We'll Never Tell (Secrets of Ravenswood) Page 3

  With an effort, he controlled an idiot grin. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  She nodded, reached down to scratch Sadie’s ears, and then jogged away. After a moment, Ethan headed to his battered pickup, dropped his pack into the bed of the truck, and opened the door. Sadie jumped in the cab and faced forward, tongue lolling.

  “I have a feeling I won’t get that kind of enthusiasm from Sam tomorrow night,” he muttered. At least she hadn’t turned him down, though it might have been better if she had. Sam wasn’t the sticking around type, and another quick romp between the sheets wasn’t his intent. For reasons best left unexamined, he wanted to get to know Samantha Beaumont a whole lot better.

  After stopping by the post office to pick up his mail, he turned west out of town. His home was a log cabin on a sunny plot of land a few miles outside Ravenswood. Kennels stretched across the fenced backyard, and a frenzy of barking erupted when he pulled into the driveway.

  The second he opened the truck door, Sadie shot through the opening and disappeared behind the house. Ethan climbed out and retrieved his backpack, pausing when a Jeep stopped on the road. Three men and two hounds stared in his direction from the old camouflage relic.

  “Did you find the missing hiker?” Arnie Peters yelled.

  Swinging the pack over his shoulder, Ethan walked out to greet his nearest neighbor. “Battered but not broken, the guy will live. The person Samantha Beaumont and I discovered wasn’t so lucky.”

  Arnie scratched his balding head and frowned. “Huh?”

  “The creek below Prophet Point flooded during the thunderstorm the other night. It churned up some old bones—human by the look of them. A recovery team is up there now.”

  The man’s muddy brown eyes widened. “You’re kidding!”

  “Wish I were.”

  He glanced at the other two locals. Bob Harris owned Ravenswood Nordic, the cross country ski center on the edge of town, and Foster Carmichael worked with Arnie at the Fish and Game Department. The back of the Jeep was piled high with gear.

  “You headed up to the lake for a little fishing?”

  “An overnight trip,” Bob answered. A few years older than Ethan and heavy set, the man’s big frame was squeezed into the back seat of the Jeep along with the hounds.

  “Well, enjoy.”

  Foster slapped his leg and grinned, teeth flashing in his tanned face. “We will. There’s a cooler full of beer and a bottle of tequila under all that gear, and no women to nag us. It doesn’t get much better than that. You should meet us up there.”

  “Can’t. I have a buyer for a couple of the dogs coming in the morning.”

  “Too bad. See you, Ethan.” Arnie shifted the jeep into gear, and with a puff of exhaust, they pulled away.

  Ethan walked back to the house, hands stuffed in his pockets. A year ago he would have put off the buyer and gone camping, wallowing in tequila and debating the 49ers’ chances in their game on Sunday. It wasn’t that he’d lost interest in football or drinking… He scowled at a pile of dog shit on the front lawn. When was the last time he’d cruised the local bar with his buddies? A couple of months—or had it been longer?

  Pushing open the front door, he dropped his pack on top of a pair of socks in the entry, and headed to the kitchen. Dirty dishes littered the counters. Dust was thick on the windowsill beneath the crumbling vines of an ivy plant he’d forgotten to water. He grabbed a sports drink out of the refrigerator and guzzled it down, then went hunting for food. The lunchmeat had a shiny texture he was pretty certain hadn’t been there a few days ago. He tossed the meat in the trash and settled for a box of crackers.

  Dropping onto a stool at the high counter, he frowned at the clothes piled around the washing machine in the corner. He hadn’t been so lax about housework when he’d been dating Carrie, but they’d broken up over six months ago. He needed a maid—or a new woman in his life. Someone to motivate him to spend a little more time on domestic chores. Maybe a wife.

  Ethan bit his tongue and swore. Jesus, where did that thought come from? He had his dogs for company. Women came and went, parting amicably after the novelty of the relationship wore off for both of them. Most of the time. Apparently, seeing Sam again had messed with his head. He crumpled the empty cracker box and tossed it into the trash. Fun and easy was his style, not a serious relationship.

  Who am I trying to convince? He ignored the intrusive thought.

  Asking Sam out surely proved his point because he couldn’t imagine a woman less inclined to settle down. Rubbing the tightness in his chest, he grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and headed out the back door. The dogs greeted him with an outpouring of boisterous enthusiasm and love, canine style. Uncomplicated. Unconditional.

  In his experience, women were neither. Sam had left him without a backward glance once before, and he had no reason to think she’d changed over time. He was far better off sticking with man’s best friend.

  Even in his head, the thought fell flat. He might be setting himself up to get hurt, but he had to try. Sam Beaumont was worth the risk.

  ****

  Sam held open the studio door as a troop of miniature ballerinas in frilly pink skirts stampeded into the hallway. Across the room, Juliette Shaw spoke quietly to a little blonde pixie and patted her on the shoulder. When the girl smiled and scampered off after her friends, Sam cleared her throat.

  Glancing over, a grin stretched across Juliette’s face, lighting her big brown eyes. Dressed in ballet shoes and a leotard, she flew across the polished floor and launched into Sam’s arms. The two women rocked back and forth in a tight embrace.

  “I heard you were in town.”

  “I got in early yesterday morning.”

  Juliette stepped back and fisted her hands on her hips. Petite and enviably thin, her friend probably didn’t weigh a hundred pounds wringing wet. “And you’re only now coming to see me?”

  “I slept half of yesterday and spent the whole morning hunting for a missing hiker.”

  Juliette rolled her eyes. “You can’t take a break from work, even when you’re home? Did you find him?”

  “Yep, but the hiker wasn’t the only thing that turned up.” She glanced over her shoulder as the last two dancers were herded out the door by a distracted looking mother. “Do you have time to talk?”

  “I have a couple of hours before my next class. Want to grab something to eat?”

  “I’d love to. Let’s pick up deli sandwiches and eat at the park. It’s too beautiful to sit inside.”

  Juliette headed for the stairs. “I’ll change and be right down.”

  Twenty minutes later, Sam dropped the sandwich bag on the picnic table and swung her leg across the bench. Juliette sat opposite, a smile curving her lips.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. It’s just great to see you. Five months is a long time without my BFF.”

  Sam unwrapped her turkey sandwich and took a bite. “Speaking of best friends,” she asked around a mouthful of tomato and cheese. “How’s Darby?”

  “Busy with work. She finally dumped that good looking jerk she was dating. Last month I took a few of my older students to San Francisco to show them what a real ballet performance looked like, and Darby watched the production with us. She didn’t seem too heartbroken over the breakup.”

  “What about you? Are you doing okay?”

  A shadow dulled the warm glow in Juliette’s eyes. “Kim had her baby while you were gone, but at least Mike had the decency to tell me about it himself. Oh, I signed the final divorce papers not too long ago.”

  Sam laid her hand over Juliette’s clenched fist and squeezed. “Are you sure you won’t let me beat the crap out of your ex?” She flexed her right bicep. “I could take him. He’s bigger than me, but I’m tougher.”

  The shadows in her friend’s eyes faded, and she laughed out loud. “You’re everybody’s savior. That’ll never change.” Shrugging, she picked up her sandwich. “I’m over Mik
e. Honestly. It’s been over a year since I kicked his sorry, cheating ass out. The baby got to me a little, I’ll admit, but I’m fine. Really.”

  Sam narrowed her eyes, searching for a lie on her face, then let out a sigh of relief. “Maybe you really are over the son of a bitch.”

  “I said I was.” Juliette affirmed then frowned. “You looked worried when you said you wanted to talk. What’s going on?”

  A familiar shiver ran down Sam’s spine. She dropped her sandwich onto the wrapper and pushed bits of lettuce around with one finger. “We found a body this morning.”

  A gust of wind shook the firs behind them, and a soggy sheet of newspaper blew beneath the table. Sam stepped on it then raised her gaze to meet Juliette’s wide-eyed stare.

  “I thought the hiker was okay?”

  “He was. The body Ethan and I discovered had been buried for some time. Years, I’d guess.”

  Leaning forward, Juliette planted her hands on the table. “Ethan? You were with Ethan Thorne?”

  “We got paired up for the search. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” She hunched her shoulders. “Anyway, we’ve got way more to worry about than my five year old indiscretion.”

  Juliette’s dark brows lowered. “Spit it out, Sam. You’re making me nervous.”

  “I think the body might belong to the woman we saw in the woods that night.”

  There was no need to explain which night she was talking about. Though they almost never mentioned it, Sam was certain her friends thought about that night as often as she did.

  The color drained from Juliette’s face. “How can you be certain?”

  “I’m not, but the remains weren’t far from the clearing where he pushed her onto the rock. It looked like a pink jacket buried with the bones.

  Juliette covered her mouth. “Oh God.”

  “It shook me. Ethan wondered why I freaked out.”

  “We have to tell someone, Sam. We should have told our parents or the sheriff when it happened.”

  “You were the one who begged Darby and me not to.”

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “It was stupid. I was scared out of my mind and so afraid he’d hurt one of us if we told.”

  Reaching across the table, Sam pulled Juliette’s hands down and squeezed. “It’s been over seventeen years. I don’t know what possible good it would do to talk to the authorities now.”

  “DNA testing or reconstruction, or whatever it is they do could reveal the woman’s identity.”

  “True, so maybe we should wait until they figure out who the body belongs to before we say anything. What if I’m totally wrong? Maybe the person buried in the woods died five years ago, or ten. Maybe the woman we saw that night survived the blow to the head.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  She let out a gusty breath. “I want to. Telling myself she was still alive was how I coped all those years ago.”

  “I guess a few more days won’t matter.” Juliette wrapped up the remains of her sandwich and dumped them into the bag. “I wonder where he is now.”

  Sam strained to hear the low spoken words. Her appetite gone, she dropped her own unfinished sandwich in the bag with Juliette’s and wiped her hands on a napkin before wadding it into a ball.

  “He could be anywhere.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I have a class to teach in a little while, and the girls will know if I’m upset.”

  Sam stood and threw the sandwich bag into a nearby trash can. “There isn’t much point in speculating. I’m sure Ken Reeves will be kept in the loop, and I can pump him for information. As soon as I know anything for certain, I’ll call you.”

  Juliette nodded. They left the park and headed back toward the dance studio. Ravenswood hadn’t changed much since they were girls. Tucked into a valley high in the Sierras, it was a haven for sports enthusiasts. Hikers, mountain bikers, fishermen, and climbers filled the nearby campgrounds in the summer, and cross country skiers flocked to the town in the winter. In the off season, only the locals remained. Sam waved to Mrs. Hewett as they passed her house. Their old first grade teacher leaned her broom against the porch railing and waved back.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  Sam glanced over at Juliette. “Hear what?”

  “You and Ethan. Dish the dirt. I know perfectly well you’ve avoided him for five years. I also know you still have a thing for him.”

  Sam stopped walking. “I do not!”

  “Liar. Whenever his name comes up, you get this look in your eyes…”

  Heat crept up Sam’s neck. “He asked me to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Ah ha! I knew something was up.”

  “It’s just dinner.” She stepped over a crack in the sidewalk. “We had a one night stand. It’s stupid for me to avoid him because of it.”

  Juliette snorted. “You haven’t avoided him because you slept with him. You’ve avoided him because you liked it so much.”

  “Sad to say, I’m not brimming with bedroom experience, but it did rank right up at the top.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “My lifestyle doesn’t exactly lend itself to meaningful relationships. There isn’t much point in starting something I can’t finish.”

  “Then maybe you should make a few changes.” Juliette huffed out a breath. “I know you love your work, but can’t you do it a little closer to home? Good God, Sam, don’t you think you’ve punished yourself long enough?”

  They stopped in front of the dance studio. The forest green trim around the large picture window was peeling, and the petunias in the planter boxes by the door needed deadheading. Sam snapped a wilted bloom off the closest flower.

  “You think my life is about making up for not helping that woman?”

  Juliette rested her hand between Sam’s shoulder blades and rubbed. “You do what you do because you’re generous and dedicated—and you’d be bored senseless at a desk job. But I don’t think you’ve ever forgiven yourself for not saving her that night. Irrational but true.”

  The soothing motion eased some of the tension she’d been carrying around. “Is that what Darby thinks, too?”

  “You bet, and I don’t know anyone smarter than Darby.”

  Staring up at the cloudless sky, she drew in a breath. “Don’t you feel guilty about it, running away and leaving her there?”

  “Sometimes after a really bad day I do, but I know we weren’t to blame.”

  “I know it in my head.” Sam pressed her hand to her chest. “But in my heart, I can’t let it go.”

  “Then maybe finding that body was a good thing. Maybe it’ll finally give you closure.” Juliette dug a key from the pocket of her jeans and unlocked the studio door. “You’ll let me know how the date with Ethan turns out?”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Would you let me keep any juicy details to myself?”

  “Not a chance.” She stepped through the doorway and turned. “Have fun tomorrow night. Let yourself relax for a change. You deserve it.”

  Sam let out a breath. “You’re right. I do deserve it.” Her lips curved in a slow smile. “Ethan had better watch out. I might just surprise us both.”

  Chapter Four

  Sam opened the door and sucked in a breath. Ethan stood on the step. Jeans, neither ripped nor faded, hugged narrow hips, and a button-down navy shirt stretched across his shoulders, accenting those blue, blue eyes. She swallowed and took the single, perfect daisy he held out to stick behind her ear.

  “You clean up nice.”

  His smile sent flutters through her as his gaze left her face and drifted lower.

  “Right back at you.”

  Earlier that evening, after staring into her closet for a good fifteen minutes, Sam had settled on a short white skirt and canary yellow, sleeveless top. Pleased she’d taken the time to dash on a bit of mascara and eyeliner, she held the door wide. “Let me grab my purse and a sweater. It’s cooler than I expected tonight.”

  “Fall is definitely in th
e air.” He leaned against the jam, his gaze never leaving her as she scooped up her belongings.

  Smiling as she brushed by him, anticipation surged. She had no intention of sleeping with Ethan again, but a kiss or two was a different matter entirely. That she could do and not wind up getting hurt when it was time to leave. She was almost certain of it.

  “Aren’t you going to lock your door?”

  Pausing to pull the key from her purse, she turned around. “I’m out of the habit. The hut I was living in wasn’t exactly burglar proof.”

  He rested his hand on her back as they walked to his pickup. “Where were you this last time?”

  “Indonesia.”

  Opening the door, he helped her in with a hand under her elbow. “Sounds hot.”

  Her arm tingled where his fingers lingered. Speaking of hot… “I got used to it.”

  He jogged around the front of the truck and slid onto the seat. “What are you in the mood for tonight, Mexican or Italian?”

  “Maybe we’d better avoid margaritas.” She leaned back and crossed her legs.

  His grin stole her breath.

  “I’m wounded. I thought it was my charm that broke down your inhibitions all those years ago, not the tequila.”

  “To be on the safe side, let’s not test your theory.”

  “Italian it is.” He gave her a slow smile. “This is why I wanted to see you again. A woman who can laugh at herself is definitely worth getting to know better.”

  They drove through the lengthening shadows, an old Eagles tune playing on the radio. The cool evening breeze shivered over her skin. “Do you mind if I close the window? After five months in the tropics, I’m a wimp.”

  “I don’t mind at all, but you might. It smells like dog in here.”

  She raised the window. “I love dogs. I always wanted one when I was a kid, but my mom was allergic. Not that it would have been much of an issue…” Lips pressed together, she stopped speaking.

  “Where are your parents? I haven’t seen them around in ages.”

  “Spain, I think, or maybe New York. Wyatt mentioned he was going to see them this month.”

  They drove past Alpine Market with its bins of fresh produce out front, a real estate office with a message sign flashing details of a recent listing, and Sierra Sports where climbing gear was displayed in the front window before turning off the main drag onto what was sarcastically termed restaurant row by the locals.