Best Kept Secret (Rochester Trilogy 3)

The ease of the moment wanes. Lauren’s expression sobers. My heart pushes at the boundaries of my rib cage. She’s either about to tell me to get the fuck out of here and not bother her again, or she’s going to tell me something I can use. “I need to be able to count on your discretion.”

“You can.” I’m not in the habit of running my mouth to anyone in town. My time is taken up with Paige, and with Jane, and there’s nobody else I want to talk to right now, other than Mateo. I’m not going to say all this to Lauren. If she doesn’t know by now that I practically became a recluse at Coach House, then nothing I can say will convince her.

“You’re not the first person to bring Joe Causey to our attention.” Interesting. Our attention means the DA’s office, not just the prosecuting attorney. “There may be an ongoing investigation into his conduct. If there were an investigation like that, it would have to proceed with extreme caution.”

She’s watching me with extreme caution now. “That’s good.”

“You might be able to help.”

“Anything I could do.” My throat has gone tight with the promise. Making sure Joe’s out of the picture clears the way for everything else. It clears the way for Emily to get Paige back, and for Jane to leave me and go on to a life that’s worthy of her. I’d be adrift again and sinking fast. It would be right. I’ve been a coward and a bastard. That’s what would be worthy of me.

“Evidence,” says Lauren. “Evidence pertaining to the subject is always very helpful. This could include things like a written statement or other documents that would shine light on—”

“Like a diary?”

She inclines her head. “In some cases, first-person accounts have been useful for constructing a narrative.” That’s all it ever is, isn’t it? Constructing a narrative. We tell the stories we want to believe about other people. In some cases, they turn out to be true. “As far as current statements, anything we received right now would have to be vetted, but it’s always better to have these things in hand rather than go searching for them at a later date.”

“Where would a person drop those kinds of documents off?”

“Directly to me. And I don’t mean an envelope addressed to me, care of the DA’s office. I mean directly into my hands.”

“Understood.” I stand up again and reach across the desk to shake Lauren’s hand. “Thanks for the talk.”

“Today,” she says, rising too. “That’s an ideal timeline. And then sit tight.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jane Mendoza

Paige builds sandcastles with the sea breeze in her hair. Her focus is intent on the towers she shapes with small hands. One springs up, then another. She creates a ridge between the two of them and curls her fingers over the top to make a wall. I woke up to her standing at the side of the bed this morning, eyes wide. “It’s time to get up,” she whispered. “Beau’s not here.”

He left a note on the bedside table.

Going into town to meet with the prosecutor. Back before lunch.

So we ate breakfast. I drowned Paige’s pancakes in syrup until she dissolved into laughter, and then I packed a towel and a plastic bucket and shovel into a bag and went to the shore. We put on sunscreen.

I had a vague idea of what it would be like to get out of my old life. College. Loans, somehow. Working and attending class and eventually getting a job as a social worker. I never pictured sitting on a beach in Maine watching a little girl make sandcastles.

I never pictured waiting for my former boss to come back to this strange, unfinished place we’ve found ourselves in. It seems more important than ever to figure things out.

That process, and its end, is going to be painful.

Paige glances up at me from her sandcastle and raises her eyebrows.

“It’s cool,” I tell her. “Are you going to build all four walls?”

“Towers first,” she says decisively. One more glance at me, and then she’s looking past me, over my shoulder. I’m hoping it’s Beau. I want to know what piece of information he’s carved out of his meeting with the prosecutor and I want to know if there’s any hint of where we should go next. Either way, someone gets hurt. If he keeps Paige, Emily will be devastated. And if Paige goes with her…

I don’t want to think about it anymore. I know what it looks like when children are taken from their parents. Or, if they don’t have parents, the people who have stood in their place. It’s a terrible scene even when everyone agrees that it’s for the best. Knowing it’s right doesn’t soften the blow.

A shadow blocks out the sun from one direction. I take a deep breath and face it. Face whatever he’s going to say.