Читать книгу The Hidden Years - Susan Kearney - Страница 11

What the hell was she doing in Half Moon Bay? In his driveway?

Jake Cochran stared at the monitor that exhibited his front gate, a convertible driving through, a woman behind the wheel.

Cassidy Atkins.

It might have been ten years since he’d seen her last, but he hadn’t forgotten that tawny skin or the lion’s mane of multicolored gold that framed her face. It might have been more than a decade, but a warm glow of happiness started in his gut and radiated outward before he bottled it up. Ten years hadn’t quite banished memories of the pain she’d caused.

Jake was no longer that vulnerable kid, but he could no more resist staring at Cassidy now than he could a decade ago. As she parked her red convertible, he hit a camera switch to zoom in on her. Cassidy smoothed her shoulder-length hair into a pony-tail, freshened her lipstick and reached for her compact. Then, with an impatient gesture, she tucked the unused compact back into her purse.

Interesting. So he rated lipstick but not blush. A visit but no warning phone call. Apparently Cassidy’s impulsive and spontaneous nature hadn’t changed over the years.

Cassidy gracefully exited the car, reached into the back seat and removed a box. Hip-hugging jeans encased her long legs and rounded hips. A crop top showed a smudge or two of dust as if she’d been working and impulsively decided to stop and pay him a visit. The girl he remembered might be unpredictable, but she usually had good reasons for her actions. And Jake guessed she hadn’t phoned first because she was afraid he might refuse to see her.

Was she in some kind of trouble and in need of his help?

He frowned in puzzlement as Cassidy carried the carton toward his front door. It didn’t take his detective skills to figure out that the reason behind her visit might be somehow connected to the box’s contents. However, she couldn’t be returning something he’d left behind, since ten years ago he hadn’t owned enough possessions to fill that box. Back then, just out of high school and a state orphanage, he’d barely had a change of clothes. Yet his limited circumstances hadn’t stopped him from foolishly dreaming of a future with Cassidy.

Jake had found out soon enough that Cassidy’s father, Frazier Atkins, had bigger plans for his daughter than a relationship with Jake Cochran. Frazier’s high expectations for his daughter included college, law school and eventually a husband from the same upper middle-class background as her own. And according to her father’s plan, she was now well on her way to success. With only twenty miles between their respective homes on Florida’s Gulf coast, Jake occasionally caught news of Cassidy and knew she’d earned her law degree and set up practice with her father in Crescent Cove.

Jake angled the camera lens onto her left hand. Ha! No wedding ring. Another zing of pleasure sneaked over him before he flicked off the camera and headed downstairs to meet the girl he’d never been able to forget.

Before she rang the bell, he opened the door and caught the breathless look of surprise in widened eyes still as blue as Tampa’s sky. But not quite as joyous and exuberant as he remembered. These blue eyes couldn’t quite hold his gaze and reflected a bit of indecision, along with a sophistication that quickly covered the flash of uncertainty he’d first glimpsed.

Nevertheless he enjoyed drinking in the sight of her upturned face, which glowed with a healthy tan. He lingered over the straight nose, the delicately arched brows, the heart-shaped cheeks that she’d always wished were high and sharp like a model’s, instead of impishly round, matching her personality.

“Hi, Sunshine.” He used his old pet name for her without thinking, his voice slightly huskier than he would have liked.

Cassidy’s full lips turned up in a crooked smile, but uncertainty again flickered in her eyes. “Jake.”

He opened the door, feeling a measure of both pleasure and wariness at seeing her again but mostly wondering what caused the shadows in her eyes. “Come in.”

She took in the trappings of his success—the soaring ceiling of his foyer, the marble floors and designer wallpaper—without the least bit of surprise. Almost as if she’d expected his prosperity. Had she kept track of him? Jake thought not. Why would she?

Obviously worried, she clutched that box so hard her fingernails dug into the cardboard and left tiny crescent indentations. Over the years Jake had become good at reading strangers who came to his detective agency seeking his help. His experience as a detective told him she had something unpleasant to tell him. His experience as a man told him this was a nervous woman.

Yet Jake wasn’t just operating with his powers of observation or by instinct alone. Cassidy was no stranger. Impulsive, spontaneous, giving, she liked to go with the flow, live day to day. She kept her long-term goals in sight, but her free-spirited nature ruled her most of the time. This wasn’t one of those times. Today she was serious. She had a way of angling her chin whenever she was uncertain. She had it tipped at that angle now as she glanced at him.

He led her past his office into the room that overlooked Tampa Bay. Perhaps the soft cries of gulls and the salty breeze would soothe her nerves. Gingerly she placed the box on the glass table as if fearing it would break, then dusted off her hands.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he offered as he gestured to a chair for her to have a seat. “Iced tea? Water? A cola?”

“No, thanks.”

Jake waited. He’d learned to be patient, learned that when someone wanted to tell him something, it was usually best to let them come to it in their own way.

Cassidy took in a deep breath of air, then let it out slowly and rolled her shoulders. Slowly she raised those sea-blue eyes to his. “My father died last year.”

“I heard. And I’m sorry. For your sake.”

He folded his arms over his chest, refusing to be hypocritical. He’d never liked Frazier Atkins. Ten years ago Jake had known the man disapproved of him, a boy with no family. No past. And probably not much of a future. But Jake had succeeded, throwing his efforts into his detective agency with a determination that had left no room for failure.

While Jake might have found security, he suspected mere financial success wouldn’t have been enough for Frazier Atkins. The prominent attorney had wanted a better match for his only daughter than a kid from the wrong side of town. While Jake had acquired a veneer of sophistication along the way to success, he lacked the Old World charm that took several generations to acquire. Quite simply, in Frazier’s eyes, Jake could never have been good enough to even wipe the dirt off Cassidy’s sneakers. And he’d coolly made his point to his daughter—not by arguing, but by fighting a battle Jake couldn’t win. Frazier had sent her out West to college. He’d put a distance between them that a boy with barely enough funds to feed himself couldn’t overcome.

He’d always hoped Cassidy would call, visit him during spring break, but it hadn’t happened. She’d accepted her father’s wishes and hadn’t looked back.

And through his scheming, Frazier had remained polite, cool and secretive toward Jake. But Jake had always suspected that Cassidy’s father had known more about Jake’s past than he’d been willing to admit. Yet Jake had no more been able to prove that the wily attorney had been holding out on him than he had been able to prove to Cassidy that her father had sent her away to separate her from the wrong kind of boy.

Cassidy pushed the box toward Jake. “I took over Dad’s law practice and found this.”

“What is it?” Jake made no move to open the box. Instead, he sat and watched Cassidy swallow hard, wet her top lip and try to hold his eyes.

Opening the box with shaking fingers, she looked from the papers inside back to him, her eyes dark and mysterious. “You ever find your sisters?”

Her question rocked him to the core. He’d unconsciously figured that Cassidy had come here seeking his help. He hadn’t expected the conversation to revolve around him. Or his sisters.

His sisters.

Jake shook his head at the failure that still haunted his nightmares. Nightmares of a five-year-old child promising his father that he’d help look after the family. That he’d watch over his sisters. Keep the family together. His mother had died overseas, and a week later his father had brought the family back to the U.S., where he’d been killed in a car accident. Awake, Jake couldn’t recall exactly what had happened to his sisters. In the darkest of dreams, shadowy creatures with no faces pulled the kicking and screaming girls from his arms. Every few months Jake still awoke in a sweat, heart pounding, choking on tears.

He glanced at the box, curiosity welling up. “I always thought your father was keeping back information on my sisters’ locations. Was he?”

Her expression grim, Cassidy nodded. “He knew more than he revealed.”

“They’re alive?”

Again Cassidy nodded.

Son of a bitch! Jake stood so fast that his chair crashed to the floor. If Frazier Atkins had stood before him now, it would have taken all of Jake’s considerable control not to strike him.

Jake paced, fuming. “Your old man could have saved me ten years of searching. Ten years of not knowing whether my sisters had lived or died. Ten years of waking up every morning and going to sleep every night wondering if I had any family left or if I was all alone in the world.”

“I’m sorry, Jake. My father never told me the truth, either.”

Although Jake had never found his sisters, he’d never given up searching. Would never give up. But he had no more to go on now than he’d had ten years ago, when the day after he’d graduated from high school, he’d looked up Frazier Atkins. Jake had hoped the attorney who’d handled his custody arrangements could help find his sisters. But Cassidy’s father had stubbornly refused to tell him anything.

Jake paced, needing an outlet for his anger. Frazier had deliberately kept him apart from his sisters. How dare he separate a family? Jake wanted to strike out and hit something to relieve his frustration. But long ago he’d learned to master his anger, and within moments, he’d replaced burning rage with simmering control. Reaching down, he lifted the chair and replaced it exactly where it had been.

Cassidy’s voice pleaded with him. “You have to understand. A lawyer’s first obligation is to his client.”

“And just who was the client?” Jake asked, folding his arms over his chest and watching Cassidy closely.

“I’m not…sure.”

“Let me get this straight. Frazier Atkins couldn’t tell me how to find my sisters because…”

“Because the custody matters were sealed. Ditto for the adoption records, unless both parties ask for the records.”

“You’re saying my sisters were adopted?”

“Yes.”

“They’re together?”

As she heard the concern he couldn’t mask, Cassidy shook her head, regret in her gaze. “I don’t believe so.” A tremor of distress tinged her voice. “The records indicate that all three of you were split up.”

Jake frowned hard. He knew that the state generally tried to keep siblings together. Maybe he’d been an ornery little boy that no one wanted—too old to interest a family, too old for parents to love, and so he’d never been adopted. Couples came to the orphanage seeking toddlers and babies. But his sisters had been young.

“Surely it wouldn’t have been that difficult to keep two little girls together.”

Cassidy seemed to gather her wits and spoke with authority. “The entire adoption proceedings were very unusual. Names were changed. The girls were sent to different parts of the state before families were found for them.”

“Why?”

Cassidy shrugged and this time a hint of darkness clouded her eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t gone through the box’s contents that carefully. As soon as I saw that—”

“Your father’s silence has kept a family apart.”

“—you would be interested, I just drove over.”

So coming here had been an impulsive act. He’d been right that her spontaneous nature hadn’t changed, but it gave him no satisfaction. Too many memories spun through his mind. Frazier Atkins and his damn secrets. Cassidy and what she’d once meant to Jake. All the memories in murky shadows, except his one bright hope that someday he could fulfill his childhood promise to his father. Find his sisters. Bring them together again. Only then would he be free to start a family of his own.

“I thought I could help you track down your sisters from these old addresses,” Cassidy said as she turned to the box and began to open it.

“Why?” Jake snapped the question as hard and fast as the crack of a whip.

At his tone, Cassidy jumped as if he’d slapped her hand away from the box. Her eyes flashed with guilt and heat. “I feel bad that my father never gave you…” Her hand fluttered over the box.

He stared at her, fascinated by the changing hue in her eyes, by the tightening of her lips and the questioning arch of her brows. And fury filled his soul, fury that she thought she could just prance back into his life, insert herself into his thoughts. Invade his privacy. Witness his pain and failure.

“I don’t need your help,” he told her without bothering to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“You’re angry?”

Anger wasn’t the right word for what he felt right now. Rage, white-hot rage, cascaded through him, rage at not just Frazier Atkins, but at the injustice done to a child who still carried a man-size guilt.

He’d failed to find his sisters. He’d promised his father. And failed.

Frazier Atkins’s silence had kept him at a dead end for ten years. But he’d never stopped searching. He’d wasted hours, days, months, years. All because of Frazier Atkins.

As rage rose up to mock him, Jake knew he was close to losing control. And he didn’t want Cassidy to know how badly her father had hurt him. Didn’t want her to know how much she could still disturb him by being here and witnessing his pain.

He kept his voice cool and clipped. “I think you’d better go.”

Her eyes shimmered with sadness and determination. “But I want to help.”

“Your family has helped me enough,” he sneered, and watched her face go pale.

Raising her chin, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze with a level one of her own. “You’re not being fair.”

“Like your father was fair to me? By hiding my sisters’ location from their only brother?”

Exasperation tinged her tone. “I already explained. A lawyer’s first obligation is to his client.”

“Yeah, right. A nonexistent client.”

She nodded coolly, as if giving him a point in a debate. “I can’t find the record of who hired him. He was paid in cash.”

“How convenient.”

Jake ached to clench his fists. He didn’t, fearing if he did he might follow through and punch the wall. Instead, he forced his tone to remain crisp and precise. “And maybe, just like your father, you’re keeping the truth from me now. Maybe you know exactly who hired your father to split up my family.”

She flinched. If he hadn’t been a sizzling mass of emotions and so eager for her to go before she could witness his pain, he’d have admired the gumption it took for her to look him in the eye. But right now, all her courage did was feed the flames of his rage and resentment.

Cassidy locked gazes with him, as if she expected him to read her sincerity. “I’d like to make up for what my father did.”

Her concern only stoked his anger. He didn’t want her help, her pity or her compassion. He couldn’t bear for her to know how much her father’s silence had hurt him. And he was too proud to tell her how hurt he’d been when she’d left for college and never once called him. Or how just her presence flayed open old scars and brought the hurting back.

Jake needed to be alone, needed time to lick his wounds. “This isn’t your concern.”

“I was concerned enough to bring you the box.”

“So you salved your conscience, Sunshine.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Ah. The nickname had memories for her, too. Had he struck a nerve?

Long ago Jake had learned to fight the world with the tools he’d been given—a quick mind and a ruthlessness that was revealed whenever he felt under attack, his back to the wall. He needed time to think, time to recover from the raw emotions churning his gut, and he sure as hell didn’t need Cassidy here.

He allowed an edge of rage to penetrate his tone. “Go back to your safe little lawyer’s world. The world your daddy picked for you. He’s probably rolling over in his grave right now.” Jake scowled at her. “We both know Frazier wouldn’t have wanted you here with me.”

At his hurtful words, she raised her chin and softened her tone, but steel braced her spine. “What do you want?”

He couldn’t let those eyes see into his heart, see the scars he’d have sworn had healed until she walked through the door. He didn’t want the memories that sliced through him. He didn’t want to remember what it was like to want her.

Never again would he let her fool him into believing she cared about him. He was no longer an innocent boy just out of a state home, but a grown man who’d seen enough betrayal and deceit to know the world could be ugly.

When she didn’t budge, he made his voice glacial. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want you in my home. I don’t want you. Is that clear enough? Blunt enough?”

Cassidy’s pale face turned whiter, leaving blotchy red patches of anger and humiliation on her cheeks. Her lips narrowed, their fullness pulled into a taut line of distress. As she stood, she didn’t say a word. With surprising strength, she lifted the box, turned it upside down and dumped the contents onto the floor at his feet.

Papers, a diary and photographs spilled into a messy pile. Jake ignored the papers and watched Cassidy, finally realizing he’d gone too far. But he couldn’t find the words to say so. Too many conflicting emotions made his mouth dry, and words of apology stuck in his throat.

With her head high, her shoulders back, her chin up, her spine ramrod straight, Cassidy strode from the room with the empty carton. And although Jake had gotten exactly what he’d intended, he felt no triumph. She’d left him with an empty house and an empty heart.

CASSIDY WOULD NOT SOB. Not here where he might see her. So she held her breath all the way out of Jake’s house and down the walk. She didn’t dare inhale until she reached her car. Finally as tears tightened the back of her throat, she took air into her starving lungs in one big rush.

She would not cry for the boy she’d once called a friend. She would not spill tears over the harsh man who’d replaced him. She would not think about the reasons that caused the confident young friend she recalled to turn into the cynical man she’d seen today.

She would not cry.

No, you’ll just run away, her conscience needled her.

He told me to leave so he could brood in private.

He was your best friend. A good friend. How could you leave such an intriguing hunk alone when there are so many other possibilities?

He was like a big brother.

Didn’t you ever think of consoling him? All that wonderful anger could be put to good use.

Sure. I’ll just sprinkle fairy dust over him and he’ll turn from an old friend into the perfect lover.

I see you prefer crying.

I’m not crying.

Cassidy tossed the box into the car and angrily wiped away the solitary tear running from the corner of her eye.

That Jake had grown into such a handsome man hadn’t surprised her. She’d always admired his whiskey-colored eyes, olive skin and black hair. But during the past ten years, he’d grown another few inches, towering over her five foot eight, and his features had sharpened. The hollows under his cheekbones had grown deeper. His eyes glittered with an intensity that almost made her shiver. The changes in his eyes bothered her the most. Eyes that she recalled as warm and friendly as a puppy’s now burned with amber fire. Even outside in the breezy Gulf air, she could still recall their blazing heat.

However, she would not think about the pain of betrayal she’d seen in his eyes when she’d told him that her father had had the answers that he’d so desperately sought. If only her father were still alive so he could explain his actions. Despite what Jake thought, she knew her father had been a good man. He must have had an honorable reason for his seemingly inexplicable actions.

Cassidy had never told Jake that her father had insisted that she follow her dream of college and law school and had discouraged her from considering Jake as anything more than a friend. Jake would have assumed that his poor background and lack of family and education were the reason Frazier had insisted that his daughter attend college as she’d always planned. And Cassidy couldn’t hurt Jake with something he’d had no control over.

Even at eighteen she’d understood why her father wanted her to follow her dream of becoming a lawyer and not give up like Cassidy’s mother had. Her parents had married during law school. After her mother had become pregnant, she’d dropped out of school, and while she’d always intended to return, she never had. Her mother had put her dream on hold—and then she’d died. And her father insisted that Cassidy put her education first.

So she hadn’t let herself become involved with Jake for the sake of a dream. Cassidy’s goal was to practice law. Jake’s dream was to have a family. To him family meant everything—especially since he’d never had one. And he never ever took relationships casually, because he’d had so few people who’d cared about him. Because Cassidy didn’t trust herself with Jake, because she couldn’t let their friendship change, she’d deliberately chosen to stop any further feelings from developing between them.

She’d always looked at Jake as a brother, and they’d kept that platonic friendship until she’d left for college.

When a slip of paper that hadn’t fallen from the box earlier wafted into the air on a gust, Cassidy snatched the paper by instinct and crushed it. She didn’t care if that paper had the names, addresses and social-security numbers of both of Jake’s sisters. No way would she return to that house. She couldn’t face another of Jake’s rebuffs.

He’d made it very clear that she wasn’t wanted, and Cassidy wouldn’t stay and help now if he came out on his knees and begged. That image brought a slight upward quirk to her lips. The thought of Jake Cochran begging anyone was a ludicrous image.

A bit calmer, Cassidy slipped behind the steering wheel, the paper still crumpled in her fingers. She backed out of the drive, letting the wheels squeal as she turned a sharp corner, eager to leave behind the disturbing image of an angry Jake. But she couldn’t relax the tension in her shoulders even after she passed out of sight of Jake’s house.

What had happened to him? She mourned the loss of the young man she’d known, recalling their short time together with a fondness that couldn’t have been totally one-sided. They’d been good friends, sharing their dreams and hopes for the future. She’d told Jake how she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a lawyer. He’d spoken of finding his family and joining Special Forces. They’d rarely argued, and she recalled a unique closeness. She’d thought of him as the older brother she’d always wanted and never had. Or were her memories skewed? She’d always believed Jake had liked her. But maybe he’d just used her friendship in an attempt to get to her father. If that had been his plan, he’d failed. To her knowledge, her father had never spoken to anyone about the adoptions. Not even to her.

Remembering she needed to pick up a few things, Cassidy stopped for gas and bought fresh milk at the convenience store. She ran the car through the wash and checked the tires for air before slipping back behind the wheel. She headed for home, determined to ignore Jake and his problems.

Cassidy stopped at a red light and started to toss the crumpled paper she’d left on the seat into the trash. But she noticed writing on the paper and looked more carefully. Numbers. A ten-digit phone number.

Curious, Cassidy punched the numbers into her car phone. As the light turned green, a bored-sounding female voice answered. “Password, please.”

Password?

Behind Cassidy, a car honked. “Hold on a sec.”

She pulled off the road and parked, then stared at the yellowed slip of paper while the bored voice requested again, “Password, please.”

Cassidy flipped over the paper and read the scrawled script aloud, “Blow back?”

She heard several clicks and then a different voice said, “One moment.”

Pleased with herself, Cassidy waited, wondering who would answer the other end of the line. She waited at least a minute or two and was about to hang up when a harried male voice finally responded. “Who are you working for? How did you get this number?”

Suddenly nervous as the voice demanded answers, Cassidy speculated about whom she was talking with and why he was acting as if she’d done something illegal. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.”

Quickly she hung up the phone and then tossed the paper into her purse. She wouldn’t return to give it to Jake, but maybe she’d mail it. Then she remembered how he’d treated her. Maybe she wouldn’t bother.

Cassidy drove into Crescent Cove along sunny palm-lined streets, and slowly the tension left her shoulders. Her grip on the steering wheel eased. Her hometown usually had a relaxing effect on her. In Crescent Cove, the neighbors still knew one another and waved as Cassidy drove by. The kid next door mowed the lawn and children played in the yards and laughed on swing sets. If the state hadn’t been undergoing a drought and the county hadn’t been under water restrictions, the kids would be running under sprinklers. Instead, they made do with bikes and inline skates.

Her own lawn was turning brown, but tomorrow was her morning to water. Cassidy used the automatic opener and pulled in to her two-car garage, then closed the door behind her. Glad to be home in the house she’d inherited from her father, along with his small-town law practice, Cassidy opened the door that led into the kitchen she loved. The oak table she’d found at the flea market last month still needed another coat of varnish, but she was pleased by the effect it made under the curtains decorated with daisies.

A trash can lay on its side.

Cassidy straightened the can with a frown. Had another duck flown down the chimney? Cautiously she headed into the den and set her purse on the table. The morning sun usually shone brightly through the window, but she must have forgotten to open the curtains.

After her father died, she’d redecorated, painting the plastered walls a yellow that complemented the gleaming parquet floors. She’d bought colorful seascapes by local artists and added a homey touch to the couch with hand-embroidered pillows. Cassidy spoiled herself by buying fresh flowers every week. She’d picked sprigs of orange blossoms off her citrus tree out back, and the scents mingled in a flowery bouquet. She sniffed appreciatively and caught a whiff of smoke. With the drought conditions, everyone feared fires.

But this smelled like cigarette smoke.

The hair on the back of Cassidy’s neck stirred. Had someone been in the house? The next thought felt like a punch to her stomach. Suppose she wasn’t alone.

Cassidy didn’t hesitate. She whirled on her heel to head back toward the kitchen.

The curtain in the den moved. Was someone behind it? Or had a breeze caught it, flickering ominous shadows across the wood floor?

Cassidy changed direction. Heard a footstep that wasn’t hers. A thud.

Heart pumping, she raced down the hall toward the front door. Lost time twisting the dead bolt. Flung open the door.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder.