Sudden Second Chance Read online

  Duke jerked his head to the side. That was news to him. She’d never told him about that, but then, their relationship hadn’t progressed to the stage where they’d known everything about each other.

  He’d broken it off when he discovered he couldn’t trust her, but now he was beginning to see why Beth might’ve found it difficult to be completely open with anyone.

  “You’re sure the locket is from the time before your adoption?”

  “I always had it. It’s not the kind of thing you’d give to a toddler and it’s not something the Kings, my adoptive parents, would’ve ever given to me.”

  “They didn’t discuss the locket with you?”

  “My mother just told me it was mine and that someone had given it to me when I was a baby.”

  “Do you have it with you?”

  “It’s in my hotel room. Is it important?”

  “What is it you’re asking me to do, Beth?”

  “I want you to use your...sensitivity to help me confirm that I’m Heather Brice. Can you do that?”

  “There are certain rituals I can perform. It might not be pleasant.”

  “For me? I can handle it.”

  “For me.” Scarlett tipped another splash of whiskey into her glass and tossed it back. “You’re not going to be seeing into your past. I’m going to be seeing into your past.”

  Duke felt Beth stiffen beside him. “I can’t ask you to do that, not if it’s going to bring any harm to you.”

  “I didn’t say it would hurt me. It’s just not the most comfortable feeling in the world.”

  Duke hunched forward, elbows on his knees. “What do you get out of it? Money?”

  Scarlett whipped her head around, dark eyes blazing. “I don’t do this for money. Do you think I’m back on the rez doing magic tricks for the white man?”

  Duke held up his hands. “Just trying to figure out why you’d put yourself out for a stranger.”

  Scarlett collected her hair in a ponytail and wrapped it around her hand. “Let’s just say I have my own reasons.”

  “Is it true what Jason said about the Quileute being skittish about this case? I heard it from a teenage boy in the woods, too.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “There’s a Quileute legend about the Dask’iya, or basket lady, who steals children in the middle of the night without a trace—and eats them. After the kidnappings, most of the elders were convinced Dask’iya had come back and was responsible for the kidnappings.”

  “But none of the kidnapped children were Native American.”

  “Didn’t matter. The thought of Dask’iya’s return struck terror in the hearts of the old folks.” Scarlett bit the tip of her finger.

  “But?” Duke swirled his beer in the bottle. “You think there’s more to it?”

  “I’m not sure why that fear led to such secretiveness in our community at the time of the kidnappings.”

  “You think the fear had its basis in something more...earthly?”

  “You could say that.” Scarlett stretched her arms in front of her. “If we decide to do this, Beth, I’m going to need that locket. By the way, is there anything in the locket? No baby pictures?”

  “Hair.”

  “As in—” Scarlett wrapped a lock of dark hair around her finger “—this?”

  “On one side of the locket, there’s a lock of blond hair, and on the other side, there’s a lock of reddish hair.” Beth shook her head so that her strawberry blond hair danced around her shoulders. “Like this.”

  “Yours and someone else’s.”

  “I guess so. Are you sure you want to do this, Scarlett?”

  “Like I said, I have my own reasons, but you can do something for me.”

  “Name it.”

  “You and Mr. FBI Agent here can report that gunshot when you go back to town.”

  One corner of Duke’s mouth tilted up. “How’d you know I was FBI?”

  “I heard you were coming. I’m not quite the complete recluse that my family thinks I am, and Cody Unger’s a friend of mine—you know, Deputy Unger.”

  “Good man.”

  “Anyway, I figure the word of an FBI agent might carry more weight than the word of a flaky artist who complains about the hunters all the time.”

  Beth collected the shot glasses and bottle of whiskey and rose from the love seat. “We would’ve reported that shot anyway since it almost hit me. Is there anything else we can do?”

  “I’ll think about it. You think about it, too, Beth. Think about it long and hard... You might not like what you discover.”

  * * *

  BY THE TIME they returned to town, reported the shot in the woods and drove into the parking lot of their hotel, a light rain had begun to fall.

  Duke unfurled an umbrella he had in his backseat and held it over her head as they dashed for the hotel entrance.

  Duke’s father may have been an abusive alcoholic, but Duke had learned chivalry from somewhere. Must’ve been his military training. Beth had been attracted to Duke immediately when she’d met him two years ago. But he’d been a man who’d demanded complete openness and she’d found it increasingly hard to deliver.

  Maybe she’d stolen those files from his room to sabotage their relationship and growing closeness. Would she make the same mistake today? Would she even have a chance to make the same mistake?

  Duke hadn’t changed. Had she?

  A blaze in the lobby fireplace warmed the room and created a welcoming ambience.

  Gregory waved from behind the counter. “We have our complimentary spiced cider tonight—spiked and unspiked.”

  Beth headed for the cart next to the fireplace, calling over her shoulder, “If I grabbed a spiked cider after that shot of whiskey at Scarlett’s, would you peg me as a lush?”

  “Absolutely not as long as you don’t judge me.” Duke nodded at a couple sharing the sofa in front of the fire. “Mind if we join you?”

  The man held up his cup. “The cider’s good and not too strong.”

  Beth picked up two cups of cider from the tray and sank into the chair next to Duke’s. “Here you go.”

  He took the cup from her and placed it on the table between them. “Good fishing today?”

  The older man on the sofa glanced up. “How’d you know I was a fisherman?”

  “You have the look.”

  “You mean the look of a fanatic?” The man’s wife laughed.

  “A dedicated sportsman. How about it? A good haul?”

  “Decent.”

  “Do you hunt, also?”

  Beth sat up straighter and watched Duke over the rim of her cup. As Scarlett suspected, Sheriff Musgrove had brushed off the shot in the woods. Deputy Unger indicated that it was protocol to post a notice to all hunters to stay in the areas designated for hunting.

  “I’ve done some hunting, but not this trip.” He half rose from the sofa and extended his hand to Duke. “Walt Carver, by the way, and this is my wife, Sue.”

  “I’m Duke Harper and this is Beth St. Regis.”

  Holding her breath, Beth waved, but neither Walt nor Sue showed a flicker of recognition. Must not be big reality TV fans.

  “Why are you asking? Are you a hunter, Duke?”

  “No, but my... Beth almost got hit by a stray bullet from a hunter.”

  Sue covered her mouth. “That’s frightening. That’s why I’m glad Walt gave it up.”

  “Some of these people don’t follow the rules and accidents happen.”

  “How common are accidental shootings?” Duke blew on the surface of his cider before taking a sip.

  “I don’t have any statistics, but it happens.” He patted his wife’s knee. “I was always very
careful, Sue. No need to worry.”

  Sue yawned. “For some reason, fishing all day makes me tired. I don’t even know if I can muster enough energy to go out to dinner.”

  “We can order in.” Walt took Sue’s cup and placed them on the tray. “Nice to meet you folks. Will you be here long?”

  “Not sure.” Beth smiled. That depended on one beautiful shaman with an attitude.

  They said good-night to the other couple and Duke moved to the sofa and stared into the fire, now a crackling orange-and-red blaze.

  “What are you thinking?” She settled next to him.

  “Wondering if that shot was an accident or intended for you.”

  “Scarlett seemed to think it had something to do with her.” She held one hand to the fire, soaking up its warmth. “The sheriff indicated she called a lot to complain about the hunters and has even started a petition to push their hunting grounds farther north. She doesn’t like the hunters and they don’t like her.”

  Duke scratched his chin. “There have been other incidents at her place, but I don’t like this, Beth.”

  “I don’t like it, either, but I’m so close.” She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “With Scarlett’s help I might finally discover who I am, where I came from.”

  “And like some fairy tale, you think your mother and father are going to be the good king and queen?”

  “I’m prepared for anything, Duke.”

  “Are you?” He tapped his cup. “If someone could tell you tomorrow whether or not you’re Heather Brice, would you leave Timberline?”

  “If I was Heather, I’d contact the Brices immediately and arrange to see them in Connecticut—if they wanted to see me.”

  “If you’re not Heather Brice?”

  “I...I’d be back to the drawing board and I’d start following a different path.” She leaned back against the sofa cushion and propped her feet on the table in front of her. Duke really wanted her to ditch the story, and this time it was for her benefit, not his.

  “A different path away from Timberline and this case?”

  “My producer, Scott, isn’t all that excited about this case anyway. I could dump it and he wouldn’t blink an eye. In fact, he’d be happy since he tried to talk me out of the case to begin with. If I dropped the show, it would make him look good in his father’s eyes, since his dad owns the production company.”

  “Seems we all want you to drop the story, don’t we?” He drained his cup of cider. “That was good. Do you want another or do you want to get something to eat?”

  “I’m with Sue and Walt on this one. Maybe we can just order in. Pizza? Chinese?”

  “Let’s ask Gregory what he recommends.”

  Duke held out his hand and pulled her up from the sofa. She didn’t want to let go, but he dropped her hand and put their empty cider cups on the tray.

  “Gregory, my man. We’re going to order in for dinner. Any recommendations?”

  “There’s a good pizza place down the road. They have pastas and salads, too.” He pointed to the right of the reception desk. “There are a couple of menus there.”

  Beth reached for a red, white and green menu and held it up. “Vincenzo’s?”

  “That’s it.”

  Duke joined her and hovered over her shoulder to look at the menu. “How come there’s no restaurant on the premises?”

  “I’m pretty sure Mr. Young made a deal with some of the town’s restaurateurs to build the hotel only and not cut into their business.”

  “Jordan Young?” Beth ran her finger across the extra pizza ingredients.

  “Yep. He developed the Timberline Hotel years ago. Bought the old one and renovated and expanded.”

  “He should update the security and get cameras in the hallways.” Duke tapped the menu. “Pizza and salad?”

  “That’ll work.” Beth shoved the menu into his hands. “You pick the pizza toppings and I’ll grab a couple of twist-top bottles of wine.”

  “I have a better idea. I’ll get the food and make a stop at a liquor store and pick up a decent bottle of cabernet.”

  “Sounds perfect. Do you want me to come with you?”

  “I can handle it.”

  Beth tried to give him some cash, which he refused, and then went up to her room—the one right next to Duke’s.

  Not that she expected to get lucky tonight with that gorgeous man. She had a few things to tell him before they could reach that same level of intimacy they’d had before, which Beth had discovered hadn’t been very deep.

  Sleeping with a man didn’t guarantee instant intimacy. She’d never had that level of intimacy with anyone before, but she’d come close with Duke. So close, the feeling had terrified her and she’d taken the surest route to torpedo the relationship.

  She’d lied to Duke, betrayed him. He’d reacted as she’d expected him to—he dumped her. If she wanted him back, there could be no secrets between them.

  Maybe tonight was the night—pizza, red wine and confidences.

  When Beth returned to the room, she stepped into the shower and put on a pair of soft, worn jeans and the FBI Academy T-shirt Duke had given her two years ago. The shirt gave her confidence.

  As soon as she turned on the TV, Duke knocked on the door. “Pizza man.”

  She peered through the peephole and opened the door. “I hope you got some paper plates and napkins.”

  “They’re in the bag with the salad.” He held up a bottle of wine. “Washington vineyard.”

  “This will be my third alcoholic beverage of the day. Really, this is unusual for me.”

  He placed the food on the credenza and turned to face her, his hands on his hips. “You don’t have to excuse yourself just because my father was an alcoholic, Beth. Hell, you know I drink, too. I don’t think a few drinks make you an alcoholic.”

  “I know that.” She pulled the plates and napkins from the bag. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

  “I think I did have the wrong idea about you.”

  “I know.” She popped open the plastic lid on the salad. “You thought you could trust me and I betrayed that trust.”

  “That’s not it.” He held up a corkscrew. “Bought a cheap one at the liquor store.”

  “What’s not it?” She folded her arms across her stomach. Had he discovered something else about her?

  “I’ve had plenty of time to think about what happened between us, and seeing you again and hearing your story has only confirmed what I’d begun to think about that time, about our relationship.”

  “Maybe I need some wine to hear this.” Duke had uncorked the bottle, and Beth poured some of it into a plastic cup Duke had snagged from the cider setup in the lobby.

  “It’s nothing bad. I just didn’t understand at the time that you took those files on purpose to push me away because we’d gotten too close, too fast.”

  The wine went down her throat the wrong way and she choked. She covered her face with a napkin. “Have you now added psychology to your other talents?”

  “Tell me it’s not true.” He tugged at the napkin.

  “It wasn’t conscious at the time. I just really, really wanted those files.”

  “You could’ve asked me.”

  “You would’ve said no.”

  “Probably.” He tore off a piece of pizza and dropped it onto a paper plate. “All this analysis is making me hungry.”

  She peeked at him over the rim of her plastic cup. “Is that your way of telling me you forgive me for that incredibly stupid act?”

  “Hey, that incredibly stupid act did solve the case, didn’t it?”

  “Only because I didn’t reveal that other piece of info to you that I got from my source.”

  “Are you trying t
o make yourself look bad?”

  “I just want you to see me, warts and all...this time. I... If there is a this time.”

  Duke took a big bite of pizza instead of answering her and she let it drop.

  He had a better handle on discussing this kind of stuff than most men she knew because he’d been through court-mandated therapy as a teen when his father had beaten his mother to death after he’d accidentally killed his younger sister.

  Such tragedy and he’d risen from the ashes a strong man, a good man—and she could’ve had him if she’d been able to recover from her own tragedies.

  They watched TV together, she from the edge of the bed and he from a chair he’d pulled up, and ate their salad and pizza. A meal had never tasted better, but she stopped at two cups of wine. She needed the relaxation but also needed a clear head for her confession.

  Duke collected her plate and cup and stuffed them into the white plastic bag. “More wine?”

  “No, thanks. Save it. I may need it after my session with Scarlett tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” He checked his phone. “You set it up for tomorrow?”

  “Expecting a text?”

  “Work.” He tossed the phone on the bed. “What time are you seeing Scarlett and when did you arrange this?”

  “When you’d gone outside her place to look around. I’m bringing my locket and heading out there at dusk.”

  “At night? Really?”

  “She works during the day and needs the natural light. She suggested it. At least it’s not the witching hour.”

  “I don’t think you’d better call Scarlett a witch. She’d go off on you for sure.”

  “I wasn’t calling her a witch.” She pointed to the pizza box. “Breakfast tomorrow morning?”

  “Works for me.”

  Beth licked a crumb from the corner of her mouth. Now, if only they could settle the sleeping arrangements for tonight as easily as that. She could always make a suggestion, but she didn’t want to push things.

  Duke swiped his thumb across his phone again and placed it on the credenza. “I’ll take the trash outside. You don’t want to be smelling garlic all night.”

  He grabbed the white bag and left the room.

  Beth blew out a breath. He didn’t say “we don’t want to be smelling garlic all night,” so maybe he planned to go back to his own room.