a grim line. “Where either of them are.”

Lauren worried her lower lip, sparing a nail. “I think we should call the police.”

Drew shook his head without taking his eyes off the road. “We need to be sure she’s missing before we do that. Wait until we talk to my dad. His staff seems to think he’s in town and will check in soon. Since she obviously didn’t run off with the family inheritance,” he tipped his head and smiled ruefully, an acknowledgement that he’d been wrong, “he might know where she is. After all, she is his wife.” He added under his breath, “Incredible as it seems.”

Lauren nodded, reluctant to wait, but wanting to believe there was a simple explanation for her sister’s disappearance. “How long will that take? You said you haven’t been able to reach him.”

“Not long.” His gaze lifted to the rearview mirror and met Gerald’s eyes. “I know the Senate just ended a session, but Dad’s office staff will still be there, won’t they?”

“You mean now, late afternoon? Sure, most of them.”

“Then we’ll go there. I’m not getting anywhere with them over the phone. Maybe I can be a little more persuasive in person.”

Lauren had no doubt about that.

They fought rush-hour traffic toward the Hart Senate Office Building. Lauren had never seen the Capitol complex before, and trudging through blustery winds and freezing slush was not making a good first impression. At least the Hart Building was warm and dry.

Senator Creighton’s fourth-floor offices were open, and Lauren was confronted by a breathless young woman as soon as she walked in.

“Meg! Thank goodness! Why didn’t you answer your messages? We have to knock one of these groups off the Senator’s itinerary for next week, and I don’t know whether to dump the church ladies’ auxiliary or that conservation action group from Austin. The church ladies aren’t important, but the minister is, and—”

Lauren started to correct her, then saw an opportunity she hadn’t expected. She cut the woman off, raising a hand in front of the papers she was shoving under Lauren’s nose. “Not now. I need to, um, check something first. Could you just leave these on my desk? I’ll get back to you.”

The woman hesitated and looked at the papers as if she hadn’t intended to part with them. “Yeah, I guess I can. But I need to know today. Yesterday, really.” She stressed the urgency of deciding between the church ladies and the conservation people as she led the way toward one of two empty desks. Relieved to know which one was Meg’s without having to ask, Lauren sat down and began rifling through files on the desktop.

The woman hadn’t left. “Hey. You’re not Meg.”

“I’m her sister,” she said without looking up. “And I need to find Meg immediately. Family emergency.”

“So why don’t you just call her?” The woman sounded truly confused.

Lauren looked up. “You just told me she hasn’t answered her messages. Have you heard from Meg today?”

“Um, no, but—”

“Neither has anyone else. I need to find her.” Spotting an agenda book, she flipped to the current week and began reading the cryptic notes Meg had made.

Across the room, Drew had collared the first staffer he saw, identified himself, and demanded the woman find his father,
now.
Impressed with his urgency, the woman began dialing, but questioned him as she did. “Actually I’ve already called a few places today. We’ve been looking for him, too. What happened?”

“I don’t know. But he’s dropped out of sight, and we have reason to believe he might be in danger.”

That bit of exaggeration helped. Lauren could hear the concern in her voice as the woman began pestering half of D.C. with phone calls.

Lauren gave up on the date book and began examining three loose leaf notebooks on the desktop. The woman who first accosted her had disappeared, but another woman watched her with a frown. “She can’t do that,” she announced to no one in particular. “That’s Meg’s desk, and a lot of that stuff is confidential.”

Lauren didn’t bother answering as she continued flipping through meeting notes, but Gerald stepped between her and the young woman. She was a good
three inches taller than him in her heels, but lacked the confidence of Senator Creighton’s personal secretary. Hands on his hips, Gerald faced her down. “Did you hear what young Mr. Creighton just said? Are you aware of the seriousness of this situation? We have a missing United States senator here. And his wife. You can either let Meg’s sister look for clues to their whereabouts, or we can notify the authorities and you can have a squad of policemen and forensics experts ripping this place apart, including your desk and all the other ones in here. Your choice.”