Butterfly Cove (23 page)

“I want to know. More than that, I
need
to know.”

When Rafe filled her in on the conversation with her father’s financial adviser, her face went pale. “Martin knew about this thing that my father did? He was involved, too?”

“He said he just supplied cash. My sense is he was telling the truth about that. According to Martin, no one else in town knew. Your father made certain of that. That’s why he came here.”

“He traveled twice a year. He said it was for business or political conventions. He never told me the names of anyone he met at these conventions.” Olivia’s fingers moved restlessly in her lap.

Rafe leaned over and took her hand in his. “We’ll figure this out. Martin will see if he can track who your father had been involved with. Maybe it will lead us to where he put those accounts.”

“If there
are
any accounts.” Olivia sighed. “So what do we do now?

We.
Rafe liked the sound of that. He liked being included in Olivia’s future. He glanced back and watched Martin Eaglewood walk into the rental office. “We’re done here. Martin is going to ask some questions, but you won’t be coming back to this place, so now you should relax. Try this.”

Rafe handed Olivia her knitting bag. He lifted her needles and project and placed them carefully in her lap.

Olivia took the soft yarn, but she didn’t pick up her needles. “I need the truth, Rafe. It isn’t just about the money. I need to know about my father’s state of mind because he’s part of me. He always will be.”

And then she picked up her needles. When her hands shook a little, she frowned and took a deep breath, starting over until the stitches moved smoothly. Rafe saw the skill and experience that went into each stitch.

“You’re pretty amazing. Do you know that, Livie?”

She glanced up, surprised.
“Me?”

Rafe touched her cheek. “Damn right.”

Olivia didn’t answer. Clouds were coming in as she stared south along the coast road, through the trees that hid Summer Island.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

O
LIVIA FROWNED AT
the twisting road. Fog swirled, tangled in the dense branches of pine trees that hugged the cliffs. It was barely noon, but the sky had turned dark.

Olivia felt jagged and surreal, as if a part of her was here in the car, watching the breakers out at sea, while another part sat in the gloom aboard that depressing boat, trying to understand who her father had really been. Maybe everyone had secret lives, she thought. Did it really matter?

“The tape...it didn’t shock you?”

“It wasn’t illegal, Livie.”

“But it
was
painful. Okay, I just made a joke.” She let out a slow breath. “I must be feeling better.”

“If you really want to know, what I felt was disappointment. Your father can’t have been very happy if he was living like that, with two parts of him cut up and separated so completely. And if he wasn’t happy,
that
affected you.” Rafe frowned. “I never saw him act warm or encouraging to you, and I hated that,” he said grimly. “I thought he might be different when I wasn’t around.”

“Not really.” Had her father’s distance and disapproval been so obvious? Had everyone in town watched her, hiding their pity?

Had Rafe pitied her, too?

* * *

R
AFE WAS HUNGRY
by the time they reached the little outdoor restaurant by the beach. He had worked here briefly as a teenager, and he knew the menu well. Though the owners were new, the place still made the best fish tacos south of Seattle. And you couldn’t beat the view from a picnic table overlooking the cove. The restaurant wasn’t flashy or pretentious, Rafe thought. He was pretty sure that Olivia would enjoy it.

“So explain this whole knitting thing, will you? I get the part about having finished garments that you’ve made yourself. I get the thing about choosing your own colors. But it’s pretty expensive, right? When Jilly unpacked that shipment of yarn for the Harbor House, she told me a sweater in some of that yarn could eat up a whole paycheck.”

This brought a laugh from Olivia. “She’s right. There’s a reason we call some of that stuff
crack yarn.
”

“Just promise me there will be no laws broken. Otherwise I might have to come over and investigate.” Rafe passed her a full plate with guacamole, chips and fish tacos. “This is another thing I kept thinking about while I was gone. Nobody can make guacamole like this. Don’t tell Jilly, but I have the chef’s recipe. I think this guy even grows his own peppers and avocados.”

“My lips are sealed.” Olivia toyed with a piece of her taco. “Do you like to cook?”

“I like to
eat,
” Rafe said dryly. “Learning to cook was self-preservation.”

“You’re smart, much smarter than most people realize. You always tried to hide it growing up. You used to race up Main Street on your motorcycle and delight at all the angry faces. You got Cs when you could have gotten As. You played sports, and then you quit. All the other parents were furious and called you lazy. Or worse.”

“Maybe they were right.”

“No. You were
bored.
That was always your problem. All that rah-rah stuff with the cheerleaders and the pep rallies held no interest for you. So you jumped on your big motorcycle and roared away up the coast.”

“Things were hard then. I got hard along with them,” Rafe said quietly. He looked down, surprised when Olivia linked her fingers through his. And then she kissed his hand slowly.

Instantly all the desire was back, blinding him the way it had that morning. All it took was one look, one touch.

“I’d like to ask you one thing.” Olivia’s mouth was firm as she stared back at him. “I don’t want you to look at me and see the mayor’s daughter or the town good girl. I’m asking for you to look at me and see the woman I want to be, Rafe. There are things that I want to know about. Things I would
only
trust you to show me. And that’s what I’m asking for. Because I trust you—I more than trust you.”

Rafe didn’t quite trust his voice to answer. “More than trust?”

“I love you. I always have.”

Rafe took a deep breath, trying to process what she had just told him. “Sweet, wonderful Livie. You’ve always been the only woman in my life.”

Olivia looked down at her tray and then calmly wrapped up her remaining food. “That was good. Can we go now?”

She didn’t wait for his answer. But there was something very determined in the set of her shoulders, Rafe thought.

* * *

T
HE TEMPERATURE HAD
fallen twenty degrees by the time they reached the turnoff for Summer Island. Heavy fog twisted through the dark pines and Rafe slowed for each hairpin turn. Olivia was half-asleep beside him, with his jacket over her shoulders.

Suddenly a truck whined behind them. She sat up with a start.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just a truck.” Rafe glanced into his rearview mirror. “But it’s a truck driven by an idiot. This road is way too narrow to play chicken, and the fog sure isn’t helping. What does he think he’s doing?”

Behind them a dusty white truck moved back and forth, flashing his brights and trying to pass. Ahead of them the road curved sharply. As soon as they were beyond the curve, Rafe pulled sideways, and the white truck shot forward. As he passed, he honked loudly, nearly clipping Rafe’s car as he shot into the fog.

“There’s stupid and there’s
dangerous.
I think that driver just slid into the dangerous category.” Frowning, Rafe reached into the glove compartment for his emergency amber strobe beacon. He clipped in the power cable and put the strobe on top of the car. “I’m sorry, Livie, but we’re in Summer Island jurisdiction here. That idiot is going to get somebody killed.”

“Do whatever you have to do. He’s driving really crazy now.”

Ahead of them the white truck was skidding back and forth across the road. Waiting for a straight stretch, Rafe pushed up his speed, coming close enough that the amber beacon light had to be visible.

But the truck shot forward and vanished around the hairpin turn high above the ocean.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

M
OST PEOPLE LOOKED
up nervously when they saw a cop show a badge outside their car. They managed to fake an expression of surprise and innocence. “Gee, is there a problem, Officer?” Never mind that they were going seventy in a twenty-five-mile-per-hour zone.

But this guy was very cool, Rafe saw. No eye contact. No wriggling in the seat. No sign of nerves.

Rafe scanned the interior and saw no firearms. No open liquor in view and no drugs evident. “License and registration, please.”

Again there was no surprise or awkward attempt at humor. “In my glove compartment. I’m going to open it now.”

“That’s fine.”

The papers were all in order. No violations noted. Rafe took his time, registering the details, looking for anything that could signal a problem. “Are you in a hurry, sir?”

This brought a quick snap of eye contact. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You just passed me going upward of seventy on a dangerous stretch of coastal road. That would indicate you’re in a hurry.”

“I didn’t know you were a cop. And—I didn’t realize I was going that fast either,” the man added quickly. His fingers opened and closed once on the steering wheel.

“Something making you drive in such a hurry, Mr.—” Rafe checked the registration. “Mr. Connors.”

“I’m going home. I’ve been away for six years, and I’m...pretty excited.”

He didn’t look excited, Rafe thought. He looked determined. Some of what he was saying was true and some of it sounded false. “Working in another state?”

“Yeah. The job situation here in Oregon sucks. I was lucky to get hired on down in San Diego.”

Rafe had seen that bad economy for himself. Unfortunately, too many young people had to leave the coast to find work. The only major employers nearby were in the tourism sector, and that wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea.

Rafe scanned the inside of the car again. Everything was neat. Only a canvas backpack and a bottle of water. He felt the man’s impatience, but there were no signs of fear or guilt. There were also no signs of alcohol, drugs or firearms. Nothing illegal at all.

Rafe decided to cut him some slack. After all, he knew how excited a man could feel going home after years away. “You have a woman waiting for you, Mr. Connors?”

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“And she lives on Summer Island?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I advise you to slow down and drive safely so you can make it home for dinner,” Rafe said flatly.

The man hesitated. “So I can go now?”

His eyes were relieved. Rafe picked that up, but not much else. “You can go. Here’s a ticket for speeding. You’ll need to take care of that on Monday morning.” He handed a folded paper through the open window. “Enjoy your stay on Summer Island, Mr. Connors. And don’t let me see you speeding again.”

The big fingers opened and closed on the wheel again. “Thank you, Officer. I’ll watch my speed. You can count on it.”

Rafe watched him drive away. Then he called in the license and registration to the dispatcher. He wanted the citation on record, and since he didn’t have his cruiser, he couldn’t run the plates himself.

When he walked back to the car, Olivia was sitting up very straight, looking concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Just fine.”

“So what are we doing now?”

“We’re going home. And then, Ms. Sullivan, I plan to cook you dinner.”

* * *

R
AFE WASN’T BROOKING
any kind of argument. Livie was going upstairs to rest.

She looked surprised at his insistence, but her forced smile told Rafe that she needed a chance to regroup. He would give her the space to do that.

But first Rafe had to tell her something, and he knew it was going to hurt.

While she washed her face, he stood beside the bed and glanced at all the framed photos on her desk. Her whole past was in those pictures. All the laughter and all the memories of four amazing girls who grew up to be four amazing women. They had always planned their futures together, four friends with gigantic dreams.

Rafe was glad that Livie had friends like that. When you had friends like that watching your back, the world was a much kinder place.

When she was settled beneath a big quilt, Rafe sat down beside her and cleared his throat. “Livie, there’s something you need to know. I didn’t tell you before because it doesn’t put me in such a good light. Your father doesn’t look so good either. But I guess it’s time you knew all of it. The fact is, he set it all up. It was his plan. But I could have said no.” Hell, he was making a mess of this already. How was he supposed to explain?

“You could have said no to what? What did my father set up, Rafe?”

He ran a hand along his neck, trying to focus his thoughts. Going back into the dusty corridor of his memories was harder than he expected. “By every rule in the book, you should hate me. After all, I left you without a word of explanation. I stood you up on your prom night, something you’d been dreaming about for weeks. Everything was arranged. Your dress. Your shoes. Caro was going to do your hair. I remember all that and I know how excited you were.”

Olivia frowned at him. “She did my hair up in a twist. I borrowed her grandmother’s garnet necklace. Then you didn’t come. I sat by the front door for three hours and you never came.” Olivia looked away. “My father said...he told me that you said proms were for kids and you didn’t have time for that.”

“I said nothing like that, Livie. He lied.” Rafe’s voice hardened. “The truth is that I did a stupid thing the night before. I went out driving with some friends, and one of their brothers showed up, talking about a way we could make a whole lot of money. There was a car—all we had to do was drive it to Portland to a friend’s garage. He would pay us each a thousand dollars. It was just a lark, he said. And we agreed.”

Rafe shook his head. The disgust was still with him. “Except it was a
stolen
car and we were picked up. And that was my second arrest, Livie. The first time—”