How Secrets Die (5 page)

Another silence. When Phil finally spoke, he sounded reluctant. “Understand, I'm only saying this because you're the one who's asking.”

“Got it.” A man owed things to the people he'd served with—trust, for one.

“I stopped by to see if I could help when Kate was clearing the house. She'd found a lot of her brother's stuff, including his computer, that Tom had put away. She didn't confide in me. Well, she wouldn't. But I got the idea she'd found something in her brother's things that raised questions about the boy's death.”

There was a sour taste in the back of Mac's mouth. “Found what?” He ground out the words.

“Don't know. She didn't say. Maybe I'm wrong about the whole thing.”

“No. I don't think you're wrong.”

Phil had good instincts when it came to people. So did Mac. And he'd thought from the first moment he'd set eyes on Kate Beaumont that she was hiding something.

“Listen, about Kate...” Phil hesitated. “Whatever she's up to, she's a cop's kid.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Professional courtesy again, he supposed. Kate, like it or not—and he suspected she didn't—was part of the fraternity.
Protect and serve
. He owed that to every person in his community, yes. But he also owed it, and more, to someone like Kate.

So whatever it was she thought she'd found out about her brother's death, he had to take it seriously. To help, if he could. And to do that, he had to convince her to open up to him.

“Thanks, Phil. I'll do what I can.”

* * *

B
Y
EVENING
, K
ATE
was feeling less than satisfied with her progress. She'd been hired by Emily Waterston with no problem, but the woman hadn't been as forthcoming as Kate had hoped.

Emily, as she'd insisted Kate call her, looked like the stereotypical chatty elderly lady, with her halo of curly white hair and bright, inquisitive eyes. However, when Kate brought up the subject of her brother, Emily had shied away like a skittish cat that didn't trust a stranger's hand.

Kate would have to take time to earn the woman's trust. Patience. Unfortunately, patience wasn't her strong suit.

Tomorrow, she decided, she'd find a way to make contact with Nikki, the receptionist. Nikki might not be entirely reliable, but she'd clearly been ready to gossip. In the meantime—

Kate rubbed the back of her neck, where tension seemed to be setting up permanent residence. The only useful course at the moment was to go back to the video diary once more. Painful as it was to watch Jason alive again, she might begin to understand some of his esoteric references now that she'd met a few of the people he'd known.

Pushing past her reluctance, she settled in front of the computer, a notepad ready at hand. A few clicks brought up Jason's image. She'd start with the one posted on his arrival in Laurel Ridge and work through them.

Jason's hope and enthusiasm for his new start came through so clearly in the first entry that it brought hot tears to her eyes. This was how he'd looked when he'd discovered a new fantasy game or a wonderful author. He'd seen a new world opening up in front of him. What had gone wrong?

Listening intently, she began jotting down every reference to the people he'd met in Laurel Ridge. She'd get them down, then try to figure out what they meant.

When a sound impinged on her concentration, Kate glanced up, startled to see that darkness crowded against the window. She'd been so intent she hadn't noticed the passing of light. The noise had come from outside, she thought, and her heart thudded uncomfortably.

A second later someone knocked at the door. Cautious, she advanced to within a couple of feet of it. “Who's there?”

“Mac Whiting. I'd like to speak to you.”

I don't want to speak to you
. But she opened the door.

“Sorry to bother you so late.” He was coming in even as he spoke. His movement was casual, but beyond that Kate had the sense that he held himself under tight control.

Whatever this was, she didn't want to deal with it now. “I don't want to sound unwelcoming, but it's late.” She managed a smile. “And I have it on good authority that the neighbors will talk.”

Mac's face tightened, all planes and angles. “They'd talk more if I asked you to come to the station to meet with me.”

“You can't be serious.” She was instantly poised to fight. “You can't have any possible reason—”

She stopped, realizing he wasn't paying attention to her words. He was focused on something beyond her. Kate spun to see Jason's face looking out at them from the computer screen.

She sped toward the computer, but even as she reached for it, Mac caught her hand.

Her breath caught. “Let go of me. That's private.”

“Not just yet. What is it?”

“Nothing. Just a video clip of my brother.” She tried to twist away, to no avail.

“Something you found among your brother's belongings when you cleared the house?”

Her gaze met his, her temper flaring. “How do you know about that? Who told you?”

His eyes shifted. She felt his reluctance and knew the answer.

“Don't bother.” Bitterness laced her words. “I should be able to guess. Phil Durban, I suppose. You cops stick together, don't you?”

“We have to.” Answering anger flashed in his face, and she saw him fight to control it. She suspected he didn't often let impulse get the better of him. Unlike Tom, who would have exploded by this point in the conversation. He'd had a short fuse, and it wasn't until she'd grown and gone that she'd appreciated the stress that went into his temper.

“Whatever your buddy guessed, he doesn't know anything. I wasn't foolish enough to confide in him.” She threw the words at him, clinging to the enmity between them.

But Mac didn't flare back. Instead he studied her face, and his expression softened. “Phil's a good guy. If you needed help, he'd have been the first to offer it.”

That sudden gentleness got under her guard. She turned away, and this time he didn't try to stop her. “I don't need help. Not from him. Not from you.”

“Well, now, that's too bad.” The country-boy casualness was back in his voice again. “Because Phil thinks you found out something that made you suspicious about how your brother died, and I can't leave it alone. If I made a mistake, I have to fix it.”

Kate hadn't expected that, and the admission jolted her. “You mean that?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have any reason to think I don't?”

“No, I suppose not,” she admitted. Even Tom, as much as they'd fought, had always meant exactly what he'd said.

“Okay.” He made it sound as if they'd taken a giant step forward. “Let's start over. What makes you think there's something I didn't find out about how Jason died?”

She tried to arrange her thoughts. Her instinct was to tell him nothing, but that had become impossible. But she didn't have to say she suspected suicide. “It's not a question of how he died. But
why
he died.”

Mac seemed to process the difference instantly. “An overdose...” he began, his voice gentle.

“An overdose, yes.” Her throat tightened. “I don't imagine any coroner could miss that. But why? He'd been clean for nearly three years. He'd graduated with honors. He had a bright future. Why would he throw all that away?”

“Addiction is a day-by-day battle.” Mac rubbed the back of his neck, and frustration threaded his words. “Twenty years ago the worst thing Laurel Ridge cops had to deal with was a Saturday night drunk. Now we fight drugs like every other place in the country.”

“Do you think I don't know that? I helped him through a couple of relapses. But he was doing so well. Something happened to him while he was here in Laurel Ridge that summer. Something that ended with him lying dead in that cemetery.” What? A breakup? A fresh battle with his father? Trouble at his job? There had to be something. Each time he'd relapsed, something had triggered it.

And if she never found that trigger? Either way, the responsibility came back to her. Her throat closed entirely, and she fought to hold back tears, shaking her head as she turned away from him.

He touched her arm in mute sympathy and guided her to the sofa. He drew the armchair closer and sat like a man prepared to wait as long as it took.

Kate sucked in a breath and swallowed hard. “All right,” she muttered.

“The coroner did confirm that there hadn't been drugs in his system for some time before the overdose.” Mac's tone was carefully neutral, as if he understood she needed that to hang on to her precarious control. “But what makes you think it was something that happened here that pushed him into it? Did he say anything to you about dealing?”

His attention seemed to sharpen on the question. Naturally that would be his first thought—that someone was bringing drugs into his town.

“If you're thinking it was Jason, you're wrong,” she said flatly. “He wouldn't. And he hadn't left here all summer, anyway.”

That had been part of Jason's determination to make it on his own this time, without leaning on his big sister. He'd stay here for the duration of his internship. Phone calls only—no visits. And Jason never had expressed himself well on the phone. She needed to see his face to know what was happening with him.

“I know that. Obviously we looked into it—the drugs had to come from somewhere. Since he didn't go anywhere to get them, someone brought them in. We never found out who.”

That had frustrated him. She could see it in his suddenly taut face.

“You don't know who. But you must have some idea.” She leaned toward him, suddenly urgent. “There can't be that many potential dealers in a place like this.”

“You'd be surprised.” His lips twisted wryly. “I had some ideas, yeah, but they all came up empty.” He jerked a nod toward the computer. “That file—what does that have to do with it?”

Kate rubbed her forehead as if she could scour away some of the confusion. “Jason kept a sort of video diary. Not every day, but most of the summer.”

“You didn't find it until your stepfather died.”

She nodded. He was putting the pieces together. “Tom had kept everything that was returned to him, but I doubt he ever looked at it. When I started watching the diary...” She paused, not wanting to say more than she had to. Still, the time for that might have already passed. “I could see how excited and enthusiastic he was at the beginning of the summer. But something changed. He was worried, maybe even scared, about some situation. I think at his work, but I can't be sure.”

“What precisely did he say? You must know that much.” Mac glanced at the computer again, probably longing to wrest the truth from it.

“It's not as easy as that. Jason wasn't exactly direct. He had a way of talking about places and people in a kind of code. I doubt you'd understand any of it.” Just in case he was thinking he'd walk away with her file.

Mac stood, as if he couldn't pretend to relax for another moment. “Let me see it.”

“No.” She rose as well, facing him. “It's personal, and you have no right...”

“It could be evidence in a drug case.” He left implied the threat that he could get a subpoena if she didn't cooperate. “Whatever this code is, it can be broken.”

She'd laugh if this were anything but deadly serious. “It's not that kind of code.” It was no good—she'd have to tell him more, or she'd never get rid of him. “Jason always loved fantasy—books, games, movies, whatever. I tried to keep up, just so I could share something with him. He'd refer to people and situations with references from fantasy that even I didn't always understand.” She nodded toward the image of his face, frozen on the screen. “That's what he did in the diary. He would have known what he meant, but the chances that anyone else could figure it out are slim to none.”

“But that's what you're trying to do. That's why you came here. To see the layout for yourself, to meet the people, to figure out what or who led your brother to his death.”

There was no point in denying it. “It's my own business,” she repeated stubbornly. “If I find anything that looks like a police matter, you'll be the first to know.”

“Not good enough.” Mac could apparently be equally stubborn. “You're not going to be conducting any sort of crusade in my town. Not unless I'm involved every step of the way.”

“You can't force me...”

He raised an eyebrow. “Force? Who said anything about force? But either you let me in on it, or I'll make it impossible for you to find out anything about anyone here. It wouldn't even be hard. A few words to a few people, and you won't find a soul in Laurel Ridge willing to talk to you.”

She didn't doubt he could do it. “That's blackmail.”

“That's me, doing my job, whether you want me to or not.” His lips quirked, but his eyes were intent. “Take it or leave it.”

Kate wanted to kick him out. To say she'd manage this herself. Trouble was, he held all the cards.

“All right,” she said finally. “You win. I'll take it.”

CHAPTER FIVE

M
AC
WALKED
SLOWLY
out to the street, his mind and emotions churning. He'd gotten a lot more than he'd expected from his confrontation with Kate, and he wasn't sure what to do with it.

His immediate instinct was to deny—deny her opinions, deny the possibility that he had missed something, deny the possibility that Kate was right and something in Laurel Ridge had led to her brother's death.

That would be the comfortable thing to do, but he couldn't. He'd insisted that he'd work with Kate Beaumont to uncover the truth, wherever that might lead. Sounded good, but at the moment, he didn't even know where to start.

A light glowed through the trees lining the drive that led alongside Blackburn House. Someone was in the cabinetry shop. On impulse, he veered in that direction. He needed a sounding board right at the moment, and nobody was more trustworthy than family.

Blackburn House was dark and still except for the usual hall lights left on for safety's sake. There were a few more on than there used to be, ever since the bookstore owner had met an untimely end, dying on the marble floor of the hallway.

Maybe he was growing superstitious after everything that had happened in that building. Now Jason Reilley—did his death have anything to do with the office where he'd interned? Far more likely, surely, that it was his extracurricular activities that contributed to what happened to him.

Giving a quick tap on the shop door, he swung it open. Nick, his brother, glanced up from the cabinet he was attaching doors to.

“Working late?” Nick asked.

“That's my line.” Mac crossed to where his brother was occupied, tossing his uniform cap onto the nearest workbench. “Don't you get enough hours in during the day? What's your fiancée think of you working overtime instead of spending time with her?”

Nick grinned and gestured to the cabinet. “Make yourself useful and hold this door in place. Allison and Mom requested the pleasure of my absence. They're baking cookies for the school bake sale.”

“Hmm, I might have to stop in and taste-test those.” He held the door steady as Nick screwed the hinge into place. He could feel his brother's gaze on his face and knew his casual air hadn't deceived Nick.

“You want to tell me what's up?” Nick's question confirmed his thought.

Nick would have heard all about Kate after Mom and Jamie had met, so there was no point in being restrained. “Turns out I was right about Kate Beaumont. She does have an agenda for being here. She thinks something happened in Laurel Ridge that led to her brother's death.”

Nick didn't need to ask why that troubled Mac. “What makes her think so? Does she have any proof or just suspicions?”

“Apparently she discovered a video diary young Jason kept during his internship. She claims he was worried about something that was happening here, and she's determined to find out what.”

Nick didn't speak for a moment. “Have you seen this video?”

“Not yet. I just came from talking to her.” He shook his head, Kate's defiant face forming in his mind. “I did push her into letting me in on what she's doing, and I'll have a look at it tomorrow. See if I can make any sense of it.”

Nick straightened. “You didn't insist on taking the file with you or viewing it immediately?”

“I felt like I'd already pushed as much as I was justified in doing.” He frowned, thinking of the vulnerability Kate had shown him in those moments. She was probably already hating the fact that she'd revealed so much. That tough facade must be very important to her.

“You getting soft, by any chance?” Nick asked. “What if she destroys it?”

Soft? Again he flashed back to a hot, dry afternoon in Afghanistan and the rubble of what had once been a welcoming home. It wasn't soft to feel that need to protect the needy. And while Kate wouldn't admit to any such thing, she needed help.

“She won't destroy it.” He was confident of that. “It's all she has left of her brother.”

“Guess I'll have to take your word for that.” Nick glanced at his watch and began putting tools away. “But I don't see what you're going to uncover after over a year. You followed up every lead at the time.”

There might have been a slight question in Nick's voice.

“It seemed fairly clear-cut.” Mac frowned, running his fingers along the smooth curved edge of a cabinet. “The main thing we focused on was where the drugs came from. I had my suspicions, but that's a long way from having proof.”

“No reason to doubt that the kid died of an accidental overdose, was there?” Nick leaned against the workbench, arms folded over his chest in a movement that reminded Mac of his father.

Mac shrugged, meeting his brother's eyes. “There was no note, but to tell you the truth, I wondered if it might have been a deliberate act. Choosing the cemetery as a place to get high just seemed unlikely. People don't normally pick a public place for that. Still, with no proof either way, it seemed kinder to the family to declare it accidental.”

“Let me get this straight. The Beaumont woman isn't suggesting someone deliberately gave him an overdose, is she?”

“No, that would be crazy, and Kate is perfectly sane and logical. She seems to think that something happened here that pushed the kid into turning to drugs. She wants to know what.” He spread his hands, palms up. “Wouldn't you?”

“I guess. But I don't see what you're going to do about it.” Nick frowned, and it was like looking into a mirror.

“I wish I knew. I just want to keep Kate from hunting down potential drug suppliers and putting herself in danger. And maybe prevent her from alienating half the town with her accusations.”

“Yeah, I already had an earful from Bart Gordon.” Nick grinned. “The man seems to think I have some control over you, either as your big brother or as the mayor, I'm not sure which.”

“The answer is neither,” Mac retorted. It figured that Gordon wouldn't be content with complaining to him.

Nick hesitated. “Do you actually have some idea who might have brought the drugs into town?”

“There are a couple of possibilities.” Much as he trusted his brother, he wasn't about to name names. “I don't know how she'd get on to them, but I wouldn't put anything past her.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “It sounds like you're going to have your hands full with Ms. Beaumont.”

“You've got that right.” He picked up his cap and followed Nick to the door, stepping out into the cool air and waiting while Nick locked up.

He stood for a moment, glancing over his town, dozing in the autumn evening. The moon was approaching full, and it glinted from the top of the clock tower on Town Hall, giving it a ghostly gleam.

His hands were going to be full for sure. Keep Kate out of danger, don't let her stir up a hornet's nest with her questions and above all, find out the truth, if that was even possible.

And then what? It seemed to him that no matter what the answer to the riddle of Jason's death was, Kate was going to be hurt.

* * *

K
ATE
FELT
A
bit conspicuous, lingering in the front window of the bookshop watching the stairs that came down from the offices above. But catching Nikki when she left the financial office for lunch seemed the best and most casual way of approaching the woman.

She straightened the display of current books in the window, hoping Emily wasn't watching her. The two hours Kate had worked this morning had gone well, with Emily warming up and becoming chattier, and she didn't want to rouse any suspicions now.

Five after twelve—surely Nikki would take her lunch break soon. She might, of course, have brought lunch with her, but Nikki hadn't seemed so eager to get on with her work that she'd want to eat at her desk.

“You don't need to tidy the window.”

The voice behind her startled Kate. She hadn't heard Emily's approach. The thick-soled, sensible shoes she wore allowed her to move like a cat.

“I was looking at this.” Kate picked up the latest volume by a popular fantasy author, her fingers tracing the embossed lines of the green dragon on its cover. “My brother loved this series.”

Emily's crinkled face softened, her china-blue eyes filling with easy tears. “He did, didn't he? He always browsed through the fantasy section, and what he didn't know about the books and authors wasn't worth knowing. I told him he'd missed his calling, going into finance the way he did.”

The tears may have been facile, but there was no doubting that Emily had been touched by Jason's death. Strange, wasn't it? She'd come here intent on her own private grief, only to find that his passing had affected people she hadn't even known. Mrs. Anderson and Emily had both shed tears for him.

As for Mac—unless he was putting up an awfully good front, he had been wounded himself, either by the fact of someone dying on his watch or by his inability to trace the drugs that had killed Jason. Her nerves clenched. She'd struck a bargain with Mac that she had yet to fulfill, and she was already regretting it. And yet what choice had she had?

“Jason did enjoy fantasy. I always thought he'd end up designing fantasy games or maybe writing graphic novels. But his father always pushed him toward doing something practical.”

In that, as in so many things, Tom had shown his lack of understanding of his son. Jason had never been, maybe couldn't be, practical. But he'd wanted, just once, to please his father.

“I suppose finance is practical, all right.” Emily looked a little doubtful. “It's all I can do to make sure my income balances at the end of the day. Russell—Russell Sheldon, that is, from the financial services company—used to say that we should hire a teenager to look after the computer records for us. He claimed they were the only ones who really understood computers.”

“Jason mentioned Mr. Sheldon. He was one of the partners when Jason worked there.”

“Not just one of the partners,” Emily corrected. “Why, Russell founded that firm. Always very successful, it was, and he was the soul of integrity. Everyone was sorry to see him retire so abruptly. I'm sure Bart and Lina do fine work, but it's not the same. Russell was a real
gentleman
.” In Emily's phrasing the word seemed to convey an image of an era in which gentlemen adhered to a code that others might not.

Kate was about to follow up with a question when a flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye. Nikki was coming down the stairs.

“I liked being here this morning,” she said quickly. “Thanks again for the opportunity. I'll see you tomorrow.” With a quick smile, she hurried out. Now that the ice was broken, she could lead Emily on to talk about the business again. Right now, she'd better try to manage a casual encounter with Nikki.

Kate reached the staircase just as Nikki arrived at the bottom. Nikki smiled, then gave a quick, apprehensive glance up in the direction of her office. Kate had no difficulty in translating it—she didn't want to be seen by her boss talking to the enemy.

“Hi, Nikki. I'm glad I ran into you.” Not wanting to be suspected of lurking, she quickly added, “I'm working part-time at the bookshop now.”

“I know.” Nikki grinned. “You should hear my boss—he about had a fit over the idea.”

“I guessed he wouldn't like it, but I don't know what he's worried about. It's not as if I accused him of anything.” Kate gave her own glance upstairs, but no one was visible. “Listen, you're one of the few people I know in this town. Want to have lunch? On me,” she added.

Nikki hesitated for a moment, then grinned. “Sure. Only someplace where Bart won't see us. You know the Lamplight Tavern, out on the edge of town? Just go on down Main Street, and you'll see it on the right.”

“I'll find it.” She felt ridiculously triumphant that she'd pulled it off. “I'll meet you there in a few minutes.”

Kate hurried to the front door, forcing herself not to look toward the Whiting Cabinetry showroom just in case Mac should be in there. It took only moments to get to the spot alongside the bed-and-breakfast where she'd left her car, and not much more than that until she was pulling into the gravel parking lot at the Lamplight Tavern.

It looked like, and probably was, a neighborhood bar. Cement block, it squatted at the very end of a row of houses, and beyond it, Main Street turned into a country road. The neon sign that proclaimed it the Lamplight Tavern seemed a contradiction in terms. Neon, not lamplight, was the order of the day.

Nikki pulled in and parked as Kate walked toward the door, so she stopped and waited for her. “Not the best food in town,” Nikki said, approaching. “But I guarantee Bart and Lina wouldn't dream of being caught dead here.”

“I bet.” She could well imagine that the fastidious Lina didn't frequent neighborhood bars.

Nikki, on the other hand, seemed to be well acquainted with the place. She waved to the bartender as they passed, exchanged joking comments with a couple of guys holding up the bar and led the way to a booth against the back wall.

Kate didn't miss the fact that she'd chosen a spot well away from anyone who might overhear. She trusted that meant Nikki intended to be open with her.

Nikki slid into place and plucked two plastic-covered menus from behind the napkin holder. “The burgers are safe. I wouldn't order anything fancy.”

Fancy
wasn't the word for the menu. She decided to follow Nikki's advice.

The bartender apparently doubled as server. Once they'd ordered, Kate focused on the girl's pert face. Her sharp features weren't enhanced by the overdone makeup, but her grin make her look both impish and younger than she probably wanted to.

“Okay, it's safe to talk. I guessed you had more questions about Jason.” Nikki sobered. “He was a good guy.”