Irritated that his thoughts wouldn’t stay away from Greer, he moved with purpose to the front register where a tall brunette studied him with resentment. “Ranger Tec Bragg. I’m here for Jennifer Bell.”
The two customers on the floor stared with obvious curiosity, which unsettled the woman more. “I’m Jennifer Bell. Why don’t we go back in my office?”
Turning, she pushed through the curtains, nodding as she vanished into the back.
He followed knowing if she were a man he’d not tolerate her walking away like that.
She faced him, manicured, long fingers resting on trim hips. “Greer sent you, didn’t she?”
Her tone had his hackles rising and his loyalty demanding he rise to Greer’s defense. “No one sends me anywhere.”
Silver earrings jangled as she shook her head from side to side. “You wouldn’t know about me if not for Greer.”
If he’d not been studying her closely, he’d have missed the flash of pain in her gaze. “Why do you say that?”
Disdain flattened her lips and covered the momentary flash of hurt. “Because my family paid well to ensure the past stayed in the past.”
“And what past might that be?”
With a flick of her wrist she attempted to dismiss him. “Don’t play stupid with me. She told you everything.”
Other than telling him the two women had met at Shady Grove, Greer had not told him anything about Jennifer’s past. But he’d baited hooks before with skimpier morsels. “I know about Shady Grove.”
Her face flushed and for a moment she closed her eyes before she met his gaze again. “I can’t believe she told you. You know, I actually felt sorry for her once.” She shook her head. “Nothing good would come of it when she showed up. What did she tell you?”
He resisted the urge to defend Greer’s loyalty to Jennifer. “I got a real good idea of the whole picture.”
Painted red lips pursed. “She is such a bitch. Such a bitch. Fucking past. I’ve paid for it enough.”
Bragg’s hackles rose higher. A second or two longer and he’d speak his mind. “Tell me about her.”
She reached behind her and picked up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. With a steady hand she lit the tip. After a couple of puffs, she said, “She really sent you?”
“No one sends me.”
“But you are here.” She shook her head, her disgust clear. “She always came off as caring and sweet at camp. I had sympathy for her. Thought I could trust her. Thought if I told her she’d understand. Now I realize trust is for fools.”
The woman’s words mirrored his brand of cynicism. Jennifer judged Greer unfairly and he’d been guilty of the same. “She told you about Rory and Sara.”
He wasn’t here to answer questions but to ask them. “When was the last time you saw Sara or Rory?”
“Rory. That was years ago. At least ten years. His mother was still alive so his family hadn’t cut him off. It was the Western Country Club, and he was drunk. In fact, I think he tried to hit me up for money.” She shook her head. “Jerk.”
“And Sara?”
“A couple of years. We saw each other around town and were polite but we didn’t really speak.”
He dangled another bit of bait into the waters. “Greer told me everyone at the camp tried to commit suicide.”
Green eyes narrowed. “I guess she also told you I popped a handful of pills.”
He let the silence goad her.
“Why couldn’t she let the past stay buried? We’ve all gotten on with our lives. No good could come of going back and dredging up what couldn’t be changed. There’s no changing past mistakes.”
He remained silent, watching.
“You know I saw the picture of her in the paper six months ago. She’d just joined the board of a crisis center. I remember thinking, ‘Can’t you stay hidden?’ She couldn’t let her past stay past; she had to drag all that shit up to help others.”
Greer acknowledged that she’d never forget her mistakes, but she was moving forward, whereas Jennifer hadn’t let go. “She’s done some good work.”
“This may be wrong of me, but I don’t care. She’s stirring up the past and it will come to no good. No good. There’s nothing any one of us can do to change the past. Nothing. All we can do is try to live our lives, which is what I’m trying to do.”
“Why do you want to keep it buried? Everyone makes mistakes.”
Her face paled a fraction as if a fear chased up her spine. “There are some mistakes one can’t recover from. Those mistakes have to be buried and forgotten.”
“Like your suicide attempt?”
She swallowed as if forcing back bile and fear. “Christ, what do you think my boyfriend would say if he knew? Do you think I’d still have a business? No, that kind of past chases people away. It keeps you in the ‘freak’ category forever.” Her voice dropped to a pained whisper.
“You seen anyone else from your pod at Shady Grove?” With luck she’d toss him a name, and he’d have another piece of the puzzle.
“I saw Sam a few months ago.”
“Was that his real name?”
Her gaze sharpened. “No.”
“Do you know what it was?”
A half smile tweaked the edge of her mouth. “He was wearing a name tag that read ‘Michael Sycamore.’”
A solid, real name. “Did you talk?”
“No. He saw me. I saw him. And with one glance we both agreed not to speak to the other. Nothing personal. Just keep your distance.” She arched a brow. “Greer didn’t tell you about him?”
“No. She didn’t know his real name.”
“Or if she had she’d have told you. Figures.” She sighed.
“See who he worked for?”
“No.”
“Anything else you can tell me about him?”
“No. And he won’t welcome a visit from you, either. I could tell he didn’t want to talk about the camp. He was with a woman. Pretty. Blond and wearing a big engagement ring.” She shrugged. “I notice details like that.”
“Why was Michael at the camp?”
“Greer didn’t tell you? She’s in a talkative mood these days.”
“I’m asking you.”
She studied him a long moment. “He threatened to shoot himself. He was caught stealing from his parents. And not just nickels and dimes. He stole nice pieces from the house and was selling them.”
“Why’d he need the money?”
“That’s the thing, he didn’t need the money. He just liked stealing. His father found out and threatened to cut him off, and he freaked out. He took one of his father’s pistols and pressed it to his head. His father tackled him and sent him to Shady Grove.”
“Where is he now?”
“Houston, I think.” She folded her arms over her chest. “That’s all I know. So would you and your little snitch leave me alone?” She pointed her finger at him. “I don’t want my name in the press.”
His patience now paper-thin, he bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile. “I don’t take orders from you.”
She arched a brow, leveling what she must have thought was a withering gaze. He suppressed a laugh. He’d handled far worse than this woman could ever dish out.
A faint flush colored her face and when she raised her cigarette to her mouth her hand trembled slightly. She held his gaze a beat longer and then dropped it. “Just leave me alone.”
“Don’t think this is finished, Ms. Bell. I’ll do whatever I have to do to solve this case.”
She stubbed out her cigarette into a crystal ashtray. “Be careful of Greer, Ranger Bragg. She’ll get into your head. Like she wormed in Rory’s. Like she got into Sara’s and mine. And once she sinks her claws into you and you think you can trust her, you’re done.”
Bragg glared at Jennifer, surprised her words hit the mark. Greer had gotten into his head.
Michael stared at the letter from his attorney, anger boiling so hot in him that he thought his head would e
xplode. He’d reread the letter several times and each time the outcome was as grim as the last. He was being sued. For money they said he’d stolen.
Crushing the paper in his hands, he rose and moved to a simple wooden kitchen table where a half-empty bottle of scotch stood. He grabbed a chipped mug from a rustic kitchen cabinet and filled it to the brim with scotch. It might be morning but he didn’t care. Maybe getting piss drunk would dull the outrage thumping in his chest.
He took a long, even drink. The liquid slid down his throat, burning a little as it passed. Moving to the window, he stared out into the rolling hills. He’d not been to the family cabin in a decade and the place had fallen into disrepair since his father’s illness. In truth, he really didn’t like the place. But it was his only sanctuary now.