Whispering Hearts (2 page)

Chapter One

Two months later

Garrett was about as happy to walk into the Montgomery household as he'd be going in for a colonoscopy. He'd encountered Rachel's mom a time or two at social events and always felt the need to shower afterwards. But Rachel was inside and no one had heard from her in a week.

He sat in his car for another moment psyching himself up, then murmured, “Into the lion's den.”

Lioness, really.

The cool air from inside the car rolled past him as he opened the door, leaving him to poach in the steamy summer. Heat from the asphalt hit his legs like he was stepping into a blast furnace. The muggy humidity made his shirt cling to his skin. Sunlight reflected off the white sidewalk, blinding him even through his sunglasses.

Ah, Florida.

Wearing slacks and a long-sleeved shirt wasn't his idea of comfortable, but shorts and a T-shirt wouldn't fly for a visit to Chez Montgomery. It was bad enough that he had opted for his light brown boat shoes. He wasn't even wearing socks.

Scandalous.

The house in front of him was immense, set back from the road on a jewel-green lawn that must cost a fortune to maintain. A few palm trees framed the white two-story mansion, accenting the view of neighboring dwellings just as large.

Garrett was happy with his country home. Summer Park wasn't as heavily populated as much of the state, but it still had tons of people running around. He preferred the quiet outside of town.

Living half an hour or more away also helped him avoid the demands of making too many social calls like this one. If he really wanted out of something, he could always say that gators had crawled up to sun themselves on the one road that led to his neighborhood, blocking his way to the city.

Not that he would ever do such a thing. He let out a tense laugh as he made his way along the front walkway.

At the door, he bent his knees a bit to see his reflection in the narrow window that gave people inside a view of who was calling. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back past his collar. It was longer than he would ever have let it grow when he worked the ER. Back then, it had been uniformly brown. The sun had added highlights everywhere. Being a man of leisure had left its mark.

Quitting his job had definitely changed him. After two years, he wasn't sure if it was for the better. He had enjoyed having time to read and think about things at first. But self-reflection was tipping over into brooding and that had to stop.

He'd been spending too much time lately thinking about the reason he left the crazy hours and the constant stress. She was somewhere on the other side of the door.

Damn, he should have shaved. He wiped his hand over the darker stubble that covered his jaw, then shrugged. At least it was in fashion. Hopefully Rachel's mom wouldn't be too offended at his scruffiness and send him packing.

As he stood straight again, he rang the bell and forced himself to smile. Time to turn on the Southern Charm and make his mama proud.

“Yes?” The woman who answered was wearing a maid's uniform. Her eyes widened as she stared at Garrett's chest. She tilted her head back farther and farther to look up at him.

This was the best part of being six-seven. The expressions were always priceless by the time they reached his face.

He upped the voltage on his smile and took off his glasses, letting his southern drawl thicken when he spoke.

“Good afternoon. I'm Garrett Wolfstrom. I'm here to call on Miss Montgomery.”

The woman blinked a few times, then smiled back. “Oh! Doctor Wolfstrom. Please come in.”

The staff knew he was a doctor? That meant the Montgomerys must have mentioned him before, even though this was his first visit to the house. Maybe Rachel had spoken of him.

“If you would wait here for a few moments…” The woman nodded to him, then walked briskly from the foyer toward the back of the house.

A mix of emotions churned within him. Worry and hope battling in his chest. He couldn't wait to see Rachel—to know she was all right.

Well, physically, at least. Mentally and emotionally, she had to still be reeling from what had happened to her, no matter what her psychiatrists said.

When she was discharged from the hospital, she had seemed fine. Too fine. People didn't swing from a psychotic break to
everything is roses
after a few weeks of therapy—no matter how intensive it was.

But she had her doctors convinced the medicines were working. Garrett wasn't sure she was taking them.

He had noticed her working on the doctors at the hospital. Doctors with heavy caseloads and light experience when it came to one Miss Montgomery. She had pulled out all the stops. Nobody could turn a head like Rachel. With her vibrant personality and warm smile, her natural charm beat his best efforts by a million miles. To make things worse, she was insanely gorgeous, eyes the pale blue of a morning sky and hair as gold as the sun.

Yeah, he had it for her pretty bad. At least he owned it.

“Mrs. Montgomery will see you in the tearoom.”

“I was hoping to talk to Rachel.”

The woman was already walking back through the house. Garrett followed.

“Miss Montgomery is resting currently. But her mother would love to speak with you.”

Garrett felt a trickle of sweat run down his back that had nothing to do with the heat wave making this summer even worse than usual. How did anyone stand living in the city?

He ducked to avoid smashing his head on the door's lintel as he took the single step down into the tearoom.

Mrs. Montgomery was sitting at a small round table covered by a pristine white cloth. She was holding a tiny teacup and matching saucer, which she set on the table with practiced ease.

Everything about her was fake—from the long, perfect nails on the ends of her fingers to her sculpted and dyed hair. Blonde, of course. Her eyes weren't altered, though. They were the same pale blue as Rachel's. Seeing that bit of Rachel in Mrs. Montgomery fortified him for the encounter.

“Dr. Wolfstrom!” She extended a hand to him, the faintest hint of a Southern accent lacing her voice. “It's so good of you to call on us.”

“Ma'am.” He took her hand and bowed over her, kissing the air near her cheek. “I apologize for not letting you know I was coming.”

“Don't you worry about that. We're always happy to see you here.”

Garrett didn't doubt it. Rachel's jokes about her mother wanting a doctor for a son-in-law had been reinforced every time he met Mrs. Montgomery. Too bad Rachel wasn't interested. Whether it was an act of rebellion or just a personal choice in Garrett's case was a mystery. A mystery too painful to try to unravel.

He sat at the table feeling like a full-grown gator in a ten-gallon fish tank. Mrs. Montgomery was built like a porcelain doll, tiny and delicate. It just made him feel worse.

Rachel was taller than both her parents. And she worked out. She had muscle to her and an athletic frame, though she usually dressed to hide it. Usually.

When they had been working together fixing up his house, she'd mostly worn shorts and tank tops. He hadn't been able to ignore the tempting curves and lines of sinew on her body. Or the way her smile hit him all the way down to his toes.

He cleared his throat and pushed the memories from his mind. Now was not the time.

“I was hoping I might have a word with Rachel.”

“I'm sure you can have several, but not until I'm done with you.” She gave him a flirty smile. He hoped the one he forced in response was convincing.

“It is rather important. None of her friends have heard from her in a while.”

Mrs. Montgomery's smile faltered enough to give Garrett a glimpse of the real woman. The cold, reaching woman beneath the surface of civility she projected to the world. He wanted to leave, but couldn't until he knew Rachel was all right.

“She's been resting quite a bit,” Mrs. Montgomery said.

“That's good. But she shouldn't be isolating herself. It isn't healthy.”

“I don't think she's isolating herself.” Mrs. Montgomery lifted her cup and saucer again, slowly and deliberately. “Rather, she's moving on.”

“What do you mean?”

She took a sip of her tea, only glancing at Garrett from the corner of her eyes. He hated the social dance she was playing at, but knew she wouldn't give him answers if he didn't match her moves.

“I hope you're not planning on leaving Summer Park,” he said. “The Montgomerys are an important part of the city.”

It was a bald-faced lie, but stroking her ego might help to loosen her tongue and get him to Rachel faster. Mr. Montgomery was a defense attorney. If Mrs. Montgomery had her way, he would eventually be President.

“Don't you worry, my dear.” She set down her teacup again. “Our plans keep us in Summer Park for a little while longer. I have to say, I would very much like to see Rachel settled down before we move on.” She gave Garrett a pointed smile.

He wanted to shrug and say, “I'd be game if she'd stop shutting me down,” but didn't think that would end well for Rachel.

Adding to her stress in any way wasn't a good idea. Pressuring her about marriage right after what had happened with her latest boyfriend would be downright despicable. How could Mrs. Montgomery even allude to such a thing?

She tilted her head to the side as she raised her shoulder to meet it—a dismissive shrug Rachel had picked up and used too often. “Unfortunately I don't see that happening if she keeps associating with those friends of hers. Present company excluded of course.”

Garrett was stunned. “Rachel needs her friends, Mrs. Montgomery. Now more than ever. They can help her get over what happened with—”

Mrs. Montgomery waved her hand in the air and shook her head. “We mustn't speak of that unpleasant matter.”

“Unpleasant?”

Rachel's boyfriend had kidnapped her. Tortured her. He had planned to kill her—and she wouldn't have been his first victim. Not by a long shot. But Rachel had survived. She had survived and gunned the bastard down while he was trying to kill two of their other friends.

“She needs to talk about what happened,” Garrett said. “Especially with the people who went through it with her.”

“They did, didn't they? Doesn't that seem a bit odd to you? That so many of her little group was involved?”

Garrett took a deep breath and held it to keep from yelling. When he trusted himself to speak, his voice was tight and clipped.

“Mrs. Montgomery, I don't know what you have been told, but Dante and Elsa were present because they were trying to rescue Rachel.”

Mrs. Montgomery's perfectly shaped eyebrows rose on her forehead. “And how did they know she needed to be rescued?”

Explaining that would give away secrets that Garrett had sworn to keep. He doubted she would believe the truth anyway.

When he didn't respond, she looked back to her tea and said, “Weren't they all associated with that gallery owner Rachel fell in with? That Asian woman with the ridiculous name and reputation for
creative
marketing tactics?”

Garrett clenched his hands into fists on his lap. It wasn't only what Mrs. Montgomery was saying but how she was saying it. He had never had the urge to shake someone before.

“Mrs. Montgomery. Elsa was strangled and Dante was shot trying to help your daughter.”

“Only one person suffered gunshot wounds.” She shifted in her chair, the first sign of unease since Garrett entered the room. “I read the police report quite thoroughly. Mr. Lucerne's injuries weren't sustained from a gunshot.”

“You read the report?”

“Of course.” A bit of an edge crept into her voice. “Since our family was involved, we thought it best to be well informed on the matter. My husband is a lawyer, you'll recall. Which brings me back to Mr. Lucerne.”

She took another sip of her tea, then set it on the table.

“I believe he's just launching his career as a painter.” She leaned forward slightly and narrowed her eyes. “Doesn't it seem a bit coincidental to you that he was injured only on the side of his face where he was already disfigured?”

Garrett could barely speak. Was Mrs. Montgomery talking to Rachel like this?

“This wasn't some publicity stunt.”

“But it was publicity. The worst kind. We can't afford to be involved in such a scandalous event with Edward's political campaign starting so soon.”

She was about to get another scandalous event. Garrett was going to lift up her tiny table and chuck it through the window. He stood so quickly, when the backs of his knees hit his chair it went flying across the room.

“Garrett?” Rachel's voice swept through his adrenaline-charged system. His skin felt electrified.

Glaring at Mrs. Montgomery, he let her see his outrage. He couldn't speak his mind at the moment, but he wanted her to know that what she was saying was not okay.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She leaned back in her chair, one hand clasped to her chest.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He didn't want Rachel to see him so angry. He made his voice cheery and plastered on his best smile as he turned around.

“Rachel, it's good to see—” He froze, a lump forming in his throat too big for his words to squeeze past.

Rachel stood in the door to the tearoom, eyes unfocused like she was looking through him. Her hair was dull and clung to her scalp in lifeless strands. Her skin was pale, her lips bloodless and chapped. For some inexplicable reason, she was wearing a tennis outfit—complete with wristbands. The white fabric caught and reflected the light in the room. Her skirt was wrinkled as if she'd slept in it for days, and her feet were bare.

Mrs. Montgomery made a tsking sound behind him. “Rachel, how can you let a gentleman caller see you in such a state? Go to your room and clean up.”