We'll Never Tell (Secrets of Ravenswood) (7 page)

“How did he find out you
unearthed the body?”

“Everyone in town
probably knows about it by now. That kind of news travels fast.”

Juliette’s labored
breathing was audible through the phone line. “Do you think he’s a local?”

Her words struck like a
punch to the gut. Sam doubled over. The thought that the man was someone she’d
passed on the street, maybe spoken to, had never occurred to her. He was a dark
figure, far removed from reality. Certainly not a part of her everyday life.

“I suppose he could be,”
she said slowly, “though that isn’t what I meant. Someone local could have
spread the word. If
he
knows anyone who lives here…” She swallowed.

“What’re we going to
do?” Juliette’s voice was thick with tears.

Sam straightened. “I’ll
ask Ken if they’ve identified the body yet. Until they do, our story isn’t
going to help much in an investigation. Let’s keep quiet for now and see what
Darby thinks. She’s the one he hurt, so she has a stake in any decision we
make.”

“How can you sound so
calm? I want to crawl in a hole—a really deep hole—and never come out.”

Sam stared at the broken
carafe. “I’m doing my best not to freak out, here.”

“We have to go to the
police.”

She let out a slow
breath. “I know, but will the authorities protect us—and Darby—after we report
what we saw that night? Darby has a right to be forewarned before we do
anything to incite this nutcase further.”

“I’d rather tell her in
person.” Juliette’s breath whooshed out on a gusty sigh. “This isn’t the kind
of news you share in a text message.”

Sam snorted. “Is there
an abbreviated way to text
Killer on the prowl—beware?
How soon can you
be ready to go?”

“Half an hour. I’ll pick
you up.”

Her lips formed a tight
line. “Bring coffee. I’m going to need a new pot.”

****

Darby’s blue eyes
flashed fire beneath the white, gauze bandage taped to her forehead.
He
did this to me. You’re sure?”

Sam glanced around the
pale green, generic room. Her friend perched on the edge of the bed dressed in
the torn pants and dirty blouse she’d worn into the emergency room the night
before. Darby’s mother, Alice Kincade, was down the hall filling out the
paperwork to spring her daughter from the hospital before she carried out her
threat to take drastic action to insure her release.

“He referred to your
accident as a reminder of our deal.”

“I’d like to kick the
rat-bastard in the balls. These scrapes
hurt
, and my head is still
throbbing, despite the pain killers.”

“At least you weren’t
badly injured.” Juliette’s smile shook, and she squeezed Darby’s arm. “If we
talk to the police, next time he may not be content with a warning.”

“There won’t be a next
time.” Darby grimaced as she eased off the bed. “He won’t catch me unawares
again.”

“You can’t be on guard
twenty-four seven, Darb,” Sam informed her. “Maybe you should take a vacation
until this is cleared up.”

Darby pushed a strand of
mink brown hair over her shoulder. “You make murder and aggravated assault
sound like a rash. What about the two of you?”

“Juliette could go with
you. You can drink mai tais on some tropical beach while the cabana boy rubs
you down with tanning lotion.”

A broad grin stretched
Darby’s cheeks. “As enticing as that sounds, I’m in the middle of a big
research project.”

“And I have a ballet
school to run.” Juliette fisted her hands on her hips and stared at her friend.

Sam let out a breath. “I
didn’t figure you’d agree, but I thought it was worth a try.”

“You were planning to be
a martyr and deal with this psycho alone?” Darby scowled, her brows lowering.

“I have friends with
connections. Ken would raise holy hell with local law enforcement if he knew I
was in danger.”

Juliette’s innocent
brown eyes contrasted sharply with the sly smile curving her lips. “I bet Ethan
would be happy to offer you round the clock protection.”

Darby turned to face
them. “Ethan who?”

“Thorne. He’s a few
years older than us. Raises dogs. I’m sure you’d recognize him if you saw him.”

“Tall, dark, and
handsome—I remember.” Darby eyed Sam. “You’re blushing.”

“That’s irritation, not
embarrassment,” she snapped. “We went on one date. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Could have been,”
Juliette muttered.

Sam rolled her eyes.
“Can we focus on what’s important, please? Alice will be back any minute.”

“Don’t you dare say a
word about this to my mom,” Darby said between gritted teeth. “She’d insist on
moving in with me—or hiring a bodyguard. I’m not sure which would be worse.”

“You have to promise to
be careful, Darb. If we tell the authorities—”

“If!” Her voice rose.
“If? Christ, Sam, we have to report it. We witnessed a murder. There’s no
pretending to ourselves the woman survived. Not anymore.”

Sam eyed the stubborn
set of Darby’s mouth before meeting Juliette’s troubled gaze. “We’re all in
agreement, then? We’ll go to the sheriff as soon as we get home?”

Juliette nodded.

“He can call me with any
questions,” Darby said. “I don’t have time for a trip to Ravenswood right now.”

“Too bad.” Juliette’s
voice was wistful. “It’d be like old times, all of us together again.”

“Darby’s expression
softened. “Maybe in a month or so, after I finish my current project. This
client isn’t the type to wait around for answers. You aren’t leaving anytime soon,
are you, Sam?”

“Not until they find the
guy who killed that woman.” She waved her arm to indicate the sterile room.
“The same animal who put you in here.” Her voice was grim. “I’m not going
anywhere until this is over.”

****

Clouds scudded across
the sky, big, white puffs with gray underbellies. Sam stuffed her hands into
the pockets of her sweatshirt and lowered her head against the wind,
side-stepping around a big man yelling into his cell phone. She glanced up when
a wolf whistle caught her attention, and grinned at the arm extended from a
Fish and Game truck, thumb turned up.

Hurrying the last block,
she pushed open the door to the dance studio—and screamed. Flames leapt from a
trash can in the hallway. Rushing forward, she turned and kicked the tall,
wicker basket out the door. A flaming ball of paper rolled onto the sidewalk as
the basket landed on the welcome mat. Stepping around it, she reached for the
watering can set next to a tub of fall flowers.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Eyes wide in horror, Juliette barreled down the stairs, flew across the short
hall, and grabbed the can from Sam before running back inside.

Spying a rake tossed
atop a pile of leaves heaped on the small front lawn, Sam picked it up and
pounded the flaming paper. Hollow footsteps echoed against the sidewalk behind
her, and she glanced over her shoulder.

Ethan pulled the rake
from her unresisting grip and went to work on the flames while Juliette doused
them with the can full of water. In less than a minute, the trash basket was reduced
to smoldering remains.

Eyeing the mess, he
nodded to Juliette. “Maybe one more can of water, just to be on the safe side.”

She disappeared inside,
and Sam let out a long breath as she met his startled gaze. “Talk about an
adrenaline rush.”

“You could have been
hurt.” Blue eyes flashed with a hint of anger, and his hands clenched around
the rake handle. “Why the hell didn’t you call 911?”

“I didn’t think. I just
reacted. It happened so fast.”

Juliette returned and
poured a stream of water over the smoking basket. “Thank God you came when you
did.” Her hands shook. “What if I’d been teaching a class?” Tears rolled down
her cheeks. “My girls could have been hurt.”

“Don’t think like that.
It’ll make you crazy.” Sam reached over and squeezed her friend’s tense arm.
“You weren’t, so no harm done.”

“Only some blistered
paint and a scorch mark on the floor. I guess I was lucky.”

Ethan raked the soggy
heap into a neat pile. “Do you have any idea how it started? Did someone throw
a cigarette butt in the trash without putting it out first?”

“No one’s been inside
this morning but me. I was paying bills while I waited for Sam.”

“The door wasn’t
locked.” Sam stared down at the mess at her feet.

“No, I left it open for
you.”

The pulse at her temple
throbbed as anger gripped her. “Anyone could have come in, and you wouldn’t
have heard them from your office upstairs.”

“Probably not.” Fists
clenched, Juliette looked up and down the street. “Was it
him
? Was this
another reminder?”

Ethan glanced sharply
from one woman to the other. “You think the fire was set deliberately? Is that
what I just heard?”

Sam bit her lip. Desire
to pour out the entire story clawed at her. She met Juliette’s gaze. Her
friend’s face was a sickly shade of white, her brown eyes huge.

“What’ll he do to us if
we tell the police?” she whispered.

“Juliette, are you in
some kind of trouble?” Ethan’s voice was soft, encouraging.

Sam would burst if she
had to hold the words in another minute. “Can I?”

Juliette gave an abrupt
nod.

Relief flooded through
Sam, leaving her lightheaded. Dumping their story on Ethan’s broad shoulders
might not solve the problem, but it couldn’t hurt. Could it?

“Let’s clean this up and
go inside.” She touched Ethan’s arm, her fingers tingling against the warm,
hair dusted skin. “Do you have a spare hour?”

“Of course, but if you
suspect arson—”

“The fire is the least
of our problems.” Juliette glanced between them. “You don’t need me to fill him
in on the details, and quite frankly, I may scream if I have to listen to the
whole, horrible tale. Go home, Sam, and call me later. I’m good with whatever
decision you come to.”

“Darby—”

“Darby trusts your
judgment as much as I do.”

Sam chewed her lower
lip. “Fine.”

Using a dust pan, Ethan
scooped the soggy, sooty remnants of the basket into a trash bag and left for a
garbage bin down the alley behind the studio. When he passed his pickup, he
slammed the door he’d left hanging open.

Tearing her gaze away
from the solid set of his shoulders, Sam glanced at the watch strapped to her
wrist. Less than ten minutes had passed since she’d walked through the studio
door and discovered the blaze. It seemed an eternity. Slipping her arm around
Juliette’s waist, she gave her a squeeze. “You’re sure you don’t want me to
stay?”

“Positive.
He
won’t do anything else today, will he?” Her voice quavered.

“I think he made his
point.”

“Maybe Ethan will have
something constructive to suggest.”

“Let’s hope.” Sam’s gaze
strayed to Ethan’s loose-limbed stride as he returned, and she lowered her
voice. “Am I wrong to trust him?”

“What does your heart
tell you?”

Meeting a piercing blue
stare, her uncertainty disappeared. “To go for it.”

“That’s one hell of a
story.”

Ethan stared at Sam
across the scarred surface of the small, oak table. Her face was pale beneath
her tan, and she clutched the mug of hot chocolate so tight her knuckles
gleamed whiter than bare bone.

“You girls never told
anyone?”

“We were twelve, Ethan.
We were too scared to go to the sheriff. Believe me, we agonized over the
decision.”

“Your parents—”

“Mine were in Greece at
the time. I remember thinking if they’d only taken me and Wyatt with them, I
wouldn’t have been in the woods that night. And neither would Juliette and
Darby.”

He scooted his chair
around to her side and pried her hands off the mug. Holding cold fingers
between his warm palms, he squeezed gently. “What about your friends? They
didn’t say anything?”

Her lips pressed
together, the skin drawing tight across her cheekbones. “We made a pact.”

Anger churned in Ethan’s
gut. His hands gripped hers until she squeaked in protest.

“Sorry.” He released her
and grabbed on to the edge of the table. “I want to punch something. Honest to
God. Imagining three little girls witnessing a murder—even if it was
unintentional—scared out of your minds…” His temples throbbed, and he let out a
long breath.

“Over time, we convinced
ourselves the woman wasn’t dead, just injured. We grew up, went about our
lives…” She ran a finger along a scratch in the table top.

“Don’t pretend that
night didn’t make a lasting impact, Sam. You’re tough, but not that tough.”