Page 165 of Our Little Secret

“Hey!” Leah said, visible through the archway opening to the staircase. She was standing at the landing, where the stairs turned upward. She appeared to have calmed a bit, some of her inebriated anger having disappeared. And she’d changed clothes. Red lace peeked from beneath the thick collar of a fluffy white robe. “What is this? Twenty questions?”

“Fifty,” he replied, looking up at her.

Leah glared down at her sister. “What’re you doing, Brooke?”

“Just getting to know my new or soon-to-be brother-in-law.”

“Sure.” Leah let out a long sigh as she started down the steps. “See what I mean?” she said to Eli. “Impossible.”

“What’s impossible?” Brooke demanded.

“You, to begin with, and this entire hostile situation.” She flung out an arm to dramatically encompass the entire house and everyone and everything in it. Then she gave Eli a pouting look. “I told you coming up here was a bad idea, that it wouldn’t work.”

“It would if you two wanted it to,” he said and climbed the stairs. Leah stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. It was just too much.

Brooke needed time and space, some breathing room, so she found Shep’s leash and threw on her jacket, then stepped into boots. As she did so, she felt the weight of Eli’s wallet and knife in the pockets and smiled to herself. “I’m going to take Shep out for a walk,” she said to the house as a whole as the dog trotted up and she snapped the leash to his collar.

“Now?” Neal asked as he deigned to come out of his makeshift office. “It’s really coming down outside. I saw on my phone it’s gonna be bad, a blizzard.”

“Short walk.” She was desperate to get out of the house, to sort things out in her mind. “We’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” For a second she thought Neal might offer to join them, but he only said, “Just be careful.”

“Always am,” she lied and saw Eli raise a doubting eyebrow. Yeah, he knew way too much about her not to be Gideon. She just had to prove it, she told herself as she walked out the door, Shep pulling on the leash.

Outside the wind had died, at least temporarily. Her headache was lessening and she took in a deep breath of the ice-cold air. The street was quiet, a hush with the snow.

Huge flakes were falling rapidly, providing a veil and, in Brooke’s case, a cover.

Her boots crunched, packing down the undisturbed snow as she passed a few houses, noting the winking lights and displays. She remembered that when Nana was alive, they too had strung colored lights over the eaves and at one point, long ago, displayed a wooden Santa with one mittened hand in the air and, over the opposite shoulder, a huge bag with a jack-in-the-box and a teddy bear spilling out of it.

But that had been years ago, when Brooke and Leah were children and life made sense. Now everything was upside down. She walked to the single streetlamp and stood just out of its glow. After checking to see that she was alone, she pulled Eli’s wallet from her pocket and flipped it open. His driver’s license was visible behind a plastic window. She squinted but saw Eli’s picture on the card. His name, Eli John Stone, was legible and his birth date was listed, not the same as Gideon’s, but she noted the California license was issued in the last year.... Height and weight, color of eyes and hair were meaningless; all could be altered with lifts, padding, contact lenses, and dye. She made note of his address . . . maybe a landlord could provide information. But behind the California license was an older one, this one issued by the State of Oregon, again to Eli John Stone. He appeared younger in this DMV picture, his hair darker, his eyes listed as hazel, his weight five pounds lighter.

Gideon!

“Got ya,” she whispered.

She flipped through insurance and credit cards, then, with her back to the house, pulled off one glove for a steadier hand and took pictures of all of his ID with her cell phone. He had a little cash with him, under a hundred dollars, but there was no other clue within.Who are you really?She wondered if Eli Stone was his real name, if Gideon Ross was the alias.

If there was one.

But why would Gideon have lied on their first meeting?

Why would he get involved with Leah and insist on traveling here and meet her family? Just to taunt Brooke? After over a year? Nothing was making any sense. She stuffed the wallet back into her pocket. Lost in thought, she walked farther along the road that ran along the east side of the island. Across the dark water, blurred by the still-falling snow, the lights of Marwood were visible.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice said.

Brooke nearly jumped out of her skin.

Shep gave off a startled bark.

Turning, Brooke spied Gina Duquette as she approached. She was pulling a kid’s sled filled with white sacks printed with the name, web address, and phone number of the bakery. In a separate box a scruffy black-and-white terrier was riding in the wagon, a Santa hat perched jauntily on his head.

“Didn’t mean to creep up on you,” she said. Bundled in a puffy coat, a knit cap, earmuffs and gloves, she dragged the sled into the circle of light cast by the streetlamp. “I just love the snow. It’s so quiet out, you know. Peaceful. I love it almost as much as I love Christmas.”

“What’re you doing?” Brooke asked.

“It’s a tradition I started about what—maybe eight, nine years ago. I make a few extra cookies, tarts, and rolls, whatever, but extra on Christmas Eve of course. And what we don’t sell I donate, mostly to the church, but I always save some for the neighbors on the street. Jasper and I deliver them.” She winked. “Goodwill, you know, and good for business. Look, I’ve got a bag for you and your family.” She reached down, picked up a sack, and handed it to a stunned Brooke while Jasper stood and stretched, bright eyes on Shep.