The Secrets She Kept (12 page)

Keith listened to Maisey’s side of the conversation as his two sisters indulged in some chitchat. Updates on the kids. Latest career endeavors. A few words on the weather. After that they talked about the autopsy coming on Sunday. Fortunately, Roxanne seemed to support his decision to use someone who wouldn’t be influenced by what the coroner had already decided, which made Keith feel a bit better. She wouldn’t support a thorough autopsy if her husband had any culpability in Josephine’s death.

It was ludicrous to even
think
he might be involved...

When Maisey seemed to feel the time was right, she sent him a nervous glance and started in on what Pippa had told him.

“It was so good to see you and the family over Christmas,” she said. “I bet you’re especially glad you made the effort now that...well, now that we know it was our last Christmas with Mom.”

Keith motioned for her to sit beside him and share the phone so he could hear Rocki’s response. When Maisey hesitated, he thought she’d refuse. But, with a grimace, she conceded.

“We should’ve moved to Fairham,” he heard Rocki say. “I was taken away so early that I don’t remember a lot about my childhood. And Mom only came back into my life five years ago.”

“You know how Keith and I felt about living close to Mom,” Maisey said.

“I do, but...losing a mother is still losing a mother. And now I’ve lost two.”

That sounded sincere. She certainly didn’t seem
happy
to have Josephine gone, which came as a relief. Surely that was a promising sign that Keith would be able to keep what was left of his family together.

“What does Landon have to say about Mom’s death?” Maisey asked.

“Landon?” Rocki echoed. “He feels bad, of course. Same as me. But mostly for my sake. He and Mom didn’t have much to do with each other. I’m the one who always talked to her on the phone.”

But Landon had spoken to her before she died. He’d had an argument with her...

Keith nodded when Maisey looked at him, encouraging her to press harder.

“They didn’t have any business dealings?”

“Mom and
Landon
? No. Why would they?”

Roxanne didn’t know her husband had visited the island. Otherwise, she would’ve volunteered that information by now. That made Keith uneasy again. He could tell by the tension in Maisey’s body that she was getting the same feeling—and that she was just as apprehensive about it.

“Pippa told Keith that Landon visited Coldiron House the day before Mom died, Rocki.”

“No way!” their sister said.

“Pippa says she saw him. She said they argued.”

Dead silence.

“Rocki?”

“That
can’t
be true,” she said. “Landon was at a gaming convention in Las Vegas. He has to stay on top of all the new video games so he knows what to order for the store.”

“So...you think it must’ve been someone else Pippa saw?”

Landon was nearly as tall as Keith but bigger, thicker. His size made him distinctive. Keith doubted Pippa could’ve confused him with anyone else. Besides, she’d seen him over Christmas...

“Or she’s lying,” Rocki said.

Maisey jerked back. “Why would Pippa lie about that?”

“I have no idea,” Rocki responded. “But he wasn’t there. It’s impossible.”

She sounded upset—causing Keith even more concern. Did she know something about Landon and their mother they didn’t? Or was it the possibility that there might be something Landon hadn’t told
her
that was making her voice rise?

“Could you ask him?” Maisey said. “I mean, to be sure? If this turns into a murder investigation, I’d like to have a good explanation for why he was on the island.”

And why he didn’t call her while he was here. Maisey had to be thinking that. But she didn’t say it.

“Of course,” Rocki said. “I’m on my way to get some groceries. I’ll swing by the store and talk to him. But I can already tell you what he’ll say. He was in Vegas. He called me from Vegas on Saturday night.”

He called her from
somewhere
—but if Pippa was right, it wasn’t Vegas. Keith hated that this might create problems between his sister and her husband almost as much as he hated all the other possibilities.

“Will you let me know later, then?” Maisey asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, but she sounded preoccupied. Maisey even commented on that once they’d said goodbye.

“So...is he lying to her?” Keith asked.

“
Someone
has to be lying. Either him or Pippa.”

“True.”

“You were the one who talked to Pippa. How convincing was she?”

Keith remembered her earnest expression, the frantic way she kept wringing her hands. “She seemed absolutely sincere. What reason would she have to lie?”

“No reason. Unless
she
had something to do with Mom’s death and is trying to throw us off track.”

“You told me yourself that Pippa would never hurt Mom.”

Maisey jumped to her feet. “I can’t believe she would. But I can’t believe Landon would, either!”

Keith dropped his head onto the back of the couch. He didn’t want to believe it could be Pippa
or
Landon any more than Maisey did. But there were no obvious signs of a break-in. And nothing had been taken.

Whoever killed their mother had done it for a reason, with forethought and planning, and that told him one thing. The culprit knew her.

12

THAT NIGHT KEITH
couldn’t sleep for entirely different reasons than usual. Maisey had called to say that Landon denied having been on Fairham the day before their mother died, which bothered Keith, because it didn’t ring true. And he was hoping his mysterious visitor would return—so that he could figure out who it was and what he wanted. He traipsed through the house, checking rooms, staring out windows, visiting the garage and the apartment over it, where his grandfather’s driver had once lived, only to go through the whole circuit again.

Tonight he carried a baseball bat instead of a vase, so he felt more prepared. But he heard no unusual noises, saw nothing out of the ordinary. Fatigue made him groggy at about one thirty, but he was so afraid he’d miss the intruder that he fought through it. Then he
couldn’t
sleep, because he’d pushed himself too far. That was when a craving for cocaine set in—so razor-sharp it felt like breathing in broken glass.

He’d been doing so well that he was back in the midst of that battle almost before he knew it. While he was away from his usual routine, he hadn’t been working out enough to siphon off the excess energy that flooded his body whenever the desire flared up. Neither did he have the usual challenges and responsibilities that went with running his multimillion-dollar company.

In an attempt to cope the same way he did in California—by turning his attention to work and stubbornly ignoring everything else—he carried his computer to the study and handled all the email he hadn’t responded to before now.

His business seemed to be running smoothly. He’d received permission from the city to put up a sign for one of his public storage companies on the busy street closest to it, which was a win. He’d received notice that the strip mall he’d most recently purchased had closed escrow. And his assistant had informed him that the broker with whom he’d listed an office building had a possible buyer.

Satisfied with all of that, Keith emailed a different Realtor to say he wouldn’t be submitting an offer on the apartment complex he’d been considering. That was a project he couldn’t focus on right now. Then he answered whatever questions he’d received from his various employees and did a little surfing for new opportunities.

Normally, he enjoyed sifting through the various properties for sale. He could spend hours researching demographics, establishing value, calculating ROI and evaluating the potential upside. But tonight, probably because he didn’t feel he could move forward on anything until he understood what it might take to deal with his mother’s debts, he quickly lost interest. Getting high. That was all he could think about. The rush. The euphoria. The exquisite, painkilling escape. Coming home to Fairham tempted him to revert to his old self...

“Don’t tell me I’m going to fail despite everything I’ve done,” he muttered, alarmed by the strength of that dark lure.

He was checking the house again, searching for that damned intruder and finding nothing, when Nancy came to mind. He missed her. While he was in California, he’d refused to even think about Fairham. He’d cut off everything and everyone associated with his past, other than his sisters. Doing that had felt crucial, as if he might not survive if he did anything less.

But since he’d returned? He’d been shocked at the number of times his thoughts had drifted to the woman he’d been sleeping with before he left. He wished he could go see her—but he’d promised Maisey he wouldn’t.

Instead, he logged in to Facebook and found Nancy’s page. She’d never accepted his friend request, but her settings were such that “friends of friends” could view what she posted. Since she was friends with Maisey, he was able to see pictures of her celebrating her stepfather’s birthday with a huge cake, riding bikes around the island with her sister and lying out on the beach.

She looked sexy in her bikini. He was happy that she’d lost some weight, since it was so important to her.

He scrolled through several humorous memes and smiled at a video of Simba, in which she was trying to teach him to catch. Every treat she tossed in the air hit him in the face and fell to the ground before he could snatch it up. That made Keith laugh, just like Nancy was doing while she filmed.

“That’s a major fail, buddy.” Keith started it again as he began to toy with the idea of driving over. He needed a friend, and she’d been such a good one. It wasn’t as if he’d ever
tried
to hurt her.

Didn’t matter, he reminded himself. He needed to leave her alone, as Maisey said. Nancy didn’t want anything to do with him.

But his next thought was of “Speed” Harbinger, who lived down the street from Nancy and had been a drug dealer since Keith could remember, which was even more dangerous.

Was Speed still in Keys Crossing? Was he still dealing?

The answers to those questions were irrelevant, because
he
was no longer using, Keith told himself and put on some workout clothes before heading to the gym in the far wing. With a string of rock classics pounding through his smartphone, he did several circuits on the expensive Nautilus equipment his mother had purchased.

The strain on his muscles felt familiar, comforting, but he couldn’t quiet his damn mind. He kept turning down the music to listen for the intruder who’d come last night. Kept trying to piece together a logical explanation for why Landon had flown to Fairham Island to speak to Josephine, what the two of them might’ve argued about and why he was lying about it.

Keith was on his way back to his room for a shower when he decided to finish up with a run. He hoped the exertion would finally exhaust him.

But he should’ve known where he’d wind up. Twenty minutes later, he was sweaty and cold, since he hadn’t bothered to throw anything on over his T-shirt, and standing on the curb of Nancy’s house.

Fortunately, the lights were off. If he’d thought she was up, he would’ve gone to the door.

* * *

When Keith opened his eyes, he was back at Coldiron House and he was alone.

Was he drug-free?

It took him a few minutes to fight through the grogginess so that he could remember the long run home and establish that he hadn’t screwed up. The knowledge came as a relief. Remaining clean hadn’t been easy. Leaving Nancy alone hadn’t been easy, either. He’d hung out in her front yard for at least fifteen minutes, wrestling with himself.

Go to the door and tell her how much you’ve missed her...

Don’t you dare get involved in her life again.

There’s nothing wrong with being friends. Maisey shouldn’t be able to dictate that.

But you’re not looking for friendship—not tonight. You’re looking for consolation and support and the same warmth and acceptance that saved your life once before.

Finally, frustrated and shivering against a stiff wind, he’d ambled over to Speed’s, which wasn’t a wise decision. He could tell just by looking at the junk in the yard and the beat-up cars in the drive that nothing had changed.

Whether it was smart or not, he sort of missed Speed, too. Not in the way he missed Nancy, but Speed wasn’t a bad person. He was caught in the same cycle of addiction that had trapped Keith for so long, and he was dealing to support his habit.

Keith wasn’t sure how he’d managed to avoid knocking on
that
door. He’d known he’d be far more welcome there than he would at Nancy’s, which had added to the temptation. But, somehow, he’d found the strength to return home just as the sun was coming up and had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Thank God he hadn’t ruined five years of sobriety, he thought as he stretched. Seeing the sun shining through the shutters gave him hope that returning to Fairham wouldn’t set him back, after all. But staying clean was always easier during the day. Nights were much harder, and in seven hours it would be dark again...

He reached over to get his phone so he could see if Chief Underwood had responded to the text he’d sent in the middle of the night, asking if she’d been able to track the person who’d made that phone call.

She’d responded, all right. Judging by the time on the text, she’d gotten up at the crack of dawn, right when he was falling into bed. But she hadn’t shared any information.
We’ll talk tonight.

With a sigh, Keith tossed his phone on the carpet beside him, rolled over and went back to sleep. And he didn’t wake up until it was almost time for their dinner.

* * *

“You look
amazing
.”

Nancy managed a rather wobbly smile. Tom had told her that
so
many times since he’d appeared at her door:
You bought a new dress...? Wow, you’re hot... I’m going to take you to some other fancy places so I get to see you in that dress again!

Those compliments fed her ego, especially since she’d never felt attractive enough for Keith. But Tom had been touching her at every opportunity, which reminded her of a dog that wouldn’t stop licking. He was too eager, and it made her shrink away.

“Thank you,” she murmured and hoped, by keeping her response short and simple, he’d get the hint and talk about something besides her appearance.

Sadly, he missed that subtle cue. “I mean it,” he said. “I’ve never seen you looking so good.”

She barely managed to keep her smile in place. Who knew that having someone compliment her too much could be as off-putting as feeling overlooked or inferior? “It’s just a new dress, okay?” A Herve Leger off-the-shoulder bandage dress that’d cost almost two days’ wages, but still... It was black, so she could wear it to the funeral—whenever that was. Even Josephine couldn’t have looked down her nose at
this
number.

He leaned away from the table as their waiter, Bobby LaSalle, came with the wine. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” he said to Bobby.

They hadn’t left the island. They were in Keys Crossing, eating at the nicest restaurant in town—down by the wharf, near the water. Nancy knew Bobby, and that added to her embarrassment. “Stop.” She gestured for Bobby to forget the question, which he could answer only one way. “I’m flattered,” she said to Tom. “But, please, that’s enough.”

Bobby winked at her. “As far as I’m concerned, she always looks like a million bucks,” he said and hurried back to the kitchen.

“Bobby’s mother cuts my hair,” she whispered to Tom. “I’ve known him since I was twenty-four and he was in middle school.”

He reached for his wine. “You’re talking about our waiter?”

“Yes. Bobby.” She’d introduced them when Bobby first appeared and announced he’d be “taking care of” them. That was only a few minutes ago.

“Nice guy,” he said and took a sip.

Tom’s words were appropriate—she couldn’t fault him there—but his throwaway tone told Nancy he wasn’t really paying attention, and he obviously hadn’t been paying attention before. He liked her dress, liked the cleavage and skin it showed, and that was the only thing on his mind.

She’d just decided it was going to be a long night—and that she wouldn’t be using the new lingerie she’d bought, after all—when she saw something that made her wish she was anywhere else.

* * *

Chief Underwood had traced the phone call to a disposable phone. She’d also been able to determine that the caller had been somewhere near the lighthouse, which was the farthest point from Keys Crossing. Other than the occasional home built way back in the vegetation, there weren’t many people living in that area.

Did that mean the caller had
intended
to mislead the police? That he was actively avoiding identification and might be savvy enough to pull it off?

Harper had told Keith what she’d learned while they were driving to the restaurant. She’d also said she hadn’t given up yet. She was trying to track the serial number of that phone to the store where it’d been purchased, hoping to find an image of the person who’d bought it on security video.

Keith appreciated the effort. Given the odds, though, he wasn’t particularly optimistic. Most of the bigger stores had security cameras, but what about the mom-and-pop places that didn’t? There had to be at least a few of those, especially on the islands. Smitty’s, for instance, was the biggest store in town, yet it didn’t have security cameras. Or did it? He hadn’t been there recently, but there’d been no cameras when he’d lived here before. And even if she found the store and it did have cameras, unless there was a burglary or some other obvious problem that required visual proof, a lot of places simply recorded over earlier stuff. That meant timing could be an issue, too.

“Let’s talk about
why
someone might send you to my house in the middle of the night,” he said as they entered the restaurant.

“I don’t have an answer to that. Do you? I’ve thought about it, but I can’t believe the intruder who came in that night
wanted
to get caught—a plausible assumption since he purposely avoided detection. If you hadn’t seen those wet footprints, we wouldn’t even have known he was there. We would’ve continued to think it was a false alarm.”

The intruder could’ve called afterward because he
wanted
them to know he’d been there. But that didn’t seem too likely, either, considering the time of Chief Underwood’s arrival. “So if it wasn’t the intruder, who made the call?”

“A father, brother or friend? Someone who did it secretly so the intruder wouldn’t know?”

Keith didn’t respond. They’d reached the hostess station where a heavyset, middle-aged woman was gathering menus so she could lead them to a table. His mind was still on their conversation—until he saw Nancy sitting near the window with some guy in a suit. Given the size of Keys Crossing, he understood that he could run into her anywhere. But he hadn’t expected to see her
here
.

He got the impression she’d actually spotted him first. She was digging into her small black purse in such a preoccupied way, it seemed contrived.

He halted the hostess so he could greet Nancy in spite of that. He couldn’t help it. They’d once been close; it seemed ridiculous to ignore each other now.