Texas Secrets, Lovers' Lies Page 11

  None of that helped her mood, considering today they were looking for Shayna’s body.

  Brock had persuaded Roger Giles to order a search of this part of the lake. The sheriff had done so grudgingly, according to Brock, and only because he owed Brock a favor.

  Wearing black wetsuits, the dive team waded into the murky water near the shore. There were three of them, two on loan from Dallas. Zoe had listened silently while they were given instructions. The lake had been divided into quadrants. For now, they were sticking to the area near the western shore, where Mike had claimed to picnic with Shayna. They’d also done some sort of calculation with wind currents and the water, and were also searching an area where debris was most likely to wash up. Lastly, they had a few others searching the remainder of the lake, just in case the currents might have moved something.

  Though they didn’t use the word, Zoe knew they meant body.

  “Hey.” Brock came up behind her, his expression distant but civil.

  She inclined her head in a halfhearted greeting.

  “I’m going to put my boat in.” His blue-eyed gaze searched her face. “Do you want to come with me?”

  Her heart leaped, though she kept her expression impassive. “Did you clear it with the police?”

  “As long as I stay away from the area where the divers are searching, I’m fine. One of the guys mentioned they might be able to use my assistance.”

  Temptation warred with the desire to have nothing to do with him. “I’m thinking you can see what’s going on a lot better from the water.”

  He nodded and held out his hand. “Come on. You know you want to, if only to distract yourself from thinking the worst.”

  That last remark alone should have been enough to make her decline. But she hated being reduced to pacing the uneven shore, unable to see, unable to participate, just waiting helplessly to see if they found her friend’s lifeless body.

  Even considering such a thing nearly had her doubling over in pain and grief. Shayna couldn’t be dead. But all evidence suggested they’d find her here, somewhere in the water, badly decomposed.

  Argh. Swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat, Zoe raised her head to see Brock still waiting, watching her.

  She pushed away her doubts and slipped her hand into his. She ignored the immediate jolt of heat, aware he no doubt did the same.

  He led her up a grassy hill. When they crested it, she saw his truck parked in the paved area leading to the public boat ramp. He had a newish bass boat, a sleek, slender thing with a huge outboard motor.

  He caught her staring and flashed a brief smile. “It’s fast on the water. Get in the truck and after I back the boat in, do you mind pulling the truck and trailer out and parking it? I’ll swing the boat over to the dock there and pick you up.”

  The wooden dock ran along one side of the boat ramp.

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I should warn you that I’ve never driven a truck pulling a trailer before.”

  “No problem.” He squeezed her shoulder, a casual gesture that she felt all the way to her bones. “All you have to do is drive straight ahead and park in the little area over there.”

  Again she nodded, moving away from him toward his truck.

  Once he’d backed up enough so that the boat trailer was in the water, he put the truck in Park, applied the brake and jumped out. Wading to the boat, he climbed up the front and uncranked a cable that kept the front of the boat tethered to the trailer. Then he sat at the driver’s seat and started the engine. It roared to life on the first try.

  Zoe watched over her shoulder as Brock backed his bass boat off the trailer and into the water. He made it look spectacularly easy, though she suspected a certain level of skill must be involved.

  After the boat was in the water, he signaled her to pull the truck forward. She disengaged the parking brake and pulled forward, driving the truck and lightweight trailer to the area he’d indicated.

  When she’d finished, she headed over to the wooden dock. He’d pulled his boat alongside and tied it loosely to the pier. After hurrying down the length of the pier, she carefully got on board, waving away his outstretched hand. Once she’d taken a seat, he untied them and they backed away from the dock.

  She gripped the side of the seat tightly, taking a deep breath before looking around. She hadn’t been out on the water since high school. She’d forgotten how much she’d liked it.

  And, thinking that, she wondered if she’d always from this day forward, associate boating with finding Shayna’s body.

  No. Positive thinking. She lifted her head, letting the wind sift through her ponytail, glad she’d had the foresight to wear it.

  Keeping their speed low, Brock took them out to the center of the search operation and killed the engine. He dropped the anchor, his blond hair shining golden in the perfect sun, his tanned skin gleaming, his muscular arms flexing.

  Even without touching him, she once again felt that familiar, intoxicating pull low in her belly.

  Damn.

  She stood, shading her eyes with her hand. The divers had gone under, and the nervous anticipation made her feel ill.

  “Mama Bell doesn’t know about this?” Brock asked, breaking her concentration on the flat surface of the water.

  “No. I didn’t want her to worry.”

  He nodded. “Probably a good idea.”

  “Yeah.” Her attention drifted back to the water. “I really hope they don’t find anything.”

  “They won’t.” He sounded awfully certain. Too certain, which made her wonder again if he knew something he hadn’t mentioned.

  Several hours later, it appeared Brock was right. All three of the divers had resurfaced, made their way to shore and were removing their equipment. Brock motored over as close to shore as he could. “Find anything?”

  One of the men shook his head. “Nothing, and we’ve done a thorough search of the entire lake. We’re calling it a day. Since we don’t have actual evidence that she went in the water, I don’t think we’ll be back.”

  Brock nodded, then looked at Zoe. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. He put the boat in gear and slowly motored away, heading in the direction of the boat ramp.

  “Do we have to go back right away?” she asked.

  “No.” Watching her closely, he seemed wary. “Why?”

  Her shrug deliberately casual, she glanced from him to the open water. “I haven’t been on a boat ride in years. I wouldn’t mind a bit of distraction right now.”

  Still, he eyed her the way a man does when he’s not sure how he’s supposed to react. Finally, he shrugged. “Ok, fine. Fast or slow?”

  “Fast,” she instantly responded, as he’d no doubt hoped she would. Any man who owned a bass boat with a 250-hp outboard motor would no doubt welcome the chance to use it.

  And so he did. When they’d traveled a decent distance from the area the divers had been searching, he opened the throttle and they took off, the water parting before them to plume up after.

  Moisture sprayed her, making her smile, her first genuine smile in ages. She sat up straight, the wind whipping her ponytail, and let the thrill of speeding across the lake drive all other thoughts from her mind.

  But, as with everything else, her temporary respite didn’t last. After making a sharp turn near the dam, Brock slowed and finally cut the motor. Since there was no wind, they wouldn’t drift far.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Thank you for that. I needed it. It’s the first time since I’ve been back in Anniversary that I didn’t worry about Shayna. It’s hard to stop.

  “I don’t know if someone grabbed her and hurt her or what. All I can do is pray she isn’t dead. Or, worse, that she’s not some crazy man’s prisoner.”

&
nbsp; Closing her eyes, she shuddered at the thought. “We’ve got to find her, Brock. We have to.”

  “I know,” he said quietly, crossing over to her and smoothing her hair with one hand. “And I have to admit, I’m finding it more and more difficult to believe Shayna took off on her own.”

  Relieved, she nodded, moving away even though all she wanted to do was lean into him. “Thank you. I know she didn’t. Her credit cards haven’t been used, and she has no cash. Plus, she’d never have left without her phone.”

  He stood a moment longer and then returned to his spot behind the driver’s console. “Devils advocate, but she could have had a secret stash of money. Maybe, like you, she wanted to leave all trace of her old life behind. She could have gotten one of those prepaid, untraceable phones.”

  Ignoring the slight dig, she sighed. “Shayna and Mama Bell always knew I was okay, though they didn’t know where I was for a long time.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “I couldn’t take that chance. The only person I told was Shayna. She helped me get out of town that night.”

  “And you didn’t think to come to me?” The pain in his face nearly shattered her. “I would have helped you, kept you safe.”

  “I couldn’t risk it,” she whispered, aware he’d hate her now. She couldn’t blame him. He’d never understand what she’d given up—her home, her friends, her family, and her fiancé—out of love. She’d left in order to keep them safe.

  “And then they caught the guy,” Brock said, letting her know she’d spoken out loud. “He was convicted, when another eyewitness came forward, and sent away to prison, where he remains to this day.”

  “Yes. I check compulsively to make sure he hasn’t been paroled.”

  “And still you didn’t see fit to clue me in.”

  She glanced up in time to catch the flash of pain in his eyes. “Brock, I couldn’t tell you for your own safety.”

  “Right. Because that would have put me in danger.” The cold edge of irony in his voice told her he didn’t think much of that explanation.

  “And you would have come after me,” she finished. “Or, failing that, you’d have wanted to wait for me. It was better if you didn’t know. That way you could move on with your life.”

  “Move on with my life? Is that what you thought I wanted?”

  The violence in his tone spoke of old wounds not entirely healed. She swallowed, digging deep for her reserve of strength. “Yes,” she answered.

  “Once you felt you were safe, after he was put away for good, why didn’t you return? Why didn’t you come back?”

  To Anniversary. To the Bells, who were the only family she’d ever known. To him. The man she’d been engaged to marry.

  Hands clenched into fists, Zoe tried like hell not to cry. She’d naively hoped that this time, she and Brock could part as friends. She should have known she could never wipe out the pain her actions had caused him. Until now, she’d managed to convince herself that her own pain had been buried away so deeply it would never return.

  Lies, all around. And still more to come, because Brock must never know the true reason she’d stayed away long after it was safe to return. No matter how much it hurt. She couldn’t let him get attached to her, or she to him, because when all this was over, she would return to New York without a backward glance.

  A painful truth. No matter what he might think he wanted, they could never be together. At first, she’d figured she’d stay in New York a couple of years, explore her freedom and then maybe go back home. That possibility had been erased, mostly because of the baby she’d carried and lost. The baby—his baby—that he’d never known about.

  Chapter 8

  No one, not even Shayna, knew that Zoe had been pregnant when she’d left town. No one knew about Zoe’s miscarriage in the first trimester. Or her subsequent diagnosis of severe endometriosis. Her fallopian tubes had been irretrievably damaged. She’d been told in no uncertain terms that it was extremely unlikely she would ever be able to have children.

  Brock deserved a woman who could have his children. More than anything, he wanted to be a father. Before everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, they’d discussed the family they wanted to make together. Brock had wanted six kids, she two, and they’d compromised at three. They’d been so starry-eyed, so young, so full of anticipation for their future together.

  Her eyes teared up, damn it. Fiercely, she swiped at them, keeping her face averted. He must never know the truth. There was no way she could have gone back to him after that. Not then and not now. He shouldn’t have to settle. She couldn’t ask that of him, or of anyone.

  So she’d embraced her new life, formed a new persona and tried to live. If she occasionally felt empty, well, that was the price she had to pay.

  He grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. “Aren’t you going to answer me?” His gruff voice hinted at the depths of his emotion. “Why didn’t you come back to Anniversary? Why didn’t you come back to me?”

  Staring at him, she summoned up the necessary strength for giving him only a partial truth. “Because I made a new life, Brock,” she said firmly. “I was happy in New York. The city had something that I didn’t even know I was missing here. I didn’t want to give it up.”

  “New York.” He spoke the words as if they were a curse. “You chose a place over all you had here? Over us?”

  Desperate, she tried one last time to get back on solid ground. “I think we need to redirect the focus to where it needs to be. On Shayna.”

  “Hiding again?” he asked.

  “No.” She met his gaze head-on to show him what she meant. “We can’t change the past. But we can try to influence the future. I don’t think Shayna ran away. If that was the case, she would have let her mother know, at least. Shayna wouldn’t have wanted the woman to worry.”

  As he stared out at the peaceful lake, a muscle worked in his jaw. “Zoe, honestly. What do you think happened to her? Why do you find it so impossible to believe she might have done the exact same thing you did five years ago.” Harsh voiced, it was more of a statement than a question.

  Suddenly she couldn’t do it anymore. She didn’t have the strength to keep piling lie upon lie.

  “Take me back to the dock,” she ordered in a toneless voice, gripping the boat railing so tightly her knuckles showed white.

  “With pleasure,” he snarled, sounding the opposite of toneless. He turned the key and the motor roared to life.

  They took off. This time she found no pleasure in the speed. Tight-lipped, she stared straight ahead, the spray stinging her eyes, the sun blinding her.

  He slowed their speed as they approached the pier. “I’ll leave you off here,” he said. “I can load the boat by myself.”

  Aching, she nodded. She couldn’t explain, because she couldn’t stand the hurt of wanting him again. The pain of being noble had nearly killed her once. She wasn’t sure she could survive it again.

  Having him despise her was better. Safer. So she did the only thing she could. She had to save herself, after all, and, in doing so, save him too.

  Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving him for the final time.

  * * *

  Brock felt savage. The urge to drown his pain in the comforting numbness of alcohol reared up so strongly he cursed.

  No. He was sober and he would stay sober.

  He got the boat loaded and drove home. Somehow, someway, he needed to put Zoe Onella from his mind and get back to his real life. He’d thought time had healed him. Clearly it had not.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he grimaced. One thing for sure, something crazy had been going on with Shayna. So many lies. He couldn’t help wondering how much of what she’d told him was the truth, especially where it concerned Zoe
.

  Disgusted with himself, he shook his head. None of this was his concern. He squelched the annoying desire to go grab a beer, driving instead to the local A&W for a root beer float.

  Then he went home to his empty apartment, turned on the television and tried to lose himself in a true-crime drama.

  * * *

  The next morning, Cristine showed up at the feed store. Since she didn’t have livestock or even own a pet, she hadn’t come to make a purchase. What now?

  “I need to talk to you,” she said, her expression troubled.

  “About Shayna?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t about Zoe.

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “It’s been bothering me ever since she disappeared. I know you and Shayna had troubles and—”

  “Troubles?” What the hell? Trying not to show his annoyance, he crossed his arms. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Coloring, she looked down. “Come on, Brock. Shayna and I were best friends. You have to know she told me everything.”

  “There was nothing to tell.”

  Anger flared in her hazel eyes. “Cut the crap, Brock. I know you hit her. I saw her bruises.”

  He couldn’t have been more stunned if she’d hauled off and punched him in the stomach. “Hit her?” he repeated, feeling sick. “I didn’t...wouldn’t. I’ve never hit a woman in my life. Shayna or anyone.”

  Frowning in confusion, she stared. “You’re telling the truth.”

  “Of course, I’m telling the truth,” he exploded. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  She began backing away from him, the sick look of fear on her face telling him she thought he might slug her.

  “You’re a-angry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll go.”

  He felt as if he’d kicked a dog. “Cristine, wait. Please.”

  She’d already turned to go and almost tripped over her own feet when he called her back. For a moment, she appeared torn between fleeing and staying.

  “Come on, Cristine. You know I’m not a monster.”

  Slowly, she walked back over to him. “Brock, like everyone else around here, I’m just trying to get answers.”