Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

An owl hooted in the distance at the same time, a raindrop splashed against his cheek.

And then another.

She was gone again, buried beneath that façade of skin and bone that she liked to hide behind. He couldn’t get a read on her and it frustrated the hell out of him.

“What do you want with me, Beau? Just tell me and then leave.”

Shit. This really wasn’t going well, and it was his own damn fault. How could he make this right? Take back those words that hurt?

Just then the porch light flickered on and a voice cut through the night. They both turned to the house.

“Trent! Where are you, son?”

“Gramps?” Betty shouted.

“He’s gone,” the voice answered, sounding strained.

“Oh, God.”

Beau wasn’t sure what was going on but he knew it wasn’t good. Several drops of water fell out of the night sky, hesitant at first, and as Betty ran for the house, Beau forgotten, the rain began in earnest.

It sliced through the night, but did nothing to wash away the unease that settled in his gut.

Nothing about this trip had gone as planned. Hell, he should be hanging at the cottage on Lake Muskoka with his brother, getting cozy with a nice Canadian girl.

A nice un-complicated Canadian girl. Someone who could take the edge off whatever the hell it was that was riding him so hard these days.

Instead he was stuck in Michigan with a woman who was not only prickly as hell, but nothing like the girl he remembered. She was a complication he hadn’t foreseen.

And as Beau followed her up the path, he thought that maybe things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Funny enough…he was cool with that.

Chapter Five

BETTY FELT AS if her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. It pounded so hard that for a moment, it was all she heard inside her head.

She glanced up at the attic and swore, her eyes landing on Gramps as he hobbled down the front steps of the porch. His arthritis was getting bad and when it was damp like this, it was hard for him to move.

“Gramps, what do you mean he’s gone?” Maybe Gramps was confused—it wouldn’t be the first time. Goddamn, what she would give to never grow old.

A few months back, he’d thought Trent was missing, but they’d found him in the basement rifling through boxes of photos, looking for pictures of her mother, Chantal.

God, getting old sucked.

Trying to keep the panic at bay, Betty wiped water from her eyes and focused on Herschel Barker. He wore his red and white striped boxers, the ones that had a bad habit of falling off his hips, and a yellow T-shirt with a huge ass bee on his chest, winked at her through the darkness.

“He had a bad night. Couldn’t get him to settle, you know? He was pacing and I went to make him tea…and…”

Herschel’s eyes glistened with tears as he shook his head, grimacing in pain as he whispered. “Betts, he’s gone.”

Betty glanced back toward the river and the fear in her gut was so intense that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. When she could speak, her words came out rapid fire. “Call Bobbi and Billie, and call the damn police.”

She whirled around and came to a stop, spying Beau standing a few feet away. By now the rain was falling in sheets and they were both drenched. “I need your help.”

He strode toward her. “Anything.”

She began to jog, her words coming in bursts. “We have to find him. He was wearing his pajamas when I left, you know?” Her eyes tried to see through the gloom but with the added rain it was difficult. “But who knows what he’s wearing now. He changes his clothes when he gets agitated and…”