Hidden Secrets Read online

  Books by Jannine Gallant

  The Siren Cove Series

  Buried Truth

  Lost Innocence

  Hidden Secrets

  The Born to Be Wilde Series

  Wilde One

  Wilde Side

  Wilde Thing

  Wilde Horses

  The Who’s Watching Now Series

  Every Move She Makes

  Every Step She Takes

  Every Vow She Breaks

  Hidden Secrets

  Jannine Gallant

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Teaser chapter

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Jannine Gallant

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-5161-0378-2

  eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0379-9

  eISBN-10: 1-5161-0379-3

  To Pat. Your love and support mean everything.

  I couldn’t do this without you!

  Prologue

  He stabbed the shovel into the soft earth as the merciless summer sun beat down from a clear blue sky. Pausing to wipe his sweating face on the sleeve of his T-shirt, he glanced over at the body wrapped in an old sheet lying near the half-dug hole. A little of their normal coastal fog would have been welcome. Too bad nothing was going his way.

  If luck were in his corner, he wouldn’t be in the woods right now, far from the scene of the crime, slapping mosquitoes and burying a girl he’d always thought was pretty damn special. Not that he had much choice in the matter. Her death had been a horrible mistake. But if anyone discovered what had happened, the consequences would be even worse.

  He flung another shovelful of earth and fought back the urge to let the tears burning at the back of his eyes fall. He’d do what needed to be done. Bury the result of an angry outburst where no one would ever find her. He dug furiously as the sweat ran down his back. Clods of dirt and stones flew, only to hit the ground with a solid thud.

  God damn it! Why did this have to happen?

  He stopped and lifted his face as a slight breeze rustled through the trees. Below him, the creek rushed over rocks, drowning the sound of his harsh breathing. Surely, he’d done enough. All he could possibly do. The hole stretched before him, five feet long and four feet deep. Her legs were bent a little, in the same position they’d been when she’d landed on the ground, her hands outstretched to ward off another blow.

  Dropping the shovel, he knelt beside the girl and touched the sheet where it had come loose. Slowly pulling back the corner, he stared at her pale face and empty eyes. The bright sparkle that had been so much a part of Lucy’s personality was gone forever. With a shaking hand, he brushed long, dark hair, matted with blood, off her face, and a glint of silver shone in the sunlight.

  A silver chain with a heart-shaped pendant slid out from beneath the V-neck of her stained shirt. Lifting the silver heart, he turned it over. The initials L-E-G were engraved on its surface. After a moment, he let the pendant drop back against her chest and covered her face with the sheet before heaving her body into his arms. Staggering beneath the awkward load, he lowered her into the hole.

  With each shovel of dirt he heaped on top, he buried the evidence of a singular loss of temper. An accident. But his stomach churned just thinking about the hint of excitement he’d sensed after it was over.

  “No!” He shouted the word as he pounded down the soil covering her body. It won’t happen again. His actions would remain a secret, hidden forever in the forest. Life would go on for everyone.

  Except for Lucy.

  Chapter One

  Surrounded by barren fields, the dilapidated barn resembled something out of a low budget horror flick. Except the man approaching Paige looked more like a scarecrow than a serial killer. A red, plaid flannel shirt was cinched around his scrawny waist with a piece of rope, above high-water dungarees and cracked leather boots. A Trail Blazers cap shadowed his weathered face, which split into a smile as the old-timer held out his hand.

  “You must be Paige Shephard from the antique store in town.”

  She grasped his calloused palm. “I am, and you must be Mr. Stillwater. Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

  “Call me Zeb. I appreciate you coming all the way out here. It’s a bit of a drive from Siren Cove.”

  Paige stuck her hands in her jacket pockets as a cold breeze with a hint of rain rattled the dead cornstalks in the field behind the barn. “I travel all over the state looking for inventory to stock Old Things. A forty-minute trip is nothing. You mentioned wanting to sell part of your collection when we talked on the phone.”

  “I like to think I’ve been preserving the past for future generations, but my family says I’m just a packrat. Since I’m pretty certain they’ll haul all my treasures to the trash dump the second they shovel me under, I’d rather sell now. None of my boys give a hoot about history.”

  Paige patted his flannel-clad arm. “I’ll definitely see that anything I purchase goes to a good home.”

  His pale blue eyes twinkled. “I could tell we were two peas in a pod when we talked on the phone.” He nodded toward the barn. “Let’s get to it.”

  When he wheeled back the giant sliding door, her jaw sagged. The interior of the cavernous space belonged on an episode of American Pickers . . . or worse, Hoarders.

  “As I mentioned, I’ve been collecting for a while now.” Zeb’s gravelly voice echoed with pride.

  “I’ll say.”

  The place was packed to the rafters with an assortment of ancient farm equipment, mining gear, the rusted remains of decades-old cars, household implements, and furniture. And that was just what she could see in the front of the building. God only knew what was hidden farther back.

  “Wow.”

  “I know where everything is, so just tell me what you’re most interested
in acquiring.”

  “Nothing automotive or so big it won’t fit in my shop.” She took a few steps forward and pointed. “While that old plow is very cool, it would be too hard to display in my store. I’m more interested in smaller objects and furniture, but I have an eclectic selection of merchandise, so nothing is off the table, from butter churns to branding irons.”

  “I have several of both.” He rubbed his hands together. “Follow me.”

  Two hours later, exhaustion weighed on her as Paige haggled over the price of a set of brass fireplace andirons topped by stag head finials with pointed antlers. “I’ll tell you what. If you throw in the poker and shovel, I’ll pay one hundred and fifty for the whole set.”

  Zeb removed his ball cap and scratched his bald head. “I suppose that’s fair.” Replacing the hat, he held out his hand. “Deal.”

  She shook it then gave him a fist bump. With the farmer’s help, she hauled her purchase through rows of discarded furniture to the front of the barn. Glancing down at the pile of goods, satisfaction filled her to bursting. While Zeb was no slouch when it came to haggling, she’d make a good profit off this lot.

  “It’s past noon, and I’m hungrier than a bear fresh out of hibernation. Want to take a break and eat lunch? I have homemade chicken soup simmering in the Crock-pot.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you, but I don’t want to impose.”

  “No imposition. Heck, I’d enjoy the company.” His expression was sober and expectant as he waited for her response.

  “In that case, I’d love to try your soup.”

  This was far from the first time she’d stayed to eat a meal with an elderly client with too much time on his hands. Paige didn’t mind in the least. She enjoyed listening to tales of life lived decades ago.

  A misty rain fell as they headed toward the rambling farmhouse. While Zeb’s home appeared to be in better shape than the barn, the place could have benefited from a fresh coat of paint. Her lips tightened. Maybe the family he’d mentioned wasn’t any more interested in helping with home repairs than they were in his collection of antiques.

  They’d just reached the front porch when a battered pickup turned off the access road and rattled down the rutted driveway to pull up next to her van. When the driver’s side door opened and a tall man clad in grease-stained, gray coveralls emerged, Zeb’s face brightened.

  “Justin, I wasn’t expecting you,” he called out. “What a terrific surprise.”

  The man, probably in his early forties, would have been handsome if not for the hard look in eyes the same light shade of blue as Zeb’s. A frown creased his brow as he approached, and he pushed a strand of brown hair that had escaped his ponytail behind one ear.

  “I told you I’d be out to see you soon, Grandpa.”

  “Yes, but . . . it doesn’t matter. You can have lunch with me and Paige. Do you know Miss Shephard? She owns the antique store in town. Paige, this is my grandson, Justin Stillwater.”

  “We haven’t met, but I remember changing the oil in that van a few weeks ago.”

  “Nice to meet you.” When Paige held out her hand, he shook it briefly. She turned to face his grandfather. “I won’t stay since you have company. I’ll write you a check and load up my van while you entertain your guest.”

  “But we’ve barely made a dent yet. I figured we’d dig farther back into the barn after lunch.”

  “What’s going on, Grandpa? Are you selling your crap to this woman?”

  “Not the crap. Just the good stuff. You and your brother don’t want any part of it, and your dad can’t be bothered to leave that hellhole in L.A. to visit us, so I’m clearing out what I can now.”

  Paige paused on the top step. “I can return another day, Zeb. I have an appointment later this afternoon, anyway.”

  “I suppose that’ll be okay. I don’t have much to occupy me on the farm now that winter’s set in.”

  “Great. I’ll print up a record of the sale for you while you and your grandson eat that soup.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about.”

  “You could join—”

  “Don’t press the poor woman, Grandpa. Besides, I’m sort of in a hurry.”

  A resigned expression filtered through the older man’s eyes. “Fine. Come on inside once you have your van loaded and the receipt ready for me.”

  “I will.” Paige flipped up the hood on her jacket and ran down the steps, happy to escape the awkward encounter. Zeb was a total sweetheart, but his grandson seemed like a jerk. She was halfway back to the barn when her cell rang. Fishing it out of her pocket, she checked the display and smiled. Quentin. About damn time he called her back.

  “I was wondering if you’d fallen off the face of the planet.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

  A hint of excitement in her best friend’s voice made her pause, despite the rain coming down in a steady drizzle. “Did you get it?”

  “We closed escrow this morning. The Poseidon Grill is officially the newest restaurant in my chain.”

  Paige let out a shout. “That’s terrific! Why didn’t you tell me they accepted your offer?”

  “I didn’t want to disappoint you if the deal fell through, and for a while there, I was afraid it might.”

  Happiness surged as she hurried toward the barn. “Are you moving back to Siren Cove?”

  “For the foreseeable future. The restaurant needs some renovations before I can open for business. Plus, I have to hire a complete staff. I may crash with you for a few days while I look for a place to live, if that’s okay?”

  With a grunt, she slid aside the huge door. “You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you need to, but I may know of the ideal place for you to rent. I’ll check it out.”

  “You’re the best. Thanks, Paige.” He broke off for a moment as someone spoke in the background. “Damn. I have to go, but I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.” When the connection went dead, she returned her phone to her pocket.

  Quentin Radcliff, her best friend since their pre-school days, was coming home. With a skip and a hop of sheer joy, she approached the towering stack of antiques she’d talked Zeb into selling. After pulling her laptop and portable printer out of the bag she’d left on the dusty floor, she sat on a hay bale and worked up a list of goods from the notes she’d taken earlier. Once she had a total, she wrote a check and folded both into an envelope.

  Rising to her feet, she listened to the rain pelting against the metal roof. No way in hell was she hauling inventory through the current downpour. Instead, she pulled her keys from her pocket and ran toward the van. Once inside the dry interior, she started the engine and backed slowly across the yard to the open barn door, her attention glued to the rearview mirror.

  When someone knocked sharply on her side window, she nearly jumped out of her skin. The van stalled. Pressing a hand to her chest, she glared at Zeb’s grandson before opening the door and sliding to the ground. “Scare me to death, why don’t you?”

  “I told Grandpa I’d check on you.” Justin paused just inside the doorway and brushed water droplets off his hair as he stared past her at the stack of goods piled in the corner. “I hope you paid him a fair price for that stuff.”

  Paige bristled. “I assure you I don’t cheat anyone. You can look at the receipt if you’d like.” When he held out his hand, she maintained her temper with an effort and hurried over to the hay bale to scoop up the envelope. “Here.”

  Following her, he took it and studied the list while she carried a pair of silver candlesticks and an antique mirror to the van. “I don’t understand half of this.”

  “I used a few abbreviations.” She returned for a butter churn. “Do you want me to spell out each item?”

  “I suppose not. I’ll take grandpa the check.”

  “You don’t have to bother. I need to speak to Zeb about a second appointment.”

  “Whatever.” Justin shoved
the paper into the envelope and dropped it on the hay bale. “I need to get back to work, anyway.” With a brief nod, he stalked toward the door.

  “Ass,” Paige muttered beneath her breath. She finished loading her purchases into the rear of the van and shut the door. Flipping up her hood, she grabbed the paperwork, then ran across the yard to the house.

  Zeb opened the front door just as she reached the porch. “All finished?”

  “I am.” She held out the envelope. “Here’s your check. If you’re interested in meeting again, I’m happy to come back whenever it’s convenient.”

  He folded it into the pocket of his dungarees without looking at the total. “How about next week? I’ll give you a call, and we can set up a time.”

  “Sounds good.” Paige smiled. “I enjoyed meeting you, Zeb. I hope you had a nice lunch with your grandson.”

  “Justin couldn’t stay to eat since he had to go back to work. He just wanted—” His voice took on a gruff edge. “It doesn’t matter. Haggling with you was a real treat, young lady. I’ll look forward to next time.”

  “I will, too. Bye, Zeb.” Paige hurried back to her van, thankful the rain was easing up again. A glance over her shoulder revealed the elderly farmer hadn’t gone inside, but leaned on the railing, his wrinkled face creased in . . . worry? She had a feeling his anxiety had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his grandson.

  Once she reached her vehicle and started it up, she waved to Zeb before driving slowly down the rutted driveway. She couldn’t adopt all her antique sources as honorary grandparents, but she could maintain a friendship with those who seemed most in need of a willing ear. Paige had a feeling Zeb fell into that category. She’d bet money the only reason his grandson had come out to see him was to hit him up for cash.