Harper was about to unlock her kitchen side door to go into her house, but hesitated. Clutching her keys like a weapon, she scanned the carport where she’d just parked her aging silver Camry after the long drive from Gatlinburg. The green rubber garbage can and yellow recycle bin sat side by side against the far wall as usual. Just a few feet farther down that wall, the door to the outside laundry room was closed to keep the occasional raccoon out. Everything looked the way it should. But something was off.
Smoke.
She wrinkled her nose at the unmistakable stench of cigarettes. Since she didn’t smoke, the smell had her nervous, especially after Gage’s comments about the kidnapper possibly watching her. Although rare, people did sometimes hike through the woods in this beautiful rural area without regard for the property they might be on. Had one of them dropped a cigarette?
Her closest neighbor, Blake Carter, lived fifty yards to the south of her east-facing home. His 1950’s white-and-gray ranch house was barely visible through the trees and the sagging chain-link fence that separated their properties. Had he taken up smoking? Even if he had, would she be able to smell it from this far away?
There weren’t any other homes close enough to be the culprits. Several acres of land separated most of these rural properties from each other. A deep, wide creek formed a meandering border to the west before eventually spilling into the French Broad River. And her gravel driveway was too long to allow cigarette smoke to drift up from the road if someone was passing by.
“Everything okay, Harper?”
She whirled around to see her next-door neighbor standing on the other side of her car.
Blake’s eyes widened in dismay. He backed up several feet, holding his hands out in front of him as if to reassure her. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you saw me waving at the fence when you turned into your driveway.”
“No. I didn’t see you.” Given his aggressive behavior over the past few weeks, she didn’t temper her words or soften them with a smile. His surprising, sudden interest in her was annoying at best, harassing at worst. And she was in no mood to put up with him this afternoon.
She palmed the keys in her hand. “It’s been a trying morning, Blake. Do you need something? I have a lot of work to catch up on.” She shoved the key in the lock.
He stepped toward the front of the car, as if to round it to her side. “Is something wrong? You seem upset.”
She quickly pushed open the door. “When someone sneaks up on me, I tend to get that way.” He stopped; his crestfallen look had her feeling guilty. But in light of how handsy he’d been the last time he’d come over, the guilt was fleeting. “What do you want?”
He seemed to take her question as an invitation and moved closer. “If you’re having a bad day, maybe I could bring you some iced tea. I just made a fresh pitcher and—”
“Blake, enough.”
He blinked like an owl, a hurt look crossing his face as he backed up again.
She silently cursed her frayed nerves and lack of tact. She didn’t want to encourage him. But she didn’t want to make an enemy of the only person who lived within an acre of her, either. “Look, I’m sorry. I just... Like I said, it’s been a trying morning. I appreciate your concern, but it’s unwarranted. Okay?”
“Sure, sure. No worries. I’ll check back later.”
“No, no. I don’t think that’s a good...” She sighed as he headed across her side yard toward the fence between their properties, a fence that was falling down in many places and allowed him far too easy access to her house. Maybe he’d get the message if she hired someone to erect an eight-foot privacy fence on her side. It would cost a small fortune. But it might be worth the strain on her finances to do it.
She wrinkled her nose at another whiff of smoke and belatedly realized that she’d forgotten to ask Blake about it. Well, she wasn’t going to go chasing after him, that was for sure. Instead, she hurried inside. After flipping the dead bolt, she dropped her purse onto the nearest counter then hesitated. There was a new smell in the air. Not smoke. Wait. Was that oleander?
“Please tell me that scrawny guy isn’t who you’ve been dating,” a woman’s voice called out.
She whirled around, a scream lodged in her throat. Her sister stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the family room, a bottle of beer clutched in her right hand.
Harper cleared her throat. “You scared me half to death, Cynthia. What are you doing here? How did you even get inside?” She checked the relatively new alarm keypad on the wall. The light was green. It should have been red and beeping by now, threatening to go off if she didn’t key in her code. Had she forgotten to set the alarm?
“I stole my mom’s extra key out of her purse, the one you gave her in case of an emergency.”
She turned around. “Is there an emergency?”
Her sister held up her beer. “This is the last brewski in your refrigerator and I couldn’t find any in the pantry. Does that count?”
“Hardly.”
Cynthia waved to a potted plant on the counter that looked as if it had suffered a windstorm. One of the few remaining pink blossoms clinging to the stems told her it was the oleander she’d smelled earlier.
“It’s that time of year. Mom’s oleanders are in bloom. You know how nuts she is about those things. She’s been pawning them off on everyone with a pulse. I figured maybe you could find a home for mine.”
“Gee. Thanks. I’ll add it to the dozen others she’s given me in the past.” She frowned. “That poor plant looks ready to keel over.”
Cynthia shrugged. “Plants aren’t my thing.” She pulled a key out of her jeans’ pocket and tossed it onto the counter. “You can give that back to my mom next time you’re in Nashville visiting the homestead.”
“The oleander or the key?”
“Either. Both. You didn’t answer my question.”
“About dating?”
She nodded.
“Blake Carter is the last man I’d date. I’m not dating anyone right now.”
“But you were. Mom said so.”
“Weeks ago, and only a few times. It didn’t work out.”
“That’s a shame. You’re really not bad to look at when you do your hair and makeup, like today. You’d probably smile more, too, if you got some.” She winked.
Harper couldn’t help smiling at her outrageous sister. “Why aren’t you in Gatlinburg with the rest of the family?”
“I had things to do.”
Meaning she’d probably gotten bored and had taken off even though her mom and Harper’s dad had wanted both Cynthia and their little half brother, Tyler, to be with them this whole weekend. Harper would have, but with precious little time until the ransom deadline, she’d wanted to hurry back home.
“Where’s your car?” Harper asked. “I didn’t see it parked in the side yard when I pulled into the carport.”
“Dean gave me a ride on his bike. It’s around back. He’s having a smoke. I told him you don’t like people smelling up your house.” She waved toward the sliding-glass door at the end of the family room, barely visible through the kitchen opening.
“Thanks for that. I was surprised to see you out the window in Gatlinburg this morning. I thought summer classes were still in session.” At least she knew where the cigarette smoke was coming from. Harper opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of wine she’d opened last night. If her sister could drink before five o’clock, she could, too.
“I’m taking this summer off. Life’s too short to study all the time.”
“I hardly think four years of college constitutes all the time.” Once she had the filled glass in her hand, she took a deep appreciative sip. Then she moved past her sister into the family room, only to stop at the sight of a stack of envelopes and grocery store ads on the coffee table.
Cynthia strolled past her and dropped down onto the couch. “I checked your mail for you. Looks like you’re due for your annual girly exam. The rest are bills. If you don’t pay your utilities by next week, they’re going to shut off your electricity. Are you having money problems?”
Harper’s stomach dropped. Had the kidnapper sent another note? Had Cynthia seen it? “I’d prefer that you not open my mail.” She sifted through the stack, both relieved and disappointed when there wasn’t another letter. She checked the utility bill before tossing everything back on the table. “I’m not late paying my electric bill. Why would you say that?”
“Just trying to get a rise out of you, sis. Lighten up.” She took a swig of beer and propped her legs on top of the table.
Harper gritted her teeth. “Would you please get your shoes off the furniture?”
“Why? That table’s a piece of junk. Did you pick it up at a garage sale? You should get my mom to let go of one of those antiques she collects.”
Harper shook her head. “I know the rules of the Manning household. No one touches your mom’s garden, or her antiques.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. I think she’d jump at the chance to part with some of her precious hoard for her favorite stepdaughter.”
“I’m Julia’s only stepdaughter. And I don’t want another table. I want the one I’ve got. It may be cheap and falling apart, but it was my mother’s. It’s one of the few things I have left of hers.”
Cynthia winced and gingerly lowered her feet to the floor. “Sorry, honestly. I had no idea that was your mom’s.”
Harper sighed. “How would you? It’s been in my bedroom at the foot of my bed forever. I only recently brought it out here when I ordered a new chair for the other room. You don’t visit often enough to know what I have or don’t have.”
“Not true. I noticed that ugly silver vase you used to carry around everywhere you lived. It was on your mantel last time I was here. Did you move it to the bedroom?”
“Vase?” She glanced at the mantel and realized Cynthia was referring to the urn. Shane’s urn. “I, uh, threw it away. I was dusting one day and it fell, got dented. The top wouldn’t stay on anymore, so I got rid of it.”
“Well, if I’d known that’s all it would have taken for you to throw that hideous thing away, I’d have accidentally dropped it years ago. It always reminded me of one of those things you put dead peoples’ ashes in.” She shuddered.
Harper’s face heated. She put her hands on her hips, hoping her sister hadn’t noticed. “Is there a reason you came all this way to break into my house other than to open my mail and criticize my decorating choices?”
“It’s not breaking in if you have a key.”
“A stolen key.”
“Whatever. I was just curious about what’s going on.”
Harper kept her expression carefully blank. Had her sister overheard something? Had her father mentioned Shane, perhaps when talking to his lawyer about that nondisclosure agreement, and she overheard him? “What do you mean, you’re curious about what’s going on?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh puhleeze. I’m twenty years old, not a naïve child. It’s obvious you’re stressed out about something. I saw you going into that conference room earlier, looking all worried. Then everyone left except you and that hot Secret Service guy who used to guard you when you lived in Nashville and I was stuck in DC with my mom and your dad. What was his name? Monk? Cardinal? One of those religious titles.”
“Bishop. His first name is Gage.”
Cynthia smirked. “Gage. Like the tool a mechanic uses? No wonder everyone calls him by his last name.”
A flash of annoyance had Harper crossing her arms. “It’s spelled differently. Is there a point to this conversation?”
“Are you dating him? Is that why you left Gatlinburg without even saying hi to my mom? So you could get naked with hot preacher guy and explore the Big O?”
“Good grief. And it’s Bishop, not preacher guy.”
“He is hot. You can’t deny that.”
Harper sighed. “I’m not denying it. But that doesn’t mean that we’re going to get naked and have orgasms together.” At Cynthia’s raised eyebrows, she said, “You thought I didn’t know what the Big O was?”
“I was worried you didn’t. Guess I figured that one day I’d have to sit you down and explain the facts of life. You don’t get out much.”
“We are not discussing my love life.”
“What love life?”
“Cynthia—”
“Okay, okay.”
Harper carefully lowered herself onto the couch so she wouldn’t slosh her wine out of the glass, then rested her free arm across her eyes.
“Harper?”
“Hmm?”
“If you’re not going to jump his bones, can I? I mean, have you seen his shoes? What are they, a size twelve? You know what that means. He must have a really big—”
“Enough!” She dropped her arm and shot her sister a reproachful glance.
Cynthia grinned. “Admit it. You’ve missed me.”
Harper set her wineglass on the end table. “God help me, I have. Get over here you little devil.”
They wrapped each other in a tight hug. Harper held on longer than her sister probably wanted, but she’d needed that hug far more than she’d realized. When she let go, she kept her arm around her sister’s waist and they both leaned back against the cushions.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see your mom before I left Gatlinburg,” Harper said. “That was rude. I should have sought her out. Please tell her I’m sorry, that I’ll visit her soon.”
“To give her back her key?”
She smiled. “Is that why you took it? To force me to visit y’all in Nashville?”
“I would never be that devious.” But the look on her sister’s face told Harper that’s exactly why’d she’d taken it.
“When you graduate college and get settled in your career—whatever that ends up being—I hope you find the love of your life. Then I hope you have lots and lots of babies.” She rolled her head on the cushion to look at her sister. “And every single one of them is exactly like you.”
Cynthia gave her a horrified look. “Now that’s just downright mean.”
They both laughed and, for the next few minutes, they were content to sit together in peace. A rarity with the two of them. Normally they were either fighting or Cynthia was playing some kind of practical joke on her.
“Don’t worry about my mom,” Cynthia finally said. “I don’t think she even realized you were in town. She won’t find out from me. And your dad is so busy lapping up all the media attention that he probably already forgot about your visit.” She arched a brow. “Why did you meet with that Bishop guy? Isn’t he the one who messed up and had to be replaced by Faulk?”
She frowned at her sister. “Who said he messed up?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. One of the agents, I suppose. Maybe Thompson. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s said as much before.”
“Well, he’s wrong. Gage is one of the most honorable men I know. He did everything exactly right. What happened wasn’t his fault. But he sure took the blame.”
“What happened?”
“Ancient history. I’m not going to discuss it.”
“Too bad you don’t keep a diary. I’ll bet there are a lot of really juicy secrets in that brainiac head of yours that no one would ever expect.”
“What makes you think I don’t keep a diary?”
Cynthia’s eyes widened. She jumped up as if to hunt down the diary, but Harper grabbed her arm and yanked her back down. That was all she needed, for her sister to go rummaging through her room and find the baby book she kept under her mattress. It documented her pregnancy and had a memorial for Shane in the back. It was far more incriminating than a diary ever would be.
“Aw, come on, Harp. Let me read it. Out loud. It’ll be fun.”
“No. It wouldn’t. Besides, I don’t have a diary. I’m not dumb enough to write down anything that might incriminate or embarrass me later.” She’d have to remember to put that baby book in her safe. She’d never thought about it being a liability before.
“Ouch. Remind me to never let you read mine.” Cynthia tapped a tune against her thigh that only she could hear. “So, back to the guy with the really big—”
“Don’t you dare say it!”
“—feet.” Cynthia grinned.
“I’m not discussing Gage with you.”
“Then what did you discuss with him? In the conference room?”
“Good grief, you’re like a dog with a bone. Do you ever stop?”
She gave her a droll look. “Is that a real question?”
Harper rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing juicy. Just a couple of...old acquaintances...catching up before dad’s press conference. Gage was part of a private security company helping cover today’s Fourth of July celebrations. He’s the one who stopped that guy from shooting dad.”
“Wow. Seriously?”
“Seriously. I don’t know the details, but I overheard some of the agents chatting about it when I was leaving.”
“Super cool.”
Harper wasn’t sure whether Cynthia meant someone shooting at her dad or Gage stopping him. Hopefully, it was the latter.
They talked a few more minutes then a tapping noise sounded on the back door. They both leaned forward to see past the opening to the dining room off the back of the house. Dean stood at the sliding-glass door, cigarette in hand, motioning to Cynthia.
“Looks like my future ex-boyfriend is ready to leave. I’d better get going.”
“Future ex? I thought you really liked this one. You’ve been with him for several months now.”
“His shoes are too small.”
Harper burst out laughing.
They both stood and hugged each other.
Harper tucked her sister’s straight black hair behind her ears. “You be careful on that bike. Wear your helmet.”
“Yes, Mother.” It was Cynthia’s turn to roll her eyes. She jogged to the back door and gave Harper a parting wave before heading outside.
A few moments later, Harper stood at the front windows, watching her sister hang on to Dean as he sped down the driveway, shooting gravel up from beneath his tires. And, of course, she wasn’t wearing a helmet.
She shook her head and turned around, letting out an embarrassing squeak of surprise a split second before recognizing the man standing in her family room.
Gage Bishop.
“Hello, Harper.” He made a point of looking down at his shoes. “They’re a size thirteen, not twelve.”
Her face flushed so hot, she was amazed she didn’t burst into flames. “I need a drink.” She grabbed her half full wineglass and strode past him into the kitchen.