Brenda Novak - In Close

“It means nothing. Never mind. I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, and the phone went dead.

6

When Claire opened her eyes and saw the sun creeping around the corners of her blinds, she pulled her extra pillow over her head. It couldn’t be morning. Not yet.

“Claire? You going to answer or not?”

Claire wished she could ignore the voice at her front door. Once she got up, she’d have to come to full awareness, and with full awareness she’d be faced with the memory of what she’d done last night. After ten years, she’d gone back to Isaac’s house, and his bed. But instead of being fulfilled, instead of feeling as satisfied as she once had, she battled regret—just as she’d expected. Served her right.

Why had she given in after so long? She’d known he wasn’t what she wanted, that he could never be the kind of companion David had been.

Shit…

Bang. Bang. Bang.

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.”