How Secrets Die (3 page)

“I'm sure they are. I'm actually renting the cottage, and it's...charming.”

Did he really hear an infinitesimal pause before the final word? It seemed to him it was far from charming for her to be living in the very rooms where her brother had spent his last days.

He waved to Jamie, who'd paused at the door for a last look, and then turned back to Kate.

“Your little boy is a sweetheart,” she said quickly, maybe to forestall any criticism from him.

“My little nephew,” he corrected. “Jamie is my brother Nick's boy. I'm not married.”

“I see.” She seemed to be readjusting her thoughts.

It wouldn't be any of his business where she stayed, if it weren't for his instinct that she was hiding something. He couldn't shake his conviction that a big-city reporter wouldn't be spending time in Laurel Ridge without an agenda. Bluntness was probably the only way he'd get an answer.

“Why are you living in the cottage? What are you after in Laurel Ridge?”

Kate flared up at that, as he'd expected. “I'm not after anything. Besides, wouldn't you do the same, if it was your brother?”

What exactly was the passion that flamed in her eyes and made her skin flush? Not grief, he thought. Or at least, not only grief. Something more.

He took a moment, and then tried to respond honestly. “If I lost Nick all of a sudden, I don't know what I'd do. It would be like losing part of myself.”

Their eyes met. Held. She looked stunned, vulnerable, and that very vulnerability had the power to draw him in. To make him want to touch her, comfort her.

But he couldn't. Not when he didn't know what she was going to bring to his town.

Deliberately he went on. “But I'm pretty sure I wouldn't try to retrace his final steps. Not unless I was looking for something. What are you looking for, Kate?”

Watching her face then was like watching ice form on the river. She stared at him as if he'd just crawled out from under a rock. Not bothering to deny it, she rose, slung her bag strap over her shoulder and headed for the counter, probably to wait for her order.

He gazed at her for a long moment. No good trying to get anything more from her now. The rigid line of her back told him that much.

Maybe it was just as well that he'd said something to infuriate her again, because when she'd looked at him with vulnerability in those golden-brown eyes, he'd have had a tough time holding on to his own good judgment.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
Kate entered Blackburn House that afternoon, she'd tried a dozen times to dismiss Mac Whiting from her thoughts. Unfortunately, he wouldn't stay gone. She had no doubt he'd be an obstacle in her path if she let him.

She wouldn't. She'd already dealt with one hardheaded cop in her life, and she could deal with Whiting. Anybody who'd been raised by a difficult man like Tom Reilley had developed a tough shell. Except Jason, of course. Maybe if he had, his life wouldn't have ended the way it had.

The important thing was to get on with her plans, and that meant starting at the place where Jason had worked. He'd spent every day there, and judging by what she'd been able to decipher of his video diary, he'd had a lot of opinions about the place.

Preoccupied, she headed for the stairs, passing an Amish woman standing in the doorway of the quilt shop. The woman smiled and nodded as if Kate were known to her. The power of the grapevine in a small town? Maybe so. At least she seemed friendly.

Movement behind the glass door to Whiting and Whiting Cabinetry made her nerves jump irrationally, and she turned her face away as she hurried past, gaining the stairs without incident.

Whatever activity there was in Blackburn House seemed concentrated on the ground floor. Once again there was no one on the steps, and the upper hallway was deserted. A murmur of conversation came from the real estate office, but Laurel Ridge Financial Group was empty, save for the same young receptionist behind the front desk, her head bent over a printer that was spewing out papers.

She looked up at the sound of the door opening, seeming to brighten at the prospect of an interruption. “Welcome to Laurel Ridge Financial.” Abandoning the printer, she flipped open a pad on the desk. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I'm afraid not.” Kate glanced at the nameplate on the desk. “I just dropped in. I hope I'm not interrupting you. Are you Nikki?”

“That's me.” Nikki jerked an impatient nod toward the printer. “Just boring routine, even if the office manager does think the printer will jam when somebody's not watching it every minute. You're new around here, right?”

Kate couldn't help smiling. “How does everyone I meet know I'm a stranger?”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Easy to see you don't know what it's like in a burg the size of Laurel Ridge. Everybody knows everybody. Boring.” She managed to insert a wealth of meaning into the word, which seemed to be one of her favorites.

This kid couldn't be much more than seven or eight years younger than her, but Kate felt aeons older. With that improbably red hair and the matching scarlet nails, Nikki looked like a fifteen-year-old trying for a fake ID. She had a small, sharp-featured face and an obvious disdain for the job she held.

Had she thought Jason boring, too? Or had he been interesting, an urban stranger, someone she hadn't known all her life? Kate didn't think Jason had mentioned Nikki, but he may have. He often didn't bother with names when he talked about people.

Only one way to find out. “I wonder if you remember my brother. He worked here for the summer last year.”

“Jason?” Nikki's pointed features seemed to tighten. “Jason was your brother?”

“That's right. I'm Kate. Kate Beaumont. I suppose you got to know him, with you two being the only young people working here. Did he mention me?”

“He said he had a sister who was a reporter someplace.” Nikki pushed a curl out of her face with a scarlet fingertip. “That's you, huh?”

Kate nodded, debating with herself about how much she wanted to say to the receptionist. Maybe it was better not to let Nikki think she wanted anything in particular, at least until Kate knew how close she'd been to Jason. “He seemed to enjoy his job.”

Nikki shrugged. “It's an okay place to work, if you don't mind routine. And I took him around a little bit. You know, showed him what passes for nightlife in a place like this.”

“He told me you'd been friendly.” He hadn't, but let that pass in the interest of establishing a rapport with Nikki. “He appreciated it, especially since he didn't know anyone here.”

“Maybe. But he sure didn't like partying all that much.” Nikki didn't seem to realize that a big sister might consider that a good thing. “That's why it was so strange when he—well, you know.” She lowered her voice, as if speaking of death required softer tones.

“You didn't have any idea he'd been into drugs?” In Kate's experience, someone like Nikki was more likely to recognize the signs than one of the bosses would have been.

“I didn't think—”

One of the doors behind Nikki opened, and her voice cut off immediately.

“Nikki, why didn't you tell me there was a client waiting?” The man who surged forward, hand extended, had the kind of professional smile usually worn by anyone who had something to sell—his slightly puffy cheeks creasing, eyes crinkling in welcome as if she were a long-lost relative. “I'm Bart Gordon.” He clasped her hand warmly. “And you are?”

“Kate Beaumont.” How long would it take for the jovial welcome to wear off once he knew she wasn't a client? Not long, she suspected, but maybe she was being too cynical.

“She's Jason Reilley's sister,” Nikki said before Kate could.

Gordon stiffened, his hand releasing hers. “I see.” The smile became noticeably artificial. “What brings you to see us, Ms. Beaumont?”

“I happened to be in Laurel Ridge and thought I'd like to introduce myself to my brother's friends and colleagues here. And to thank you for the beautiful flower arrangement you sent for the services.”

The man's tension seemed to ease. “The least we could do. Such a sad loss,” he murmured.

“I see that Mr. Sheldon is no longer active in the firm. I did want to express my thanks to him, as well.”
And ask him about my brother.

“Russell Sheldon retired last year. Poor fellow—the work was getting beyond him. I'll be sure to give him your message when I see him. Thanks for stopping by.” Gordon's fingers brushed her elbow, as if he'd usher her out.

Not yet
. She ignored the hint. “Jason's death was a terrible shock, of course. Especially since he'd been so enthusiastic about his internship. Was there some issue at work that might have disturbed or upset him?”

Gordon's already flushed face reddened alarmingly. “Are you trying to blame us for what your brother did? If you think you can hold the firm responsible, you've got another—”

The door to the other office opened behind him, a woman emerging. Kate's wayward imagination presented her with an image of a Bavarian clock, with figures appearing and disappearing through their little doors.

“Bart, I'm sure you're misunderstanding the situation.” She smiled at Kate, extending her hand. “I'm Lina Oberlin, Mr. Gordon's assistant. Did I hear him say that you're poor Jason's sister?”

In other words, she'd been listening behind the door. Maybe, as Nikki had said, things were so boring that any interruption was welcome.

The female assistant was fair, blonde and fortyish, with hair drawn back from a pale, nearly colorless face. Lina Oberlin had small, even features and a trim figure that could have been appealing in anything other than the plain gray pantsuit she wore. It was as if she'd deliberately set out to fade into the woodwork.

“That's right...” she began, but Bart Gordon's voice ran over hers like a steamroller.

“The idea of it. We're the ones with a complaint. Here I was, giving the kid a second chance, and he goes and brings the worst kind of publicity down on the firm.”

Her brother was dead, and he was worried about publicity. Kate's fingers tightened into fists. Before she could cut loose, she happened to catch a glimpse of the receptionist's face. Avid, blatant curiosity—an eagerness, even, to see a drama unfolding in front of her.

And more, perhaps? If Nikki was glad to see the apparently forgotten situation raked up, that might mean she knew something.

“You don't mean that.” Lina Oberlin's voice seemed to hold a warning for her volatile boss. “I'm so sorry.” She touched Kate's arm lightly. “We were all stunned by what happened to your brother. Jason was such a nice boy. I'm sure he was happy here. Perhaps you and I could have a quiet talk later?” She glanced at Gordon, as if to ensure that he wouldn't burst out again.

“I'd appreciate that.” Kate let herself be led to the door. She couldn't accomplish anything more here now, but she wasn't dissatisfied with this first encounter. Outright anger was more revealing than bland sympathy.

Her presence angered Gordon. Why? And why did Lina Oberlin feel the need to intercede? Mere politeness, or something more?

And what about the receptionist? She'd have to make a point of talking to Nikki away from the office, little though she wanted to satisfy the girl's keen curiosity. She didn't doubt that if there was something to tell, Nikki would seize the chance to be involved.

CHAPTER THREE

T
HE
FEW
BELONGINGS
Kate had brought with her were quickly unpacked and stowed away in the cottage. She slid a suitcase into the back of the bedroom closet to get it out of the way. The rest of her things had gone into storage in Baltimore.

She hadn't taken anything from Tom Reilley's house except for Jason's things. The rest had gone to a sale. The fewer reminders of life there, the better, as far as she was concerned.

Jason had probably felt the same way when he'd left his father's house for the last time. It couldn't have held too many happy memories for him. Although she hoped he might have cherished, as she did, the after-school hours they'd spent at home together.

Kate walked back into the living room. The cottage was small and compact. The living room had just enough space for a television, sofa and chairs in one end and a bookcase and desk at the other, where she'd immediately set up her computer. Jason would no doubt have set up in the same place. He couldn't bear to be off-line, and he wanted a laptop for gaming.

If a person liked cottage style, the place was perfectly decorated, with cheerful chintz fabric on the furniture, white end tables and Cape Cod curtains on the windows. There was a small kitchen with a nook for a table and chairs, and a bedroom and bath. The shrubbery and vines she'd noted on the outside increased a sense of isolation, especially where they brushed against the windows.

It was quiet—too quiet for her tastes. She was used to the constant noise and movement of the city. This much solitude would take some getting used to.

Jason wouldn't have minded it, she knew. As introverted as he'd been, he'd have welcomed it. Close contact with other people stressed him almost beyond bearing. College dorm life must have been a nightmare for him. It had taken time and maturity for her to understand that, but Tom never had. He'd always insisted Jason could be like other kids if he just tried harder.

Small wonder Jason had taken refuge in his fantasy world. There, he could be in control. He could shut out the outside world and focus on the voices in his imagination. If she'd understood that earlier, if his father had grasped it at all...

She pushed the thought away. She couldn't go back. All she could do for Jason now was find out why he'd died, and the key to that had to be in his video diary.

Reluctantly, Kate turned her laptop on. The video diary had been Jason's closely guarded secret. She'd known it existed, but she'd never had so much as a glimpse of it until two weeks ago, when she'd started clearing Tom's house for the sale. It still felt as if she were violating Jason's privacy by watching it.

She clicked the diary file, and Jason's face appeared on her screen, looking as he'd so often looked in reality—soft brown hair standing on end as if he'd been running his fingers through it, hazel eyes magnified by his dark-rimmed glasses, his sensitive mouth unsmiling.

The first time she'd watched it she hadn't been able to get all the way through even one entry—she'd been crying too hard. It wasn't that much easier now, but at least she was able to control the tears. Now a session of trying to understand just left her wrung out and exhausted, her throat tight, her eyes burning.

Even if it hadn't been for the grief, understanding would have been difficult, due to Jason's refusal to be ordinary in referring to people. He almost never used names, instead dubbing the people he met with the identities of the mythic characters from his favorite books and games. Some Kate could understand a little, like the characters from fairy tales or Tolkien's books, while others left her banging her head against the wall.

Now that she'd met the cast of characters at Laurel Ridge Financial, she might have a chance of identifying the people he referred to. Maybe even begin to understand what was happening in his life that disturbed him so toward the end of that summer that he would have turned to pills to dull the pain. Or to end it permanently.

She'd like to believe the overdose had been accidental. Unfortunately, she couldn't convince herself of that. Jason had been clean for so long. He knew, if anyone did, the results of combining alcohol with those strong prescription meds.

Telling her stepfather her feelings would just have made the whole situation worse. Better to keep her opinion to herself until—unless—she knew for sure.

She clicked the video to start it, and Jason's soft, diffident voice sounded, wrenching her heart.

“The King was upset today, and I'm not sure why.” Jason's eyes were serious, concerned. This had been about midway through his internship. She paused the tape and pulled out a notebook to jot down her impressions.

The King. Well, that would probably be Bart Gordon, wouldn't it? He seemed to be running things now.

But what had been his position relative to Russell Sheldon? She didn't know, and such a simple thing could mean a world of difference in interpretation. She noted a query—find out who was in charge when Sheldon was still with the firm. Probably anyone would know. Like Mac Whiting, for instance, but she dismissed the thought. He was the last person she'd go to for help.

A firm knock on the door interrupted her line of thought. Mrs. Anderson again? She'd already been here twice, once with a freshly laundered blanket and again with a loaf of pumpkin bread. It was easy to see why she'd gotten on Jason's nerves.

Kate got up, then turned back and closed the file she'd been watching. No one need know about the diary, not now, maybe not ever.

She opened the door, prepared to be polite to her landlady, and found the woman from the financial group, Lina Oberlin, waiting.

“Ms. Oberlin.” She was frankly surprised. She'd hoped the woman meant her comment about getting together, but she certainly hadn't expected a visit so soon. “Please, come in. How did you know where to find me?” She hadn't said a word about where she was staying while she'd been in the office, had she?

“It's all over Blackburn House already, I'm afraid.” With a restrained smile, the woman stepped inside. “Please, call me Lina.”

“Lina,” she repeated. “How would anyone at Blackburn House know?” If she sounded a little suspicious, it was nothing to how she felt. Were people watching her?

“Obviously you're not used to the way news spreads in a place like Laurel Ridge. After all, we're right next door. I'm sure someone saw you moving in.” Lina shrugged. “People in a small town are interested in their neighbors.”

“Obviously so.” Kate gestured to the sofa. “Please, sit down.”

Lina had apparently come straight from work, since she still wore the tailored suit she'd had on earlier. She sat down, looking around the room with frank curiosity. “This is really quite nice, isn't it?” Her gaze seemed to linger on the desk, and Kate was relieved that she had closed the file. “I haven't seen the inside before, but it's roomier than I'd have expected.”

“You were never inside when Jason lived here?” Kate sat down opposite the woman.

Lina's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “I can just imagine the talk that would have spread if I'd come to visit a young male colleague. I'm afraid financial consultants are expected to be models of rectitude in a place like Laurel Ridge.”

“Yes. I'd say Mr. Gordon made it clear that adverse publicity was frowned on.” She couldn't seem to keep the resentment from her tone. Gordon's facile sympathy had disappeared very quickly at any faint suggestion of fault on the part of the firm.

“That's really why I've come so quickly.” Lina leaned forward, her pale face intent. “I'm afraid Bart reacted badly, and I wanted to explain. It's not entirely his fault, you know. Our clients didn't like seeing the newspaper stories about one of our staff in such a situation.” She shook her head, rueful. “Sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but that's the truth.”

Kate suppressed her irritation as best she could. “I understand being concerned for the reputation of the firm.” But Bart Gordon had overreacted, it seemed to her, and she really wanted to know why.

“But you think he was over-the-top.” Lina seemed to know what she was thinking. “I'm afraid he was so annoyed because he was the one who suggested taking Jason on as an intern. He talked Mr. Sheldon into it. Apparently Jason's adviser was an old fraternity brother of Bart's, and Bart agreed as a favor to him. Then, when things went badly...”

She let that trail off, and Kate managed not to point out that things had gone far more badly for Jason than for the firm. She hoped to get information from the woman, not antagonize her.

“Aside from the way it ended, how was Jason doing as an intern? I'm sure you have an opinion, working so closely with him.”

“Well, not really all that closely, I'm afraid. It was actually Russell Sheldon who seemed to take the most interest in Jason. He took the time to work with the young man, and according to him, Jason did very well. He always seemed very conscientious to me—almost too preoccupied with his work at times, I'd say.”

That sounded like Jason. He'd focus on a task to the exclusion of everything else.

“I'm glad Jason found a mentor here. I really should thank Mr. Sheldon personally, then. Is he still living in town?” It would be as good an excuse as any to probe into what the man remembered of Jason's time here.

Lina looked doubtful. “Yes, Russell Sheldon is quite a fixture in town. Everyone knows him. But I don't know that it's a good idea for you to visit him.”

She paused, then seemed to realize she'd have to explain further if she expected Kate to drop the idea.

“The trouble is that Russell has been failing mentally for the past few years. He probably should have retired earlier than he did, to be honest, but he had such a good rapport with our older clients that we hated to see him go. They'd trusted him for years, and it wasn't easy to convince them that they'd be quite safe in Bart's hands.”

“Surely a short visit with him wouldn't hurt...” Kate began, but Lina was already shaking her head.

“I understand the poor man is becoming increasingly erratic. Apparently the least disruption of his usual routine causes him to react very emotionally. In fact, his son has been trying to get him into an assisted living facility. I'm sure you wouldn't want to cause Mr. Sheldon any distress, and I don't imagine he even remembers Jason at this point.”

“I see.” Somehow she didn't think she wanted to take Lina's word for it, as helpful as she seemed. “I've hoped people who knew my brother during those last weeks might have noticed some indication of trouble. Anything that seemed out of his normal routine, any change in his attitude...”

There had to be something—something that had pushed Jason into his final act.

“I wish I could be of more help.” Lina spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “In retrospect I do think Jason seemed a bit more preoccupied than usual toward the end of the summer, but then he'd been sending out résumés and looking for a position, so that's only natural.”

Kate nodded. In one of his phone calls, they'd talked about the possibility of Jason getting a job near her. He wouldn't have wanted to move in with her again, but she'd wanted to be close enough to provide some support, at least.

She tried another tack. “I suppose you don't know any of the friends he made here?”

“I'm afraid not. Jason didn't seem like the social type. He was more serious than a lot of young men his age.” Lina's smile seemed to freeze. “I'd be wary of anything Nikki has to say about your brother, by the way. From what I saw, he was usually trying to evade her attentions.”

“Thanks. I'll bear that in mind.”

“Well, you don't need my advice. I'm sure a woman of your experience could see at once just how much you can rely on Nikki for the truth.” A smile warmed her rather restrained manner. “What was she doing when you came in? Filing her nails?”

Kate had to laugh. “Actually, I did spot her doing that earlier.”

“We'd get someone better, but there isn't really all that much choice. The bright kids take off for college after graduation. At least Nikki knows how to operate the office equipment, and she's better on the computer than Bart is.” Lina smiled. “Although that's not saying much.”

“I sometimes think a five-year-old could teach me something new, despite my job.” In the interests of possibly getting more from the woman later, she should respond to any friendship cues.

Lina reached for her bag. “I won't hold you up any longer, but if there's anything I can do, please, let me know. Jason's death must have been a terrible shock as well as a devastating loss.”

The woman's sympathetic tone got to her, and for a moment Kate considered taking Lina into her confidence. But only for a moment. Her native caution reasserted itself. She didn't intend to give too much away to anyone in this town, not until she had a better idea of where she stood.

* * *

M
AC
PULLED
INTO
his parking space in front of the police station the next day, fuming. The meeting he'd had with the district attorney had been an exercise in frustration. They both knew of the increasing presence of drugs in their community, and of illegal prescription meds in particular. But the problem wasn't solved by talking about it—or at least, not by talking with a DA who was up for reelection this fall and wanted to be able to show voters he'd been actively involved in fighting drugs. All the DA wanted to do was give lip service to the problem.

Mac spared a passing thought to appreciate the crisp, clear weather that was so typical of fall in Pennsylvania. He didn't have time to enjoy it today, unfortunately. He headed for the door of the solid redbrick building that had housed the station for the past century. The cement block addition along one side might not have the beauty of the original structure, but it gave much-needed space for police cars as well as the paramedics.