He shifted so she could pull off his T-shirt. His boxers went next. Then they were completely naked. They’d been this way before, many times, especially ten years ago, and yet something was different.
“You sleep okay?” He tried to draw her out, to account for the change, but the fact that she didn’t answer, didn’t seem to want to talk, told him what he needed to know. She was somber, subdued, absolutely intent—on him.
Isaac had never experienced such a deep level of intimacy with anyone else. He knew that would be impossible, because no other woman had ever meant what she meant to him. Every touch felt like truth in motion. Even as the pleasure mounted, the physical sensation was only one element of the whole, and not the most critical. She was lowering her guard, offering herself without begrudging the fact that she wanted to.
This was a second chance.
They made love slowly, silently, eyes open and locked for much of the time. When her lips parted and her breathing grew short, he rolled over and pulled her on top of him so he could watch her. Her wild hair tumbled around her face and shoulders as her eyelids closed, but she didn’t speed up the rhythm. The build was so slow, so exquisite, he knew, even if everything fell apart after this, he’d never forget this moment.
Their union was heaven—and it was hell. That she could evoke such a powerful response in him was terrifying. He hadn’t allowed himself to become so emotionally attached to anyone since his mother, had been absolutely vigilant in avoiding entanglements. After what he’d been through, he felt less threatened by neglect, abuse, derision, indifference.
Love made him vulnerable, and vulnerability made him want to run. Fortunately, he couldn’t run, because Claire needed him too badly. He’d never let anyone else hurt her.
But he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to save her from himself.
“I’m going to visit Myles,” Isaac announced at breakfast. “He must have Les Weaver’s phone records by now. And if he doesn’t, I want to light a fire under his ass to get it done. What happened to your house should’ve convinced him that he has to act and act quickly. Whatever’s going on is definitely linked to the past.”
Claire agreed, but she didn’t have much to contribute to his comments. She’d already let her body do all the talking she wanted to this morning. She felt so strongly about Isaac that she hadn’t been able to hide it, and now she was drained, emotionally and physically.
“You’re quiet today,” he said.
“I’m just trying to think it all through.” It was a lot to process, especially with her feelings for him added into the mix. She couldn’t help acknowledging that some of what her stepmother had screamed at her in Hank’s Burger Joint could be true, or come to pass later. But Isaac cared about her. He wouldn’t be paying for a private investigator or protecting her like he was if he didn’t. She supposed, in some way, she’d always known he cared. His jealousy of David and the crackling connection she’d felt whenever she ran into him confirmed it. But she still had a hard time believing he could sustain a relationship. She was pretty sure he worried about that, too. He certainly hadn’t made any commitments, no more than a good friend would make.
“I’m glad you were able to eat, at least,” he said as he collected the dishes from their oatmeal, toast and juice.
She hadn’t realized she’d finished what was in her bowl. She’d been too preoccupied. Now that they’d climbed out of bed and returned to the “real” world, she had to pick up her burdens again. Her mother’s disappearance was the same problem that had been waiting for her every day for the past fifteen years, and now she had David’s alleged murder to add to that load. “It was good.”
“I’d ask you to come with me,” he went on, reverting to what he’d been saying earlier, “but I think I’ll be able to lean on Myles a little harder if you’re not there.”
In other words, he preferred she not hear their exchange, which was fine with her. She had other plans. She’d let Joe Kenyon stonewall her too long already. She was going to pay him a visit. Thanks to the p**n ographic tape her sister had created, and the fact that Claire couldn’t let anyone know about it, even Isaac, this was something she had to do on her own. “No problem.”
“Any chance I can talk you into staying here and getting some more rest?” he asked.
“No. I need to take advantage of having the day off work. Just drop me at my place, okay? I’ll do some more cleaning.”
He frowned as if he might argue.
“It’s broad daylight and my sister lives next door. I’ll be perfectly safe,” she told him.
He didn’t say it—he took her home as she wished—but she knew what he was thinking: it was broad daylight when your mother went missing.
Joe and his brother were still partners in the tree business. Claire guessed they’d be working together—trimming trees, hauling debris and selling wood—for the rest of their lives. To quote one of the older ladies in her book group, they were “thick as thieves,” which was why she doubted what Peter had to say about Joe’s whereabouts on the day her mother disappeared. Their close relationship also made her wonder why, if Joe denied having an affair with her mother, Peter had offered information that seemed to contradict his brother’s statement.
A curious breach of loyalty… Had it caused problems between them? That certainly didn’t appear to be the case. But it must have angered Joe that his twin hadn’t acted to protect his marriage. Joe’s wife, Lilly, had stuck by him despite the rumors, but Peter had no way of knowing that when he spouted off about that supposedly “odd” phone call.
Maybe Peter didn’t like Lilly. He was divorced. Maybe he wanted to get rid of her. Then he and his brother would be similarly unfettered and have even more time to build their business, go hunting, fishing or hang out at the bar.
Claire planned to ask Joe, again, why his brother had said what he did—if she ever got the opportunity to talk to him. His truck sat in the driveway, but he wasn’t answering his door.
Lifting her hand, she pounded on the panel for a second time. “Joe? I’m not leaving. You might as well open up.”
Nothing.
“Joe? Come on. I really need to talk to you.”
She heard her name. But it wasn’t Joe who said it. This voice came from across the street.
When Claire turned she saw Carly Ortega, the woman who claimed to have seen Alana’s car at Joe’s house on more than one occasion, once late at night. Claire had spoken to her a couple of times over the years. She stood by her original testimony. “Did you just call me?” she asked.