Karen Young - In Confidence

“Ted tells me I’m prissy and uptight, and that I should get over the incident between Francine and our daughter. He actually said he's nuts about Francine because, even though my IQ is higher, she’s fun to be with, she has big boobs and a nice butt and—get this—when they have sex, he feels he's died and gone to heaven.” She threw up her hands, then dropped them to her sides in bafflement. “All vestiges of sanity have disappeared from my life.”

“C’mere.” Before she realized his intent, Cam had his arms around her, enveloping her in sympathy and warm masculine strength. Instinct made her resist…but only for a heartbeat. She was still all worked up over the sheer unfairness of life at the moment, and the appeal of a friendly hug was simply too much to resist. Tears started in her eyes and she blinked furiously to hold them back. She sniffed.

“Without a doubt you have the higher IQ,” he told her softly.

She heard the smile in his voice and, turning her nose into his nice clean shirt, gave a shaky chuckle. “Ted said that, I didn't.”

“Because you would never boast about your IQ.”

“No, never.” Then, in a bewildered voice, she added, “But what good does having a high IQ do if you can’t keep a husband?”

“You would keep a decent one without even trying.”

Also by KAREN YOUNG

PRIVATE LIVES

FULL CIRCLE

GOOD GIRLS

In Confidence

Karen Young

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Reader,

If you have read any of my previous books, you’ll know that I invariably come up with stories of women just like you and me, women who are dealing with the problems of contemporary life.

My heroines face the ups and downs of courtship or marriage, the stresses of parenting and family crises, divorce…and just about anything else you can think of. And all the while, of course, they’re usually pursuing a career with its thorny challenges.

I almost always throw in something more to complicate my heroine’s already complicated life. Rachel Forrester, the woman I write about in In Confidence, is certainly besieged by a host of unexpected—and painful—changes in her life. Her marriage of seventeen years ends when she discovers her husband’s infidelity. As a high school guidance counselor, she isn't supposed to fail at this most basic relationship, so it is a struggle to handle such a deep personal betrayal and at the same time maintain a loving and secure environment for her children.

She is also conflicted by her attraction to a true-crime writer who lives next door, but he blames her for failing to anticipate his teenage son’s suicide five years earlier. But much worse is her growing suspicion that something evil exists in her world, something that threatens the very fabric of her life, something that has already taken one young victim.

So settle back and prepare yourself for a story I’ve written about a shocking secret in a small Texas town…but it could happen anywhere.

Karen Young

I love to hear from readers. Please write me at P. O. Box 450947, Houston, Texas 77245. Or visit my Web site at authorkarenyoung.com.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

Rose Hill, Texas

April 1998

Right on time, the door opened and the interview Rachel Forrester had dreaded all morning was at hand. She often faced trying situations, but this was surely the worst in her experience.

“Mr. Ford?” Rachel Forrester stood behind her desk, extending her hand in formal greeting to the father of the boy. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I liked Jack so much, everyone who knew him did. He was a fine boy and a gifted athlete. He will be sorely missed here at Rose Hill High.”

Cameron Ford grunted a reply and barely touched her palm before saying abruptly, “I have a few questions.”

“Won’t you please have a seat?” She gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

“I’ll stand.”

She nodded, bracing for a difficult interview. As she eased down on her chair, he swiped a hand over a face ravaged with grief, fatigue and sleep deprivation. He was a tall man of rangy build with dark brown hair and gray eyes hooded at the moment. He seemed to vibrate with energy, which probably explained how he carried not a spare ounce of flesh on him. His clothes were rumpled, as if he’d thrown them on without giving much thought to the way he’d look, or to any first impression he made. He wouldn’t have recalled seeing her at Jack’s funeral. In his shoes, she certainly wouldn’t, she thought.

“I’ll be glad to answer your questions as best I can,” she told him.

He looked directly at her then from eyes that burned with accusation. “Why didn’t you do your job with Jack?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m telling you right up front that I think you dropped the ball with Jack. You’re a shrink, right? I was told by Preston Ramsey that, as his guidance counselor, you saw my son no less than six times this semester. What’s your job if it’s not to spot troubled kids and step in before they wind up—” He turned away and paced to the window, keeping his back to her. “I want to know what went on in those six sessions that you didn’t guess he was suicidal.”

“Mr. Ford, won’t you please take a seat so we can talk calmly.”

He turned and took a step toward her desk. “I am calm. But I’m mad as hell and I intend to get answers, if not from you, then I’ll go beyond you and Ramsey. You were privy to his confidences and Ramsey was his principal. Are you honestly telling me you didn’t have a clue—either one of you—that Jack was contemplating suicide?”

Wary of his rage, Rachel felt her heartbeat up a bit, but she kept her tone even. “Yes, I’m telling you exactly that,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “I didn’t think—”

“Yeah, what the hell were you thinking!” The sound of his hand slapped on her desktop was like a shot in the small office. “Do you people only notice when a kid winds up dead?”

“Please, Mr. Ford.” Rachel rose from her chair on shaky legs. “If you want to talk about this, I’m more than willing, but it’s not helpful to scream at me.”

“It seems to me the time for talking is about a week late,” he told her in a grim tone. “You had plenty of opportunities to get a fix on Jack in six sessions. Weren’t you listening? Isn’t that what shrinks do? Or did you hear what he said and just ignored it?”

“Nobody ignored Jack, Mr. Ford,” she said patiently, watching him pace. “His grades were slipping. I noticed he was withdrawing from his peers. He was skipping classes. His teachers were concerned. I was concerned. And I saw him for those sessions only because I dragged him in in an attempt to reach him. It wasn’t his choice.”

He stopped momentarily. “So what did the two of you talk about, the weather?” he asked sarcastically.