Kaitlan’s eyes welled. Man, she was crying a lot lately. Yesterday she and Margaret had waded through reporters to attend Pete Lynch’s memorial service. The private investigator had left behind an adult daughter and two grandchildren. “I’m so sorry about Sam.”
“Yeah. Me too. We’d worked together for five years.” Ed’s gaze fixed beyond her. “Guy filmed to the end.”
Including Craig pulling the trigger on the first bullet that hit him.
Kaitlan caught a tear on her knuckle. She wiped it on her jeans.
Ed’s eyes lowered to hers and held. In them shone caring and kindness. His mouth curved in a sad smile.
Kaitlan looked away.
Ed was thirty, with a great job and TV looks. He was clearly interested in her, which was beyond belief—but he didn’t know. And she didn’t know how to tell him. She was pregnant with Craig Barlow’s baby. A baby she loved. When Ed found that out, he’d stop coming around.
He cleared his throat. “Hear about Chief Barlow?”
“Hear what?”
“He’s resigning. Well, taking early retirement.”
“Oh. Wow.” But Kaitlan wasn’t that surprised. Under his leadership, investigations of the murders had been badly handled. And his children …
He hadn’t known, Russ Barlow was insisting. He’d had not the slightest suspicion of his own daughter. Despite how hard-nosed he’d been to Kaitlan, she could believe that. Who would have suspected Hallie?
But how ironic—the chief’s worry that Kaitlan would be the one to ruin his son’s life.
What a broken man Russ Barlow must now be.
The door swished open and Margaret entered. She smiled at Ed, no hint of surprise at his presence. “Whoo, it’s warm in here.”
Kaitlan gestured toward the bed with her chin. “He likes it that way.”
Her grandfather kept his eyes closed. “When you getting me out of here, woman?”
“Tomorrow, D. You know that.”
He sniffed. “I think you like me stuck in here. You’re probably running around free as a breeze, painting the town red.”
“You’re right.” She laughed. “That’s what I do best.” Margaret patted his arm. “How you doing?”
“Why does everybody keep asking me that?”
“Probably because you’re lying in a hospital bed.”
“Well, stop it.”
“Okay.” She rolled her eyes at Kaitlan.
Her grandfather scratched his cheek. “I got to get home; I got work to do.”
“Oh? What work?”
“Writing, what else?”
“You been lying here thinking of a plot for Leland Hugh?”
He made a sound in his throat. “Something like that.”
“That’s great.” Margaret’s face lit. “That’s really wonderful, D.”
The King of Suspense gave her a look. “Don’t sound so surprised, woman. It is what I do for a living.”
sixty-nine
On a Saturday afternoon Darell stood before the mullioned windows in his office, brooding at the Pacific Ocean. Was it only five weeks ago he’d been in this very spot, brewing with frustration over his fight to plot a book?
It seemed like eons.
Beyond the closed door he could hear Margaret calling Kaitlan. He could swear his assistant’s voice sounded lighter, happier. How lonely she must have been in this house with only him for … hardly comfort. More like harassment.
Darell pushed up his lower lip and sniffed.
Margaret called again. Fool woman. So much for quiet in the house. Didn’t she know he was setting to work today?
His lips relaxed, then hinted at a curve.
The computer called.
Darell glared at it. Leland Hugh sat in there as silent and enigmatic as ever. No thanks to Craig Barlow, who’d proved no help at all with Hugh’s motives.
Now Hallie Barlow’s journal—that was a different story.
In the hospital Darell had spent day and night trying to slough the mud from his brain and plot the manuscript he so wanted to finish. The one that would rejuvenate his career. Sure, it was great that sales of his back list were soaring—though for all the wrong reasons. People no longer had forgotten Darell Brooke. But he wanted to write
Nothing worked.
As the sun dared rise three days ago, the King of Suspense finally gave up.
In that nascent light Darell had stared at his white bedroom ceiling and seen his life. Blank. Vain emptiness. Oh, he’d built a career, a worldwide reputation. His books were still selling. He’d made all the money he’d ever need. But he trampled over people to get it. Worse, he’d trampled over family.
In that moment of stillness, a profound knowledge pierced Darell as surely as an arrow:
Why hadn’t he seen this before? How does one miss the ocean from the beach or stars in a clear night sky?
Perhaps he’d known all along and refused to see. And he’d thought himself so clever.
On the office door a knock sounded. Darell turned. “Come in.”
Kaitlan timidly stuck her head inside. “I’m so sorry to bother you—”
“Kaitlan.” He gazed at her with intensity. “You are never a bother.” Surprise crisscrossed her face, followed by a slow smile that yanked at Darell’s heart. “Okay.”
Two weeks ago Kaitlan had returned to working at the beauty salon. She missed it, she said. And salacious-minded people were finally beginning to leave her alone.
She hung in the doorway, eyes roaming the office as if seeing it for the first time. Impatience gurgled inside Darell. “You wanted something?”
“Yeah. Just to tell you Margaret and I are going shopping.”
Darell shrugged. “Fine.” He surveyed her. “What about tonight? You seeing Ed?”
Her eyelids flickered. “Yeah. It’s time I … we need to talk.”
That they did.
She took a deep breath. “You okay by yourself for a while?”
“Of course. I have writing to do.”
Kaitlan grinned. “Good. That’s
The computer pulled at Darell like a magnet. He’d been thinking this through since his epiphany—and now he was ready. More than ready. Anticipation popped through his veins.
Darell raised his eyebrows. “Remember, you promised to help me.”
“I know. I will.”
“You sure you understand what it will mean? How thoroughly I’ll have to interview you? Reliving difficult events is never easy.”
Nor was baring one’s soul.
“I know. But I’m ready.”
He read the thought she would not express. She needed to do this, as he did.
“Good.” He waved a hand at her. “Now get out of here. I have to get to work.”
