Betrayed Hearts (6 page)

Sarah Jane removed her glasses and set them on the desk in front of her. “Of course. What dates would you like today?”

Lily couldn't tell if the sour expression on the woman's face was meant for her, or if maybe her hair was pulled a touch too tight. Lily gave her the dates she needed.

“If you'll come to the back room, I'll pull the films for you.”

Lily followed Sarah Jane past the rows of books to the back of the building where they entered the small, glass-paneled room with several microfiche workstations. While Sarah Jane slipped into a locked area, Lily sat down at one of the tables and removed a notebook and pen from her shoulder bag.

A few minutes later, Sarah Jane returned with the films.

“Thank you.” Lily turned her attention to the viewer and threaded the film with quick movements, trying to ignore the other woman who hovered nearby.

After several tense moments, Sarah Jane spoke. “You're new in town, aren't you?”

Lily lifted her head from the viewer. “Yes.”

The pale eyes narrowed. “You're Nick Logan's new tenant.”

“That's right. I'm Lily Draper.”

Sarah Jane managed what looked more like a grimace than a smile. “I'm…Nick's girlfriend.”

The possessive tone did not escape Lily. Nor did the air of disapproval. Lily stiffened on her chair, as painful memories surfaced. Memories of harsh accusations from other jealous women over the years. “Funny, Nick never mentioned he had a girlfriend.”

In fact, he denied it.

Sarah Jane's lips thinned. Her eyes hardened into a cold glare as she folded her arms across her thin frame. “That's odd since…well, we're practically engaged.”

Engaged? Lily fought to keep her jaw from dropping. Either Nick had misrepresented their relationship, or Sarah Jane was exaggerating…a lot.

The bold statement, as well as the woman's antagonistic stance, sparked old hostilities in Lily. Sarah Jane was no different than the self-righteous high school girls who'd waged constant war against her. Lily lifted her chin. She wasn't sixteen any more, and she refused to be intimidated, especially when she'd done nothing to antagonize this woman.

“Engaged?” Lily echoed. “So are you two living together?” Maybe Nick had failed to mention that pertinent detail as well.

Beet-red blotches appeared on the girl's horrified face. “Of course not. That wouldn't be proper.”

“Why not?”

“Well…I…we haven't been dating that long...”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “And you're practically engaged?”

The girl's mouth opened and closed, reminding Lily of a fish out of water. “Um…not quite. But I hope to be…very soon.”

Bingo. Major exaggeration.
“I'll have to congratulate Nick the next time I see him.”

Sarah Jane's eyes widened. “Oh, no. Please don't say anything.” She clutched the neck of her blouse as though she were suffocating. “Excuse me. I have to get back to the front.”

If it weren't for the small prick of guilt hovering on the edge of Lily's conscience, she would've found the woman's bolt from the room almost comical. Sarah Jane must have some severe insecurity issues if Lily's five minutes in town threatened her relationship with Nick. Lily shook her hair back in a deliberate attempt to push the remorse aside and concentrate on the articles instead.

A few minutes later, her efforts were rewarded.
“Local Girl Succumbs to Injuries.”

Lily's hands trembled as she focused the lens and read each word. The article re-capped the horrible events of the day David Strickland had killed his family and ended with the news that the five-year old daughter, Addie Strickland, had lingered in the hospital for several weeks but had finally died from her injuries.

Lily jerked hard on the wooden chair. Addie had died? She swallowed. All this time, everyone in town had assumed she was dead. How could such a horrible mistake have been made? Who would have declared her dead? The newspaper wouldn't print something unless the reporter was sure of his facts.

Lily rubbed her eyes, trying to remember something—anything—about those early years. About her biological father. Surely a five-year-old wouldn't forget her family.

Over the years, vague, disturbing flashes of memory had haunted her, but the details always shimmered just out of reach. Her doctor had diagnosed her with post-traumatic stress, saying she'd blocked out everything about the ordeal, then thought to be a fire. Her hand fluttered to the ridge of the scar—a wound she'd never believed had come from a fire.

The beginning of a headache thumped at her temples. Despite the throbbing, she scanned a few more films, hoping to find further follow-up articles. One more item caught her attention concerning the Strickland home, which had been up for sale since the tragedy. No one wanted a house with such a terrible history. The article concluded that the house on Elm Street would be boarded up and left as is.

Lily stretched her neck and turned off the machine. A visit to her childhood home appeared to be the next logical step. Maybe seeing the house again would trigger some of those memories that hovered maddeningly out of reach.

A cold chill crept up her spine as the thought of the violence she might remember caused tremors to race through her body.

On second thought, that adventure could wait for another day.

 

 

 

 

4

 

By noon on Thursday, with business at the salon slowed to nothing and Peg gone home for lunch, Lily's nerves stretched taut, like the strings of a violin about to snap. How would she endure the time until Chloe's three thirty appointment?

She barely managed to eat a bite of her sandwich, feeling as though the lunchroom walls were closing in around her. To keep her sanity, she found a broom and busied herself with mindless cleaning.

“Hey, super girl, slow down. You're making the rest of us look bad.” Maxi appeared beside Lily and pulled the broom out of her hands.

Lily grabbed it back with a scowl. “I'd like to keep busy, if you don't mind.”

She didn't dare tell Maxi she was as nervous as a cat in a dog kennel. And although she'd love to ask Maxi a million questions about her next client, Lily couldn't afford to arouse Maxi's suspicion—not with so much uncertainty surrounding the situation.

Maxi followed her around the shop as she swept. “How about doing me a favor, then?”

“What kind of favor?”

Maxi's face lit up. “You know I'm the ‘nail queen' around here, but I'm also learning to do hair.”

Lily resumed sweeping with vigorous strokes, her ponytail swaying with each movement. “You are
not
cutting my hair.”

“I won't cut it—”

“You're not dying it either.” She cast a wry glance at Maxi as she worked. “Unlike you, I like the color God gave me.”

Maxi put her hand on the broom. “Can I get a word in?”

Reluctantly Lily stopped to give Maxi her full attention. “OK, shoot.”

“I need to practice my up-do's, you know, for weddings and grads. I figured your gorgeous locks would be perfect to practice on. And since we have no other appointments at the moment...” She raised her eyebrows in a pleading manner.

Lily sighed. “What exactly would this involve?”

“Just some big curls and a few strategically placed pins. If you don't like it, I'll take it right out. Promise.”

Lily wavered, the sudden temptation for a bit of pampering overcoming her good sense. “You don't think Peg will mind?”

“Not as long as there aren't any customers.”

Lily shrugged. “Why not? It's got to beat sweeping.”

A few minutes later, Lily found herself in a stylist's chair with her hair pinned up in various places. Maxi chattered an incessant stream while manipulating the curling iron to create large, loose ringlets.

For the first time in weeks, Lily allowed herself an unguarded moment to relax. The tension slowly eased from her stiff shoulder muscles while Maxi prattled on. After exhausting the local town gossip, most of it concerning people Lily had never met, Maxi set the iron back in its stand.

“Tell me again what you thought of Jason.” She twisted a curl around her fingers before pinning it in place.

Lily smirked. The girl was definitely obsessed. “I only met him for a few seconds.”

“But you must've got some impression?”

Lily caught Maxi's hopeful expression in the mirror. “He seemed nice enough.”

Maxi beamed, patting and poking the back of Lily's hair. “He
is
the nicest guy in the world, with just the right touch of 'bad boy' in him.”

“The best of both worlds?”

“Exactly.” Maxi wedged two bobby pins between her teeth.

“Are you two dating?” Lily dared to risk the detailed explanation that might follow.

“No, but a girl can dream.” She plucked a pin from between her teeth and pushed it into Lily's hair. “By the way, I think Marco likes you. How do you feel about him?”

The innocent-sounding question didn't fool Lily for a minute. Maxi was fishing for info. She met her eyes in the mirror. “He reminds me too much of my ex-boyfriend.”

That got Maxi's full attention. She took the last hairpin out of her mouth. “Really? The leather jacket, motorcycle type?”

“Pretty much.”

“Cocky, too?”

“Worse.” So much for relaxing. Lily's muscles tightened just thinking about Curtis. “He had a vicious temper. Especially after a few beers.” Which was one of the reasons Lily never touched alcohol. She'd seen too many people become monsters under its effect. Working at Hank's hadn't improved her opinion.

Maxi pinned the last curl in place, her mischievous twinkle replaced with a solemn expression. “Did he hit you, Lil?”

Lily dropped her gaze to her lap. “He got rough a couple of times but never actually hit me. Put a nice hole in my wall though. My landlord evicted me the next day.” Lily bit her lower lip, recalling the horrible scene and the terror that had robbed her of breath, wondering if she'd be the next recipient of his fist. She blinked to erase the memory and shifted in her seat.

“Do you think he'll come after you?” Maxi grabbed a can of hairspray off the shelf behind her.

Lily fingers curled around the arm of her chair as the familiar swirl of anxiety returned. “I hope not, but I'd rather play it safe.”

“He sounds like a creep.” Maxi gave the can a hard shake and squirted a mist over Lily's head. “Marco's a bit of a womanizer, but I don't think he'd ever hurt anyone on purpose. What will you do if he asks you out?”

Lily tried not to choke in the haze of hairspray. “I don't know. I'm not sure I'm ready to date anyone right now.”

The bell at the front jangled, and Nick Logan strode in, tool belt slung low on his hips. He stood inside the doorway for a moment before he turned to look in their direction. His eyes widened when he spotted Lily.

Time slowed to a standstill as the intensity in Nick's gaze made Lily's mouth go dry. Her cheeks heated. She must look ridiculous with her hair all done up like she was going to a prom or something.

“Hey, Nick,” Maxi called out. “I'm practicing my skills on Lily.”

Nick's gaze never left the mirror. “Looks good. Real good.”

Lily's face burned even hotter. She pushed out of the chair, and whipped off the stylist's cape.

Nick turned to address Maxi. “So where's this broken dryer?”

Maxi gestured toward the back of the room. “It's the same one you fixed last month. The sink's backing up again, too.”

Lily returned to the reception desk, doing her best to calm her erratic pulse. What was it about Nick Logan that reduced her to an awkward adolescent? With all the boyfriends she'd had over the years, she'd never experienced this type of reaction, never allowed emotions to dictate her actions. This out-of-control response was definitely
not
a welcome sensation.

 

****

 

Nick gripped the wrench and squeezed hard, attempting to quell the knot of tension in his gut. Lily looked prettier than a package tied up with a bow. He almost swallowed his tongue when he saw her—those huge eyes riveting his gaze.

Focus on the drain, Logan
. At least in the back of the shop, he wasn't able to see the object of his fascination. He winced as the pipe suddenly let loose a stream of water that hit him square in the forehead. If that didn't cool him down, nothing would.

Nick finished with the sink and moved to a bank of hair dryers along the wall. He set the tool box on the floor, allowing himself one quick glance at Lily seated up front with her back to him. Was she at all affected by his presence or merely annoyed?

The bell jangled and Justine Henderson swept inside the shop, her three-year old daughter, Jenny, howling in her arms. The imp's face was blotched with tears, her light brown curls a tangle on top of her head. Nick smothered a smile. It seemed little Jenny had a severe objection to getting her hair cut. He dusted his hands off and headed to the front of the shop, thinking he could help distract the toddler.

Maxi beat him to the door. “Hey, Justine. Hi there, Jenny. What can we do for you?”

Justine huffed. “Can you take an emergency? She got gum in her hair—again.” The exasperated woman rolled her eyes while the girl wailed louder.

Nick slowed his stride as Lily pushed up from her chair. Undaunted by the howls and the storm of tears, Lily lifted a tentative hand to one of Jenny's curls.

“Hello, pretty girl.”

The child's shrieks became a whimper as she contemplated Lily.

“Bring her over here,” Maxi called from the first stylist chair.

Jenny cowered against her mother, looking as if another bellow was imminent.