Page 101 of Our Little Secret

“You think it’s Shep’s?” Leah asked, a tremor in her voice.

Neal shook his head. “Dunno.”

“No—it can’t be,” Brooke insisted. “I saw a raccoon in the backyard. Maybe some creature was hurt and bled on the rocker.”

Neal shook his head. “There weren’t any tracks. No blood across the porch, I looked.” He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. “It’s been a weird, weird morning.”

“Amen. I’m just going to get rid of this.” Before anyone could object, Brooke carried the pillow to the trash bin outside and dumped it. Her skin crawled when she considered the rat’s blood, but she forced herself to remain calm. She would take care of the rat’s bloody carcass the same way once she was alone. But for now she didn’t want to explain about finding it, why she was even reaching into the birdhouse in the first place, or what it could mean.

Because she knew what had happened and who was behind it.

When she got back to the kitchen and had again washed her hands, she heard the coffeepot sputtering and hissing. Steam was rising from its vents, the smell of roasted beans permeating the air. Any other morning the warm scent would have made her smile. But not today.

“I just don’t get how blood ended up on that pillow,” Neal said, his eyebrows pulling together.

Brooke said, “We may never know.”

“Well, we will the next time.”

“Ugh,” Leah said. “You think there will be a repeat?”

“Dunno. But I’m going to get a security camera. Make that two,” Neal said, finding three cups and placing them on the counter. “From Bill Clayton—remember, he’s the guy who makes all the security devices?” He poured coffee into the first cup.

“Yeah, I remember. The tracker on the Explorer.”

“Right. If I had taken his advice and gotten the entire security package for the house, we would have videos of the porch and the yard. We’d probably know what happened to Shep,” he said as he placed a mug on the table for Leah. “And we would have seen Marilee sneak out with Nick, so we wouldn’t have been so panicked.”

“Speak for yourself,” Brooke said. “Yeah, maybe we’d know more about what happened to Shep. Maybe. But I would have been worried seeing Nick and Marilee together.”

“But at least we would have known who she was with and not that she was kidnapped by some pervert or worse.”

Brooke had to agree. “Good point.” But had there been a camera, Gideon would have appeared on the screen, and there would have been all kinds of questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer.

When Neal offered her a cup of coffee, she shook her head and held up a hand. “I’m good.” The last thing she needed was more caffeine pouring through her already jangling bloodstream. “I think we need to talk to our daughter.”

“Didn’t you do that on the car ride home?”

“I tried.” When she caught him looking at her over the rim of his cup she added, “It was pretty tense. She didn’t exactly appreciate my advice. Nothing penetrated.” And then she told him about Marilee knowing where Allison Carelli had been for the better part of a week, and her conversation with Allison’s parents.

“Other kids knew this?” Neal asked, stunned.

“I guess.”

“I’d better have a chat with Marilee,” he said, taking a long swallow, then setting the coffee aside. “God, I hate these talks.”

“But you’re so good at them,” she said, and he shot her a look to tell her he knew she was giving him the business before heading up the stairs.

“At least she’s safe,” Leah said as she stirred cream and sugar into her cup.

“Yeah, I know.” For that Brooke was grateful, but Marilee was still very much a worry. It seemed that day by day, the fragile relationship Brooke had with her daughter was unraveling faster and faster.

“You should count yourself lucky.”

“I do,” she said, even though she had a mountain of worries and was heartsick that Shep was missing.

Yes, thankfully—oh yes, thankfully—Marilee was home and safe, but there were other issues, big ones.

“Remember what I’m going through, Brooke,” Leah said, turning the conversation back to herself, as always. “Look where I am. A cheating husband who’s leaving me for a slut, no home, no money, no kids . . . nothing! I would kill to have what you do.” She frowned a little, looking pitiful.