The Heart of Lies (2 page)

“All she’s told me is that he lives in Colorado, his name is Lucas Wakefield, and he’s an investor,” Camille reported.

“Investor? What does he invest in?” Isabel questioned.

“You’ll have to ask Maggie if you want any more facts,” Camille said. “But, please, wait until she brings him up. Otherwise, she’ll know I told you.”

“Maybe I should run a background check on him,” Isabel suggested, tapping her finger on her chin.

“Oh, Isabel, I don’t think Maggie would like that,” Emily warned. Being a private investigator made Emily as skeptical as Isabel’s FBI training had made her, but Emily knew Maggie wouldn’t see it that way. “Why don’t you wait on that one?”

“All right—for now,” Isabel agreed. “But as soon as she tells us about this Lucas character and she starts talking like they’re getting serious, I’m doing a background check.”

“Enough talk about Maggie, what about you, Em?” Camille asked. “Have you found out anything more about Evan’s mysterious past?”

Emily’s late husband, Evan Parker, had been a private investigator in Paradise Valley. He’d been murdered while working late in his office one night about a year ago. Eventually, Emily was able to start putting her tragic loss behind her. Hoping to move on to a new relationship at her friends’ urging, she began to pack Evan’s things away.

While going through his closet, she had come upon a slender silver key that turned out to belong to a safe deposit box at a local bank. She had been shocked that he had kept secrets from her and angry that he had lied about his past.

Gaining access to the safe deposit box, she’d examined the contents and found three passports with different names—Michael Boerner, Sean McDonough, and Alexi Krishenko. She’d also discovered a large bundle of cash, some Euros, a mysterious brass key, a gun, and an old photo of Evan with a pretty, young, dark-haired woman. He had his arm intimately around her shoulders and they were smiling into the camera. Of all the things she’d found in the box, the photo had packed the biggest wallop. Emily had removed the key and the photo from the metal box and left the rest at the bank for safe keeping.

“I still haven’t been able to find out who the woman in the photo is or what the key unlocks,” Emily replied.

Months after Evan’s death, Emily had been pulled into one of his old cases and had taken over as the investigator. She’d worked the case, but it had dragged her deeper into her own puzzling mystery. The items in Evan’s safe deposit box clearly spoke of another life, a life he had kept from her, leaving her to wonder who he really was and if their marriage had been one big lie.

“You know, I did offer to help you with that.”

Isabel had suggested that on numerous occasions, but Emily always put her off, telling Isabel she didn’t want her to get involved, that she would take care of it herself. Still, Emily hadn’t been able to solve the puzzle by herself—perhaps now she should accept the offer.

“What do you have in mind?” Emily stared seriously into Isabel’s eyes.

“See, I knew you’d come around. I could see it in those blue eyes—”

“They’re green,” Camille interrupted.

“They’re both,” Isabel corrected. “Anyway, I have a friend who just retired after thirty-five years with the FBI. He’s living over in Boise and he may have some contacts that could identify the woman. If I can give him a copy of that photo you found, the one with Evan and the woman, he may be able to find something out about Evan’s past life for you.”

“Assuming Evan Parker was his real name,” Emily added.

“Whatever his name was, my friend may be able to dig something up.”

“What do you have to lose, Em?” Camille encouraged.

“Okay, I’ll scan the photo and email it to you, Isabel. Then you can forward it to your FBI friend.”

“Retired FBI friend,” she corrected.

“So, what’s your
retired
friend’s name?” Emily questioned. “That is, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“No,” she waved her hand. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Isabel said it with a straight face, but then she snickered and Emily and Camille laughed, too. “Let’s just call him Jethro.”

“What are you girls laughing about?” Jonathan asked from the other end of the table. He and Alex gawked suspiciously at the women.

“Just girl talk.” Emily flashed a quick smile to her girlfriends. “Hey, I heard there was a pie baking contest somewhere around here.” She changed the subject and rose to her feet. “And afterwards, they’re selling the entries. Tell me. Who’s ready for pie?”

~*~

Emily and her friends had a ritual of meeting together on Thursday nights for a potluck dinner at one of their homes—girls only. This Thursday it was Emily’s turn to host the dinner and the theme was Italian. Since Emily was the worst cook of the four of them, she decided her contribution would be a big green salad and fresh sourdough bread from the local bakery.

She was setting the table for dinner when her cell phone rang. A big smile spread across her face and her heart began to beat a little faster when she saw it was Colin.

“Hello.” She answered in her sweetest tone—the one she reserved for Colin.

“Hi, Emily. I’ve missed hearing your voice,” he said.

She missed hearing his, too. It always reminded her of warm, dark chocolate—smooth, sweet, and sensual. “Me too. How’s your dad?”

“He’s doing better, but Mom’s not able to take care of him all on her own yet.”

“Any idea when you’ll be back?” Soon, she hoped.

“No, but I’m as anxious to come back to Paradise Valley as you are to have me.” He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Me. I can’t believe I’m actually missing that small town. I never thought I’d say that.”
 

Colin had been a San Francisco policeman, then a detective there. He loved the big city—until his fiancée was killed. He had taken the job in the small picturesque town of Paradise Valley to escape her memory. That’s when he and Emily met, and when, according to him, he was captivated by her.

“I thought it was me you were anxious to return to, not this town,” Emily replied, feeling a little deflated.

“Absolutely—but I do have to admit that I was becoming attached to that place and the people in it. Before you know it, I’ll be back.”

“You better be, mister. I’ll admit it. I’m so lonely for you I can hardly stand it.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. I feel the same way.”

“Oh you do, huh?”

“Yes, I do.” Colin cleared his throat. “Emily, I—”

Emily’s attention was jerked away. “Knock, knock! Where are you, Emily?”

Camille and Isabel entered the house, calling for their host.

“I’m back here!” Emily shouted from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Colin, the girls are here for our weekly girls’ night. You were saying something?”

“Well, I was but…you go have fun with the girls.”

“All right, Colin. Let’s talk again soon. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too—love you.” He quickly hung up, leaving Emily staring at her phone.

What?
Did he just say he loved me?

There had always been a mutual attraction, a strong desire to be together, but neither of them had ventured into the deep waters of “I love you” yet. Before she had time to decide if she’d been hearing things or not, Camille and Isabel strolled into the kitchen.

“You look like someone just slapped you, Em.” Camille set her hot pan of lasagna down on the stovetop.

Emily shook her head and put a broad smile on her face. “Uh, no. I was saying good-bye to Colin on the phone.”

“How’s he doing? I’ll bet he misses you as much as you miss him.” Camille smiled as she rifled through the utensil drawer.

“I think you’re right.” Emily gave her friend a hug.

“I brought homemade meatballs,” Isabel proudly announced as she set her crockpot on the counter, lifting the lid to show Emily. She had been taking cooking lessons from Camille and was becoming quite accomplished. Camille was proud of her, but Maggie, the fitness queen, often gave her grief for the extra pounds she carried with her new love of cooking.

“They smell divine,” Emily complimented. “I can’t wait to taste them.”

“
Grazie
,” Isabel replied.

“Where’s Maggie?” Camille took the foil off her lasagna.

“Late, as usual.” Isabel stirred her meatballs and fresh marinara sauce around with a large spoon. That was Maggie’s one downfall, being notoriously late for just about everything. “She’ll probably be late for her own funeral.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Maggie shouted as she came through the door. All heads turned in her direction and the girls giggled. Emily hugged her and took her dinner contributions—a container of strawberry Gelato in a plastic grocery bag hanging from her arm and a bottle of red wine in each hand. “So, what did I miss?”

“Emily was on the phone with Colin when we walked in,” Camille reported. “She hasn’t said if there was anything new.”

“Was there? Anythin’ new, I mean?” Maggie asked.

Emily felt herself blush, and it did not go unnoticed. She hadn’t planned on saying anything, but being put on the spot as she was, she decided to just come out with it. “Well, nothing big.”

“Go on, Em, spit it out.” Camille’s bright blue eyes were wide with anticipation.

Emily could feel the heat of all their eyes on her. “Well, just as Colin was saying good-bye—”

“Out with it, Em!” Camille insisted.

“He said, ‘Love you,’ and then hung up.” Emily eyed her friends, waiting for a response. “It took me by surprise.”

“Did he actually say, I love you, or just a quick, love you?” Isabel questioned.

“What difference does it make, Isabel? He said the L word.” Maggie gave Emily a big hug.

“It makes a big difference—at least it would to me,” Isabel replied.

“I’ve decided I’m going to let it slide. I’m going to wait for the real, I love you, Emily, before I say it back.”

“That’s wise, Em,” Camille agreed. “Just make sure you let us know the second he says it. I’m going to be waiting on pins and needles, my friend.”

“Maybe not the second he says it,” Isabel added, grinning at Camille.

“Well, y’all, speakin’ of bein’ in love,” Maggie interjected, all eyes turning on her, “I have some news of my own.”

“What news, Maggs?” Emily asked.

“I met a wonderful man online through one of those datin’ services that match you up, and we’ve been talkin’ on the phone and emailin’ for a couple of months now. We’ve even had a few video chats on the computer with that Face Time
thang
.”

“How come you never said anything before?” Isabel asked pointedly.

“I guess I wanted to see if it was goin’ anywhere before I did. I didn’t want to jinx it, y’know? I haven’t had the best luck with men.”

Maggie had had her share of relationships with men, but none of them seemed to stick, although she was a force to be reckoned with, and as a single mother she held the bar high.

“Ooh, give us some details, Maggie,” Camille encouraged.

“His name is Lucas Wakefield, and he’s an investor and land developer. He lives in Colorado and he’s been lookin’ into doin’ a project in this area.”

“What kind of project?” Isabel questioned.

“Somethin’ up in the mountains, like a resort,” Maggie replied.

“That sounds exciting. Does that mean he’s coming here?” Emily asked.

“As a matter of fact, he is, in the next week or so.”

“Let us know and we’ll throw a big party to welcome him,” Camille offered.

“Oh, Cam, that would be fabulous!” Maggie beamed.

“This is all very exciting, ladies, but the food is getting cold,” Isabel noted. “Why don’t we serve ourselves and we can sit down and talk more while we eat?”

They happily agreed to Isabel’s suggestion and spent the next hour eating, talking, and laughing. Wine flowed, dessert was relished, and conversation of Lucas Wakefield was thoroughly exhausted.

“You’ve been very quiet about your work, Em,” Camille noted, licking the last bit of Gelato from her spoon and wagging it at Emily. “Working on any exciting cases?”

“Ever since I solved the Delia McCall murder case a few months ago, it’s been pretty uneventful.”

Emily had taken over the McCall case after Evan was killed, and it quickly went from tracking Ms. McCall’s philandering husband to solving his murder. Emily had exposed the murderer, almost losing her own life in the process.

“That was an excitin’ case.” Maggie poured herself more wine.

“Since then, it’s just been a handful of suspicious wives hiring me to follow their wayward husbands. Seems like not much happens in this sleepy little town—except maybe adultery.” Emily gave the girls a playful grin.

“Oh, my,” Camille gasped as a little giggle escaped her. She stood and began to clear the plates from the table.

“How can y’all say that?” Maggie asked. “We had two murders in the same year.”

“You’re right,” Camille agreed. “And if Jonathan cheated on me, there’d be another murder in this town, for sure,” she quipped, winking at Emily.