In Close (9 page)

Which was why Isaac thought it was time to intervene. “You don’t think I’ve considered what you’re saying?”

The sheriff’s chair squealed as he pulled it away from the desk so he could sit. “I guess where I get confused is this—what’s your interest in the situation, Isaac? Why are you getting involved?”

His interest was Claire. Now that she was back in his life, he wanted to be sure she achieved the resolution she needed. But he also knew how quickly everyone would doubt him if he said he was trying to do a good deed. No one would believe it was that simple. Although he hadn’t landed himself in trouble in years, they’d treat him like he was the big bad wolf coming to blow down the poor widow’s house.

The people of Pineview had tolerated—more kindly than some towns would have—an abandoned child in their midst, but they possessed very long memories. They would never let him live down his past. “Someone’s got to make sure it is what it appears to be. Might as well be me.”

“That’s it? That’s all there is to it?”

“That’s it.”

Myles swiveled back and forth as he mulled over Isaac’s response. “But I’m not convinced there’s any connection between David’s death and Alana’s disappearance,” he finally said.

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Do you have any evidence to support your opinion?”

Clasping his hands loosely between his legs, Isaac leaned forward. “No evidence. Yet. But I’ve come across some interesting coincidences.”

Myles opened a notebook. “I’m all ears.”

“First of all, David was researching Alana’s death and was raising enough questions to negate the argument that she ran off. What he was doing would eventually lead to police involvement, which made someone very nervous.”

“I’m supposed to take what you say David was doing on faith?”

“You don’t have to. It’s all in the files.”

“What files?”

“The case files.”

Now Myles was
really
skeptical. No longer the open-minded listener, he leaned forward. “And how would
you
know anything about the case files?”

“Somehow, David got a copy of them before he died. They had to have come from your office so I initially thought Rusty must’ve provided them. But when I spoke to him, he denied it and seemed completely unaware that David was even pursuing the mystery.”

Someone knocked on the door, a deputy, but Myles hollered that he’d be out in a few minutes. Then his eyes shifted back to Isaac. “You haven’t mentioned how you know he had any files.”

“Claire found them at the studio the night she was pushed down by that unknown assailant. They had his writing all over them.”

The sheriff dropped his pen. He was beginning to catch on. “Why weren’t they there when I searched?”

“Because I’d already taken them. She was afraid she’d lose them otherwise. They contained information she hadn’t been privy to before. Some progress David had made, like I said. And some conflicting testimony and facts that didn’t quite jive with what she’d been told. Things law enforcement kept from her and the press.”

“Like…”

Was this a test? “Leanne’s absence from school on the day in question.”

His mouth flattened into a thin line. If it had been a test, he’d just passed. “Then you’re right. That had to come from my office. But I have no idea how.”

Isaac couldn’t help him there. “All I know is what I saw.”

The chair creaked as he rocked back. “David having copies of what’s in our files doesn’t mean he was killed because of it.”

“That’s not all I’ve got to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“I went to see the man who shot him.”

At this Myles straightened. “In Idaho?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re damn serious about all of this.”

“I am.”

“And what did you learn?”

Isaac pictured the polished, wealthy lawyer. “He’s a far cry from any hunter I’ve ever met. And he’s not exactly a stand-up guy.”

“You gathered that from one meeting? How long were you there?”

“Not long. He brushed me off as soon as he could, but not before he gave me some song and dance about how devastated he was by what he’d done.”

“Which you didn’t believe.”

Isaac stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “I did at first. He told me he was so traumatized he couldn’t hunt anymore, that he’d got rid of every gun he owned because he can’t bear the sight of them.”

Myles steepled his fingers. “Any man would feel that way.”

“But it was a lie. He still has a whole cabinet full of guns. I could see them from his backyard.”

“They could belong to a friend or family member.”

“They were inside
his
house. And there was something else that struck me as odd.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s a bankruptcy attorney.”

“That makes him a bloodsucker, not a murderer,” Myles joked.

“But how many bankruptcy attorneys do you know who’ve witnessed a client shoot himself to death?”

Myles got to his feet. “This happened to him?”

“He said it did—right in his office.”

“Why would he tell you that?”

“He thought it’s what motivated my visit.”

“Shit.” Turning, he stared through the slats of the blind.

Isaac stood, too. “So now you have someone who’s accidentally shot a man while hunting and who’s also been involved in another unusual death.”

“Suicide isn’t murder,” he argued, but he didn’t sound nearly as unfriendly or unconvinced as he had when Isaac first arrived.

“Maybe it wasn’t suicide,” Isaac suggested.

Myles blew out a sigh. “I admit these coincidences are odd, but…the suicide must’ve checked out.”

“If the police did their homework, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get a look at their findings. The details might shed some more light on Les Weaver.”

No response.

“Come on, all I’m asking is that you poke around a bit. Learn how and why someone died in his office and figure out whether or not he had any connection to Pineview. He claims he came here alone, for the first time, without knowing a soul. A check of his phone records for the months leading up to David’s death would tell us if he was having regular conversations with anyone in this area. And if he was…”

“We could have a killer on the loose,” Myles finished.

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18

W
hen Claire opened her eyes, she could tell she hadn’t been sleeping long, and the clock confirmed it. 1:58 a.m. Why was she awake? She wanted to sink back into the nothingness she’d just left—and would have if not for the odd noise that nudged her toward consciousness.

It sounded like someone was at the back door.

Was it Leanne? She couldn’t think of anyone besides her sister who’d come over so late…?.

In the next instant, she sat bolt upright. Leanne wouldn’t be at her back door in the middle of the night. Someone was trying to get in. She could hear the
click, click
of the knob as it turned back and forth.

Who was it? And why was that person here?

Wondering if maybe those noises hadn’t been as distinctive as she’d first imagined, if maybe it was just some animal rustling around, she got out of bed and tiptoed into the living room, where she could peer around the corner and through the moonlit kitchen.

She hadn’t been imagining anything. The dark shadow of a man stood on the other side of the glass.

Her heart jumped into her throat. As she watched, too panic-stricken to move, he left the door and went around to press his face to the window over her sink.

Claire screamed before she realized it was Isaac. Then her chest heaved as she tried to recover from the fright he’d given her. Why was he prowling around her yard?

He’d heard her. She saw his head turn in her direction. He probably couldn’t see her, since she was hidden behind the wall and it was darker inside than out, but he jogged to the front, where she met him as he stepped onto the porch.

“What are you doing here?” she cried. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He didn’t seem chastised; he seemed concerned. His eyes ran over her from head to foot. “You’re okay?”

Why wouldn’t she be okay? Before he’d disturbed her, she’d been getting some much-needed rest. “I’m fine, why?”

“Someone called me from a pay phone. I’m pretty sure it was a man, but even that was hard to tell. He had the mouthpiece covered and was talking so low I could barely hear. He said, ‘Claire’s in trouble.’”

“Are you serious?”

His hair stood up on one side as if he’d just rolled out of bed himself. “Do I look like I’m doing this for kicks?”

“No, but…” Her heart rate still hadn’t returned to normal. “That’s so strange. You don’t have any idea who it was?”

“None.”

“When was this?”

He rubbed a hand over the razor stubble on his chin. “Twenty minutes ago. Just long enough for me to drive over here. Everything looked so peaceful when I arrived, I thought it had to be somebody’s idea of a joke to scare me like that. So I was checking things out, trying to see if there was any reason to worry.”

Claire had been so exhausted she hadn’t even taken off her makeup, but she was too uneasy to be sleepy now. “Why would anyone crank-call you about
me?
”

He shrugged. “Who knows? It could’ve been someone who heard about what happened at your mother’s studio and thought it would be funny to send me on a fool’s errand.”

Or someone who’d heard they were seeing each other and wanted to determine whether he cared enough to come to her rescue. She wouldn’t put that past a couple of the women who talked about him incessantly.

That was the extent of it, she told herself, but then she remembered the call
she’d
received from the person who’d asked if she’d hired a P.I. She’d forgotten to tell Isaac about that. Life had been such a whirlwind since then she’d scarcely thought of it herself.

“That call must have come from Les,” Isaac agreed when Claire had described the brief conversation. “Besides you and me, no one else knows I told him I was a P.I.”

Had he called Isaac, too?

Either way, the idea of a raspy-voiced caller foretelling her doom sent chills down her spine, especially after that incident on the Fourth of July. “Sorry someone put you to so much trouble,” she said. “That’s a long drive in the middle of the night, especially for nothing.”

“That’s okay. I’m
glad
it was for nothing.” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he leaned against the door frame. “So…did you have fun with your date tonight?”

She hadn’t expected him to confront her about Owen. She’d thought the fact that she was dating other men would be one of those things they wouldn’t talk about, even if they did continue to see each other. He didn’t want to commit to a relationship, but he didn’t want to lose her, either. That pretty much left ignoring the other men in her life as his only option. “It was okay.”

His gaze shifted toward her bedroom. “Is he gone?”

“What difference would it make to you even if he wasn’t?” she countered.

He studied her carefully. “I’m not very good at sharing.”

“We’re just friends, remember?”

“I remember, but that doesn’t seem to help.”

“Fine, he’s gone.”

“Good.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “So what happened after I left?”

“We danced.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

He scowled as if he didn’t want to ask his next question but couldn’t resist. “Did he kiss you?”

Scowling right back at him, she said, “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know.”

One eyebrow shot up. “A simple ‘no’ would be nice. Then maybe I could stop the damn reel of the two of you together that keeps playing in my head.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Okay, if you want to talk about bad images—have you ever been with my sister?”

Even without the lights on, she could see the curl of his lip.
“What?”

The answer he had yet to give frightened her so much she had to take a deep breath. “Leanne. Have you ever slept with her?”

“Hell, no! I’ve never even
looked
at her. God, what do you think I am?”

“I think that’s clear.”

“No, it’s not. You don’t know me if you believe I’d sleep with your sister. Why would you even ask me that?”

Relief finally eased the fear that’d kept her on edge ever since Leanne had shown up in her salon, pretending to have more intimate knowledge of Isaac than she did. “For the same reason you asked me about Owen.”

He glared at her. “You’re jealous.”

“Of course I’m jealous! I’ve loved you for ten years!” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She hadn’t even realized she was going to say them.

Her confession hung in the air like the scent of gunpowder. She’d probably just shot to hell any chance she had of being with him. She’d gone so far she couldn’t even salvage her pride. This was how she’d ruined their relationship the last time—by letting him mean too much.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe this would put a decisive end to whatever was starting between them again. He’d make sure of it. Then she wouldn’t have to fight her natural inclinations any longer.

She held her breath, expecting him to walk out without another word, or to explain, as he’d explained before, that he didn’t reciprocate those feelings.

Instead, he stepped close and lifted her chin with one finger. “I thought you were still in love with David.”

Of course he’d call her on that. But there was no gloating in his voice. It was an earnest question. “I am,” she whispered. “Don’t listen to me.”

When he tilted his head to study her, she knew she’d given herself away. “I mean nothing to you?” he asked.

“You’re good in bed. That’s all. Now get out of here.” She tried to shove him toward the door, but he resisted.

“You could be pregnant with my baby.” Considering the time of the month, it wasn’t likely, but it was possible. They hadn’t used any birth control that first time. She’d thought of the chance she might be carrying his child often throughout the day, let her heart curl around it almost as a secret wish. But his remark came out of nowhere, as if it had escaped from him just like what
she’d
said a moment earlier.

Her hand automatically went to her stomach. “Does that scare the hell out of you or what?” She gave an awkward laugh. In one way, being a single mother frightened her. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that it would only complicate and strengthen what she felt for Isaac. But she was ready for the next stage of life, ready to love and cherish again, and nothing was more lovable than a baby. Especially Isaac’s baby. Somehow it seemed…right.

He stared down at her. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

She braced herself in case he mentioned abortion. She wouldn’t do it. She’d take the baby and run away if she had to, but she wouldn’t terminate the pregnancy. “And…”

“It scares the hell out of me.”

“No surprise there.”

Lowering his head, he kissed her tenderly. “But I kind of like the idea.”

A languid, warm feeling began to overcome the butterflies in her stomach as she melted into him. “You’re saying you want a baby?”

Raising his head, he cupped her face. “I’m saying I want
you.
Do you think we could make it—be happy together—if we tried?”

It wasn’t “I love you,” but it was close. In any event,
he
was the one who had to believe they could survive the demons of his past;
he
was the one who had to make the commitment to conquer those doubts and fears. “Maybe we should just take it one day at a time,” she said.

“That sounds good. But I don’t want you seeing anyone else.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Then you can’t see anyone else, either.”

“As long as you give me what I want whenever I want it, I won’t have to,” he teased, and swept her into his arms.

He was about to carry her to the bedroom, but she stopped him. “Let’s go to your place.”

He hesitated. “Any particular reason?”

“The phone call you got would be one. If there’s any danger here, we wouldn’t be in harm’s way. Leanne living so close would be another. And I have two days off…?.”

“I like the third reason.” He reversed direction. But there was one thing Claire had left out. This was still David’s house. There was no question that she loved Isaac—as she’d never loved anyone else—but she’d loved David in a unique way, too. And Isaac hadn’t proven he could take the place of her husband. Not quite yet.

Isaac was cooking breakfast again. Claire could smell it.

“You’re not going to feed me every time I stay over, are you?” she called out, but she wasn’t serious. Oddly enough, she was hungry—perhaps because it was past noon.

“That’s the price of my stud services,” he called back.

“So now you think you’re good enough to charge?”

“I didn’t hear any complaints last night.”

Smiling at the thought that only a crazy woman would complain about the kind of pleasure he’d given her, she buried her face in his pillow.

“Ready for breakfast?” he called a moment later.

Claire was so hopeful and happy she could hardly stand it. And that frightened her. Could she count on Isaac, when the entire town would tell her no? When he had such scars from his childhood? When he’d hurt her once already?

It could be that she was setting herself up for another fall.

“Yeah, just a sec.” She crawled out of bed and pulled on the T-shirt he’d taken off last night. Before she could reach the kitchen, however, the phone rang, and Isaac answered. He sounded congenial at first, but then his voice went hard.

“Who is it?” she asked, coming up behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Your sister.”

Anxiety bit deep. Was it all going bad so soon? “Why is she calling?”

“We’ll be right there,” he said into the phone, and hung up.

“Isaac?”

When he turned to face her, he put his hands on her shoulders as if what he had to say wouldn’t be easy to hear. “Someone broke into your house last night, Claire.”

“What?”
She couldn’t even imagine such a thing. She’d been in her bedroom as late as two—Isaac had been with her the last few minutes—which meant it could have happened shortly after they left. Once the sun came up would be far riskier and therefore unlikely.

“They kicked in the back door and tossed the place.”

Claire had experienced a little foreboding but only because she felt guilty for finding happiness in Isaac’s arms. She’d never expected
this.
“Leanne found it that way, or someone called her or—”

“She said she went over to see how you were doing. When she couldn’t rouse you at the front door, she went around to the back and saw the damage.”

Claire made a mental list of the kinds of possessions typically stolen from residences. She had a computer, a flat-screen TV and one painting of her mother’s that she wouldn’t want to lose, but other than her furniture, there wasn’t much someone would want. She certainly didn’t have any drugs or cash or jewelry. “What’d they take?”

He set the pans he’d been using to one side and turned off the stove. “That’s what we’re going over to find out.”

When Isaac parked in Claire’s drive, he glanced over at her, saw how rigidly she was sitting and wished he could take the blow for her. But there was nothing he could do. She got out of the car before he could even say anything.

Sheriff King had beaten them to the house and, apparently, already viewed the damage. He was standing on the porch, using his radio. His nostrils flared when he saw them together. No doubt he’d have a word with Claire later, warning her about the company she was keeping, but he was too preoccupied, and too sensitive to what Claire was about to see, to make a fuss at this point. He greeted her with a hug but ignored Isaac.

“If you want to wait a minute, I’ll walk through it with you,” Myles told her, but the person he was talking to had just come back on the radio, and she motioned for him to go ahead.

Isaac followed her inside—and instantly wanted to find the man who’d done this and teach him a lesson. There was so much damage. Whoever it was hadn’t stolen her TV, they’d busted it, along with her computer and almost everything else she owned, whether it had value or not. The mirrors were cracked, her bedding and much of her clothing had been slashed, the pictures torn from the walls. Even her wedding album and her mother’s painting had been destroyed. Whoever had done this had paid special attention to the things that would matter most to her.