Share No Secrets (7 page)

Adrienne didn’t approve of the journalistic imperative to dig for a story no matter who had to be pumped for information, but she admired Rachel’s forthrightness. “Did the sheriff tell Delaney about Skye and me being there?” she asked.

Rachel shook her head. “It was that caretaker. Somebody Duncan. He called the newspaper this morning.”

While they were being questioned, Claude Duncan had retreated to his cottage on the grounds. Adrienne knew he’d called Ellen Kirkwood, who’d showed up shortly afterward with her husband in tow. The busy-bee Claude had also called Drew Delaney, she thought in annoyance.

“Duncan said you and Skye were there, but he wanted to make it clear that
he’d
found the body and that you and Skye just got in his way while he was trying to protect the crime scene. He wanted to come in for an interview and photos.” Rachel smiled. “Drew said the next murder might be Sheriff Flynn killing Claude Duncan.”

“Dealing with Claude will take every ounce of control Lucas has, but I have faith in him,” Adrienne said. “He knows Claude isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Lucas was remarkably patient with him this morning even though Claude was a handful.”

“He sounds crazy.” Rachel paused, her expression changing to one of sympathy. “I know Julianna had been your friend for a long time, Aunt Adrienne, and Skye liked her so much. Finding her body must have been awful for you two.”

“It was.” Skye’s voice had become small and frightened. “She was lying on the bed looking so beautiful and peaceful.” A shallow wrinkle appeared between Rachel’s eyebrows as she clearly concentrated on every detail of the scene. “The sheet was pulled up to her shoulders. She could have just been sleeping. But Mom said there was a big hole in her neck—” Skye drew a deep breath and turned pale.

“That’s enough,” Adrienne said firmly. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I know you’re trying to do your job, but we’re in no shape to talk about this. I don’t think Sheriff Flynn would even want us to be discussing it with the press right now.”

“He’ll have to talk about it sometime.”

“Yes, but not right now. The murder only happened a few hours ago, Rachel. Give the police time to sort out what’s happened.”

“I’d rather get the story before they’ve had time to put their own spin on it.”

Adrienne looked at her niece disapprovingly. “Rachel, you can’t believe Lucas Flynn would manipulate evidence in a murder case!”

“Well, maybe not Flynn.” Rachel sighed. “Look, Aunt Adrienne, I didn’t mean to step on any toes where the police are concerned. I know you have a connection with them—”

“This has nothing to do with Lucas.”

“Okay.” Rachel held up her hand for truce. “I just want to get the story accurately and as quickly as I can. I feel bad for Julianna, but I have to look at this thing from the standpoint of my career. I’m sorry if I offended you by not being as softhearted as you’d like me to be, but in this situation, I have to be a professional first.”

“I understand, Rachel,” Adrienne said mildly. “But being a compassionate human should run neck and neck with being a professional. I hope you never forget that.”

Skye, who had been looking uncomfortable, as if she expected her mother and her cousin to get into an argument, suddenly said, “Didn’t Aunt Vicky get married at the Belle?”

“In a church, but her wedding reception was in the grand ballroom,” Adrienne corrected. She smiled at the memory. “Mom had taken me downtown to Miss Addie to get my hair trimmed. Judging by the results, Miss Addie had been sipping whiskey in the back room for her nerves. She just ruined my hair. I looked like a complete dork and I was
so
jealous of Vicky that afternoon! But I was proud, too,” Adrienne went on. “Vicky and Philip looked like movie stars. There was a professional photographer, of course, and thank goodness for him because Dad took about a hundred photos and every one of them was either blurry or cut off the top of people’s heads. I’ll get out the album and show them to you later, Skye. The professional ones, I mean. The photographer really did justice to Vicky and Philip,
and
to the Belle. The ballroom looked like it belonged in a palace. There was even a fountain of champagne.”

Skye looked starry-eyed. “Nothing that fabulous will ever happen to me.”

“Of course it will,” Rachel said, smiling and looking slightly starry-eyed herself. “From what Mom says, it really was a magic day.”

“Even though a lot of people believe something is wrong with that place because there’s just one disaster after another at the Belle?”

“I don’t believe in curses or anything occult,” Rachel stated. “The deaths and accidents at la Belle have just been the result of coincidence.” She took another sip of lemonade and announced, “I’m going out diere as soon as I leave here.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Adrienne said.

“Why not?”

“Because of the violence. Someone was murdered there, Rachel. You shouldn’t be around that kind of scene.”

Rachel looked at her defiantly. “Aunt Adrienne, I’m a reporter. It’s my job to be around that kind of scene. Good heavens, what do you expect me to do when I have a full-time job and my editor orders me to cover a homicide story? Shudder and say I won’t work on any stories that are upsetting?”

“No. But you’re not a full-time reporter yet And this was the murder of someone you knew.”

“Barely. I wasn’t friends with Julianna like Skye. And I’m less than a year away from being a full-time reporter. And I’m going to be a
good
one. A
great
one.”

“She’s going to win the Pulitzer prize,” Skye informed her mother with pride. “That’s the best thing a reporter can win.”

“Well, that’s wonderful, Rachel, but you’re only twenty. You don’t have a lot of experience and for now—”

A cell phone rang, cutting off Adrienne. “My phone,” Rachel said. “They probably need me at the newspaper.”

“Rachel Hamilton.” Her face lit up as she said, “Hi, Drew! What’s up?” Within a few seconds, her smile faded. “But I was planning to go out to the Belle. I’m at Aunt Adrienne’s and I was leaving in a few minutes.” Another short silence. “Plans for the county fair? Who cares about that?” Silence. “Well, I know
some
people care about it, but there’s been a
murder.
And you want Bruce to cover it? I know he has more experience than me, but his writing isn’t as good as mine.” Skye gave her mother a portentous look as Rachel’s face set in hard lines. “No, I’m not countermanding your orders. I’m just, well, giving you my point of view.” Silence. “Okay. I’ll meet with the chairman of the fair planning committee in twenty minutes. But I still think—”

She held out the phone and stared at it. Obviously, Drew Delaney had hung up on her. Her face grew red, her eyes angry. “Damn,” she muttered. “Bruce. He wants
Bruce
to check out la Belle this afternoon. Bruce can’t write his way out of a paper bag. I can’t believe Drew won’t let
me
cover this story!”

“Is Drew the gorgeous guy you said looks like George Clooney?” Skye asked innocently. Rachel flushed and gave her a look that clearly told her to shut her mouth. “Gosh, I’m sorry you can’t do the story, Rachel,” Skye said lamely, to cover her gaffe.

“It’s not your fault.” Rachel jammed her cell phone into her purse. “I just thought Drew had more faith in me.”

“Bruce is a full-time reporter,” Adrienne said, searching for a way to appease the furious girl. “You’re an intern who will be leaving in a couple of months. Drew is probably thinking of whom he has to work with for the next few years. He’d rather ruffle your feathers than Brace’s.”

“Or else he’s playing up to Bruce because his father
owns
the paper. I don’t like to think Drew would let that influence him, but maybe so,” Rachel said, her spirit suddenly gone flat “According to Mom, you know Drew a lot better than I do.”

Adrienne felt color rise to her cheeks. How long ago it seemed she’d had a teenage romance with Drew. How she’d daydreamed about him, pined for him with all her teenage devotion, spent days sunk in angst because he didn’t seem to know she was alive. Then suddenly, when she was a junior and he was a senior in high school, he’d begun dating her. She’d thought she was madly in love with him. No, she’d
known
she was madly in love with him, known it without an ounce of adolescent delusion. They’d even talked of marriage someday soon.

Right after he’d graduated from high school, he’d left for college in New York City, bidding her a tempestuous farewell. She’d been heartsick and lived for his letters and phone calls. But the calls dwindled from twice to once a week, then stopped altogether. Impersonal postcards replaced the long letters. Through friends Adrienne learned he spent Christmas in New York and by the next summer, he’d charmed his way into the inner circle of an affluent family and married the lovely daughter. Adrienne had been crushed. Furious. Devastated. And she was embarrassed to think that even now, the memory of Drew’s desertion brought a sharp prick of pain, even though another disastrous marriage to a minor Broadway starlet had followed what turned out to be his first failed attempt at nuptial bliss. After the last, he’d returned home just eighteen months ago to a job as editor of the
Point
Pleasant Register.

Adrienne knew Vicky had probably told Rachel old stories about Drew in order to underscore his feckless nature and tendency to use his considerable charm to flatter and get what he wanted from people. She doubted if Vicky’s point had been made, though. Lately, Adrienne had wondered if Rachel were developing a crush on Drew. And the girl had certainly come to think she was an indispensable asset to the newspaper
and
to Drew Delaney. Adrienne doubted that anything Vicky could say would change Rachel’s mind in the slightest.

“Well, I have to get on to this earth-shattering story about the county fair,” Rachel suddenly announced, standing up. “Thanks for lunch.”

“It wasn’t much and I’m sorry it had to spring from such awful circumstances,” Adrienne said.

Surprisingly, Rachel cocked her head, the anger vanishing from her gaze. “Well, at least Kit Kirkwood won’t be losing her inheritance in the next few weeks. The cops certainly won’t be quick to allow the destruction of the site where a world-famous model was murdered, and Ellen Kirkwood isn’t in the best of health.” She lifted her shoulders. “Who knows? Kit may end up with la Belle after all.”

When Rachel left, Skye loaded the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiped clean the kitchen counters without being asked to, a sure sign that she was still in shock. Afterward, Adrienne announced she needed to lie down for a while, and Skye curled up beside her on the bed as she hadn’t done for years. Brandon abandoned his plush cushion in the living room, stretched out on the floor beside them, and in two minutes began snoring loudly.

Meanwhile, Skye stared at the ceiling, clearly suffering the same nervous weariness as Adrienne, but unable to sleep. “Do you think Rachel loves Drew Delaney?” she asked after a few minutes.

“I hope not. He’s old enough to be her father.”

“You used to date him. Rachel told me.”

“I dated him about a century ago.”

“And then you met Daddy.”

“I already knew Daddy. I just didn’t know how much I liked him until he finally asked me out. We got married a year later.”

“So you
really
liked him!”

“Yes. I really
loved
him. I always will.”

“Me, too.” Skye reached out and touched a strand of Adrienne’s hair, twisting it gently around her finger like she’d done since she was a toddler. “Mom, I think there’s trouble between Aunt Vicky and Rachel. They fight a lot.”

Adrienne sighed. She was desperate for a nap, a brief escape from the horror of the morning, but now was not the time to push away her daughter. “I think Vicky is having trouble with Rachel becoming an adult. She’s twenty. In less than a year she’ll be a college graduate. And she’s so independent, so self-sufficient. I think Vicky is upset about losing her little girl. She tries to cling to her, and the harder she clings, the harder Rachel tries to pull away. So they end up arguing.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. But Mom?” “Yes?”

“I’ll never want to pull away from you. I’ll always want to be just as close as we are right now.”

Adrienne smiled. “I wish that were true, but a day will come when you’ll find hanging out with me to be a colossal drag. But it’s natural, honey. It’s just part of growing up. I promise to handle it a little better than Vicky is doing.” She paused. “At least, I’ll try.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop hanging out with you.” Skye yawned hugely. “I’m having a good time talking to you, but I’m so sleepy I can’t keep my eyes open. Can we take a nap together?”

Adrienne smiled. “It would be my pleasure, sweetie.”

Adrienne awakened with a heavy, dazed feeling, as if she’d taken a sleeping pill. She glanced at the bedside clock and saw that three hours had passed. Skye lay curled into a fetal position beside her, and Brandon still snored by the bed. Adrienne wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, to block out the afternoon, but she knew if she slept more now, she would never sleep tonight. Reluctantly, she quietly got up and padded into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

The coffee did little to clear her head, but she was at least capable of coherent speech when Lucas Flynn called half an hour later. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, and the bad thing is, I don’t think the reality of the whole thing has even hit me yet.”

“Losing anyone you love is bad, but it’s even worse when the person is young and vibrant and, worst of all, a murder victim. You have all that rage on top of the grief.”

“I felt rage when Trey died, but it was different. I was mad at him for being so stupid as to ride a motorcycle he couldn’t handle. Julianna didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Didn’t she? She wasn’t spending the night at the Belle of the hell of it. It’s pretty evident she was having an affair.”

“I didn’t know anything about it, and Julianna wasn’t one for keeping secrets.”