Marta Perry - How Secrets Die

Funny. He’d assumed she’d wanted to see where her brother had died, but Mom jumped to the opposite conclusion. And she must be right, judging by the way Kate was looking at her—with a kind of startled surprise at meeting understanding from a stranger.

His mother never stayed a stranger with anyone for long. In a few minutes she’d elicited the fact that Kate had lost her job with a Baltimore newspaper in a series of cutbacks.

“I’m not the only one.” She shrugged off an expression of sympathy. “People seem to rely on the internet for their news these days, not the daily paper.”

“Laurel Ridge must be the exception, then.” He decided it was time he got back into the conversation. “We still have to have our daily dose of the Laurel Ridge Standard, don’t we?”

Mom chuckled. “How else would we know what was going on in town? The grapevine is good, but we have to see some things in print to believe them.”

“Myself, I’d say gossip is more interesting.” Anna appeared, setting a mug of coffee in front of Kate without being asked. “But there’s nothing like the newspaper for seeing who’s got what for sale. My boy Luke just got a perfectly good harrow from someone who was going to pay to have it hauled away as junk.”

Kate looked startled at the server’s entering the discussion, as well she might. He suspected Laurel Ridge had a few surprises in store for her.

“Anna, this is Kate Beaumont. She’s visiting Laurel Ridge for a bit.”

“Ach, gut.” Anna’s round face beamed. “Wilkom. I’ll be seeing you in the Buttercup, then, ain’t so?”

“I guess so. I’m staying right across the street.”

“Mrs. Anderson’s.” She nodded. “I guessed as much. Will you be having some lunch? The chicken pot pie, maybe?”

“Just a salad, please. To take out.”

“I’m sure you’re busy getting settled in,” Mom said, wiping Jamie’s hands and face despite his protests. “We’ve delayed you long enough, and I must get this boy back to school.”

“Do I have to...” Jamie began, but he subsided at a look from his grandmother. Sliding from his chair, he gave Mac a throttling hug and turned to Kate. “See you again soon, okay?”

Kate smiled, her expression softening. “It was nice to meet you, Jamie.”

“I hope we’ll have a chance to get better acquainted while you’re here,” Mom said, touching Kate’s shoulder lightly. “I know Grace Anderson will make you comfortable. Her rooms are lovely.”

“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.

* * *

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.