"Did you find what you were looking for?" Pamela asked.
"I did. Thanks."
"Laura?"
She heard his booming voice even before he entered the office. Her father, Thomas Hart, was a big man, six feet three inches tall with a large, square face and an intimidating manner. He'd always scared the hell out of her, and now was no exception. She might be almost thirty years old, married, and the mother of two children, but when it came to her dad she felt like an uncertain little girl. "Hi, Dad," she said, forcing a smile on her face.
"Pamela said you were here, but she didn't say why."
So Drew's secretary had already reported her presence to her father? She sent the woman a pointed look, and Pamela backed out of the office with a muttered, "Excuse me."
"One of Jennifer's permission slips got mixed up in Drew's papers. I came to retrieve it."
Her father moved into the office, shutting the door behind him. "Is that really why you came?"
"What else could it be?" she asked nervously.
His dark eyes bored into her and she had the terrible feeling he could see right through her.
"Drew has been out of the office a lot lately," her father said. "Is there a problem at home, a reason why he needs to be out of town so frequently?"
She looked at him in surprise. "He's out of town on business. I'm sure you know better than I do what that business is."
"I'm afraid I don't. Drew has been taking a tremendous amount of personal leave. He said he was having personal problems. I've tried not to interfere, Laura, but this is becoming a noticeable problem to the other partners. I can't cover for Drew forever."
Drew was taking personal leave? Was he lying to both of them?
"Look, Laura, I don't give you much advice, but I'll tell you this. If you want to keep your husband home, make sure he has something to come home to."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You know what it means. Men who are happy at home don't look elsewhere."
Her father left the office, and she was tempted to run after him and ask him if he'd used that same excuse to cheat on her mother. She'd always suspected he'd had more than a few affairs over the years. But no one ever said the words out loud.
Was she behaving just like her mother—looking the other way, pretending things were all right when they were all wrong? Was Drew having an affair? Was that why he was taking so much time off? She needed to talk to him. She needed to ask those questions straight out. No more beating around the bush. No more hoping the problems would all go away. Now she just had to find Drew.
Natalie spent most of Friday morning looking for Cole. She'd been to his apartment, his office; she'd even driven by his parents' house to see if his car was there. It wasn't. She was getting more worried by the moment. Since Cole had stormed out of Dylan's apartment the day before, he had been completely unreachable. She'd decided to give him a little time to come to terms with Dylan's feelings for Emily, but that time was up. She wanted—make that needed—to talk to him, to make sure he was all right.
Taking a chance, she drove down to the marina and walked out to the base of the Golden Gate Bridge. sure enough, he was there, leaning against a brick wall, looking out at the water. She pulled her sweater tightly around her body as a cool breeze made her shiver, then walked up to him.
"How did you know I was here?" Cole asked without tinning his head.
She leaned against the wall, resting her arms on top of it, as she nudged his shoulder with her own. "Lucky guess. Aren't you cold?" He had on a dress shirt and slacks but no coat.
"I don't know. I haven't thought about it." He paused for a moment. "Did you find Em's journal?"
"No, it wasn't in Dylan's closet." She saw his pulse jump and knew he was still having a hard time thinking about that closet. "It wasn't as bad as it looked, Cole."
"How can you say that?" He turned to gaze at her, and she saw pain and anger in his dark eyes. "Dylan was obsessed with my sister in some weird, sick way. And I never knew. I thought he was my friend. I trusted him. We all did. My parents were happy when Emily went to Santa Cruz so Dylan could look after her. My God, we encouraged him to see her." He shook his head in self-loathing. "I can't believe I trusted him."
"Dylan did look after Emily. According to Madison, he was in love with Emily, but he never told her. And she never acted like they were anything but friends. I don't think he crossed the line, Cole, except in his own imagination." Natalie didn't know why she felt so determined to convince him, but she did. Maybe because Cole had already lost his sister; she couldn't let him lose one of his best friends, too. "There have been so many misunderstandings. Don't let this be another one. Talk to Dylan before you judge him."
"What don't I understand, Natalie?" he asked with a frustrated wave of his hand. "My best friend lied to me. Even if it was a lie of omission, it's still a lie. And why are you defending him? He hates you."
"Thanks for reminding me," she said dryly. "I know he's not my biggest fan, but we looked through the closet, Cole. Yes, there are tons of photos of Emily, but it's not like they're nude photos. We also found drawings that must have been done when Emily was young. It looked like she and Dylan tried to make their own magic tricks. And they wrote stories together about magical places. I guess Dylan based his virtual-reality games on some of those stories. From what I read, they were pretty good. The closet was like a big scrap-book. You should go back and look inside. You'll see there aren't any monsters in there."
Cole stared at her as if she'd grown two heads. "I don't get you, Natalie. You sound forgiving. Haven't you figured out yet that there's a good chance Dylan either is Garrett Malone or fed Malone the story because he wanted to punish you for Emily's death?"
That thought had definitely occurred to her. "Of course I get that, Cole. If Dylan believes that I hurt Emily, then he's wrong, and I will make sure he understands that at some point. Especially if he's the one who wrote the book that is destroying my reputation." She paused, wishing she could make him understand that she'd been touched emotionally by some of what she'd seen in that closet. "I have to tell you that I'm a little in awe of the love that Dylan had for Emily. He adored her. That's clearly evident. Whatever he did, he did out of love."
"A sick kind of love obviously."
"Why was it sick? Because he was your friend?"
"And she was my sister," Cole said with a disgusted edge to his voice. "And he took advantage of her."
"No, he didn't, and I'm beginning to see why he never told you about his feelings."
"He didn't tell me because he knew I wouldn't like it."
Natalie sighed, feeling like she was ramming her head against a brick wall.
"Only the newspaper is that black and white, Cole. The rest of life is more complicated, especially relationships. Dylan had every right to love Emily. And I'm sure she cared about him too. They were best friends. You have to talk to Dylan."
Cole didn't answer. It was clear he was still angry.
Natalie looked out at the water, watching a sailboat cross under the bridge. It was attempting to sail back into the bay, away from the open sea, directly into the wind and the swirling currents. But the sailors weren't giving up, turning left, then right, as they attempted to catch a cross breeze. She felt like she was engaged in much the same battle, but she wouldn't give up. She wouldn't lose, not when she was so close to having everything she wanted.
She couldn't let Cole give up, either. "You need to stay focused," she told him. "You're letting yourself get sidetracked. We still have to find Malone, the journal, and the truth. At least we're getting closer."
He shot her a skeptical look. "How on earth could you think that? Every time I turn around I find out something new about my sister. Emily is a stranger now. Was she the girl I remember in my head and my heart? Or was she someone completely different?"
"Maybe she was a little of both. We don't always show family our true faces, especially when we're teenagers, and Emily was nineteen years old when she died. She wasn't fully grown. She hadn't become all she could be. And she wasn't perfect."
"I thought she was perfect," Cole said heavily. "Every time I think about her now, I see her laughing brown eyes and her beautiful smile, and it pisses me off that she's gone. She had so much to live for. She could have been anyone."
Natalie slid her hand down his arm and over his clenched fist in a gesture of comfort. "I feel the same way, Cole. Emily is frozen in time for all of us. That's why we can't let go of her. We can't get past the fact that we had a chance to move on, and she didn't. Maybe that's why Dylan had to keep his memories alive in photos. Maybe we shouldn't judge him so harshly for that."
"I want her back," Cole said tightly. "I want five more minutes with Emily."
His words made her eyes tear up, and she bit down on her lip to stop the emotion. Where had all her defenses gone? And why couldn't she get those damn walls up again?
"Just five more minutes," he continued, gazing into her eyes. "I want to tell Em that I'm proud of her, that I love her, and that I'd sell my soul to relive that night again, to bring her back. Is that so much to ask?"
Natalie shook her head, unable to speak. She wanted five more minutes with Emily, too—time to say she was sorry for putting Emily in the middle, for not paying more attention to what was going on in her life, and for being selfish. But they weren't going to get five more seconds, let alone five more minutes.
When Cole put his arms around her, Natalie went willingly. She rested her cheek against the pounding beat of his heart and wrapped her arms around his waist. They stayed that way for several long minutes. She wanted it to last forever. She realized now she hadn't come back to San Francisco because of the beauty of the city or the memories; she'd come back for this. This was the only home she'd ever really wanted, here in Cole's arms.
Like all of her homes, she knew it would be temporary. There were no second chances. Not for any of them.
Cole's cell phone rang a moment later, and she pulled away so he could answer it. He checked the number and shook his head. "Josh again."
"He's worried about you. Aren't you going to answer it?"
"I'll talk to him later. I need time to think. Do you suppose he knew—"
"No. Dylan's relationship with Emily—whatever it was—was kept just between the two of them."
He frowned. "You don't think she was afraid of Dylan, do you?"
Natalie shook her head. "Absolutely not. I saw them together in Santa Cruz. There was no fear in their relationship. Not a speck of it. Emily made Dylan smile. And he made her laugh. And she loved to talk to him. It wasn't weird at all."
"I want to believe that."
"Then believe it. We have other things to worry about."
"Like what?"
"Madison and I sat down and compared notes. This is what we know. Emily had a crush on someone right before she died, someone she thought was unattainable. The only person we can think of that Emily might have put in that category is Drew, because of his relationship with Laura."
"Drew?" Cole echoed. "You think Emily and Drew had something going on? Are you serious?"
"I don't think we can rule it out. We know that Drew was in L.A. at the same time as Malone." She paused. "Isn't it interesting that as of today both Drew and Dylan are nowhere to be found?"
"It's not interesting. It's damned frustrating."
"Could Drew and Dylan be working together?" Natalie asked. "Dylan likes to write. Drew is conniving enough to keep this book just out of lawsuit reach. And they both share a passionate dislike of me."
Cole didn't reply. He just stared at her for a long moment, and she could see the wheels turning in his brain. "It's possible, I suppose."
His cell phone rang again. "This is my investigator. I better take it."
Natalie watched his face change dining the course of the short conversation. He went from angry, tense, and sad to excited and eager.
"We've got a break," he said, as he ended the call. "My investigator found Malone. He traced his corporation back to someone named Jerry Williams."
The name didn't ring a bell. "I don't understand. Who is Jerry Williams?"
"I have no idea, but he has a Santa Cruz address. I think we should check it out."
"I don't know," Natalie said, hesitating. Did she really want to go back to the place where Emily had died? Where she'd spent the worst night of her life?
"What don't you know?" Cole asked forcefully. "This is our first real lead. We have to follow it up." His eyes softened as he gazed at her. "I know it will be difficult, but I don't think we have a choice, not if we want the truth."
"Are you sure you want me to come with you? After what your parents said yesterday? The last thing I want to do is come between you and your family, Cole."
Some emotion flashed through his eyes, but it came and went so quickly she couldn't read it. "We're in this together until we get our answers. That's all I can think about right now."
Until we get our answers. At least he was offering a time frame this go-around.
"All right," she said, making a quick decision. "I'll come. Santa Cruz is where it began. With any luck, that is where it will end."
Madison tapped her fingernails impatiently on the top of her desk. She really needed to work, but she was having trouble concentrating. She couldn't get her mind off the past, and especially off Dylan. He would be furious when he found out that everyone now knew about his infatuation with Emily. He'd probably never speak to her again, especially since she'd been the one to blow his cover. For some reason, the thought made her feel more sad than angry. She'd begun to see a different side to Dylan in the last few days, and what she'd seen had impressed her. There was more to the man than the bad-boy image, a lot more. She just wished he'd open up to her. There was probably no chance of that happening now.
Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the details of the masquerade party that thankfully her staff was handling quite capably. But even as she read, her mind drifted and the words blurred in front of her eyes. She was grateful when her office door opened and her secretary, Theresa Myers, entered, several message slips in hand.
"You had some calls while you were in your meeting earlier. The first was from a Detective Robert Boland with the Santa Cruz police Department. He asked that you call him back as soon as possible," Theresa said.
Madison felt her stomach muscles clench. Damn. That was not what she wanted to hear.
"Is everything all right?" Theresa asked curiously.
"Fine. Anything else?"
"There was also a message from a Natalie Bishop. She said she's on her way to Santa Cruz, and if you need to reach her, call her on her cell phone. Do you need anything else? I was going to run down to the printer to pick up the seating cards for the masquerade party."
"That's all." Madison waved the woman out of her office. She needed to think. Getting up, she paced around her desk. The police wanted to talk to her. That wasn't good. And Natalie was on her way to Santa Cruz. Had she also gotten a call from the detective? It sounded like the answers were in Santa Cruz. Maybe it was time she went back, too.
Taking her purse out of her drawer, she opened her wallet and pulled out the piece of paper upon which Laura had written her phone number. She dialed her home number, hoping she was there.
Laura answered on the second ring. "Hello?" she said, somewhat warily.
"It's Maddie."
"Thank God. I just got a call from a police detective. He wants to interview me again about Emily's death."
"I know. I got the same call. Listen, Natalie is on her way to Santa Cruz. I think we should go, too."
"Santa Cruz? I don't know. I'm afraid to go back there. I don't have a good feeling about this."
"Neither do I, but I'm going."
Laura hesitated, then said, "I'll get my mother to pick up the kids after school."
"Good. What will you tell Drew?"
"Nothing. He's still out of town, and I have no idea what he's doing. But that's another story."
"You can tell me on the way down. I'll pick you up in an hour. Give me your address." Madison jotted down Laura's address, then hung up the phone with a satisfied smile. She was happy to be taking some action. And this move felt right.
"Santa Cruz, here we come," she murmured as she headed toward the door.