Repressed (Deadly Secrets) (17 page)

His finger grazed her cheek. “I’d do anything for you, Sam. You know that.”

She did. She just wished that could be enough.

“Come on,” he said softly, dropping his hand. “I’ll give you a ride to the hotel.”

Seated on the couch in his living room, Ethan closed Thomas’s file, tugged off his glasses, and rubbed at his tired eyes.

He’d wanted to reread Thomas’s file after his meeting with the charming Mrs. Adler. Not for the first time, Ethan wondered how the kid had managed to make it to seventeen without landing in more trouble than he’d already found. Most kids, in his situation, would have been running with gangs and meth heads by the time they were twelve. Ethan still wasn’t convinced Thomas was as innocent as Samantha believed, but a small part of him wanted to give the kid the benefit of the doubt.

The phone on the couch beside him buzzed, and he glanced down at the screen. Relief bubbled through him when he saw Samantha’s number.

“Hey,” he said, lifting the phone to his ear. He hadn’t talked to her since last night. He’d called her earlier, but she hadn’t answered, and he hadn’t left a message because he didn’t want to push. If she was having second thoughts about their weekend, he didn’t want to give her any reason to run. Though it killed him—and he was dying to see her again—he knew she needed some space to put everything together in her head. “I was going to call you a little later. How was your day?”

“Hi, Ethan. It was fine. Long.”

Her voice sounded odd. Tight. Strained. Concern tugged at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, you just sound . . . tired.”

“I am. I’ve been grading papers most of the night, and Grimly wasn’t feeling well so I had to take him to the vet.”

Oh man. He knew how much she loved that dog. He dropped his feet from the footstool and leaned forward to rest his elbow on his knee. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Sleeping now. He . . . he got into something he shouldn’t have.”

She was holding back. He heard it in her voice, felt it through the line. “Do you want me to come by?”

“No. I’m fine. It’s after nine already, and I’m about to go to bed.”

Three fines. A big red flag something was definitely
not
fine.

“I want to be there for you, Samantha. I could—”

“I called to let you know that we’re doing testing tomorrow. Most of the school is, so if you’re planning to observe Thomas or meet with him or any of his teachers, you might want to wait a few days.”

His stomach clenched. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated. Silence filled the line, then she added, “There’s something else. Something you should know before you come by the school.”

“What?”

“Margaret Wilcox is dead.”

Holy shit
. Ethan pushed to his feet. No wonder she sounded so off. As much as Samantha disliked the woman, they taught at the same school and had grown up in the same small town. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I don’t know exactly. Will thinks she was murdered, though. They don’t have any leads yet.”

Ethan raked a hand through his hair, still unable to believe the news. “Are you sure you’re okay alone? I could—”

“I’m fine, Ethan. Really. Look, I wanted to tell you that I had a great time over the weekend. I really did. And I enjoy spending time with you, but I just don’t think I’m in a place right now where it makes sense to start a relationship. I have too much going on, and . . . and I’m going back to California soon anyway. I don’t think this is the right time for us.”

Ethan’s chest drew tight as a drum. She was making excuses. What they’d shared over the weekend had scared her. And the news about Margaret clearly hadn’t helped. “I’m not asking for any kind of commitment from you, Samantha.”

“I know. I just . . . this is too much right now. Too much, too fast. I can’t deal with it. I’d rather we end things here before one of us gets hurt.”

Too late for that. She was breaking up with him. Or calling it quits. Or . . . hell, he didn’t even know what. One incredible weekend didn’t make a relationship, he knew that. But he’d hoped it had been the start of something amazing. Now he knew he’d been fooling himself.

“You’ve had a really long day, Samantha. This isn’t the time to—”

“This isn’t about Margaret, Ethan. I’ve been thinking about this since before we spent the weekend together.”

Ouch.

His hands grew sweaty, and he heard himself mutter, “Okay,” before he could think of something else to say. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.”

A hard, sharp ache took up space beneath his breastbone. It was crazy to feel this way so fast, but he couldn’t help it. And he knew if he stayed on the line much longer, he was going to make things worse, so it was time he signed off. “I’ll try not to bug you at school. Thanks for telling me about Margaret.”

“Ethan—”

“Good luck, Samantha.”

Ethan clicked “End” on his phone and stared across the room toward the burning fireplace. His chest hurt, more than he’d thought possible. If this was the kind of pain his brother Alec lived with on a daily basis, it was no wonder the man could be such an ass.

Shit. There was no way he was sleeping tonight. Turning away from the fire, he headed for the kitchen and the whiskey bottle with his name on it. Ethan wasn’t much of a drinker, but tonight he planned to get shit-faced drunk. And maybe, in some small way, forget about Samantha Parker for good.

Sam felt like pure crap as the bell rang, indicating the end of third period. Her conversation with Ethan last night kept replaying in her head. She should have told him the specifics, where Margaret had been found and how, but she hadn’t been able to get the words out. If she’d said them, he’d have come right over, and she couldn’t let him do that. She was doing the right thing for both of them by calling it quits. Eventually he’d see that. She just hoped the pain near her heart would hurry up and agree.

The low din of conversation echoed through the classroom as students grabbed their books and shuffled toward the door. Sam waited until the last student left, until she heard the door click shut, then dropped her head onto her desk.

She should have taken David’s advice and called in sick. She shouldn’t be here today. Not after what she’d found yesterday. Not after the nightmare she’d had last night. Not after the one hour or so of sleep she’d finally gotten after crying over Grimly and Ethan and the mess that had become her life.

What she needed to do was march herself down to the office and tell David she was in no shape to teach today. The kids were all looking at her like she had a tumor growing out of the side of her head. Word had spread fast. Everyone on campus knew what had happened at her house.

But she couldn’t do that. The investigators had left her house late last night, and if she went there she’d just obsess until she made herself sick. So instead she was going to buck up and act like a mature adult.

Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen.

Coffee.

She lifted her head. Yes. Coffee would help.

Before she could change her mind, she pushed out of her chair and made her way through the corridor. Unable to stop herself, she paused when she reached Margaret’s open classroom door and glanced into the room. Henry Branson, Will’s father, stood near the chalkboard, waving his hands as he discussed something with the class, his silver hair glinting under the fluorescent lights.

Henry glanced in her direction and shot her a sad smile. He was a nice man, and he’d been a pretty good teacher before he’d retired ten years ago. A much better teacher than mayor. The fact that he and Will didn’t get along wasn’t her concern. She tried her best to smile back and looked over the class. The few students who had bothered to show up seemed as shell-shocked as he did.

Her mind skipped to Jeff. She needed to go see him. She could only imagine what he was going through today. Her stomach pitched again at the thought. She really shouldn’t be at school. This was a stupid idea.

She headed back down the hall, desperate for a caffeine rush. As she rounded the corner, she noticed the two police officers standing near the office door, legs shoulder width apart, hands on belts, eyes focused straight ahead.

Another officer stood just inside the office doors, reciting Miranda rights. Sam stepped to the side so she could see through the glass windows of the office. Her gaze skipped over Thomas, being handcuffed by another officer at his back.

“No . . . ” Sam rushed past the small crowd of students who’d gathered outside the lobby. David stood near the office door, one arm across his waist, one hand covering his mouth as he spoke quietly with a police officer. Annette held a phone to her ear. Thomas’s eyes were wide and scared.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked when she reached David’s side.

“Miss.” The officer David had been speaking with stepped in her way. “You need to stay back.”

Inside the office, a cop grasped Thomas’s arm and turned him toward the door.

“Wait.” Sam stepped toward them, but David pulled her back.

“Let them do their job, Sam,” he said in her ear.

“I didn’t do anything!” Thomas exclaimed. His eyes cut to Sam. “Ms. Parker. I didn’t do anything! Tell them!”

Sam’s pulse ticked up as she looked to David. “Tell me that isn’t what I think.”

“It’s not our concern. The investigators found evidence. Let them do their job.”

“What kind of evidence
?
”

Sam took a step after Thomas and the police, but David hauled her back again. “Sam. There’s nothing you can do for him. He was trouble before he even came here. The fact he’d go after Margaret just proves he was more trouble than any of us could have imagined.”

No. They couldn’t possibly think . . .

Thomas couldn’t have been the one to hurt Margaret. He wasn’t violent. He helped other students when they were lost in her labs. He was careful with her equipment and respectful when he spoke. He’d come to her rescue when Kenny had cornered her. A violent person didn’t do those things.

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s wrong. They’re wrong, David. They’re wrong.”

“If they’re wrong, they’ll figure it out. Let it go, Sam. There’s nothing you can do.”

There was something she could do. She pulled her arm from David’s grip and rushed back down the hall.

“Sam, dammit,” David muttered. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” she called over her shoulder. “You were right. I shouldn’t be here today.”

She went right to her desk, unlocked the bottom drawer, and tugged her cell phone from her purse. Ethan picked up on the first ring, but before she got more than one word out, she realized it was his voice mail, not him.

She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and found her keys while she waited until she heard the beep.

“Ethan, it’s Sam. Thomas is in trouble. The cops just hauled him out of school. He needs you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ethan slammed the door of his BMW and jogged up the front steps of the Hidden Falls Police Department. Even though it was close to freezing outside, sweat slicked his skin, and a low vibration echoed through his bones.

Pushing the heavy glass door open, he stepped inside and scanned the lobby. A high counter opened to his right. Plastic chairs were pushed up against the wall to his left. A set of double wood doors locked off the squad room from the lobby, and a fan turned slow circles above.

“Can I help you?” A dark-haired woman in a blue officer’s uniform rested both hands on the high counter and raised one brow.

“Yeah.” Ethan fished his ID out of the pocket of his slacks as he stepped toward the counter. “I’m Dr. McClane. I’m here to see Thomas Adler. He was brought in earlier.”

The woman glanced down at the computer screen on her desk. “He’s being questioned. Have a seat, and I’ll find out what’s happening.”

Raking a hand through his hair as the officer left, Ethan turned to look over the empty room. He didn’t want to sit. Wasn’t sure he could. All he could do was hope whatever trouble the kid had gotten into had nothing to do with Margaret Wilcox.

Long minutes passed where the only sound was the clicking of keys, muffled voices, and a few ringing phones. Samantha’s message had been brief, and when he’d tried to call her back he’d gotten nothing but voice mail. All he knew for sure was that Thomas had been arrested at school and was currently being questioned.

Will Branson’s deep voice echoed from behind the double doors across the lobby, sending the hairs on Ethan’s neck straight to attention. He turned in that direction just as the right side opened, and Branson stepped into the lobby with a younger officer at his side. The two were deep in conversation as they walked, but the second the chief spotted Ethan, his footsteps slowed. To the other officer, he said, “Joe, we’ll talk more later.”

“Sure thing, Chief.” The officer nodded and brushed by Ethan. A whoosh of cold air bristled Ethan’s skin as he exited.

“Dr. McClane.” Branson stopped a few feet away. “I expected to see you at some point.”

“What’s happening with Adler?”

“He was arrested. He’s meeting with the public defender.”

“What are the charges?”

“I really can’t divulge—”

“Bullshit.”

Will’s brow lifted, and he scratched the back of his head. “You can’t do anything for him now. Kid got himself in big trouble this time.”

Fuck.
It was about Margaret. Disbelief and dread swirled through Ethan’s gut.

The door behind him pushed open again before he could ask more, bringing another wave of cold into the room. Ethan glanced over his shoulder, and his heart rate kicked up when Samantha moved into the lobby.

Her skin was pale, her eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. Dark circles that screamed she hadn’t slept in days marred the soft skin beneath her lashes, while curly tendrils hung around her face, dislodged from the loose knot at the back of her head.

He wanted to think she was distraught over what had happened between them, but something in his gut screamed her disheveled appearance had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the current situation.

She held Ethan’s gaze for only a moment, then focused on Branson as if Ethan weren’t even in the room. “Will, you made a mistake.”

“Aw shit, Sam.” Branson stepped toward her, grasped her arm, and turned her back toward the door. “You need to go home.”

Ethan’s stomach tightened into a hard knot. He didn’t like Branson’s hands on Samantha in any way. And that dislike had nothing to do with his feelings for her and everything to do with what he knew Branson was capable of. He took a step toward them.

Samantha pulled her arm from Branson’s grip. “I’m not going home. Thomas didn’t do this. He wouldn’t hurt Margaret.”

“We have enough evidence to prove otherwise. His prints were all over—”

“He was at my house,” Sam said quickly. “Thomas stopped by my house over the weekend to talk about his research project.”

Ethan stopped, and his gaze snapped right to Samantha’s face.
Over the weekend . . .
She was lying. She’d been at his house over the weekend. They’d spent pretty much every moment together. And Thomas Adler definitely hadn’t been anywhere close.

“Son of a bitch.” Branson stared at her with hard, narrowed eyes. “I seriously hope you’re joking right now. With all the rumors circulating about Hollings, you let a seventeen-year-old boy into your house? While you were alone?”

Samantha’s back straightened. “What are you implying, Will?”

“I don’t have to imply anything. Hell, half the town will be making up their own torrid version after they hear this.”

Why the hell was she lying?

“Do you think I care what kind of gossip people spread?” Sam’s eyes widened. “I don’t. There’s nothing wrong with me answering a few questions about a student’s project. If you’re only holding him on prints you found at my house, then you have to let him go.”

Prints at her house . . .

Ethan glanced between the two, feeling as if he were playing catch-up on the conversation. “What does Samantha’s house have to do with Margaret Wilcox’s death?”

Samantha’s mouth closed, and she looked down at her feet.

“Everything.” Will clenched his jaw and glanced Ethan’s way. “Since Sam found the body in her dining room.”

In her dining room . . .

Ethan looked right at her, but she refused to glance his way. “When?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Branson answered.

Holy shit. She hadn’t said a thing about finding a body when she’d called last night. Or that it had been in her house. She’d acted as if she weren’t involved at all.

Samantha shifted her feet and zeroed in on Branson once more. “Will, he didn’t do this.”

“Dammit, Sam.” Branson rested his hands on his hips in an obvious sign of frustration. Several tense moments passed before he said, “The kid isn’t going anywhere if his story doesn’t match yours.”

Branson moved back toward the double doors that led into the station, and as he walked away, Samantha finally glanced toward Ethan.

Guilt reflected in her eyes. Guilt and something else Ethan didn’t have time to deal with.

He stepped after Branson. “I want to speak with the public defender.”

Branson typed a code into a keypad by the double doors. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, McClane.”

“Thomas has issues with law enforcement. You already know that. Your chances of getting anything out of him are better if I’m there.”

Branson’s hand stilled over the keypad, and he muttered, “Shit.”

“McClane.” The double doors hissed open. “Come with me. You,” he glanced once more at Samantha, “go home and don’t let any more teenagers into your damn house.”

“Get in.” Ethan climbed into his BMW and started the ignition in the fading light while he waited for Thomas to join him. Lights from the dash illuminated the interior of the vehicle and the clock flashing 5:07 p.m.

Warily, Thomas climbed in and latched his seat belt. As soon as it clicked, Ethan pulled out of the parking lot and pressed down on the gas. Thomas reached up to grip the safety handle above the door.

“Tell me,” Ethan said, trying to keep his temper in check, “exactly why Chief Branson thinks you’d have anything to do with Margaret Wilcox’s death.”

“The chief doesn’t like me.”

Ethan glared at the kid as he turned down a side street without slowing. The force sent Thomas up against the door.

“Try again,” Ethan muttered. He didn’t care if he was being a hard-ass. When he’d been at the station, he’d gotten a pretty clear picture of what Samantha had found in her dining room, and right now he just wanted answers.

“Ms. Wilcox didn’t like me much either.”

Ethan gripped the wheel with both hands. This was a dead end. The kid was as closed-mouthed as Samantha Parker. “Did you go by Ms. Parker’s house over the weekend?”

“Yeah.”

Ethan darted a look toward Thomas. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I did. I swear. I needed help with my project. I just wanted to ask her a few questions.”

“Did you go inside?”

Thomas sank down in the leather seat.

Ethan’s jaw clenched again, and he looked ahead, making another turn. “I know for a fact you didn’t see Ms. Parker last weekend. Wanna know how I know? Because she was with me all weekend. And I sure as hell would have remembered if you were there.”

Thomas leaned toward the window.

Ethan whipped to a stop at the end of Thomas’s street but parked far enough from his trailer so the crotchety old Mrs. Adler didn’t see them. “Tell me why Ms. Parker would lie for you.”

“I don’t know,” Thomas muttered.

“You’d better fucking know. She just put her career and her reputation on the line for you, so you’d better come up with something other than ‘I don’t know.’”

“She knows I didn’t do anything wrong,” Thomas said quickly. “She knows I wouldn’t do that.”

Ethan looked ahead at the barren trees lining the street. There was just enough panic in the kid’s voice to make him wonder who was telling the truth.

“Then who did?” Ethan finally asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Shit.” He glanced back at Thomas. “If I find out you lied to me—”

“I’m not lying. I swear.”

Ethan forcibly gentled his voice. “Go home, Thomas. Stay out of trouble for one night. But you better believe we’re going to talk about this tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” Thomas jumped out of the car and slammed the door. By the time Ethan glanced sideways, Thomas had already disappeared into his house.

Alone, Ethan closed his eyes and filled his lungs with one deep breath. He should leave well enough alone. She’d made it clear she was done with him. If he hadn’t known it before, he knew it for sure after the way she wouldn’t even look at him at the station. But he couldn’t. Because she was risking everything for a kid who probably didn’t deserve it.

Before he could change his mind, he pulled away from the curb and headed across town.

Sam dropped the book in her hands and rushed down the stairs as soon as she heard the knock at her front door. She’d been packing books and anything else she could find in a crazy attempt to keep from thinking too much, but she was going nuts at home waiting for news about Thomas.

She reached the entry, purposely didn’t look toward the closed double doors that led into the dining room, and jerked the front door open. “Will, I—”

Ethan glared down at her in her porch light. “Wrong person.”

Sam’s heart rate shot up. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tight, and the look in his usually soft green eyes was anything but friendly. “Ethan. I—I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He moved into her entry, perched his hands on his hips, and turned back to her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sam’s pulse roared as she closed the door with a click and looked back at him. He was pissed. He had every right to be pissed. “Packing, actually.”

“Don’t be cute with me. I want to know what you think you were doing at the station earlier.”

“Helping.”

“You call that helping? I call that lying.”

“I wasn’t lying, Ethan. He did come by my house over the weekend. He needed help. He told me on Monday when he caught me after school.”

“Did he come inside?”

Sam bit her lip and brushed the hair back from her face.

“Did he come inside?” he asked again, pinning her with a hard look.

Sam sighed. Lying to Will was one thing. Lying to Ethan was nearly impossible. “I don’t know.”

“Dammit, Samantha.” Ethan’s jaw clenched down hard. “You’re putting yourself on the line for this kid. I got an earful at the station about what people are saying about Sandra Hollings. She was sleeping with her students. That’s why she took off. And here you are lying that you let a seventeen-year-old into your house alone? It just takes one person to say—”

“To say what?” she snapped. “Do you honestly think I care what people around here say? Do you think I care about my job? I don’t. The only reason I’ve stayed in Hidden Falls as long as I have is because . . . ”