Ripple of Secrets: Rose Gardner Mystery Novella #6.5 (Rose Gardner series Book 3) Read online

  Ripple of Secrets

  A Rose Gardner Between the Numbers Novella

  Between Thirty-Three and Thirty-Four

  By Denise Grover Swank

  Ripple of Secrets was originally released in three parts on the Denise Grover Swank website. It was available as a free read to newsletter subscribers from January 29 to March 16, 2015.

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Copyright 2015 by Denise Grover Swank

  Cover art and design: Eisley Jacobs

  Developmental Editor: Angela Polidoro

  Copy editor: Shannon Page

  Proofreader: Leigh Morgan

  All rights reserved.

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Joe

  My parents’ house was the last place I wanted to be on Christmas Day.

  Coming home for just the day had become a tradition after I started law school in Little Rock. It fulfilled my family obligation without forcing me to spend any more time with my parents than necessary. Even before my entire life fell apart back in September, I’d hoped to get out of going to my parents’ house for Christmas. Only I’d hoped to be spending Christmas with Rose, planning our wedding and our family, our life together. Now my future seemed as barren as the gray day outside my car.

  As I drove through the open gate, I considered pulling around the circular drive and taking off, but I knew it was just a fantasy. Still, I was grateful to find the brick-paved drive surprisingly empty. My parents usually threw elaborate Christmas parties. They must have still been too humiliated by my state senate loss to host one this year. Especially one I would be attending.

  I parked close to the front door, then gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath as I stared at the massive brick and stone house. Thank God for my sheriff patrol shift later. I’d volunteered to fill in for one of the deputies with a family so he could spend the entire day with his kids. I would have pulled a double shift if I could have gotten away with it, but my father had made some vague threat about “that Fenton County tart” and I’d mumbled that I’d figure out a way to come.

  Rose and I might not be together, but I would gladly spend the rest of my life keeping her safe, whether she knew it or not. It was my penance for failing her.

  A lump filled my throat, catching me by surprise. My good days outnumbered my bad ones lately, but the holidays had been rough. I’d purposely tried to avoid Rose over the last week, a difficult task given the fact that we were now business partners. But that was no one’s fault but my own. My last-ditch effort to keep her in my life. While I’d gone into it knowing her initial outrage would soften, I’d hoped her resistance to taking me back would fade as well. But her relationship with Mason seemed stronger than ever, especially after Mason’s brush with death in the fire at that strip club Gems. It was all I could do to block out the mental image of the two of them celebrating Christmas at Rose’s farmhouse.

  That was supposed to be me.

  But it was time to suck it up and accept the situation. At least for now. I still held out hope. Things changed. The crash course of our relationship was proof enough of that. Rose had told me she wanted safe instead of risky for now. She had been talking about the business, of course, but the look in her eyes had given me hope that her words might hold a double meaning. I’d bide my time. Rose was worth waiting for.

  I squared my shoulders and climbed out of the car, grateful the forecasted rain had held off and the sun was peeking through the clouds. It bolstered my resolve as I knocked on the front door and waited. My parents’ butler, Gerald, opened the door moments later, a grim look on his face.

  “Cheer up, Gerald,” I said, brushing past him as I walked through the door. “It’s Christmas and my parents don’t seem to be having their usual boisterous party.”

  Gerald’s only response was to close the door behind me. He’d worked for my parents for nearly twenty years and truth be told, I couldn’t remember Gerald ever looking happy. But then again, look where he worked.

  The entryway was covered with Christmas decorations. Real evergreen garland was wrapped around the staircase railing, as well as an elaborate holiday arrangement on the mahogany credenza. The image was worthy of a magazine layout. In fact, it had probably been featured in one. My parents were known for their multiple holiday parties and my mother hired a decorator every year. It took the decorator days to make the house visually ready for Christmas. But no matter how perfect it looked, there was always something missing—something only I seemed to notice. Heart and love. The setting was as soulless as it was beautiful.

  Just like the woman who claimed to be carrying my child.

  My parents were already sitting in the living room. My mother was dressed to impress in a cream-colored suit that blended in strategically with the off-white sofa, sipping a mimosa from a champagne flute. Dad was in an overstuffed chair, drinking coffee while reading a newspaper.

  Mom noticed me first, her gaze lifting to my face. A soft smile lifted her mouth and I had a hard time figuring out if it was genuine or if she thought it was expected of her. Maybe both.

  She kicked into hostess mode, even if it was only a party of three. “Joe, how lovely for you to join us.”

  I considered adding that I hadn’t had a choice in the matter, but we all knew it and I would come across as a sulking child. “Merry Christmas, Mom.” I tried hard to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

  Dad barely glanced up at me. “Joseph.”

  I was tempted to pay a visit to the wet bar in the corner, but I’d done a lot of soul-searching lately, and I realized I’d used alcohol as a crutch for too long. Instead, I sat on the opposite end of the sofa from my mother. It occurred to me that while it was a relief my parents hadn’t included their usual guests, it also meant there was no one else present to distract them.

  “How’s your new job?” Mom asked, the disgust in her voice only partially veiled.

  “It’s going great, thanks for asking.” The sarcasm in my own voice was far more obvious.

  “Are you really moving to that farm?” The way she said ‘farm’ made it sound like I was moving to third-world Africa.

  “Yes, I’m moving this week, actually.”

  Her upper lip curled. “I don’t understand why you don’t move in with Hilary. She’s leased such a lovely house, a rare find in that dump of a town.”

  “For the hundredth time, I’m not moving in with Hilary. And I’m definitely not marrying her.”

  “She’s carrying your child, Joseph.” Her voice sounded strained.

  My father looked up, as if finally taking notice of our conversation. “You will not make that child a bastard, Joseph.”

  My hand balled into a fist. “This is the twenty-first century, Dad.”

  He set his paper down in his lap and narrowed his eyes. “That child will be a Simmons. I will see to it.”

  “J.R.,” an all-too-familiar voice cooed from across the room. “No need for threats.”

  My chest tightened as I glanced at the woman in the doorway. “You invited Hilary?”

  She stood in the threshold wearing a gray linen skirt paired with a white silk blouse that revealed her growing cleavage, but she’d dressed down the outfit with two-inch heels instead of h
er usual three or four. Her long red hair was loose today and her makeup was understated. Hilary was a beautiful woman and she knew it. In fact, she relied on it. This morning it was obvious she was going for a Christmas casual look, only it looked plastic on her. I couldn’t help but wonder what Rose was wearing.

  “Of course we invited Hilary,” Mom said as though I’d asked the stupidest question in the world. “She’s the mother of your child. She’ll be with us every Christmas.”

  My father’s eyes found mine and his jaw clenched. “Our grandchildren will spend Christmas at our house every year.”

  If Rose and I ever had children together, I would sooner throw myself on a grenade than bring them here. Why was I so apathetic about the child Hilary was carrying? I might not like the baby’s mother, but he or she would still be mine. I needed to accept that and do my level best to protect him or her from these narcissists.

  “Of course our baby will spend Christmas here,” Hilary said, moving to the wet bar. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat down on the sofa between my mother and me.

  I expected her to put her hand on my knee or drape herself against my arm, but she kept her body parts to herself, unlike her usual modus operandi. Hilary had used sex as a way to sway me since we were teenagers. So she was changing tactics. Again. Whatever her plan, she took a sip of her juice and turned to my mother. “My parents called and said they were going to be a few minutes late.”

  I wasn’t surprised to hear that her parents were coming too. This was probably all planned weeks ago. The five of them would gang up on me and try to wear me down. I glanced at the grandfather clock in the entryway. Five minutes down. Three hours and fifty-five minutes to go.

  “Hilary, dear, how have you been feeling?” Mom asked her with more warmth than she’d used for me.

  “Surprisingly well. Very little morning sickness.” She paused for dramatic effect and gave my mother a soft smile. “I’m just exhausted all the time.” She released a pretty laugh. “I find myself falling asleep at ridiculous times. Just this Wednesday I fell asleep at eight o’clock, if you’d believe it.”

  My mother grabbed her hand. “You should come back home, Hilary. Let your mother and me take care of you.”

  My irritation had begun to grate away at my control. “Hilary is a healthy, grown woman. She’s not working, and she lives in one of the nicest homes in Henryetta, Arkansas. Pregnancy is not a disease, Mother—she’ll be just fine. In fact, Neely Kate Colson is having a much more difficult pregnancy, and the last thing she does is sit around while other people wait on her.” I turned to face them both, growing angrier by the minute. “Just last week, she and Rose helped find Neely Kate’s missing cousin.”

  A condescending gleam filled my mother’s eyes. “Are you seriously comparing our sweet, delicate Hilary to the Fenton County riffraff?”

  I stood, clenching my fists at my sides. “And which one of those women are you calling riffraff, Mother?”

  Her face softened and she nodded her head, acting as if I were an upset child who could easily be managed if the right sweets were promised. “Joseph, all of this fuss is unnecessary. If you want to be the chief deputy sheriff in that backwoods county, fine. Do it. Your father thinks your new position will aid you politically more than being with the state police would.” She set her champagne flute on the side table, then placed her hands on her knees in a graceful swoop. “But at least have the sense to marry the mother of your child.”

  “No, Mom.” I kept my voice down, but my anger was unmistakable. “You may think you can dictate everything else in my life, but you can not make me marry this woman.”

  My mother and I glared at each other for several long seconds before I heard a woman’s voice say, “Well, it’s about damn time.”

  I spun around, my mouth parting as relief washed through me when I saw my younger sister Kate standing in the doorway. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of years, but she looked exactly the same except that the red streaks in her short dark bob had been replaced with blue ones. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt, her thumbs hooked through holes at the ends of the sleeves. Her style was grunge-casual, and I could feel my mother’s skin crawl from three feet away. I would have run to her and pulled her into a hug if she hadn’t told me to go to hell the last time we’d seen each other, especially since she’d really meant it. But after what had happened, with a couple of years’ distance and a bit of maturity on my part, I couldn’t say I blamed her.

  “Katherine.” Disdain dripped off my mother’s tongue. “I had no idea you planned to join us for the holidays.”

  “I heard changes were afoot.” She winked at me and glided into the room, perching on the arm of the empty armchair. “I had to see if it was true.”

  Mom’s back stiffened. “Joe and Hilary are expecting a baby, and we’re trying to set a wedding date.”

  “It sounds like you and Hil-Monster are the only two who are concerned with that task.” Kate gave Hilary a devilish look and tsked. “Now, now, Hils. The last person I expected to be an unwed mother is you.” She got up, headed to the wet bar, and picked up a crystal glass. Clutching it to her chest, she turned to face the couch. “You must be either getting sloppy or desperate. Personally, I’m going with the latter.”

  I released a chuckle, but Hilary gasped.

  “Katherine,” Mom admonished. “Hilary is our guest and you will speak to her with respect.”

  Kate poured whiskey into her glass. “Guest? Hell, she’s practically lived here her entire life.” She set the decanter down on the table with a heavy thud and picked up her glass. “She’s more like a sister than a guest.” She turned her cold eyes on me. “Wouldn’t you say so, Joe?” Then she lifted the glass and took a sip. “But if she’s really pregnant with your baby, that would be incest.”

  I cringed. Kate may have viewed Hilary as a sister, but I never had. Maybe it was because even when I was a little boy I’d felt the unspoken expectation that I’d end up with Hilary one day.

  “Katherine Elizabeth!” our father shouted. “That will be enough.”

  Kate seemed unfazed. “Enough what? Honesty?” She walked closer to my father. “I disagree. There never was enough honesty in this house.”

  My mother shifted in her seat. “Did you come back here to insult us, Katherine? If so, an e-mail would have sufficed.”

  Kate resumed her seat on the arm of the chair. “No. It’s like I told you. I came back to see if Joe really grew a pair of balls.” Though she’d addressed our mother, she’d said it while looking at me.

  I should have been insulted, but I snickered instead, earning a glare from Hilary.

  “If you insist on speaking so coarsely, we will have to insist that you eat Christmas dinner somewhere else,” my father said in a tone that suggested he wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense.

  Too bad it never worked with Kate.

  She took a sip of her drink and laughed. “And what exactly are you going to do? Call the police and have me kicked out?” She covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers and released a fake gasp. “And besmirch the Simmons name?” Grinning, she dropped her hand. “No, I don’t think so.” She tilted her head toward the doorway. “You could try to have Gerald haul me out, but I’m pretty sure I can take ’im.”

  I burst out laughing. “Things have been dull without you.” And while my words were true, I also didn’t trust her motives. I believed she was curious, but there had to be more to it. Kate only did things that benefited Kate.

  Merriment filled her eyes and she winked. “Glad you grew a pair, big brother.”

  “Katherine,” Mom said in her harshest voice. “The Wilders are coming to dinner and if you wish to dine with us, I insist you dress for dinner and use your manners.”

  Kate leaned back, draping her arm over the back of the chair. “I’m not six years old anymore, Mommy. You don’t scare me.”

  I needed to take lessons from my sister.

/>   “It’s called common decency, Katherine.”

  Kate took a sip from her glass and seemed to think about Mom’s statement for a moment, and then she pursed her lips. “We could talk about common decency—” she turned her gaze to our mother, “—but considering that it’s Christmas Day and you want to keep everything civil, I’ll save it for another time.” She lifted her glass in salute. “See? I can behave.”

  It was going to be an interesting day.

  Chapter Two

  Joe

  Christmas dinner was more than slightly uncomfortable. The Wilders showed up a few minutes after noon in their Sunday finest. They took one look at my sister, still dressed in her grunge outfit, and I could tell they were reconsidering their plans for the afternoon, but my mother rushed out of her seat faster than I’d seen her move in ages and grabbed Hilary’s mother’s arm, probably to keep her from bolting.

  “Vanessa and Ed, we’re so happy you’re here. And thank you for loaning your lovely Hilary to us last night. I think it’s good to start the tradition of our grandchild being here on Christmas morning.”

  “Like the baby knows,” Kate laughed. “It’s a cluster of cells.”

  “Katherine.” Based on the look of surprise on Mom’s face, the one-word admonishment had come out sounding harsher than she’d intended. But then Kate had always been good at pushing Mom’s buttons.

  “Mother.” Kate lifted her eyebrows and smirked, daring our mother to continue.

  Flustered, Mom announced it was time for dinner, and we all headed into the massive dining room and sat at the mahogany table. I’d had more elaborate, multi-course meals at that table than I could count, but it had become a talisman that evoked only one memory—the disastrous dinner Rose and I had attended here only a few short months ago. The anger over that night had burned in my gut for so long, it was still smoldering embers. It only needed a little poking to rear its ugly head. I’d spent several weeks trying to come to terms with Rose’s decision to be with Mason. But that damned table was just another kick in the gut.