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There went the door again. She had to deal with her sister whether she felt like it or not. Leanne knew she was home.
“What do you want?” Claire remained where she was and, for a change, didn’t bother to soften her voice.
“It’d be nice to know you survived the night, for one thing,” her sister yelled back. “I was supposed to check on you every few hours, remember?”
Had she even tried? Or had she gotten drunk and passed out?
Claire was willing to bet Leanne hadn’t thought of her until this morning.
Her sister’s negligence might’ve hurt, except that Claire was used to it. All the care and attention between the two of them went in the other direction—from her to Leanne. As the baby of the family, Leanne was used to being coddled, and the sledding accident had only exacerbated that, all but cementing Claire as the one who would forever compromise, give, tolerate, cajole.
“I’m alive,” Claire responded. “You can go home. You’re off the hook.”
“That’s it?” Leanne’s surprise almost made Claire chuckle. “You’re not coming to the door?”
“I have a head injury, remember?”
“Does that mean you’re not working today?”
Scooting closer to the nightstand, she checked the alarm clock. Eight-thirty. Her first appointment was at ten, and then she was booked solid until six, with a half-hour lunch break.
Considering the size of her headache, she couldn’t stand on her feet all day. She didn’t want to field the questions she’d be asked, either. No doubt word of the incident had spread. Maybe it’d even been reported in the paper, like every other call to the sheriff’s department, including the minor ones. “I’ll have to cancel.”
“Okay, well…” Leanne didn’t seem to know what to do with herself. It wasn’t enough of an excuse that Claire was hurt; Leanne was used to Claire being at her beck and call, whether it was convenient or not.
Remembering Isaac’s mouth on her breast—and elsewhere—Claire barely stifled a groan. She was an idiot. But sleeping with her ex-lover wasn’t her only problem. What about the man who’d attacked her at the cabin? She had no idea who he was or what he’d wanted.
The lost files and the information she’d picked up from what she’d managed to read complicated things further....
The warning from her subconscious had been correct. This wasn’t a good morning. But she might as well confront it head-on.
“Wait a second,” she called out.
“I’m still here,” Leanne said.
Frowning because of everything that’d passed between them last night, Claire got out of bed and, supporting herself against the walls, made her way to the living room, where she opened the door.
“Wow, you look like hell,” Leanne muttered.
“I feel like hell. But thanks for making my morning that much more enjoyable. I can always count on you.”
Leanne gave her an odd glance. “Just thought you’d want to know.”
“Not necessarily.” Had she looked okay when she’d appeared at Isaac’s cabin? She couldn’t imagine she had, but it made her mad that she’d even care. Anyway, Leanne didn’t look much better. She’d put on a robe, but she was still in that nightgown she’d been wearing the night before—not a positive association as far as Claire was concerned.
Fortunately, they didn’t have any neighbors. They lived at the end of a rutted dirt road next to the old park, which wasn’t used anymore. This area, called River Dell, was considered the poor side of town, but Claire liked the privacy of having their own cul de sac. They both worked out of their homes, which had been purchased with the trust money their grandparents had left them, although that was gone now. Leanne made stained-glass windows and lamps, which she sold online and by referral. Her shop, like Claire’s salon, was attached to her house.
They weren’t getting rich, but they were self-employed and self-sufficient. That freedom meant a lot to Claire.
Suddenly, Leanne leaned close. “Is that a hickey on your neck?”
Isaac had wanted to leave a mark; he’d done it on purpose to spite her. “Of course not. I…I hit something when I fell. It’s just a red mark.”
Leanne didn’t seem completely convinced, but she let it go. “So…do you need me to make you some breakfast?”
An offer like that meant she was feeling contrite. But the emotion wouldn’t last. She wasn’t that big on taking responsibility for her actions. “No, I’m fine.” Claire hesitated, fought with herself and eventually came to a decision. “I have a question for you, though.”
Her sister’s expression turned stony. “If it’s about my personal life, I don’t want to discuss it.”
“It’s about the day Mom went missing.”
Leanne started to roll away. “That’s even worse.”
The same unease Claire had experienced at the studio snaked through her. After their argument last night, she didn’t want to pursue the question that kept surfacing in her mind, but couldn’t hold back any longer. “Where did you go when she took you out of school?”
The whine of the wheelchair motor fell silent as Leanne stopped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t? The school attendance records show you went home sick.”
Claire felt the weight of her sister’s stare.
“Who says?” Leanne finally responded. “Dad picked me up after school, just like he picked you up. You know that. We waited for him together.”
“You were gone for three hours. Someone brought you back at two. Who was it?”
“No one. I don’t know where you heard that, but it’s wrong. I never went home, sick or otherwise,” she said, and continued on her way.
Tug woke Claire from a deep sleep two hours after she’d canceled her appointments. When she raised her head and saw his name on caller ID, she didn’t want to answer. She wasn’t up to talking to anyone else today, even her stepfather. But she knew he was probably worried. If she didn’t answer, he and Roni might drive over.
That was more than she could handle right now.
Taking most of the bedding with her, she rolled toward the phone but dropped the handset. “Hello?” she said once she’d picked it up.
“You okay?”
Making an effort to shake the exhaustion that dragged at her as if she was under ten feet of water, she rubbed her face. He was worried, as she’d thought. She could hear it in his voice. “Fine. Who told you about the attack?”
“Leanne.”
“It’s not in the paper?”
“Might be. Haven’t checked.”
Everyone would hear about it, anyway, and they’d be talking. “Are you upset with me?” Claire knew he couldn’t be pleased. He was as adamant as Leanne that she leave the past alone.
“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
At last, a ray of sunshine for her soul. “Really?” She was almost afraid to believe it.
“Of course. I understand the…loss of your mother has been hard on you. I just… I wish you could let it go so you could be happy. That’s all.”
Why was she the only one who couldn’t? That drove her almost as crazy as everything else about her mother’s disappearance. “Don’t you want to know what happened? Where she went? Don’t you ever wonder?”
He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t. You know I hired a private eye right after she went missing, even offered a sizable reward, but it was all for nothing. We can’t let tragedy destroy our lives. Sometimes these things happen and there are no answers. At some point, you have to cut away the bad and focus on the good, forget the past and move toward the future.”
He’d done that. So had Leanne. She was the only one clinging to Alana’s memory. Was she being loyal? Or was she ruining her life?
“But what if there are answers out there?” she asked. “What if we could find them if we pursued them hard enough?”
“We could put all our time, energy and resources into this and still come up empty-handed and brokenhearted.”
He had Roni to help him look toward the future. Her stepfather was happy in his marriage, maybe even happier than he’d been with her mother. How much did that figure into his attitude?
Would she be so set on pursuing this if David hadn’t died?
Probably not. She’d felt less driven when she’d had him as an incentive to live and love again, to forget.
But he was gone, and the burning passion was back. It’d been building recently, returning to levels she hadn’t experienced since the years right after it happened. Which was why she had to ask Tug what she’d asked Leanne. “Do you know about Leanne coming home sick from school the day Mom went missing, Dad?”
She sensed surprise, but when he answered, he spoke in an even, measured tone. “No. Who told you she came home sick?”
“It’s in the school’s attendance log.”
A brief pause suggested he was scrambling for what to say next, and that upset her. She wanted to trust him. She did trust him. So why did she get the impression that he was trying to dodge this question?
“Wow, you really are chasing this thing again, aren’t you,” he finally said.
Draping her arm over her eyes, she sank back onto her pillow. “I have to, Dad. For whatever reason—for a lot of reasons—I can’t let it go.”
He didn’t respond right away, but when he did she could tell that something had changed. “Fine. You do what you have to, honey. And I’ll support you in it.”
Claire threw the covers aside and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
Those four simple words subdued the sinking feeling that had settled in when she woke up. He wouldn’t relent if he’d killed Alana. He’d keep fighting to stop her. His past reluctance had troubled her all these years, so being able to move forward with his blessing meant a lot. “Why the change of heart?”
“What happened last night scares me. I lost your mother. I don’t want to lose you.”
When Claire’s chest constricted, she knew his feelings toward the investigation had been a bigger problem for her than she’d ever wanted to admit. “Leanne said it was my fault for going there in the first place.”
“You should be able to go to your mother’s studio without feeling you might get hurt. Maybe it was a freak encounter, or an attempted robbery. I got off the phone with the sheriff a second ago. He said there’s nothing to indicate it’s more than that, since whoever it was just shoved you and ran off. But…the fact that it occurred at Alana’s studio has him worried, and me, too.”
“You think it might be related to the past?”
“Everyone does, although there’s no proof. You didn’t get a look at the guy?”
“No.”
“Concentrate, honey. Can you remember anything about him? His height? His weight? Maybe some detail about his clothes or his smell?”
She wished she could, but it’d happened too fast. “No, nothing.”
“What about his car?”
“I didn’t realize he had a car, Dad. I didn’t see anyone behind me on the road, didn’t hear a vehicle approach. He must’ve followed at a distance and parked too far away.”
“The sheriff said Isaac Morgan came to your rescue.”
Again, Isaac’s passionate kiss, his hands on her body and his erection pressing against her legs flashed through her mind. Just when the memories of their nights together had grown tired and dim, she’d gone and created a fresh one. “Yes.”
“How do you know he didn’t shove you to begin with?”
“Because he’d have no reason to do that. And it’s not who he is.”
“He never liked that you ended up with David.”
He could’ve stopped it if he’d cared enough. “Believe me, that was no skin off his nose.”
“But he watches you. I’ve seen him do it.”
Her father had never mentioned this before. “What are you talking about? When does Isaac watch me?”
“Whenever. He can’t keep his eyes off you. At the bar. At the café. At the grocery store. Anywhere you both happen to be.”
That was because of their history. She watched him, too. She could feel his presence before she even saw him. “Trust me on this. It wasn’t Isaac. What we had didn’t mean anything to him. You know how he is with women. Anyway, the attack on me might’ve turned into more than just a shove if he hadn’t come running.” How else would he have gotten that terrible gash in his chest?
“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s awfully convenient that he was right there.”
“He lives close by.”
“Not close enough to hear anything. And…Claire?”
“Yes?”
He seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say next.
“Dad?”
He sighed. “It’s so hard to know what to reveal and what not to reveal.”
Claire gripped the phone tighter. “There’s something you haven’t told me?”
“It’s not directly connected to Alana going missing. I’m sure of that. But…I’ve often debated whether it would make things easier on you to know. And now that you’ve asked… I don’t want this eating away at you, sending you down the wrong path.”
“Tell me.”
“You asked about Leanne being out of school for three hours on the day your mother went missing.”
