CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 15

Brooke's heart leaped to her throat.

She stared at the damning message.

Call me or else.

"Or else what?" she whispered and was about to text the question but held off.

Don't engage.

That's what he wants.

He's trying to provoke you into dealing with him.

Ignoring him is the best defense.

Quaking inside, she replaced the phone in her purse and let out a slow, steady breath. She would not let him terrorize her.

Heading downstairs, she swore that Gideon would not ruin her life. She couldn't, wouldn't let him.

The scent of warm bread mixed with the tang of tomato sauce.

Dinner was already on the table, Leah sipping wine, Neal wearing an apron and slicing the lasagna, Marilee putting out the salad before slipping into her chair. Her bad attitude seemed at bay, though she was "too nervous" to eat and only managed a few bites before she flew back up the stairs to get ready for the dance.

Her sour mood returned once she found out that both her parents were dropping her off at the dance. Half a block before they arrived at the school, she insisted to be let out of Neal's Range Rover.

"This is sooo lame," Marilee complained from the back seat as Neal pulled to the side of the road.

"I think you'll survive," Neal said, shoving his SUV into Park in a spot not far from the school's gym, where exterior lights shone garishly, reflecting in the fog that moved slowly across the cracked asphalt and through the parked cars and teenagers milling around the open gym doors. Brooke caught sight of Nick Paszek hanging out with a couple of other boys in the drop-off area.

Before Neal or Brooke could say, "Have fun" or "Be careful" or "Text us when the dance is over," Marilee was out of the SUV and hurrying up a path to the doors.

"She definitely needs an attitude adjustment," Neal observed.

"You're on for that. I've tried and failed."

Nick, seeing Marilee, grinned widely and broke away from his group.

"That's Nick?" Neal was sizing up the six-foot-two-inch boy with the mop of black hair.

"Yeah." Brooke was nodding. "That's Nick all right."

"He's a . . . "

"Man?" Brooke supplied. "See why I'm worried?"

"Uh-huh."

But to Nick's credit, the boy caught sight of the Range Rover, lifted a hand in greeting, and smiled at Marilee's parents before she cast a look their way, said something, then took his hand and pulled him past a security guard who checked their ID before they disappeared into the gym.

Neal's brow was furrowed. "Maybe he's not such a bad guy. You know the family, right? They're okay?"

"I know Tammi, Nick's sister, and his mother, Renata. Not so much the dad." She lifted a shoulder. "I know Renata is involved in the school and goes to St. Andrew's, I think. As for Bruno?" She shrugged. "I've met him a couple of times and he seemed okay. But who knows what they're really like?"

"Who knows anything about anyone?" he said as Brooke noticed the news van parked near the student lot, harsh lights cutting through the night, a reporter in a red blazer and a microphone talking into the eye of a shoulder cam held by a thin man in a puffy coat and a knit cap. Beside them was the sign for the school:

ALLSWORTH HIGH SCHOOL

HOME OF THE FIGHTING ORCAS

"There's a grim reminder." Neal nodded toward a police cruiser, lights dark, parked at the far side of the lot near the empty tennis courts.

"I know." Brooke's anxiety ramped up again. "I just hope they find her, that Allison comes back soon."

"You and the rest of Seattle." He cast another look at the gym. The band was tuning up, the thrum of bass vibrating through the night. Flashes of strobe lights were visible through the open doors. The security guard was still checking each student's ID. "I guess we can go now."

Neal cranked on the wheel, making a quick U-turn, then drove away from the school. His expression was darker, more thoughtful than it had been on the way over, his features illuminated by the headlamps of passing cars, only to shadow until the next vehicle appeared and washed the interior of the Range Rover in the short-lived glow.

She thought about the tracking device found on the undercarriage of her car, of the fight with Leah and the spilled wine, of the bracelet feeling like a ton of bricks in her pocket, and of the warning that had been whispered from the anonymous caller.

He's not who you think he is.

She'd assumed the warning was about Gideon, but with a prick of dread piercing her brain, she wondered if the caller had been talking about Neal.

"I need to talk to you." Leah was waiting in the living room, a book on the couch beside her.

Brooke paused. She'd hoped to sneak the bracelet into a hiding spot until she could get rid of it, but she'd have to wait. Neal had already gone into his office shutting the door behind him, so now it was just she and her sister.

"Okay, about what?" she asked, taking a seat on a side chair.

Leah sighed. "What do you think?" She bit her lip nervously.

Brooke waited for Leah to finally cop to the real reason she'd flown to Seattle, because she didn't believe for a second that it was only about emotional support. It never was. It was about guilt. It was about payback. And it was definitely about money.

"I need a loan."

Boom. And there it was.

"Not much. Probably fifteen thousand?"

"Wow. Fifteen thousand?" Was she kidding? She'd never "loaned" her sister anywhere near that kind of money.

"Look, look," she said tentatively, then rushed on, "I know I haven't paid you back the last five, but I will. Seriously. I just have to get on my feet, and I've got a line on a job—substitute teaching again. It might lead to a full-time position if I get my certificate renewed and I've already applied."

Brooke had heard this before. "You think fifteen grand isn't much?"

"Well, for me? Yes. But you?" She motioned one hand to include everything in the house. "Look, I hate to do it, but I have to. Sean's gone through everything we had and then some. I need to pay for a lawyer and put up first and last month's rent."

"Sean is staying in the house?" she asked, astounded. "But it's yours; you paid for it with part of the money you got from Nana . . ." Her voice trailed off as she saw the pain in her sister's expression. ". . . or not."

Leah closed her eyes, battling tears. "I ‘loaned' the money to Sean. We're leasing the house. The whole lease-to-buy thing didn't happen."

So it was worse than Brooke had suspected. "I don't have fifteen thousand," she said, thinking of her own bad investment choices.

"Neal?"

"Maybe, but probably less."

"Ten grand?"

"Money's tight, but you can ask him."

"No." Leah shook her head violently as she got to her feet and walked to the window at the front of the house. "You ask him for me. Please." Leah rubbed her arms as if a sudden chill had swept through her. "It's just so awkward." Leah didn't say it, but the silent reminder of you owe me hung in the air between them. Brooke didn't respond and Leah added, "Please, Brookie. You and Neal, you two are my last hope."

Brooke closed her eyes for a second. This was a mistake and she knew it, but she remembered her mother in those last days, thin on the bedsheets, her eyes sunken, squinting against the sunlight streaming through the windows of the hospital room. "You two girls, you take care of each other," she'd said, not asking, not beseeching but stating a fact as she'd grabbed each daughter's wrist in her bony fingers, her grip surprisingly strong. "Promise me."

And they had.

Now, Leah was staring at her with wide, worried eyes. Brooke couldn't stand it. "Okay," she finally agreed, "but this is the last time."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Leah was nodding her head enthusiastically, blond curls bobbing around her face. She held up both palms as if in surrender. "Do this and I will never, ever ask again. Never. I swear."

"I'm going to hold you to it."

"I just—I just need to get through this divorce and then I'm done with men. I'm never going to get married again."

Brooke tossed her a give-me-a-break glance.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I know I've said it before, but this time I mean it. I mean like really! And this time I'll sign a note for the loan for sure, make it official, and start paying you back as soon as I find a place and get that job."

"And you're staying in Phoenix?"

"For now. The area. Maybe Scottsdale, I don't really know. Like I said, I can work for the school district, so I'm gonna be there until the school year's over next June. By then I'll know what I'm going to do, if I'm going to stay or if I move again." She made a thoughtful face, her neatly arched eyebrows pulling together. "I just don't know yet. It depends on where I can get a permanent position."

In the past, whenever a relationship ended Leah had moved. She'd been in Chicago, San Diego, and Atlanta, as well as some obscure town in Oklahoma, before she'd landed the last time in Arizona.

"So you've filed for divorce?" Brooke asked.

"Not yet. Because I need the money."

"And he's agreed?"

Leah rolled her eyes. "We haven't actually discussed it. I can't afford a lawyer, but he'll agree to anything. He's already practically moved in with that bitch. And she's got a kid, did I mention that? A two-year-old." She blinked. "I can't believe it. Sean told me he never wanted kids. Never. Now he's going to be with her? Marry her?"

"You think?"

Leah's chin trembled slightly. "Oh, I know. We have a mutual friend who keeps me informed." She cleared her throat. "They're talking of having a baby together, a ‘little brother or sister' for the one she's got!"

"Then you're right. The best thing you can do is get through this divorce as quickly as possible. Of course we'll help you."

Leah blinked back tears and crossed the room to hug her sister. "I knew I could count on you," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"I still have to talk to Neal."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." She released Brooke. "I was just so worried about talking to you that I sat here kind of freaking out. I tried to read, but I couldn't concentrate, and then I just stared out the window, waiting for you, you know." She dashed her tears away. "It didn't help that the guy was back."

"What guy?"

"Some guy was across the street. Some weirdo. He stared at the house, you know, like he could see inside or something."

Brooke froze. "A guy?"

"No, no, I don't know. Maybe a man, but possibly a woman. It's probably nothing, somebody waiting for somebody."

Brooke walked to the window and stared out. A car drove by, its headlights glowing in the mist, but no one appeared to be loitering at the park or anywhere along the street.

"When was this?"

Leah shrugged. "Hmm. About fifteen minutes ago, I think. Yeah . . . the last time I saw him was right before I heard the garage door go down, when you and Neal came up the stairs, into the kitchen."

"So where was he exactly?" Brooke was still scanning the street and trying not to let her imagination run away with her. But she couldn't dismiss the unsettling thought that Gideon had been outside, as well as inside her house. She felt invaded, sick at the thought. "Over there?" She pointed to the park entrance.

"By the park entrance." Leah joined Brooke at the window, their pale reflections side by side, like ghosts wavering in the old glass. But the area outside the walls of the park was empty, no one standing near the gate, no one standing beneath the lamppost. She only saw a solitary man in a jacket and a driver's cap come out of the park. He was walking his dachshund and paused at the corner while the dog sniffed the stop sign. As he crossed the street, Brooke told herself it was nothing.

Losing interest in any activity, Leah picked up her book. "You'll talk to Neal?"

"Yes. Absolutely tonight."

"Good. Because I need to get back, much as I love it here. Things to do, you know. Not fun things, but"—she shrugged as she started for the stairs—"it has to be done. Again."

Leah headed to her room just as Brooke heard the faintest sound of a vibration coming from the kitchen. She turned to the nook where she'd dropped her purse on a chair.

The burner phone.

Crap!

Rather than take a chance on someone coming up and surprising her, she hurried down the steps to the garage, where she removed the phone from its zippered pocket. There, on the bottom step in the darkness, she read the message glowing in the dark:

I hope pretty little Marilee is enjoying the dance.