How Secrets Die. Marta Perry
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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.
* * *
BY 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