“According to a few people I’ve talked to Sarah had quite a bit going on in her life before she disappeared. One of the teachers heard that she went to a bar that served underage minors. You know that one? One of Dad’s friends owned it back then. One of my friends described Sarah as having a secret life. Don’t those investigation shows try to recreate someone’s last day? That might be where to start things off.”

  His friends weren’t telling all that they knew. And that bar had been owned by a friend of their dad.

  Another link to Joel Winslow.

  16

  In the forty-five minutes that Zack had been in Lucy’s home, he’d knocked back a whiskey and was nursing a second. He looked sad and exhausted, his head resting on the back of the sofa while he stared blankly at the ceiling. If she was pressed for a guess, she imagined that his brain hurt from everything that had gone on since the moment he’d stepped back into his hometown.

  “I should be at home with Cooper tonight,” Zack finally said with a heavy sigh. “I should be with my brothers and sisters.”

  “You were with them,” Lucy pointed out. “And you tried to call Cooper and Tate. No one knows where Cooper and Frankie even are, and Tate is working behind the bar tonight.”

  “I should be looking for them then.”

  “They’re grown-ups,” she reminded him gently. “We already know that Cooper found out from the sheriff’s receptionist. I’m sure he talked to Frankie, and we know he talked to Tate, Sam, and Piper. Maybe he and Frankie decided to go for a drive or get out of town for the night.”

  “I’m the big brother. I’m supposed to take care of them.”

  Bless him, Zack truly believed that. It wasn’t a bad motto to have…when they were kids. But they were adults now, and he couldn’t be responsible for what a thirty-four-year-old man decided to do.

  “I think that they’re supposed to take care of themselves. In a day-to-day manner,” she replied. “But yes, being there for support is important when something like this happens. You’ve sent texts to both Cooper and Frankie that you’re here. If they want to see you, they know where you are.”

  “Cooper and Frankie are probably livid.”

  “Yes.”

  She couldn’t argue that statement. They didn’t like their father much on his good days. And now? They probably despised Joel Winslow.

  “They have every right to be, and so do you.”

  “I don’t feel guilty anymore,” Zack said. “I’ve always felt guilty in the past about his behavior but not anymore. This was one bridge too far.”

  “Are you going to confront your father?”

  Zack sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and cradled his whiskey glass in his palm.

  “I’ve thought about it, but it might be more productive to bash my skull repeatedly with a cast iron skillet. Dad isn’t going to suddenly become another person and be remorseful for his actions. I’d love to ask him if Mom knew, but he’d never tell me the truth. I think at this point in his life, he’s not even sure what that word means. If he ever did, that is.”

  “How is it possible that he’s our father?” Zack continued, shaking his head. “All six of us have nothing in common with him. Not a thing. Everyone says that I resemble him, but I think that I look more like Mom. Cooper looks like Mom. Maybe we’re all adopted. Or by sperm donors. That would explain why he was an absent parent when we were growing up.”

  “You have your father’s chin,” Lucy said softly. “Tate looks a lot like him, especially around the nose and eyes. Frankie does, too. Sam and Piper are more like your mom. I think he’s probably your dad though. I’m sorry about that.”

  She truly was sorry. For Zack, it would have been easier if he’d been someone else’s child. He was torturing himself about this, and she wanted to make him feel better.

  “But that’s as far as it goes,” she stated firmly. “A facial resemblance. But you are not your dad, and your brothers and sisters aren’t either. Being a jerk isn’t passed down through DNA. You’re not going to end up like him. None of you are. You’re separate human beings, and you all make different decisions than he does.”

  “That’s my greatest fear,” he confessed. “Ending up like him.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I am sure. I know you won’t. It’s not an inevitability. All the apples have fallen far from the tree here. You won’t end up like him, but you can see who he is, and you don’t like that picture.”

  Zack knocked back the rest of the whiskey and placed the glass on the coffee table.

  “I’m just going to say it out loud. What if my dad is the reason that Mom and Sarah disappeared? What if he had something to do with it? We’ve both been thinking about those questions all day, so let’s just say it and get it out in the open.”

  Lucy had been thinking it, but that wasn’t a subject she was anxious to hash out. It was dangerous and volatile, not to mention extremely emotional. Zack was wrung out from the day and needed a good night’s sleep. In the morning would be a better time to tackle all of this.

  As if they could sleep tonight. Her brain wasn’t going to settle easily.

  “Why don’t we go for a walk?” she suggested. “We both need to get some fresh air.”

  “Lucy, you are a genius.”

  They both put their shoes back on, and Lucy grabbed her keys from the foyer table as they went out. It was a cool evening, the breeze soft on their skin. They walked for a long while, simply holding hands and not speaking. The quiet was a balm to her soul, and she let it wash over her, reveling in the deep peace.

  There were few lights on as most of the town was asleep. Even the downtown area was quiet with only Tate’s open at this hour. Jane had shuttered the bookstore earlier and all the lights were off.

  That was Lucy’s favorite time, right after she closed and locked the doors. She’d curl up in her office in the backroom with a box of newly released books and peruse them, looking for her next read. There was a sense of continuity that she hadn’t examined all that closely, only knowing that it made her happy and content. New books arrived every week, and it always made the world seem fresh, as if anything could happen.

  Maybe that’s the optimist in me.

  They paused at the door of Tate’s. She could hear the music from inside, the evening still young in the establishment. They’d be open until two in the morning.

  “We can go in if you want,” she said, still holding his hand.

  He was quiet for a moment but shook his head.

  “No, I don’t want a bunch of people around when I talk to Tate.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “And I haven’t heard from Cooper and Frankie. I think you’re right. They need some time. I’ll speak to them tomorrow. We can plan what we’re going to do.”

  They walked a few doors down to her bookstore, and Zack stopped in front of the big window display of books.

  “You must be proud of what you’ve built here.”

  “I am,” she said, a smile blooming on her face. “You should have seen the store when I first bought it. Dusty, moldy, and rundown. I can’t even express how much elbow grease was involved in getting it ready to open. I can’t take all of the credit, though. My dad helped with some of the carpentry, but I had to learn quickly how to stain wood, paint walls, and caulk trim. The day we opened, I sat in the back room and cried for about ten minutes from sheer joy that it had happened. It’s a feeling that I’d never had before working in a big corporate environment. To them, I was just a cog in a wheel. Here I’m the whole wheel.”

  “And you love books.”

  “I do. I was just thinking about how I love going through the boxes of new books when they arrive. There’s nothing like that new book smell.”

  “What about a new car smell?” he joked.

  “Books are better. You can hold them in your hand. I have several boxes waiting for me tomorrow. I can’t wait to go through them.”

  “We’re here,” he replied. “We can go through them right now.”

  He wanted to look through boxes of books? Now?

  “Are you sure?”

  “Frankly, anything that can get my mind on something else is welcome as hell.”

  “I can’t argue with the logic,” she said, fishing in her pocket for the keys. “Let’s go inside. But I’m going to leave the lights off until we get into the storeroom.”

  Lucy didn’t want people to think that the store was being robbed, although she wasn’t sure what kind of robbers would turn on a light or two. Still, she didn’t want anyone to worry, including any deputies who might be driving by during their rounds.

  Using the light from her phone, they were able to easily navigate their way to the storeroom in the back of the store. She closed the door behind her and flipped on a few desk lamps. There weren’t any overhead lights back there, but that was on her list of improvements for the future.

  “It can be dusty,” she warned, keeping her voice low. There wasn’t a need to whisper, but for some reason it felt like the thing to do. She owned the store, for heaven’s sake; they weren’t sneaking in behind someone’s back and would get in trouble for it. “I try and keep it clean, but boxes seem to bring dust. I’m not sure how that works.”

  She was a bit uneasy for him to be in the storeroom to begin with. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t normally have people back here except for employees. She had a cold cup of coffee on her desk that she’d abandoned earlier in the day, along with papers and pens scattered around. To her, it looked lived-in and cozy, but Zack might have a far different opinion.

  “How do you keep track of all the inventory?” he finally asked. “I just assumed that most of it was on the sales floor.”

  “I wish my shelves were larger, but they are what they are. We keep everything in alphabetical order by author’s last name. The shelves are marked, and we organize the books as we unpack them.”

  It was kind of a silly conversation to be having, but he seemed genuinely interested, walking around the shelves stacked with books.

  “I’ll help you unpack the new books,” he said, coming over to her desk area where three boxes waited to be opened.

  “I’ve already cut them open. We can just look through them. You can take my chair. I’ll sit on the desk. I do that a lot.”

  It was awkward, the tension building almost immediately when they’d walked into the store. Lucy didn’t have a clue where it came from, let alone how to get rid of it. She’d wanted to help Zack relax and get his mind off of things, but she might have simply made it worse.

  Trying to diffuse the situation, she perched on the edge of the desk and picked up a book from the top of the box, turning it over to read the back of the dust cover.

  At first, she thought Zack wasn’t going to sit down but he did, also reaching into the box for a book. He’d chosen a new thriller from a popular author, and he paged through it before finally turning to the back.

  He was reading it. The end of the book. What in the ever-loving hell…?

  “Are you reading the end of the book?”

  He looked up, a confused expression on his face.

  “Yes, why?”

  “You can’t do that.”

  Chuckling, he scratched his chin, the corners of his lips quirked up in amusement.

  “I can’t? Why not?”

  “What do you mean why not? You can’t read the end of a book before you’ve read the book. It’s…it’s against the rules.”

  “There are rules? Who made them? Who enforces them?”

  Now he was just laughing at her.

  “I don’t know who made them, but everyone knows them. You don’t read the ending first. It spoils the story.”

  “Isn’t it okay if I spoil the story for myself? It’s a choice I’ve made. I’m not reading the endings of books and going out and telling everyone about it. I’m not ruining their chance to read the story from beginning to end.”

  “It’s still wrong.”

  “I don’t care about spoilers. For me it isn’t about the end of a story. It’s about the journey along the way. And just so you know, I don’t read books that have a crappy ending. I like optimistic endings. That’s why I read the ending ahead of time. If it has a sad ending, I’m not going to spend my scarce spare time reading it. Of course, these days I have a lot less on my to-do list.”

  With his background it made complete and total sense that he didn’t want to read a downer story. It was also kind of nice that he enjoyed a book because of the journey it would take him on, not necessarily a fun plot twist at the end.

  Let’s face it. I’m a sucker for a good plot twist.

  “Well…just don’t tell me the endings. And stop trying to hide your laughter. I’m on to you, buddy. This is not a laughing matter.”

  She’d tried to sound stern, but it came out far too goofy. She sounded like her second-grade teacher who tried to get all the kids to stop breaking their crayons during art time. Why broken crayons bothered her, Lucy didn’t know, but they seemed to drive that poor woman crazy. Despite her pleas and threats, pretty much every crayon had been broken in half by the end of the year.

  “It kind of is. I can see you take your books seriously.”

  “I do. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else about your terrible book habits.”

  “I appreciate your discretion.”

  They worked their way through the first book without saying much. Lucy had set aside a few titles to put on her to-be-read list, and Zack had set the thriller he’d read the ending of aside as well.

  She was engrossed in the back cover blurb for a new cozy mystery when Zack placed his hand on her knee.

  “Thank you, Lucy.”

  She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about.

  “You’re welcome. Has it helped?”

  “More than you know. Just being with you helps.”

  Her heart squeezed in her chest so tightly she almost couldn’t catch her breath. When she was with Zack, her feelings were all over the place but one thing she couldn’t deny was the strong connection they had. Not just physically, although that was powerful, but the emotional one, too. She was beginning to see his thoughts reflected in his expression even when he didn’t say a word. She could see if he was happy, sad, or angry by the set of his shoulders, and the way he shoved his hand in his pocket when he was frustrated.

  She could spend all day with him and then into the evening, and it still wasn’t enough. She found him fascinating, wanting to listen to his voice and watch the play of emotions across his far too handsome features.

  She wanted to know him deeply, and she wanted him to know her in the same way. For some strange reason, she wasn’t afraid to open up with this man. This was something she’d never experienced before in a relationship, but there was something about him that seemed solid. Even if she knew that he’d eventually leave town and go back to his regular life. That this was just a pitstop along the way.

  But she wouldn’t be sorry for opening herself up to him. She’d been hiding out, playing it safe for too long. It was good to feel things again, even if it wasn’t all rainbows and kittens. Life wasn’t always going to turn out the way she wanted it to, but that didn’t mean it was a good idea to bury herself in the bookstore day after day, trying to feel some semblance of security.

  Being safe isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

  His fingers were stroking her palm, sending streaks of heat straight to her core. Such a simple gesture but her body had responded immediately. The chemistry between them was steamy and instant.

  She wasn’t sure who made the first move, but they were kissing. He’d stood from the chair, his hands cupping her cheeks while his mouth ravished hers. She pressed her body to his, the heat from his skin searing through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Gripping his wide shoulders, she held on for dear life as the world spun out of control. His lips had found a sensitive spot at the base of her neck, nipping and licking at the tender flesh.

  His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, stroking the exposed skin before leaning down to press soft kisses on her ribcage. She was reclined back on the desk, her weight on her elbows as he placed a trail of open-mouthed kisses on her abdomen that sent arrows of pleasure straight to her core.

  Her lids were heavy and she closed her eyes, sighing as his tongue snaked out and swiped at her bellybutton before nibbling at a hipbone where he’d pulled down the elastic waist of her shorts.

  The temperature in the room suddenly seemed far too hot, sweat trickling down her spine. Her greedy fingers glided under his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it away, baring his golden skin with just a smattering of dark hair on his chest. Before long, they’d shed all of the clothes in their way, leaving them free to explore, touch, and taste to their heart’s content.

  Their need was simply too urgent, however, to allow them to take their time. She whispered words of encouragement into his ear, and he didn’t hesitate to give her exactly what she desperately needed. He pressed inside of her and she was hot and ready for him, winding her legs around his lean hips to pull him in even deeper.

  This wasn’t their first time. They knew the rhythm that would bring the most mutual ecstasy. This was no pretty and sweet coupling. They were pawing at one another like animals, their bodies slicked with sweat and the damp flesh slapping together with every stroke.

  She clawed at his back to urge him on, harder and faster until they both burst into white-hot flames. If the entire store had burned to the ground, she wouldn’t have been surprised nor noticed until much later.

  When it was over she clung to him, their bodies limp and exhausted. He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple and tucked back a clinging tendril of hair behind her ear, still holding her in his strong arms. Despite their wild sex only moments ago, his touch was tender and soft, and it was almost her undoing. She had to blink back tears to keep them from sliding down her cheeks. She didn’t want him to think she was the sort of person who cried after sex. She wasn’t.