Page 37 of Keeping Secrets

He opened the door to find an envelope sitting on the wooden floor just past the door frame. There was no name on the envelope, no writing at all. He closed the door behind him, picked it up, and then walked into the kitchen and sat down before he opened it and started to read.

There were no names on the note either, but he knew as soon as he started to read that it was from Rachel.

First off, everything‘s OK. Don’t worry. The cops brought me in for questioning, but your name never came up. They were asking about the other girls that Adam trafficked, the guys who paid for them, the guys that he got his drugs from. I didn’t know much about any of that, but it’s obvious that they aren’t looking for you. Seems like he was tied up with some kind of organized crime. Anyway, you can breathe easy. You’re in the clear. I understand if you don’t want to see me again, but if you do, I’ll be there next Friday. Same time, same place. No pressure. Thanks for everything.

She had signed it with a series of hearts.

Travis slumped back in his chair.

They weren’t looking for him. Maybe Nick was right. Maybe he was in the clear.

A new worry prickled at the back of his neck. How had she known where he lived?

He waved the thought away, letting it go. It was nothing compared to his other worries.

He stood and lit one of the burners on his stove, held the note to the flame until it caught fire, and set it in the kitchen sink until it was burned to ash.

Maybe everything would be okay.

The incident would fade like a nightmare. Scot would come home from the hospital and take up the helm at the Bottlenose, and Travis could move on with his life. Go back to the way things used to be. Maybe he and Keely could even – he shook his head and pushed that tenuous hope back down. Some things were too painful to hope for.

But his normal life, the comfortable smalltown existence he’d had before… he could get that back, couldn’t he? Feel easy in his work at the bar again, sleep soundly through the night.

Was that too much to hope for?

CHAPTER 12

Keely was wrapping up another successful day as an assistant librarian when Ingrid cornered her with a mad gleam in her eye.

For a moment, she thought that she had done something terribly wrong. She felt certain that she was about to get chewed out or quite possibly fired. Instead, Ingrid started talking about ice cream cake, of all things.

"I never thought that ice cream cake could be elevated to haute cuisine, but you proved me wrong."

"Thank you," she stammered, still half expecting to get fired. It was an old habit, she supposed. A guilty conscience from the years spent sneaking around, lying to her parents, even stealing. She was on the straight and narrow now, but she still carried a nervous sense of wrongdoing, like she didn’t quite deserve this new life of hers.

"Ali‘s birthday is coming up, and I was going to buy her a cake from the bakery like I usually do with employee birthdays. But after seeing what you can do, that just feels like a waste."

"Do you mean that you want me to make an ice cream cake for Ali‘s birthday?"

"If you think that’s what she would like best. But it doesn’t have to be ice cream cake. You have mutual friends, yes? Why don’t you do some investigating and find out what dessert she likes best? Then we can surprise her on her birthday."

"Of course. I would be happy to."

"I’ll pay, of course. Decide what you’re making, and let me know what it will cost."

"You don’t have to—"

"It’s tradition. It’s not as if we have a whole host of employees here. One treat per quarter is a good morale booster, don’t you think? And Ali certainly deserves the recognition. A hometown hero, that one. The miracles that she is working in that disastrous storage area down in the basement, I can’t even tell you."

"Yeah, she’s great." She smiled weakly. Her new boss seemed nice enough, but she was an intimidating presence. Keely tried to act normal around her, but she always felt ill at ease. Not because of anything that Ingrid had done, simply because she was such an imposing force.

"You’ve emptied the book drop? All of the returned books have been checked in and shelved?"

"Yes ma’am," she chirped, happy to be able to answer in the affirmative. Making sure that the books were checked in and out and returned to their proper places was the bulk of her job.

"Very good. You can head home at closing, if you’d like. How about you clock in an hour before opening tomorrow and do your dusting and sweeping then?"

"Sounds good to me, thank you."