Secrets Between Them

Of course he was eventually going to have to come clean with what he was doing here and what his book was about. He probably should have done so already. But once he did, she’d be more conscious about what she was telling him. This might be his only opportunity to get some unguarded thoughts and opinions.

Nick smiled and Jennifer’s cheeks pinkened again. She was so damned cute and clearly she liked him. Maybe…

No. That was definitely a bad idea. A little flirting, a little fun, sure. But this couldn’t go any further than that.

“A few years ago we had another author stay at our B and B,” Jennifer said. “Craig Richards. Have you heard of him?”

Great. She was talking about writing again. Nick shook his head.

“He was researching a kayakers’ guide to the Gulf Islands. I have an autographed copy of his book in the sitting room.”

Nick wondered if Jennifer would want an autographed copy of his book when he was done. It might be fun to come back here after the book was out and sign some copies for the locals…

But he was getting ahead of himself. He had to write the damn thing first. And to do that, he needed facts. Feeling a little like a tennis player trapped in an endless volley, he looked pointedly at the poster of Simone on the wall beside them.

“I guess the locals are pretty proud of their celebrity.”

Jennifer’s posture tightened. She didn’t look at the poster as she said, “Yes, we are.”

Why was she so guarded every time he mentioned the famous singer? He pretended not to notice the reaction. “So how did you keep up your friendship after she became famous? She must have been very busy.”

“Simone was the kind of person who made things happen. If a hole opened in her schedule, she would be on the phone, arranging things. One day I’d get a call from her, the next I’d be taking the ferry to Vancouver to catch a flight.”

“Is that how your Europe trip happened?”

She nodded. “Simone had the idea on a Tuesday and we were in the air a week later. Between trips we stayed in touch with long phone calls.”

“All worked around her schedule, of course. Her convenience, her availability.”

Jennifer’s eyes narrowed. “She had more demands on her time than I did.”

Having seen how hard Jennifer worked, Nick doubted that.

“Simone wasn’t perfect, but she was my friend. And I loved her.”

Maybe she had. She sure seemed sincere. But Nick wondered if he might be getting to the source of all that tension he sensed. The friendship seemed to be more one-sided than Jennifer was prepared to admit. “You must have been devastated when she died.”

“It was awful. Especially at first when we believed she’d killed herself.”

Emerson had set up his crime to look like suicide. And for over a year, he’d fooled everyone. During that time there must have been a lot of guilt. And all the forget-me-not friends would have felt it. “It must have been torture for her husband…”

“Yes. Harrison took it the hardest.”

Nick had figured he would have. “But it was Harrison who eventually proved Simone was murdered, right?”

She nodded. “We all thought he was crazy when he first told us his theory. No one more so than Justine. But it turned out that Emerson was the crazy one and Harrison was right.”

“That must have been a real shocker. Had any of you suspected Emerson had these obsessive, romantic feelings for Simone?”

“No. It was always Harrison and Gabe fighting over her, so we were all dumbfounded. But after Emerson killed himself, the RCMP found papers in his house. Apparently in his mind Simone had loved him more than anyone else in the world. When he got up his nerve to tell her he loved her and wanted her to leave Harrison, and she refused, he killed her, then staged the scene to look like suicide. I still can’t believe it.”

Jennifer wasn’t even looking at him as she spoke. Clearly she was reliving the past, still trying to come to grips with the horrible death of her friend.

Poor Jennifer. He felt sympathy for her, and that worried him. It would be crazy for him to let his conscience get in the way now. This was good stuff. He had to keep her talking.

“That wasn’t the first time Emerson committed murder, was it?”

“No. Years ago he killed his parents.”

The articles Nick had read had alluded to past homicides but had been hazy with details. He leaned forward to catch every detail of Jennifer’s answer.

“It was so cold-blooded and…and senseless, Nick. They wanted to retire. That was all. That’s why he killed them.”

“But what did their retirement matter to him?”

“They were going to sell the landscaping company and use the proceeds to buy a place in Arizona. Emerson had worked at the family business all his life.”

“So it was about money?”

“That’s right. For the sake of a few hundred thousand dollars, Emerson rigged the brakes in the family car and his parents died in a horrible accident.”

The color of her eyes grew more intense, thanks to a sudden pooling of tears. Jennifer brushed them away. “But here I am babbling about people you don’t even know. You must be bored.”

Nick cleared his throat. It was time to come clean. He drew the line at lying.

“Actually, Jennifer, I do—”

“Two specials,” Josie announced, arriving at their table with a tray.

Nick sat back in his chair to give her room to unload the plates. Jennifer was smiling at the woman again, chatting about local politics. When the server finally left, the moment was lost.

He’d have to wait for another opportunity to discuss Simone DeRosier and the forget-me-not friends again.

AFTER LUNCH, JENNIFER GAVE Nick the full-blown tour. The island had been explored by the Spanish and the British in the 1700s, but wasn’t settled until the 1850s. Most of the residents worked in small businesses or as farmers or fishermen. Logging wasn’t permitted anywhere on the island, so except for a few cultivated areas, the rain forest remained majestic and untamed.

As they drove leisurely along the main road that circled the island, Jennifer enjoyed sharing her knowledge of the place she’d called home all her life. It was strange how proud she was of a place that sometimes felt like a prison to her.

But the isolation was a big part of the island’s charm. Though they weren’t far, as the crow flies, from the mainland, the combined ferry crossings meant that it took over half a day to travel to either Vancouver or Victoria, the two nearest cities. And because Summer Island was so lightly populated, even during high season the ferry only ran two times a day. If you were late…you were stuck where you were until the next scheduled crossing.

“Arbutus Grove Park.” Nick read aloud the sign on the side of the road, automatically slowing the Rover’s speed at the same time. “Wow, look at those trees.”

The diameter of some of the cedars spanned ten feet or more. Then there were the arbutus, rare broad-leafed evergreens with smooth dark red wood. This was the largest preserved grove of arbutus in all the Gulf Islands.

“This forest is our equivalent to the Queen’s crown jewels. Want to stop and hike down to the ocean?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Nick took her arm as she stepped out of the vehicle, and he kept hold of her hand as they settled on one of the paths that promised a two-kilometer scramble to the rocky shoreline.