Sound of Secrets (29 page)

"I would have kept on hitting him if you hadn’t gotten here. I wanted to kill him for preying on women like he does," Tyler all but hissed at Gray. "Are you going to arrest me for that,
pal
?"

Tyler’s question was heavy with challenge and sarcasm, neither of which Karen understood. She looked from one man to the other, trying to figure out what was going on. Neither man’s eyes wavered from the other’s.

"The only person I’m arresting," Gray said after a long moment, "is the bastard lying there on the floor."

Karen would have liked to decipher the unspoken language passing between the boyhood friends, but then caught sight of a rivulet of blood streaming down Tyler’s arm.

"You’re cut," she exclaimed in dismay. Although it must have hurt, Tyler barely glanced at the wound.

"It’s nothing," Tyler said, dismissing her concern. "The blade probably caught me when I dove for him."

"Let me take a look." Gray bent down and visually examined his friend’s arm, then tried to stop the flow with his hand. "It’s more than nothing. Karen, get a rag so we can make a tourniquet. Then call an ambulance. Tyler needs to go to the ER."

Karen stood up so quickly she saw stars. She ignored them. She wouldn't get lightheaded, not at a time like this. "A towel will have to do. And we don’t need an ambulance. I’m taking him to the hospital."

"I don't think—," Tyler began.

"Don't you try to talk me out of it, Tyler Shaw." She waved a finger at him. Gray opened his mouth. She wagged her finger at him, too. "You neither, Gray DeBerg."

"I wasn't going to do anything of the sort."

"Good," she said before hurrying off to the kitchen, her eyes stinging with tears at how Tyler had put his life on the line. For her.

Darkness descended on Secret Sound long before Gray walked through his front door, his heart sighing with every step he took. It had been a long, frustrating day, and tomorrow promised to be another.

After booking Stoney Gillick for attempted murder and issuing a strong recommendation that he be denied bail, Gray had spent the next hour at Secret Sound Hospital. He’d checked on a sleeping Cara first.

Then he’d gone another round with clerk Betty Rowlands, who had finally informed him that Tyler was getting stitches to close up the cut in his arm while Karen waited in the hospital cafeteria.

Over cold, bitter cups of coffee, Karen had answered all his questions. She’d readily admitted making the threatening phone call and added that she’d almost mailed a follow-up threat before thinking better of it.

She didn’t have an alibi for her whereabouts when Cara had been nearly run down or when she’d been hit on the head. Gray didn’t buy Karen as the guilty party, though.

Although Karen was often thoughtless and impetuous, she could also be empathetic and considerate. He didn’t doubt her sincerity when she apologized for telling him about Suzy’s deception and expressed the hope they could still be friends.

He blew out a breath. Even if he believed Karen guilty, he couldn’t make an arrest, because he didn’t have any evidence against her. That was his problem, Gray thought as he pulled the door shut behind him. He had no evidence against anyone. Not even Curtis Rhett.

"Gray? Is that you, son?"

"Yeah. It’s me, Dad," he said.

His father appeared from the direction of the kitchen. His bolo tie was askew and his shirt halfway untucked. Dark circles rimmed his eyes.

"Cara wasn’t answering her door, so I used a key, and she’s not there." His voice shook. "Her car’s in the driveway. I tried calling—"

"It’s okay, Dad.” Gray cursed himself because he hadn’t thought to call his father after Cara’s attack. Of course he would be worried. He laid a hand on his father’s arm. "She’s in the hospital.”

"In the hospital? Oh, God. Is she all right?"

While he told his father what had happened, Gray steered him to the kitchen and gently pushed him into a chair. Then he took two of the light beers his father always kept on hand from the refrigerator. He pulled the tabs and set one in front of the older man.

Gray took a long pull from his own beer. He would have opened the pack of cigarettes he’d bought that afternoon had he been alone but was reluctant to subject his father to secondhand smoke. He contented himself with the beer and the companionship.

"Who do you think might’ve done it?" his father finally asked.

"That’s just it." Gray shrugged helplessly. "I don’t know. I'd like to pin it all on Stoney Gillick and forget about it. That’s too easy."

"I don't know about that, son. Stoney's a bad egg. He could be involved in a lot of things we don't know about."

"Yeah, but could he have had anything to do with Skippy Rhett? Everything that's been happening seems to be tied up to what happened to that boy. But even Chief McKay couldn’t help with that. Did you know he had Alzheimer’s?"

His father shook his head, and Gray rose to get another beer. He caught sight of a scribbled note on the grease board informing him that Vicky Smithfield had phoned. He’d forgotten until that moment about the call he’d placed to Vicky, a clerk in the tax assessor’s office at the county courthouse. He’d asked her to call him at home with the date that Curtis had bought the property on Whisper Way.

"What did Vicky have to say?" he asked, aware that he wanted to believe that Curtis was the kind of man he purported to be. An honest, fair, hard-working man who wouldn’t have kidnapped his nephew or terrorized Cara for asking questions.

"She said she had an answer for you." His father slowly got to his feet. "It was just a date. I was holding my notebook, and I wrote it down out of habit. Guess I forgot to put it up on the grease board. I'll get it."

Gray braced himself when his father picked up a reporter’s notepad and flipped through it.

"Here it is," his father said and read the information.

Gray swayed and reached a hand out to the nearest counter to steady himself. Curtis had bought the house on Whisper Way nearly a month before Skippy had been kidnapped. If Cara’s theory about Skippy being held in the storage shed were correct, Curtis had been in the best position to put him there.

Gray still needed to tie up a few loose ends, such as how Curtis had kept his wife and young daughter from venturing into the back yard and discovering Skippy. It appeared more and more certain, however, that his father-in-law had kidnapped the child.

"Gray? Are you all right? Suddenly, you don’t look too good."

Something else occurred to Gray, and he made his brain turn in another direction. He had been so busy trying to safeguard Cara that he’d forgotten to ask his father about the missing donations. Now Gray thought he knew who had taken them.

"Dad, is it possible those community center donations came through Curtis?" Gray asked.

His father looked puzzled. After a moment, nodded. "When Reginald’s out of town, which is just about all the time, Curtis has a say in everything that happens at the newspaper. Of course, it’s possible."

Even though he’d expected the answer, it pierced Gray’s heart. Not only did it seem as though Curtis was the kidnapper, he’d also probably stolen the donations and tried to kill Cara.

"What is it, Gray?" His father appeared so concerned that Gray had to tell him something. He couldn’t cast stones at Curtis until he had evidence, though, not with his promise to Suzy still hanging over him.

"I was thinking about Cara and Tyler both winding up in the emergency room on the same day, that’s all,” Gray said.

"Tyler?" The concern in his father’s voice spiked a notch. "What happened to Tyler?"

"That’s another story, Dad," Gray said before he proceeded to tell it. "This is only a hunch, but I’m betting Tyler’s feeling pretty good about life right about now."

"So then I told Gray I’d do anything I could to help." Karen pulled her Lincoln to a stop in front of her driveway. She would have preferred to go to Tyler’s home rather than her parents' pretentious mansion. However, she had a point to make. She prattled on, surprised her palms were sweating. "He wants to talk to the nanny who took care of Skippy and me. Rosa Martinez, that’s her name.

"She wrote me a letter about five years ago, right after she saw a notice in the Palm Beach newspaper about my marriage, and I think I still have it." She deliberately didn’t tell him she’d withheld that information the first time Gray had asked about the nanny. Even though Tyler didn’t have illusions about her, there wasn’t any point in detailing her faults. "I’m pretty sure the envelope has Rosa’s return address. If not, I have some other ideas on how to find her."

"What are we doing here, Karen?" Tyler asked quietly, staring out the windshield. It was the first thing he’d said since they’d left the hospital. Karen had filled up the silence, chattering incessantly while she wondered why he wasn’t talking. He hadn’t questioned the route they'd taken until now.

Karen licked her suddenly dry lips. "I thought I’d make you a cup of tea or coffee or something. You know, as a kind of thanks for saving my life."

A harsh sound escaped his lips. He closed his eyes as he shook his head. "I’m not up for that, Karen."

"What? But—"

He opened the door and slid out of the car before she could mount a protest. She swore, hurriedly unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car herself. She inwardly cursed herself for handling everything so clumsily.

She gave chase and caught up to him at the sidewalk. He sent her a wry look before continuing on in that sexy, loose-hipped way he had of walking.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Where does it look like I’m going? I’m walking home," he tossed over his shoulder. "You’re dismissed, Karen. You’ve done your good deed for the day so you can just run along home yourself."

"Hey, stop right there," she yelled.

He didn’t even slow.

Temper made her eyes narrow and her steps quicken. She grabbed him to stop his progress, careful to stay away from the arm with the stitches. He finally stopped walking, and she saw the deliberate way he filled his lungs with air before slowly exhaling and turning. Even with stubble on his lower face, smudges under his eyes and dirt on his clothes, he looked delectable.

She wished for one of her flamboyant outfits instead of the modest blue-jean shorts and white T-shirt she'd pulled on to convince herself she didn’t care if he were attracted to her. It was hard to believe that had been only hours ago. She let go of his arm and put her hands on her hips.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" she asked.

"Yep," he drawled, meeting her stare with one of his own. "That’s exactly what I’m doing."

"You’ve got another thought coming if you think you can save my life and walk out of it.”

She took a step closer as she made her point. Her breasts brushed his chest and her nipples tightened while heat licked low in her belly. She saw with satisfaction that the pulse in his jaw moved too fast. His hazel eyes flooded with heat before he quickly banked it. He sighed audibly.

"What kind of game are you playing now?" he rasped through teeth that seemed clenched.

She reached up and stroked his face, drawing her fingers over the stubble on his chin. His breath hitched, and she smiled. "I’m not playing a game."

"Well, that would be a first, now wouldn’t it?" He took a step back. She countered with a step forward, erasing the gap. Frustration pulled at his face, making his mouth taut. "Stop this, Karen. Let me bow out of your life with some dignity, okay?"

Her hackles rose, and she pulled herself to her full height, a good five or six inches short of his. "Where did you get the fool idea I wanted you to bow out of my life?"

He shook his head and looked sad, an emotion she’d never before associated with Tyler. Sadness didn’t look right on his face. God had meant for him to smile so the network of lines around his eyes crinkled and that sexy mouth curved. The joy was gone from his voice, too. "It wasn’t hard to figure after I told you how I feel about you."

"Wait just a minute there, Tyler Shaw," Karen said with asperity. She would not let him pin this on her, not when her heart hurt because he wouldn't smile at her. "When you tell a woman you love her, it takes some getting used to."

"You mean you never noticed how I took the long way to class in high school so I could pass you in the hall? Or how I always show up at the Dew Drop on Tuesdays because that’s your regular night to be there." Tyler’s voice was weary. "Didn’t you know the only time I’ve ever been sick-as-a-dog drunk was the day you married Summerfield?

"If you had been paying attention at all, Karen, you wouldn’t have to get used to me loving you. You'd already have known."

Regret that she hadn’t seen what was always right in front of her flowed through Karen like a river of tears. "Oh, Tyler," she said on a sigh of regret.

"I don’t want your pity," he bit out. He turned to go. She grabbed for his good arm, and he stopped moving. The muscles in his arm were wrapped as tight as a coiled spring. He still kept his face averted.
 

"Don’t go, Tyler," she pleaded, her voice a throaty whisper. "I’m inviting you in."

"And I told you I'm not in the mood to sip a cup of tea with you," he said thickly, not looking at her.

"I’ve made such a mess of this." She ran her free hand over her face. Drawing in a deep breath, she wondered why, after a lifetime of effusiveness, she found it hard to express herself. "What I meant to do, back there at the car, is what I should have done a few nights ago. Remember, Ty? Remember when you asked me to invite you in. Well, I’m inviting you in."

He turned around so slowly Karen had time to realize this was the most important crossroads of her life. Her happiness depended on whether acceptance or rejection would be written on his face. Because finally, after a lifetime of indecision, she knew what she wanted.

She wanted Tyler Shaw.

What she saw when he turned was wonder. It bloomed in his eyes and arced his lips. "You're inviting me in for more than tea?"

She nodded, the ache that wound her heart like a band starting to ease.

"Are you saying," he asked slowly, still standing there, still not touching her, "what I think you’re saying?"