Double Deception. Terri Reed
shrugged and turned away, not liking what she was hearing, what he was insinuating.
“A small broken match.”
Her stomach churned. “Tattoos aren’t trademarked, Sheriff.” She glanced at him and his look told her he thought she was grasping at straws and soon the whole haystack was going to collapse.
“Did you ever go with your husband when he traveled?”
“No. I have my own career to think about.”
She almost groaned as the words left her mouth. The bank. This trip put her job, her career, in jeopardy, but she’d needed to take a leave of absence to find the answers to Paul’s death. The not knowing was driving her nuts.
And standing here arguing about something this farfetched wasn’t helping her accomplish anything. “Really, Sheriff. I think you should go. Your job here’s done.”
“Do you know where he went, Kate?”
She rolled her eyes. “His work took him all over the globe.”
“And what work was that?”
“He was a financial consultant.”
Brody nodded. “He came to the Cape every Fourth of July.”
She couldn’t say where Paul had gone for sure, and she’d always wondered why he’d work over that holiday. But what the sheriff was saying couldn’t be true. Paul was cold, selfish maybe, but he wasn’t…
She was about to say he wasn’t dishonest, but she knew in her heart that whatever Paul had been mixed up in, it hadn’t had anything to do with honesty. But could he have led a double life? No. She would have known, sensed something. Wouldn’t she have?
“Goodbye, Sheriff.”
He held out a photo. “This is the man I know as Pete Kinsey.”
She took the photo, instantly recognizing it. “You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not.”
She looked up into his eyes and noticed the way a thin, lighter blue ring circled the near-black irises, reminding her of the wind-tossed ocean off the Pacific Northwest coast. The sheriff had no reason to lie to her. But this just couldn’t be, her mind insisted. Paul was many things, but was he capable of this kind of deceit?
And if what the sheriff said was true, what did that say about her and her judgment? Could she have been that blind? How could she have been married to a man for four years and not know him?
Somewhere inside the house lay the answers. “This doesn’t prove anything.”
If it were true that Paul had had another existence, then that made her pretty stupid. Stupid for trusting, for believing in her husband. Stupid for trying so hard to save her marriage even after he’d moved out.
“I…it’s just not true.”
The look of understanding, of pity, that stole over the sheriff’s handsome face made her blood boil.
She crumbled the photo into her fist. “You can go now. I don’t need or want you here.”
His hand closed over hers. Her gaze was drawn to the way his larger, masculine hand enveloped her smaller, more delicate fingers in a protective grip. Her gaze lifted and met his intense look.
His dark eyes simmered. She could easily fall into the blaze that beckoned and allow herself the luxury of soothing warmth.
“Kate.” He spoke her name in an oddly hushed tone.
She jerked her hand away, stunned by the connection and longing welling up inside her.
He stepped back, his expression bemused.
Without another word, she fled to the safety of the house. As she reached the porch, she heard him say, “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Her steps faltered, and slowly she turned around. Yes, she knew where to find the sheriff. For a moment, she allowed herself the indulgence of looking at him. She noticed the way his uniform outlined his masculine shape; broad chest tapering to a trim waist, long, lean legs.
A spark of sunlight caught her attention. Golden rays glinted off his badge, soaked into his dark hair, and caressed his handsome face. Her hand still tingled where he’d touched her.
Absently she rubbed the spot and took a step backwards, as if the more distance she put between them, the easier it would be to forget the odd sensations she’d felt when they’d touched. Animal attraction. Basic human instinct. God had, after all, gifted humans with the ability to connect physically to another. Though she’d never experienced anything this swift and this profound.
The crumbled ball in her hand bit into her palm and her jaw clenched. Regardless of how her hormones responded to this man, she refused to rely on him for help. She had to find out the truth about Paul on her own. “Goodbye, Sheriff.”
His expression rueful, he nodded. She watched him stride back to his car and climb in. He waved his hand in a final salute as he turned the car around. Standing rooted to the porch for several seconds after he had disappeared, a deep loneliness crept over her.
She’d been lonely before. The four years of her marriage were the loneliest in her life, but this sudden intense aloneness rocked her because it was desperate and unfamiliar. How could a man have this much effect on her?
Resolutely, she turned her attention to the house. Inside were the answers. She needed to stay focused and not let herself be distracted by the handsome sheriff.
Squaring her shoulders, she went in.
In the daylight, the house didn’t hold such a spooky, haunted-house feel as it had the night before. She looked around and moved purposely into the living room.
Built-in shelves lined one wall; big pieces of furniture covered with sheets dotted the large, dark green area rug.
Drawn to the shelves with the framed pictures, her heart throbbed inside her chest. With a shaky hand, she lifted a frame and stared at the picture. Paul smiled up at her, his arm slung carelessly around a buxom blonde. In the background, blue water sparkled in the glistening sun, mocking her with its seductive invitation to partake of the couple’s free and easy spirit.
She dropped the picture. It hit the floor at her feet, the glass cracking in two.
Numbness stole through her, surrounding her heart and chilling her soul as she picked up another frame. In this picture, a party by the looks of it, Paul was flanked on either side by recognizable faces. Some celebrities, others political figures.
Grabbing at another frame, she again saw Paul with famous and well-known people. She plucked at another picture and another until her arms were full. What is going on?
It wasn’t unreasonable that he would know these people in his line of work. After all, he was a consultant for wealthy people. But why hadn’t he mentioned he had the kind of relationship with them that was evident in these pictures?
It was clear that all the photos were taken at the beach house. Some even in the very room she stood in. Her throat constricted and tears blurred her vision as bitterness settled around her like a smothering cloak.
Abruptly, she dumped her load onto the couch. A cloud of dust puffed into the air, little bits and pieces floating away and doing nothing but making her sneeze.
Moving in a fog, Kate went from room to room looking at the remains of a life cut short. Of a life she’d known nothing about.
Besides the dust, the rooms were clean, uncluttered and devoid of personality. Guest rooms. She came to the room with the broken window. Before nightfall she’d have to have someone come out and repair the damage. She turned away from the reminder of her terror and continued on.
In what appeared to be the master bedroom, she saw signs of Paul—the scent of his cologne clung to the clothes