Don't Tell (7 page)

Caroline felt her stomach turn over. „Probably.“

„So what’s wrong with that? Some men like the Pollyanna, gee-golly-whiz, will-you-take-me-to-the-sock-hop look.“

Caroline swallowed. She would not, under any circumstances allow Maximillian Hunter to upset her. It just wasn’t going to happen.

„Oh. So then what happened?“ Dana asked, her voice rife with understanding.

„Shaw.“

„Oh, for crying out loud, Caro.“

„No, I’m serious. You should have seen her, Dana. She walked in, demanding to see him before her scheduled appointment. He was still in with Wade. So I knock to see if he’s finishing with Wade soon and she pushes by me, all regal-like. Dismisses me like I’m the servant of the house. Then gives Max the eye.“

„The evil eye?“ Dana had leaned forward, elbows on the table, her chin propped on one fist.

„No, the sexual eye.“ Caroline demonstrated, then slumped in her chair. It had been so humiliating. Her heart hadn’t even slowed down from those surface-of-the-sun stares in his office when Monika came in and taught her a thing or two about what men really want. One look at Max Hunter and Monika went into chase mode, fluffing her platinum blond hair and pulling her shoulders back in her tight-fitting silk suit, jutting her breasts out for Max’s fullest appreciation. And as always when faced with Monika Shaw’s natural elegance, her own self-esteem plunged.

Dana winced. „Oh, no.“

„Oh, yeah.“

„So did your Dr. Hunter take the bait?“

„How could he not? He’s a man after all.“ That was the understatement of the century. Max Hunter was the quintessential man.

„Caroline, you are not being fair, to him or to yourself. Not all men are suckers for a pretty face, and Shaw’s isn’t even that pretty.“

„She’s gorgeous, Dana, and you know it.“

„She has bad skin and hides it with fifty-dollar-a-bottle concealer.“

Caroline smiled, glad for Dana’s loyalty, however skewed and managed to pull the entire situation back into perspective. „Doesn’t matter anyway.“

This time Dana narrowed her eyes. „Why the hell not?“

„Because I’m not in the market for a man. Not now, not ever.“ It was the truth. It would have to be.

„Caroline – “

Caroline held up one hand to silence Dana while rubbing her forehead with the other. A headache was brewing. „We’ve had this conversation before. It would be wrong for me to start a relationship with someone knowing I’m unavailable. Bigamy is still against the law.“

Dana pursed her lips. „So is beating your wife within an inch of her life.“

„So two wrongs don’t make – “

„Aright,“ Dana finished impatiently. „Do I have to throttle you to make you listen to reason? Just because a man’s interested in you doesn’t mean you have to marry him. Go on a date, have a good time. Kiss a little. Pet a little. A little sex isn’t bad either. Jeeze, Caroline – “

Caroline smacked her hand on the table, cutting Dana off in mid-argument. Cutting off the mental images that had sprung to life simply by the words, „a little sex.“ There would be no such thing as „a little sex“ with a man like Max Hunter. „Enough. I will not challenge Monika’s staked claim or anyone else’s for that matter. I will not be interested in Max Hunter.“ She drew a breath, held it, then let it out. „I stopped by Hanover House at lunch and you’ll be happy to know Cody’s fever broke this morning after you left. Dr. Lee says he’s going to be just fine. But I’m not so sure about his mother. She looks to me like she just might go back to her husband.“

Dana locked her arms across her chest, her jaw stubbornly jutting to one side. „You’re changing the subject, Caro. And like it or not, it’s not your business if she stays or goes back to her husband.“

Caroline frowned. They had this argument every time a woman left the safety of Hanover House to return to her abusive partner. „Are you staying for dinner or not?“

Dana sighed, releasing the stronghold she had on herself and raked her freed hand through her short hair. „Sure. I’m a sucker for plastic pizza and I still have nothing in my cupboards.“

Caroline pushed away from the table. „Then I’ll make a salad. I swear you’d have scurvy in a week if it weren’t for me making you eat some vegetables.“

„Caroline?“

Caroline turned in the doorway of the little kitchen, feeling another spurt of annoyance at the smug, knowing look on her best friend’s face. That was the problem with best friends. They always knew you way too well. „What?“

„Black suits you. And don’t forget to touch up your roots before work tomorrow.“

State Bureau of Investigation

Raleigh, North Carolina

Monday, March 5

7 P.M.

Special Agent Steven Thatcher of the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation had one hell of a headache. A consistent, nagging headache. She was named Aunt Helen. His mother’s sister. She meant well. She really did. And she hadn’t always been a headache. She was, in truth, his favorite aunt and he loved her dearly. When he was a redheaded freckle-faced boy of eight, she’d take him fishing. Damn, but that woman could cast like a pro. She balked at cleaning her own catch, but she made up for it by frying up whatever he cleaned. When he was a gangly, redheaded, pimply- and freckle-faced adolescent of thirteen, she taught him to dance and how to pin a corsage on a girl’s dress without practicing acupuncture or getting slapped in the face. When he was an awkward, nervous groom and father-to-be at eighteen, she tied his bow tie and told him he was doing the right thing. She’d cooed over and helped change the diapers of every one of his three boys.

And she’d held his hand when at thirty-three he put his wife in the ground. That was three years ago. She’d moved in with them before the boys’ tears were dry and taken care of them. She still took care of them all. Cooked, cleaned. Made sure the boys’ socks were bleached white and even matched. Made sure he didn’t wear a paisley tie with a herringbone jacket. Sang lullabies to his youngest son and tucked him into bed with a kiss and a bedtime story of faraway lands and dragons. She fished with his middle son and taught his oldest to dance and pin corsages on girls.

Yes, she was his favorite aunt. And he loved her dearly.

Yet she was the cause of the pain shooting behind his eyes at this very moment.

Because now, at thirty-six, with his red hair tamed to what Aunt Helen called strawberry blond, his freckles faded, and his ring finger bare, he was an available male and his children needed a mother. He should know. Aunt Helen said so. Daily. At this very moment, in fact. And she had just the right girl…. He rolled his eyes. She always had just the right girl.

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t any use. The headache just stayed and stayed. Helen had the tenacity of that damn pink battery bunny. And the fact that what she wanted most was the very thing he’d vowed to avoid at all costs… Well, that would just be one more snag in the tangle of his life. Steven switched the phone to his other ear and grabbed the file he’d been reading when she called. „No, Helen. N-O. I do not want to go out with your friend’s niece’s cousin. I don’t care if she did win the local beauty pageant when she was seventeen. I don’t care if she’s so sweet that she makes Mother Teresa look like Hitler. The answer is still no.“

„She has her own bass boat,“ Helen wheedled. „With a depth finder. And a GPS.“

Steven sat up in his chair. „Really?“ He narrowed his eyes. „You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Helen?“ This might be an out with fringe benefits. A way to keep Helen off his back for a few months and squeeze in some legitimate recreation at the same time.

„Two hundred horses.“

Steven bit his lip. He hated Helen’s blind dates. Hated them. But, hell, the woman had a depth finder and a global positioning system and a boat with a two hundred-horse motor. How bad could she be? One, maybe two dates with the beauty queen and Helen would lay off the matchmaking, maybe until Fall if all the cards fell his way. „Okay, okay. Give me her number.“

„I thought the boat would do the trick,“ Helen said, obviously taking great satisfaction from her victory. „You’re a hard man to matchmake, Steven.“

„I know. The number?“ With an inward sigh he wrote it on his desk blotter. „I’ll try to call her tomorrow.“

„Why not tonight?“

„Don’t push it, Helen.“ Steven massaged the back of his neck. „Besides, I’ve got calls to return. Don’t hold dinner for me, but tell Nicky I’ll be home in time to tuck him in.“

He returned four of the six calls, checking each one off his list. Two more to go, then home to a warmed-over dinner and hopefully a cold beer. And his boys. Always his boys.

„Steven?“

Steven looked up to find his boss leaning against the doorjamb of his office door, his normally jovial face creased in a frown, a manila folder under one arm. Steven placed the phone receiver back in its cradle. „What’s up?“

„New case in from Asheville.“ Special Agent in Charge Lennie Farrell laid the folder on Steven’s desk blotter, dead center. Farrell was a stickler for detail, sometimes to the point of annoying everyone in his command. But he was a good man, a good leader. And Steven respected him. „I need you to go down there tomorrow and check it out.“

Steven opened the file, scanned the first few pages. „I remember this one, vaguely. Wife and son of a cop missing, when? Seven years ago now? How did you get this file so fast? They just pulled up the car yesterday morning.“ He squinted up at Farrell. „Why isn’t the Asheville field office responding to this? It’s their jurisdiction. What’s up, Lennie?“

Farrell shrugged. „I got a call right at noon from the head of the Asheville office. He was in the district attorney’s office seven years ago and he thought the husband did it back then, but there wasn’t sufficient evidence to charge him. He’s concerned this’ll get brushed under the carpet again. Apparently enough of the Asheville PD have personal history with the husband to make him concerned about conflict of interest within the Asheville office.“ Farrell hesitated. Then straightened his spine. „I also got a call from the investigating detective. Retired now. He and I go back a lot of years. He also thought the husband did it. He wants the right thing done by the wife and boy this time around.“

Steven regarded Farrell for a long moment. „Did the investigating officer call you or the Asheville field office first?“

Farrell looked distinctly uncomfortable. „Me first. I recommended he go through channels, to call the field office and get them involved. He did and the field office asked us to get involved.“

Steven glanced down at the file, then back up at Farrell. „Your dad’s a retired cop out of Asheville PD, isn’t he?“

Farrell jerked his head in what Steven interpreted as a nod. That was enough. Steven massaged his temples, feeling his headache worsen. He’d been through cases like this one before and the outcome was rarely pretty. The SBI was rarely welcomed by local law enforcement with open arms.

Usually at least one local cop viewed SBI Special Agents as trespassers on local turf. Truth was SBI resources were better equipped to investigate cases that, thank God, weren’t daily occurrences in North Carolina’s small towns. Nevertheless, his presence was likely to be considered „outsider interference“ by the local police. „Is local law enforcement aware I’m coming in on their investigation?“

Farrell nodded. „Actually, the Lieutenant in charge at Asheville PD gave the field office a call this morning.“ He checked his notepad. „Her name is Lieutenant Antoinette Ross. Goes by Toni. Well respected by the Asheville field office. She asked for SBI support, so you can at least count on cooperation at the top.“

Steven smirked. „Before or after your father talked to her?“

Farrell shook his head with a slight smile. „You’ll have to ask her that question.“

Steven scanned the file once again. There was precious little information. „No bodies found?“

„No.“ Farrell perched on the comer of his desk. „And there was no evidence of foul play when the wife and the boy first disappeared seven years ago.“

Steven frowned at the troubled look in Farrell’s eyes. „And now?“

Farrell gave a facial shrug. „That’s what I want you to find out.“

Steven closed the file. „I’ll head out first thing in the morning.“ He allowed himself a final smirk up at Farrell. „Oh, and I’ll give your daddy your regards when I talk to him.“

Farrell stood and headed for the door. „Make sure my mamma offers you some of her sweet potato pie. It’s the best.“

Chicago

Monday, March 5

9 p.m.

Max relaxed behind the wheel of his car, pleasantly exhausted from his first day at Carrington College, finding the drive to his house comfortably familiar. It was still hard to think of it as his own house. It had belonged to Grandma Hunter since before he and his brothers and sisters were born. Situated west of Chicago in what was still rolling farmland, it was old and drafty and massive… and absolutely wonderful. He smiled as he turned onto his own road. He’d hung from those tree limbs as a boy, raced up and down the road, David and Peter at his side, Catherine at their heels, Elizabeth crying because they’d left her behind again. He’d missed them, his family. He hadn’t realized how much until Cathy called to ask him to come home. Her oldest was taking a job in Virginia and the house would be empty again. The call from Dean Whitfield had truly been providential, just as he’d told Caroline Stewart that morning.

Now, he thought, she had been a very pleasant surprise. All the history department secretaries he’d known had been gray, fifty-ish and grandmotherly. Caroline was anything but. A wave of arousal surged at the memory of her rounded curves, of the charming way she blushed when she realized he’d been studying her. She was everything he’d been looking for. Beautiful, compassionate. Obviously intelligent. Too bad she didn’t seem to have the same assessment of her value that he did. If she had, Monika Shaw would never have been able to extinguish the light from her eyes so quickly. Fury had spiked inside him and it had taken every ounce of restraint to keep from telling Monika Shaw to go to hell. The elderly professor Wade Grayson warned him about Shaw. He’d been right. But watching Monika wave Caroline away as if she were a servant and Shaw the queen lit a possessiveness in him, a sharp need to protect Caroline that took him by surprise. Remembering, hours later, the feeling still took him by surprise.