Best Kept Secret (Rochester Trilogy 3)

“What are you talking about? I’m no one.” It’s fear that makes me honest. One twitch of her finger, and I’ll be dead. Murdered in my Houston apartment. No degree in social work. No new life away from Beau and Paige. Death, and then nothing.

“Beau never was good with sharing his emotions.”

The casual way she talks about him makes my heart beat faster. For a different reason. Jealousy. How laughable. I have no right to be jealous over him. “I don’t know what you think’s going on between me and him, but he sent me away. He fired me.”

“To keep you safe. I could be upset, I suppose, that he’s concerned for your safety, when he couldn’t be bothered about mine. But I never really told him everything, did I?”

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two but—”

“It doesn’t matter. Him and me? We’re nothing. I’m not here as your rival.”

“Then why did you bring a gun?”

“I’ve been carrying this around for months. Ever since…” She trails off, and for the first time, a flash of stark emotion crosses her beautiful face.

Her grief reaches across the small room. It wraps around my throat and squeezes. “What could have happened? What could have made you leave Paige if you didn’t actually drown?”

She closes her eyes. In that moment I could run. I could probably make it down the hallway before she shoots me—and maybe she wouldn’t even shoot. Maybe it’s just an empty threat. Part of me thinks so. But I don’t run. I want to find out what happened.

I want to find out why Paige Rochester believes she’s an orphan.

Because I remember the searing pain of that. The cold knowledge that I’m alone in the world.

“I didn’t fall off that boat. I wasn’t pushed, either.”

“Let me guess. You jumped.”

“I don’t trust Joe Causey.” She frowns a little. “My own brother. Though it’s hard to think of him that way anymore. He’s like a stranger to me. A stranger who murdered Rhys.”

My mind processes this news like I’m watching an episode of Law & Order. “Joe killed him,” I echo, because what else do I say?

“That night on the boat. They had a falling out. Joe and Rhys—they used to do business together, and they got into a fight. It was a bad fight. The kind of fight that partnerships don’t come back from. Joe confronted him at the dock. I saw them arguing.” Her voice shakes. “Joe shot him in the head, and I jumped in the water.”

“God.”

The desperation in her eyes makes her look hunted. “I couldn’t come forward and be with Paige. If I turned up alive, Joe would kill me and take her. I was the only witness to the murder. I can’t go to the police about it. Ever. Any police. Joe already has them in his pocket.”

I wish I could deny the point, but the truth is that cops protect their own. In the foster care system you hear about it. They’ll protect Joe before they take Emily’s word for anything. “You’ve been watching us,” I say, feeling slightly breathless. “Why didn’t you tell Beau?”

“Tell Beau?” She lets out a high, bitter laugh. “I don’t trust Beau, either. He rejected me. He put me in that situation in the first place. I never would have gone back to Rhys if Beau hadn’t turned me away. We could have done anything. We could have run away, and I never would have been in that damn boat.”

Maybe she’s right. I don’t know. All I know is that arguing this point with her won’t get me anywhere. “There’s time to figure this out.”

“There’s not,” she snaps. “There’s no time. My daughter thinks I’m dead. Joe Causey could find me at any time. And if he finds me, it’s over.” Emily takes a half-step toward me, the gun aimed at my chest. I let go of the suitcase and put both hands up. If I calm her down, I can get out of this alive. That’s what matters now.

“This isn’t the solution.” I pretend with everything I have that she’s Paige, overwhelmed by her emotions and not fully in control of herself. The first thing to do when a child is melting down is to bring them back to calm. There’s no reasoning with someone who’s on the edge like this. “Emily. Put the gun down and we can talk.”

“If I put the gun down, you’ll run away, and you can’t do that.”

“We’re not going to fix this by shooting people.”

She doesn’t lower the gun. Not at all. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes. “Am I shooting you? I’m not shooting you. You’re going to listen to me. There’s no one else to do it.”

“To do what?” Spots of pink turn to red high on her cheeks. Emily looks more like Paige with every moment that passes. It makes my heart ache for the little girl I left in Maine. “Listen to you? I hear you. I hear everything you’re saying. I just think there’s a better solution. I think you should talk to Beau.” She hasn’t interrupted me yet, so I keep going. “He’s—he’s a good guy.”