Past, Present and a Future (Going Back) Read online

  She’d been right on target when she’d suggested the police had done a shoddy job of investigating Rina’s murder. The case had basically gone nowhere fast and that puzzled him. He suspected that if Rina’s parents had been in a different social class things might have been handled differently. In the beginning, there had been quite a few telephone inquiries from both parents and a letter from Mr. Thomas to the sheriff. But even their small efforts to keep the case alive had fizzled out.

  The one person who appeared to have persisted longest was the first officer on the scene, Kyle Davis. The discovery of a cryptic memo from the sheriff at the time—a George Watson—to bring a close to the case because of budget cutbacks convinced Gil something had gone awry with the police investigation. He decided a visit to the current sheriff was high on his agenda for the next day. Along with a call to Clare, of course.

  There was no way he’d allow today’s scene to drive a wedge between what they’d finally reestablished. He’d expected a torrent of memories and all the pain that came with them when they examined the file. And he’d thought Clare had been aware of what they were getting into, as well, but he’d misjudged her reaction to Rina’s secret. Or to his keeping that secret from her.

  That’s what had really gotten to her, he guessed. Another example of his deception. The fact that it was the only example in the history of their former relationship seemed to have escaped her. The one time he’d ever lied to Clare Morgan had been when she’d asked him point-blank why he’d gone off with Rina Thomas that day.

  So when he heard her voice on his cell phone he was expecting some other message. What she began to say chilled him. He was on his way out to the car before the recording finished, zipping through every stop sign but the ones that mattered and thankful he hadn’t had any more than that one beer, hours ago. Gil made it to the hotel in record time, and was sprinting from the parking lot to the entrance when he saw a police cruiser pull away from the curb. He didn’t bother with the elevator, remembering she was on the third floor, and was knocking at her door seconds later.

  “I just got your message,” he said, placing a hand on the door frame. The move wasn’t nearly as casual as it looked. He had to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms. She looked frightened. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Gil. Really. I should have told you not to worry.” She stepped back, allowing him inside. “It’s just that I made the call right after I spoke to the police and…I guess was still feeling a bit shaken.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Jason? He sneaked up behind me and pushed me to the ground.” She uttered a laugh that fell far short of amusement.

  Gil closed the door behind him and followed her into the room. The bed had been turned down and Clare’s coat had been flung across it. The telephone was sitting on the bed next to the coat. She’d reached for it right after ditching her coat, he guessed.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “A skinned knee, that’s all. More pride wounded than my body, fortunately.”

  He said a silent amen to that. “Sit down,” he said, tilting his head to a corner chair. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”

  “That would be nice, actually. I could use something to calm my nerves.” She pointed to the minibar. “I haven’t cracked into that yet, but be my guest.”

  Gil used the opportunity to do something to calm himself, as well. He bent down in front of the small fridge and picked out two tiny bottles of bourbon. “This okay?” he asked, holding aloft the bottles.

  “Fine.”

  He grabbed the two clean glasses standing on top of the fridge and carried the lot to the seating corner where Clare was curled up in an armchair. Then he poured the drinks, handed one to her and swallowed the first mouthful of his own. When she had taken a sip of hers, he said, “Tell me what happened.”

  “There’s not a lot to tell. I was walking from the parking lot around to the front of the hotel when I heard someone running behind me. Next thing I knew I was falling to the ground. I managed to lift my head in time to see him before he got away.”

  “Definitely Jason?”

  She frowned. “Oh, yes. I mean, he was wearing that same nylon windbreaker he had on when we last talked to him.”

  “Hooded sweatshirt, too?”

  She thought for a minute. “I’m pretty sure he had a hood up, yes. It had to be Jason, Gil. Who else could it have been?”

  “I was thinking his mother.”

  She looked shocked. “Oh, no. I can’t see her doing something like that, as strange as she is. I mean, Jason has been responsible for everything else. It must have been him.”

  “Just a thought,” he said, dropping it right away. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset her even more. “I saw a police cruiser leaving as I came in.”

  “I called them as soon as I got back to my room. Guess who took the call? Vince Carelli,” she said.

  “Really? Sounds like a low priority for the deputy sheriff,” he said, adding, “if you know what I mean.”

  “I thought so, too. He said when he heard my name on the dispatch he thought he ought to come. Given what we’d reported the other day.”

  “Does that mean he’s going to take all of this a bit more seriously now?”

  “I got that impression. He seemed very concerned. Although I almost gave us away.”

  Gil leaned forward. “How so?”

  “I told him that you and I had gone to see Stan Wolochuk about Jason and he wanted to know why. Then I had to explain how we’d caught Jason spying and how he’d admitted sending the notes. Vince wanted to know why we hadn’t called him to report that and I babbled on about not wanting to upset the family further. That they’d obviously had a lot of troubles since Rina Thomas was killed and that they didn’t deserve any more.”

  Gil closed his eyes, picturing Vince Carelli knocking on his door in the morning. He quaffed the rest of his drink. “How much more did you tell him?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

  “Nothing more. I mean, he asked me how I knew about all their troubles and I told him what Helen Wolochuk had said.” Her brow wrinkled. “Did I say too much?”

  A bit, he wanted to say. But he managed a shrug. “I guess we’ll find out if Vince comes demanding the file we’ve got.”

  “I didn’t say anything about that!”

  “Did you mention that we were looking into Rina’s death?”

  She shook her head. “I was tempted to, but it didn’t seem like a good idea.”

  Relief breezed through him. He stared at her, noticing the way she was slumped in the chair. “You look tired,” he said. “I think you should get some rest. Maybe take a hot bath.”

  Her sigh echoed in the room. “Yes. I want to forget about everything and just go to sleep.”

  He stood up and offered a helping hand. When he pulled her gently out of the chair, she was inches away from him. Gil stroked back a tendril of hair that had fallen across her eyes. He bent his head and lightly kissed her in the center of her forehead. It was an effort not to continue.

  “Good night, Clare,” he said tenderly, drawing his head back. “I’ll call you first thing in the morning.”

  She nodded silently and as he walked to the door, he felt her eyes on him. She stopped him just as he was about to leave.

  “Thanks for coming, Gil. You were the first person I thought of, after the police.”

  Gil paused a beat, then said, a bit huskily, “Thanks for that,” and left the room. When he got to his car, he sat and thought for a long time. His first impulse had been to drive over to the Wolochuk house and grab Jason. But he talked himself out of that. No way did he want to spend another night in the Twin Falls jail.

  Halfway home, another impulsive idea occurred. He made a sharp right turn at a key intersection and drove by the Wolochuk house after all, to see what was happening there. A police cruiser was sitting out front and lights blazed inside. Gil waited a few minutes before continuing
on home. At least Carelli had followed through on something.

  By the time he pulled up into the drive at his place, Gil had come to the reluctant conclusion that he and Clare should drop the whole inquiry business. It was proving to be too damn risky, both physically and emotionally.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE KIND OF HANGOVER that awoke Clare next morning had nothing to do with the half inch of bourbon she’d imbibed the night before. Her body ached all over, a result of her tumble. But her pounding head was definitely connected to a tortured sleep, fraught with recollection of Jason Wolochuk’s fury, etched indelibly in her mind. And of course, visions of Gil recurred with alarming frequency throughout the night.

  She dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom, then changed into the pair of cords Laura had lent her and her last clean top. The hotel laundry service was available but she decided to take her laundry over to Laura’s. She wanted to find out if Laura had heard back from her father in Florida.

  The last thing she did before leaving her hotel room was to check her voice mail in her New York apartment. She hadn’t done so for a few days and was expecting a message from her editor regarding her new book proposal. The good news was that her publisher was on board with the proposal. The bad news, that her editor was hoping to schedule a meeting at the end of the week.

  Clare hung up. She’d been in Twin Falls twelve days and, other than several tense moments with Gil Harper, had little to show for her efforts in resolving the conundrum of her mother’s abrupt departure from the town. Not to mention learning anything more about Rina Thomas’s death that could pinpoint a killer. The impending meeting in New York set an instant deadline for her and Gil.

  Gil. Contemplating his name slowed her to a near stop. She wandered listlessly to the bathroom to finish getting ready and stared zombielike at the reflection in the mirror. Leaving Twin Falls could be a permanent goodbye to Gil. She wasn’t going to kid herself that they would reconnect once back in the city. There was simply too much ambivalence attached to each contact with him here, in Twin Falls.

  Clare massaged skin cream into her face, then set to work to conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes. She could remember the days when a daub of lipstick was sufficient and had a sudden, painful awareness of the years rushing by. Oh, yes, she’d accomplished much. The brief but satisfying career in teaching. The realization of a dream in writing and publishing two novels.

  But what about her personal life? What had she gained from the very few relationships with other men that she’d had since leaving Twin Falls? Something had always intervened, preventing her from having a long-term commitment. That something, she knew now, had been the memory of Gil Harper. She’d sought to replace that memory with other men, but had never succeeded. Now time was literally running out for her and the possibility for a second chance with Gil was more remote than ever.

  So, she silently declared to her mirror image, make the most of the next couple of days. No expectations mean no disappointments. That would be her mantra for the rest of her time in Twin Falls. Clare turned off the bathroom light, picked up her coat, purse and plastic bag of laundry and headed out the door. First stop of the day, she decided, would be Laura’s washing machine.

  Fortunately, Laura had no laundry plans herself. “Don’t be silly, of course I don’t mind,” she said and grabbed the bag from Clare. “The machines are in the basement. Come on, I’ll help you get started.” Her gaze narrowed in on Clare’s face. “You don’t look so great. Has something happened?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it over laundry,” Clare said with a wan smile. “Where’s Emma?”

  “I just finished bathing her and she’s cooing away in her infant seat in the den with Dave.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Fine. The doctor said his cast won’t be off for a while, though, and he’s got to start going to physiotherapy. He’s getting antsy about work, so I’ve set up the laptop for him and he’s arranging with his boss to do some work here at home.”

  “Great.” She followed Laura down the basement stairs.

  “Kind of gloomy down here,” Laura said. “I wanted a laundry room on the second floor, but we’ll have to save some money for renovations. Another reason why I need to get back to working. So tell me, what happened?” She perched on top of the dryer.

  As Clare began to sort her laundry, she recounted what had occurred after leaving the Kingsway home the night before.

  Laura kept shaking her head in disbelief while Clare was speaking. “This is too much,” she said, shocked. “Thank heavens you called the police. Do you know what happened after?”

  “Not yet. It was Vince Carelli who came to see me—remember Gil and I had already spoken to him about the note? He said he’d go talk to Jason.”

  “He should do more than talk. You should lay a charge, Clare. The boy should be held accountable for his behavior.”

  Clare had considered that, but hoped she wouldn’t have to. “He’s only seventeen and has enough problems at home and at school.” She caught the expression in Laura’s face and hastily added, “But if he does one more thing, then I’ll certainly make an official complaint.”

  “What more do you want him to do? Really hurt you? Come on, Clare.”

  “There won’t be a next time. I’m positive about that.”

  “Well, I hope you go see Carelli and find out exactly what he plans to do.”

  “I’m going to the sheriff’s office after I leave here. Hey, did your father ever get back to you, about Mr. Harper?”

  “Yes, he called late last night.” Laura thought for a minute. “This is confidential, right? I mean, there’s nothing that can happen to Dad because he’s retired and all, but he and Mom have to live in this town. And I don’t want a bunch of rumors to circulate about my father’s…well…his professional ethics.”

  “Good grief, Laura. This is just information that Gil was curious about. It’s got nothing to do with the Rina Thomas thing and of course we’d never reveal any of it to anyone.”

  “All right, relax,” Laura said, raising her palms in a gesture of defense. “Here’s what he told me. Sometime in late July, that summer after Rina was killed, Dad got a phone call from the mayor. I think his name was Mac-something.” She screwed up her face. “MacRoberts! Anyway, he’s long gone. Retired to Arizona or someplace shortly after his term of office ended that same year.”

  Clare sprinkled detergent into the washing machine and turned the dial to the correct setting. She didn’t pull out the knob to activate the machine, but waited for Laura to continue.

  “Dad said he was completely flummoxed by what the mayor asked him to do. That was his word, Clare. Flummoxed. Isn’t it funny? That’s how Dad talks,” she said in a digression that set Clare’s teeth on edge. “The mayor said a good friend of his was in desperate need of a job and, although he knew it was highly irregular, would there be an opening somewhere in Twin Falls administration for Desmond Harper.”

  “Mr. Harper was a good friend of the mayor’s?”

  “That what MacRoberts said.”

  “How could they have been friends? I mean, the Harpers were in a completely different…” Clare searched for the appropriate phrase.

  “Social class. Let’s face it, they were. Even my parents didn’t hobnob with the mayor and his buddies.”

  “What was your father’s reaction? Other than incredulity.”

  “He gave the mayor a lot of reasons why it was a bad idea, all of which were perfectly valid. But MacRoberts refused to listen to any of them and insisted if Dad couldn’t come up with a suitable job, then he’d do it himself.”

  “That is so peculiar.” Clare shook her head. “Gil said that his dad had no idea at all why he was offered the job. I’m sure that if he had been friends with the mayor—which I don’t believe for a second—he wouldn’t have made such a point of claiming ignorance about the job offer to his wife or to Gil.”

  “True enough. Anyway, Dad
said he finally gave into pressure because he valued his own job so he made the phone call to Mr. Harper. And that was the end of it.”

  After a moment, Clare said, “I’m sure Gil will be as astonished by this as we are.”

  “Hmm. And speaking of Gil—”

  “Were we?”

  “Don’t play Miss Innocent, Clare.” Laura’s expression sobered. “Have you told Gil yet about what happened to you last night?”

  Clare peered down at the washing machine. No way out now, she thought. “Yes. Actually, I called him right after I called the police. He…uh, he came over to the hotel.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “You can be so exasperating sometimes, Clare Morgan. What happened when he came over? Was he beside himself with anxiety? Anger? What?”

  “He was upset, of course.”

  “You could have called me. I’d have come over.”

  Clare smiled. “I know, Laura. But…it’s hard to explain. I just wanted Gil. I’ve no idea why. His name was the first thing that came into my head the instant I hung up the phone with the sheriff’s office.”

  Laura stared at her, a smug Cheshire-cat smile on her face. “What does that tell you, sweetie? And please, no protesting ingenue routine.”

  “I honestly don’t know, Laura. I simply wanted him to be there.”

  “To comfort you.”

  Clare’s gaze flicked away. “Yes.”

  There was a minute’s silence until Laura said, “Then I hope you’re going to give that more thought before you go rushing back to New York.”

  Clare sighed and started the machine. “Speaking of New York…”

  THE WOMAN behind the counter was giving Clare a strange look. A blend of curiosity and worry. “Uh, so you’d like to speak to Vince? Or the sheriff?”

  “Vince, if possible. I haven’t called for an appointment or anything,” Clare said, questioning at the same time if one had to do that with the police.

  “I think he’s free. Just a sec and I’ll buzz him.” She picked up a receiver and paused. “Remember me? You were in here the other day with Gil Harper. I’m Beth Silverstein. Used to be Moffatt.”