Expired Secrets

  LAST CHANCE COUNTY BOOK TWO

  Lisa Phillips

  Copyright 2020 Lisa Phillips

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Publisher Lisa Phillips

  Cover design Ryan Schwarz

  Edited by www.jenwieber.com

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  One

  Tate Hudson, private investigator, sat at the corner booth. Hotel bar. Thursday night. Most of the guests were at other hot spots, like the club two blocks over, so it was pretty quiet. Too few people, and he’d be spotted easily. Too many, and he’d never get what he came for.

  He left the drink he’d ordered untouched. His phone kept his attention far more than the beverage, like so many other patrons. But what occupied him was not social media. He angled the cell against the edge of the table so its camera showed the man at the bar.

  Blue suit. Brown hair, no discernible style. Middle aged. A few too many donuts around his middle, though not enough to indicate anything more than a bad habit. At least, Tate told himself, it was nothing a good New Year’s resolution couldn’t fix.

  The subject glanced around. Getting the lay of the land. He turned to a woman as she slid onto the stool beside him. Red dress, blonde hair. A convention attendee, according to the badge hung around her neck. She flashed a white smile—dental health conference.

  They were forty miles outside Last Chance County, where no one knew the subject at hand. Not well enough to know he worked in management at the phone company. Or that he had a wife who’d hired Tate to find out whether her husband’s night meetings were, in fact, him cheating on her.

  The subject bought the red dress woman a drink. She laughed, though she was completely sober. The subject was into his fourth drink. If he got his keys and decided to head home, Tate might be tempted to intervene.

  Most people would call the cops and report a drunk driver, or the bartender would take his keys and request that he call for a ride. The police department in Last Chance County had set up a text line, so folks could anonymously report the things they saw. Tate never used it. Probably never would, since he preferred a more hands-on approach.

  Red dress was giving his subject the brush off. Too bad she couldn’t see the potential there, because Tate would’ve been able to snap a couple of images, and then send his report to the wife.

  Along with an invoice.

  Tate got a couple of pictures, though it was plain to see, even from the cell images he took, that as hard as the subject tried, she just wasn’t taking the bait.

  Better luck with the next one, buddy.

  Tate sighed. He sipped at his drink and watched the subject glance around, looking for someone else to try his lines on.

  His phone screen flashed. It started to vibrate across the tabletop and a name illuminated on the screen. Claire.

  Double sigh. He almost didn’t answer it. “Hudson.”

  “I didn’t think you’d pick up.” Her breath crackled against the phone’s microphone. But it wasn’t Claire, it was her sixteen-year-old.

  His body tensed in reaction to the tone of her voice. All thought of his subject was dismissed from his mind as he stood. “What’s going on?” Tate pulled out his wallet, tucked a folded twenty under the glass, and headed for the lobby. He pushed outside. “Lex, talk to me.”

  She spoke again as he strode out to the parking lot. “It’s mom. She won’t wake up.” Her voice tremored. “He hit her pretty hard this time.”

  Bile rose in his throat. “Call an ambulance.”

  “No. She said—”

  “I don’t care what she said.” Tate hauled the driver’s door open so hard he nearly pulled the thing off the hinges. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll call Dean. Maybe he’s close.”

  “He’s on his way.”

  “Your first call?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because your mom has the medic on speed dial?”

  “Don’t be like that.” She sounded like an adult and a child, all at once.

  He wanted to ream her for making excuses for her mom, as he would any of his peers who’d made a tough choice. But he didn’t. She might look and sound like an adult, but Elexa was still a kid. A smart kid, independent and capable. Good grades. Held down a steady job at the ice cream shop. She might’ve been his kid in another life.

  Tate hit the gas and tore out of the parking lot. “Where’s your stepdad now?” His phone’s Bluetooth connected to the car stereo, and he tossed the cell in the cup holder.

  Her voice came through the car speakers. “He was gone before I got home.”

  “So you don’t know for sure it was him who did this.”

  “Pretty good assumption. He was coming home for dinner.” Elexa let out a long breath. “She was excited. They were gonna talk.”

  Elexa’s stepfather, her mother’s third husband, only talked one way. And it wasn’t with words.

  “A car just pulled up outside,” she said. “That you?”

  “Probably Dean but confirm that for me. I was working at the Sunrise.”

  She whimpered. “It’ll take you an hour to get here!”

  “No, it won’t.” He heard the doorbell ring. “Go answer it. Don’t hang up.”

  “Okay.”

  He heard her talking, and then Dean came on the phone. “Tate?”

  “What’s the situation?”

  “One sec.” Dean spoke again, but Tate couldn’t make out what the former SEAL said. Elexa answered a series of questions, then he came back on. “We’re going to the hospital.”

  “Serious head injury?”

  Instead of answering the question Dean said, “That’s a good idea. I’m sure Lex will appreciate you meeting us there.”

  Tate pressed his lips together. He needed an answer, but if Dean didn’t want to say while Elexa was listening…well. That was an answer in itself, was it not?

  “Put her back on the phone.”

  A second later she said, “Tate?”

  “I’m here.” He said, “Text me when you get to the hospital. I’ll meet you there. But you need to drive separate, and pack an overnight bag. Both for you and your mom. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes.” She sounded relieved. “I’ve been halfway packed for weeks.”

  “Since volleyball camp.” The teen had been gone four days over Spring Break.

  “That isn’t why.” She paused. “I’ve gotta go. Dean is taking mom.”

  “See you soon.”

  He hung up and held tight to the wheel. So tight he wouldn’t be surprised if it was warped when he let go. Tate had been Claire’s first husband. After they divorced, she’d gone and gotten pregnant a few weeks later. Elexa’s father hadn’t married her, but up and left when he found out about the baby. All those years ago.

  Claire and Tate had had a two year marriage and had agreed to disband it before things got too out of control. He’d been volatile back then. Fresh out of his short career with the FBI. At first, it had been a draw for her, his wild ways. Then she’d tried to “settle him down.” That had been the beginning of the end.

  Tate reached the gas station at the edge of town. He pulled over and loaded the app that would find Elexa’s phone—something she’d willingly given him access to. She’d actually asked him to set it up. Just in case.

  Maybe for some people, their relationship—whatever you might call them—might be weird. A forty-five year old man couldn’t be friends with a sixteen-year-old girl. But he cared about her mom, and she knew she could always count on him if either of them needed help.

  The little dot said she was on her way to the hospital.

  He sent her a text to meet him in the lobby. When he walked in twenty minutes later, she said, “I kind of thought you’d have brought cops with you.”

  “Your mom decide to start filing police reports now?”

  Claire never had before. She always said she could “handle” it, despite the fact he could see the pain she was in. Physical and emotional. Elexa didn’t answer. “She should. If she wakes up.”

  “Come on. She’s gonna wake up.”

  “You didn’t see her.”

  “Dean knows what he’s doing, and so do the doctors.” He had to hold himself in check. “Besides, if Rob disappears later, I don’t want my name involved in a police report. You know the first place they look at is the spouse, right? Second
place is the ex who’s still in her life.”

  Elexa rolled her eyes, but he didn’t miss the edge of fear.

  “She’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said. “But thanks.”

  “Let’s go find out.”

  She had to speak with the hospital staff, and fill out all the forms for her mom. While she did that, he made a call.

  Tate wrapped up his call when she started towards him. “Thanks.” He stowed his phone back in his jeans pocket. “All good?”

  Given her look, he figured that was a “no.”

  She said, “They did an x-ray. She’s still unconscious. The doctor said there’s a fracture in her skull. She might not wake up for a couple of days, maybe longer.” Tears gathered in her eyes.

  Tate lifted a hand and squeezed the back of her neck, his forearm resting on her shoulder. She grasped it. Holding on for dear life while she got a handle on her emotions.

  “I told her that she should leave as well.”

  He nodded. She’d been planning her exit for months, wanting her mom to go with her. Tate had encouraged them both to start a new life. He didn’t know if Claire was just scared, or if she was so under Rob’s thumb that she felt like she couldn’t leave. Whatever it was, he was prepared to help Elexa get her mom to work through those feelings. Otherwise, neither of them would ever get free.

  “I know you did.” He let go of her neck. “Maybe this will convince her.”

  Elexa shrugged. “They said nothing’s gonna change tonight. Maybe not for a couple of days. They said there’s a spot where I can sleep, though. Cause I don’t really wanna go home.”

  “You packed bags for you and your mom like I told you to, right?”

  “I thought that was just for the hospital.”

  “You wanna sleep on an uncomfortable hospital chair, night after night, with the lights on and people everywhere?” The alternative was that she go back to the house, where she would be alone with her stepdad—after putting her mom in the hospital.

  Fear washed over her face. “Can I stay with you?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Whatever. Everyone already thinks you’re my dad.”

  He nearly choked. “What?”

  Elexa made a face. “Literally everyone I know thinks you’re my dad.”

  “And, of course, you told them that I’m not?”

  “No way. Let them think whatever.” She brushed at her hair, and he realized how exhausted she looked. “It makes me more mysterious. The town’s super-hot, rogue private investigator might be my dad…or he might not be.” She lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Nobody knows.”

  “Tune in at ten for more fictional adventures.”

  She almost laughed.

  “I’m not even touching that super-hot thing.”

  “You’re old, but it can’t be denied. All my friends think so, but I told them to quit talking about you like that because that’s just gross. But even mom said it. Though, I think she still hates you for the umbrella thing.”

  Yet another thing he wasn’t going to touch. “Let’s go. Tomorrow you can get an update before school.” Before she could move, he said, “I do need to know if he’s ever touched you. Or hurt you in any way.”

  “Because you’ll kill him?”

  He would certainly want to.

  “He’s never even touched me. I already want you to kill him. That would just give me even more reason.” She studied him. “I have money saved up.”

  He gently shoved at her shoulder. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “A safe place for you to stay.”

  Tate drove, and she followed him in her car across town. Set up as a shelter, Hope Mansion now took any single woman—children, too—on an application basis. They also had empty rooms for occasions like this. The owner, Maggie, was going to meet them at the door.

  Anytime Tate called, day or night, Maggie picked up.

  He got Elexa’s bag off the backseat. “Maggie said she was going to make tea for you.”

  As they approached the side door, it flew open. A woman ran out. Tate caught the flash of a police shield on her belt right before she slammed into him.

  “Easy.” He grasped her biceps to keep her from knocking him over, and the bag banged against the side of his leg.

  She looked up at him. Those blue eyes, blonde hair. Flustered. Breathy, as though they’d just kissed.

  “Savannah.” He sounded like they’d just kissed.

  “Seriously, Dad? You’re gonna flirt with a woman right now?”

  Any other time it might have been funny.

  With literally any other woman.

  Two

  Savannah pulled up outside the victim’s office thirty minutes later. She shut off the police lights and siren before also turning off the engine. The black and white car she parked behind was dark, but the gentrified office building was lit up and the officer was at the front door.

  Don’t think about Tate.

  She climbed out and shoved the door closed. It slammed. Savannah pulled on her jacket like there was nothing wrong. Nothing but frigid spring night air, and the fact she hadn’t seen the beach in far too long—or even a warm day, for that matter.

  Her brand new partner, Mia Tathers—formerly ATF—winced. “What’s so wrong that you gotta take it out on your car?”

  Savannah said, “Sorry. What’ve we got?”

  Mia didn’t didn’t begin to explain the situation at hand—a dead man. “He’s not getting any deader.” Mia folded her arms over her wool coat, and Savannah noted she’d curled her hair. “So explain.”

  Savannah looked down at her partner’s red skinny pants, and her eyes continued down to the white-soled sneakers on her feet. “Were you on a date?”

  “I changed my shoes. And you’re avoiding the subject,” Mia said. “But while we’re talking about it, Conroy wasn’t super happy he didn’t get to the ‘walking me to my front door’ portion because of the murder I had to come investigate.”

  “So I hope you reminded him it was his idea you become his new lieutenant, and my partner. Which means, as the chief of police, he can’t really complain, right?”

  The whole situation was hilarious. Mostly because her boss had been uptight for so long. She was enjoying his game being thrown by his newfound emotions. The former chief had passed away a few weeks ago after an uncharacteristically long, drawn-out battle with pancreatic cancer. The interplay between Lieutenant Mia Tathers and new Chief Conroy Barnes was like watching a soap opera happen at work.

  There was a police department poll circulating the office to correctly guess what month they would get married, even though Conroy hadn’t asked her yet.

  Savannah had her money on July.

  Mia said, “He’s uh…working on dealing with the fact me being his lieutenant means I actually have to be a cop sometimes.”

  Savannah grinned. “I’m sure.”

  Mia was taller than her, lanky like a volleyball player. Savannah felt like the sidekick—five-four and curvy. Older, by nearly ten years. On top of it all, her new partner was also a former ATF agent. Talk about an inferiority complex. A fed? Savannah loved her job, and she loved Mia. But if you took away either of those, she’d be back with the town shrink and something new to talk through.

  Mia had also grown up here in Last Chance County, so people all over town knew her. They knew her story; how Conroy had dated her older sister—before she’d been killed in an automobile accident. Mia had forgiven Conroy for what she’d believed was his responsibility in the tragedy, while he’d worked to keep her safe from a crazy guy with a career terrorizing people.

  Savannah, on the other hand, had been here two years, which meant she was about twenty-eight years from officially qualifying as someone “from here.” She was a newbie in town, and she would always be the detective not born and raised here. An outsider.

  Savannah said, “How’s your hearing?”

  “Some ringing on occasion, but generally good.”

  A dangerous man had fired a weapon next to Mia’s ear only a few weeks ago. She was recovering better than the doctors expected from having a perforated ear drum. Still, she would never be back to full capacity. Mia had to wear ear protection to safely fire her weapon, which meant that in the event she had to draw—and fire—her gun on the job, she would be stuck with permanently hearing loss. One that would confine her to a desk indefinitely.