The Secrets She Kept (9 page)

“We all do,” Keith said, and felt a measure of surprise that he meant it.

Because he and Maisey had agreed they would not discuss the manner of their mother’s death in front of Laney, the conversation over dinner revolved around Rafe’s work, Maisey’s books, Bry’s first words and Laney’s school. Rafe took the ferry to the mainland and dropped her off four days a week and Maisey picked her up at two o’clock. Keith enjoyed spending time with his family, especially since he’d been without them for the past several years. But no matter how far the conversation drifted from the reason he’d come to Fairham, he couldn’t forget what he’d seen at the morgue. The image of his mother lying lifeless on that gurney haunted him, troubled him. And Pippa’s silence made him tense. She did everything she normally did, even smiled as she delivered each course, but a sense of pervasive concern hung heavy in the air.

He told himself she was lost without Josephine, but he knew it was more than that. Whatever she’d wanted to speak to him about earlier seemed to be bothering her. He would’ve approached her about that, given her an opportunity to talk, but by the time he’d returned from Charleston, she’d been in the last stages of making dinner and he’d had several phone calls he needed to make. He had reliable employees, but he couldn’t abandon them completely. He’d also been reluctant to have a conversation that might upset one or both of them right before Maisey arrived with the children.

He’d figured waiting until after dinner would be soon enough. But once everyone left, and she finally told him what was worrying her, he wished he’d taken the time to listen sooner.

9

KEITH THOUGHT HE’D
be in for another long, wakeful night. He had so much on his mind. But almost as soon as he stretched out on his bed, without even turning off the light or undressing, he fell asleep for a solid four hours.

Then he jolted awake.

Something had disturbed him. A noise.

Lying very still, he listened to see if he could figure out what it was, but all he could hear was the settling noises of the house and the soft patter of rain hitting the roof. Rain had been falling in fits and starts ever since he’d returned to the island, and it didn’t show any sign of clearing up.

A moment later, lightning flashed outside. He assumed the weather had to be what woke him. He hadn’t closed the shutters, so it was his own fault. But if he got up to close them now, he probably wouldn’t get back to sleep.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried not to think about the fact that his mother’s lover was married and whether or not she knew she was seeing a man who already had a wife. He tried not to think of his grandfather, and the fact that everything Henry had built could soon be gone, including Coldiron House. Most of all, he tried to block out what he’d learned from Pippa. But it was impossible to drift off a second time. Merely opening his eyes seemed to have brought an avalanche of worries down on his head. And the light he’d left on was bothering him.

Still, he was determined not to give up on sleep too soon. Rolling onto his side, he pulled his pillow over his face—and that was when he heard a strange thump followed by a creak.

Pippa had gone home after they’d had their little talk. He was supposed to be alone. And yet...there was movement.

His eyes sought the alarm clock. Nearly one. Who would be in the house in the middle of the night? Had his mother’s murderer come back to remove some piece of evidence? Was the perpetrator checking the scene, making sure he hadn’t overlooked anything important? Perhaps he was leaving something behind, planting evidence that would further mislead police...

Suddenly glad that he hadn’t taken the time to undress, Keith jumped out of bed. He wished he had a weapon in case he needed one, but he had nothing, not even a baseball bat. His mother had insisted that all sporting equipment be kept in the garage. That wasn’t a huge imposition, since they had an extra stall with racks and hooks for that sort of thing. But it made dealing with an intruder damned inconvenient.

How did this person get in, anyway?

Keith’s mind raced as he struggled to remember if he’d returned the spare key to its rightful place behind the light.

No. He’d put it on the ring with the key to his rental car and had been using it as he came and went.

He wasn’t positive he’d locked the front door after Maisey and her family left tonight, however. He’d never felt he was in danger—not from anything other than his own demons—so locking up when he was here on Fairham wasn’t a strict habit for him.

Even if he
had
locked the house, there were ways someone could’ve gotten in without breaking a window. Pippa had a key. So did Tyrone. There were probably other house help who’d had access at one time or another. His mother would’ve demanded they return their keys when they left her employment, but she felt so safe, so untouchable in her gated mansion that he doubted she’d ever go so far as to have the locks changed.

A disgruntled employee could easily have made a copy. Most if not all former staff could have the code to the gate and could’ve shared it among themselves—or whoever it was could’ve just scaled the fence. That wasn’t impossible.

Basically, just about
anyone
could be in the house.

After cracking open his bedroom door, Keith peered out into the hallway. He saw nothing but blackness, and didn’t turn on another light. He did the opposite. He turned off his bedroom light so he wouldn’t reveal his presence.

He could no longer hear movement, but he was sure he’d heard
someone
, despite the rain. Problem was, there were thirty rooms in Coldiron House, many of them closed off since they were so rarely used. That created a lot of places to hide.

Anxiety drew his nerves taut as he crept down the hallway, calling on his knowledge of the house since he couldn’t see.

Lightning flashed at the windows as his feet sank into the plush carpet, giving him a momentary glimpse of the marble foyer below. A long shadow, which looked like that of a man, startled him—until he realized it was his mother’s giant flower arrangement and the pedestal that supported it. He saw nothing else. The front door wasn’t broken or ajar and, as far as he could tell, no one was creeping around with a bag of the family silver.

Instead of going downstairs, he veered off toward his mother’s suite. He wished the noise he’d heard could be her, coming home from a lengthy vacation abroad, as she’d done so many times when he was younger. But he’d seen her corpse in the morgue.

The doors to her room stood open, which made the hair rise on the back of his neck. He’d purposely closed those doors; he hadn’t liked the sense of expectation he felt if he left them open.

So why weren’t they still closed?

Someone had come inside...

Keith picked up an antique vase that’d likely cost several thousand dollars. A vase wasn’t the kind of weapon he would’ve preferred, but it was the only thing close at hand. He held it above his head and was about to creep inside his mother’s room when a bouncing light drew his eye back to the first floor.

Someone was
outside
, moving around the perimeter of the house with a flashlight.

Prepared to chase down whoever it was, he took the stairs two at a time. But he didn’t have the chance to dash outside. The moment he threw open the door, he came nose to nose with a wet Chief Underwood.

She eyed the vase he carried. Then she looked down at her gun, which was pointed directly at him. “I think I’d win this fight.”

He stared beyond her, into the rain, to make sure she was alone. “I’m just glad you didn’t fire the second I appeared.” He’d obviously startled her, which made sense, since he hadn’t turned on any lights. “What are you doing here?”

She returned her gun to its holster. “Someone called. Said there was an intruder at Coldiron House.”

He set the vase on a table. “
Someone
called?”

“Dispatch said he wouldn’t leave his name.”

“But you have the number. You can track where it came from.”

“I can try in the morning when I have more time to look into it,” she said. “My mind wasn’t on tracking phone calls when dispatch woke me up. I was afraid that if your mother
had
been murdered, there might be some nefarious plot to take your life, too.”

He couldn’t help grinning at her rain-streaked face. Maybe it was sexist, but he got a kick out of her rushing into the storm to protect him when she was half his size and weight...

“What?”
she said.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Thanks for being willing to put your life on the line.” She had guts; he had to give her that. And she probably
could
do more than he could—as long as she had that gun.

The way she suddenly glared at him indicated that she’d caught on to his reaction. “You’re a chauvinist pig, aren’t you? I got out of bed and drove up here to tramp around your house, which is the size of an apartment building—in the rain, I might add—and you think it’s funny.”

He’d managed to keep a straight face until she said that. Then he had to laugh. Maybe he’d needed the release.

“Okay. I’m leaving.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “You’re a bastard, by the way. Just in case other people haven’t told you.”

He grabbed her shoulder before she could start down the porch steps. “I’m sorry,” he said, but he was still laughing, which didn’t work to his advantage.

“Let go of me,” she snapped. “If someone’s here, I’m going to let him kill you.”

He would’ve laughed harder—except those sounds
had
been chilling. “I
did
hear something,” he said, sobering. “Why do you think I was carrying a damn vase? I’m not rearranging decorations in the middle of the night.”

She rolled her eyes. “What you heard was
me
.”

“No, these sounds came from inside.”

Clearly suspicious that he was mocking her, she hesitated. “Are you serious?”

He rubbed his neck. “Yeah, I am. But it might be nothing.” Maybe before Pippa went home, she returned something to his mother’s room and left the doors ajar...

Chief Underwood seemed reluctant to forgive him for making light of her efforts, but he could tell she was also a stickler about doing her job. “So now you want me to check out the house?”

He wanted to borrow her gun so
he
could check out the house, but he knew better than to ask. “If you would be so kind,” he replied and gave her a sweeping bow as he pushed the door wide enough to admit her.

Starting with his mother’s suite, she walked through every room and looked under the beds and inside the closets. She searched the attic, too. “No bogeyman,” she announced, even though he’d followed her every step of the way and could see that for himself. “I’m guessing it was a crank call, a false alarm.”

Although something
had
disturbed his sleep. Was it just the storm, as he’d first thought? “If you say so, Chief.”

“There’s no evidence to indicate otherwise,” she said as they walked back to the entry hall. “But I’d lock the door from now on, if I were you.”

“It might’ve been locked.”

“The fact that you don’t know is the problem. I’d double-check.”

“Got it. Will do.”

Instead of leaving, she hooked her thumbs into her utility belt and openly appraised him.

He smoothed down his hair, which was probably standing up. He had, after all, just rolled out of bed. “What is it?” he asked when she didn’t speak.

“I’m curious about you.”

“Why?”

“On the one hand, you’re everything I was expecting.”

“And on the other?”

“
Nothing
I was expecting.”

“The fact that you’re familiar with my reputation doesn’t surprise me.”

“You
are
the Coldiron Prince.” Her lopsided grin said she was teasing, making fun of his family’s lofty status.

“In what way have I lived up to your expectations?” He’d told himself he wouldn’t ask but couldn’t resist.

“You’re handsome as the devil. I’m sure I can’t be the first woman to tell you that.”

He breathed a little easier. “Handsome” wasn’t the negative comment he’d anticipated, but he could tell she wasn’t finished yet. “I hope the comparison stops there.”

She laughed. “Do you and the devil share other traits?”

“Some would say we do. Just so you know, I’m completely reformed.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a wink and reached for the door handle.

“Chief?”

She turned.

“Any chance you’d give me Hugh Pointer’s number?”

“You’re coming dangerously close to interfering with my investigation, Mr. Lazarow.”

He rested his hand on the doorknob. “I’m still waiting for the file.”

“Les is still working on that.”

“I’ll get Hugh’s number when you return my mother’s phone and computer, anyway. I behaved myself at the morgue, didn’t I?”

“You told the coroner’s technician that the coroner doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You call that behaving?”

“I said he was
human
. Anyone can make a mistake.”

He got the impression she found his interaction with Dean Gillespie amusing, wasn’t really put out by it. “Fine. Give me your number. I’ll text you in the morning when I get to the office.”

“Thanks.” He did as she asked, watching as she added him to her contacts.

“What are you doing?” he asked when she proceeded to key in a text.

She didn’t answer, so he assumed she was letting dispatch know she hadn’t found an intruder. Or maybe she was sending Les Scott a message, telling him to get Pointer’s number in addition to copying that darn file.

When she finished, she slid her phone into the pocket of her uniform. “Have a good night, Mr. Lazarow.”

“You, too, Chief.” He stepped out on the porch until she could get into her squad car. Then he shut and locked the door. It wasn’t until he reached his bedroom and saw his phone on the nightstand that he realized she’d been texting
him
. Only she didn’t mention Pointer. He supposed that information was still coming in the morning.

I probably wouldn’t refuse if you asked me out. Harper Underwood

He had her first name now, which seemed like a victory in itself. And that “probably” made him eager to test her. He hadn’t planned to date while he was on Fairham, but he figured befriending the chief of police couldn’t be a
bad
thing. Perhaps once they got to know each other, he could convince her that his mother hadn’t committed suicide.

Dinner Friday night?
he wrote.

Pick me up at six.

He smiled as he sank onto the edge of the bed. He’d never dated a cop before.

I hope you’re not texting while driving—and in the rain, no less.

My phone takes voice commands. Why, were you considering a citizen’s arrest?

I wouldn’t dare.

Do I detect sarcasm? Forget protecting you from an intruder. I might shoot you myself.

No sarcasm on my part. I’m impressed that you came out to defend me. So impressed that I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to top that.

Do I have to?

It could make Friday more interesting...

Then I’ll see what I can do.

Sounds promising.

Don’t get your hopes up too high. It won’t entail removing my clothes.

Then I won’t remove mine, either.

Turning the tables on me?

I already pegged you as a Goody Two-shoes.

Someone has to tell you no.

Chuckling at her response, he put his phone back on the nightstand and went downstairs to dig through the refrigerator. He was halfway through a turkey-and-Swiss sandwich when he noticed wet footprints on the floor, coming from the back entry. He and Chief Underwood had turned on the light and looked around the kitchen, but because they could see that the back door was locked, they hadn’t walked all the way over.