Heartsong Cottage (14 page)

“How do you know about the chamber meeting?”

She stepped back inadvertently when he walked inside as if he owned the place.
I wish. I really like this little house.
The energy of the place seeped into his soul like a hug. “There's a notice posted on the announcement board in front of city hall. Please, Shannon. Let me have my say, ask my questions, and I'll be out of your hair. I promise.”

“If only,” she muttered.

Daniel crossed the small parlor to the record player. He turned down the volume on “Stardust.” He liked Glenn Miller, but he needed to be sure that she heard this conversation loud and clear. “Linda told me what happened the other day.”

Shannon glanced toward the cell phone lying on the mantel when a ping announced a text message. She picked it up, read it, then asked, “Which part?”

“The part about her telling you that she and I aren't married, and that I'm helping her hide from her husband after he tried to hire me to find her.”

She studied him for a long minute, then she returned her phone to the mantel and took a seat in an antique wooden rocker. She gestured for him to sit across from her on the love seat. “That's not exactly what she said. Okay. You've hooked me. I'm listening.”

“Benny's father is a prominent physician. He called me not long after Gabi and Flynn's wedding and said his wife was unstable, that she'd taken his son and disappeared. He wanted to hire me to find them. I told him to call the cops, but he threw out a handful of reasons why he didn't want to notify the authorities and offered me three times my normal daily rate plus a significant bonus when I found them. I still turned him down, but the whole thing bugged me. Something about the situation, about him, felt off. I decided to look into it on my own.”

“You found them.”

“It wasn't difficult. Linda tried, but going off the grid is harder than you'd think.”

A strange look flashed across Shannon's face that intrigued him. He filed it away to consider at another time.

“When I found her, she told me her story.” Propping his elbows on his knees, Daniel clasped his hands and leaned forward, gazing at her intently. “Her husband had been making secret trips to a colleague's private island in the Caribbean. It's been in the news lately, too. You might have heard about it. They call it Sex Island.”

Shannon sat up straight. “The place with politicians and orgies and underage girls?”

“And boys. Linda found compromising pictures on her husband's computer.”

“Oh, that's terrible. So why isn't the piece of filth in jail?”

“Because she confronted him without securing the computer. He destroyed the computer in front of her and said that if she repeated the story, he'd divorce her and make sure she lost custody of Benny. Linda took the kid and, at the first opportunity, ran. She doesn't have the means to fight him. She signed a prenup. She has no money. She has no power.”

“Well, that's not exactly true, is it? She has your belief in her story.”

“Like I said. Something about him was off.”

“Does he know she's pregnant?”

Daniel shook his head. “No, thank goodness. He's crazed enough as it is over just Benny.”

“So what's the plan?” Her caramel-colored eyes met his, her gaze direct as she asked, “You're going after him?”

“Not me personally, but yes, I called in a few markers and a friend in the bureau is building a case against him. We're hoping for an arrest soon. They'll get him for child porn, I expect. In the meantime, I'll do whatever it takes to keep Benny away from the bastard. That's why I'm asking for your discretion, Shannon. It's best that no one knows I'm in Colorado. My friends would ask questions, and if Zach got curious, well … it's just better for everyone that our local sheriff doesn't know I'm harboring runaways. Can I count on you?”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you. So, will you come to dinner tomorrow night?”

Daniel didn't know who he'd surprised the most, Shannon or himself. He'd knocked on her front door with the sole purpose of damage control in the wake of the other night's revelations. He hadn't planned the invitation. He hadn't thought it through before the words popped from his mouth. The fever must have addled his mind.

Nevertheless, he didn't backtrack. He wanted her to come to dinner. He wanted it rather desperately. “Linda and the kid are going stir crazy with only me to talk to. I'm thinking Italian. I make an excellent veal marsala.”

A cloud of doubt rolled across Shannon's face, and he saw refusal in her eyes. Quickly, he added, “Please, Shannon. Let me thank you for your kindness and apologize for mauling you the other night.”

“You didn't maul me.”

“I was out of line.”

“You were out of your head.” She shoved to her feet and crossed to the record player. She switched Glenn Miller out for … who was that?… someone from the sixties? Turning back to him, she asked, “You're okay now? Linda said you weren't contagious.”

The name of the band and the song came to him in a flash of memory. Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass's “A Taste of Honey.” Daniel couldn't stop his gaze from shifting toward her bedroom. He cleared his throat. “I'm fine. Don't worry. You didn't catch anything from me.”

“Don't be so sure,” she muttered, almost beneath her breath. “She said it's genetic?”

He dragged his attention back to where it belonged, which was anywhere other than her bedroom.

“Yes.” Daniel had never been a particularly smooth operator, and now that his primary business for being here was out of the way and he wasn't fortified by either alcohol or anger, awkwardness rolled over him like morning fog in the valley. So in his attempt to reassure her that she hadn't been exposed to anything dreadful, he babbled on more than necessary. “It's called HIDS—Hyperimmunoglobulin D syndrome. It's a rare genetic syndrome, and I've had it since I was a child. Recurring fevers are part of it. The frequency of attacks has decreased since adolescence.”

Jeeze, Garrett, could you be more of an idiotic bore?
“Google it. Then come to dinner.”

“I can't. I have to cover Honey's shift at Murphy's tomorrow night.”

“All right.” Despite being embarrassed by his babbling, he pressed. “What's the next night you're free?”

She paused an eternal moment before answering. “Tuesday.”

“Perfect. Come then.”

“Okay. What time?

Daniel bit back a silly grin. “Seven?”

“Okay,” she repeated. “Seven. I'll bring dessert.”

“Great. I'm glad. Not about dessert. I'm glad you accepted the invitation. Well, and I guess I'm glad about dessert, too. I can cook, but I'm not much of a baker.”

“I was thinking ice cream.”

“Ice cream is good. Everybody loves ice cream.”

“Chocolate? Vanilla? Strawberry?”

“I don't care for chocolate.”

“You don't like chocolate! Who doesn't like chocolate?”

She looked so appalled that he found himself backtracking. “It's been years since I tried it. Maybe I'd like it now.”

“So do you want chocolate ice cream?”

“Surprise me. Apparently I'm in the mood for surprises.”

A knock on Shannon's front door put an end to the ridiculous conversation. She glanced toward the sound and said, “That will be Celeste.”

Too bad she hadn't knocked before he babbled on about ice cream. You'd think he was fifteen and asking a girl on a first date. Wincing, Daniel rose to his feet. “I guess I took longer than I'd intended. Care if I slip out your back door?”

“She would keep your secret.”

“Yes, I imagine she would, but I'd rather not have to ask her to do it.”

“I understand.” Shannon waved her arm toward her kitchen. “Go, then.”

A single step took Daniel to her side. He wanted to dip his head and brush her mouth with a quick kiss. Instead, as Herb Alpert's trumpet began to belt out “Love Potion No. 9,” Daniel simply touched her arm. “Tuesday at seven. It's a date.”

“With chaperones.”

He almost blew his exit by giving away his presence when he strode into her kitchen and caught sight of the tile mosaic on the wall. Distracted, he bumped into a chair, and when it rattled, he quickly moved to silence it. He never took his gaze off the tiles.

A treble clef and five parallel lines on the backsplash running across three of the kitchen's walls fashioned a music staff. Note heads were shaped like hearts; the flags, angel's wings. Beneath it on a banner he read a quote: “If music be the food of love, play on—William Shakespeare.” Under other circumstances, he'd hum the melody the notes constructed, but right now he needed to leave.

If he could yank his gaze from the scene above the cooktop, that is. She'd depicted this cottage in springtime with pots of red geraniums in bloom and yellow daffodils trumpeting the end of winter. But what brought the art to life were the details she'd put in that made the house a home: the tricycle on the front walk, the ball gloves and bat on the porch, the dog sunning himself in the flower bed.

His heart gave a vicious twist of longing.

From the front room, he heard Shannon say, “Hi, Celeste. Let me grab my pages off the printer and I'll be ready to go.”

Daniel shook off his reverie and slipped quietly out the back door. He was halfway to the spot where he'd left his truck when his phone began to ring.

Ten minutes later, everything had changed.

*   *   *

“You go on to the conference room, dear,” Celeste told Shannon as they arrived at the Eternity Springs public library for the weekly meeting of their writers' group. “I'll be along in a couple of minutes. I need to drop off some brochures for Margaret Rhodes for the librarians' retreat she's planning at Angel's Rest in March.”

“All right,” Shannon replied, a bit absentmindedly. Her mind was spinning. What the heck was wrong with her? Had she really just agreed to a date with Daniel? Daniel Garrett, Private Eye? What in the world had gotten into her?

She'd been surprised to see him standing on her front porch looking hale and hearty and determined when she'd opened her door. His dinner invitation had shocked her.

Maybe it was nothing more than needing a distraction for Linda and Benny, but the look in his eyes had made it seem … more.

And she'd agreed to go. Why?

Because his marriage-that-wasn't had changed the status quo, that's why. Now the question of telling him about the baby was back on the table—with new information.

The man was protecting the vulnerable. He'd listened to Linda's story. He'd believed in her.

Maybe … just maybe … he would listen to her, believe in
her.

And what if he did? What would it change? She had no evidence against Russell. He'd always been too careful, too sneaky. Too smart. His money and his intelligence made him a powerful foe.

Was she willing to tell Daniel the truth and put her life in his hands? Put their baby's life in his hands?

No. You can't tell him. He's an investigator. He would investigate, and his investigation would undoubtedly trip some of Russell's alerts and lead him right back to me. To us.

But if she could trust him to listen to her like he'd listened to Linda, maybe—

“Earth to Shannon,” Rose Cicero said from directly behind her. “Hello.”

Shannon realized she stood blocking the door. She'd walked to the conference room without even realizing it. “Oh. Hi. I didn't see you.”

“The last time I saw such a faraway look on your face you were plotting murder. Thinking about your story?”

“Sort of.” Shannon smiled weakly. She flipped the light switch on.
If you only knew.
“I've been stuck on where to go next with the plot.”

“Well, we will figure it out.”

Rose set her tote on top of the conference table and pulled two thick stacks of pages from the bag. Shannon inwardly winced at the thought of her own meager word production the previous week. At this rate, she'd never finish her book. Heaven knows, it needed an ending.

Shannon had begun writing her novel as a way of coping with her nightmares. After all, nobody could tell a stalker story like someone who knew what it was like to be a mouse with a cat on her tail. Not long after moving to Eternity Springs, she'd discovered that Rose shared her interest in writing and the two women began meeting and trading pages for critique. Celeste had joined their group three weeks ago after she'd decided to accept her friends' challenge to put together a collection of inspirational sayings. She'd been a great addition to the effort.

“Looks like you had a good work week,” she said.

“That's because I quit trying to write at home.”

Shannon looked from the piles of paper to Rose, then back to the pages again. “So, what happened? The writing fairies sneaked in and worked on your book?”

“Slow shifts at the clinic and a new office manager who has taken some more of the scut work off my shoulders. I had some time to myself this past week. Blessed, wonderful alone time.”

“Don't tell me that the bloom is off the marriage-and-motherhood rose, Dr. Cicero.”

In July, Rose had married the glass artist and heartthrob Hunt Cicero, and in the process became the new mother of four young orphans. “No. I'm happy as a clam. But I was single for a very long time, and I've figured out that as much as I love my oh-so-full life, I need a little down time, too. A little ‘me' time.”

“I think I have the opposite problem,” Shannon said as she tugged her week's work from her own bag. “Too much alone time. Too much time to think. Next thing I know, I'm second-guessing myself about everything. Then when I sit down to write, I can't find the zone. My mind flits from one subject to another. My concentration is shot, Rose. I'm a mess and I hate it because I really want to finish this story.”