Colby Agency: Small-Town Secrets Part 10

Spence gave her a rea.s.suring smile. "I'm reserving judgment for now."

Dana hung the strap of her purse on her shoulder and lifted her gaze to his for an extended moment. "Thank you."

"For what?" He drew his eyebrows together in question. "For not being afraid to share a room with you or for doing my job?"

"For reserving judgment."

She opened the door and stepped out; he followed. He inserted the key in the lock and gave it a turn. The way things were going around here, if someone wanted in the room a mere lock wouldn't stop them. But Spence wasn't going to make it easy.

Dana's hand settled on his arm. When he looked up she sent a look toward the street.

A Brighton Police Department cruiser was parked in the supermarket lot across the street.

Spence could guess what that meant. Lorie Venable had reported their visit.

The chief would be watching their every move from this point forward.

Odd. Dana wanted the truth. Nothing more.

Shouldn't the chief of police want that, too?

Chapter Twelve.

Dana felt cold.

Ice cold.

Her vision blurred as she stared at the screen.

Tragedy Strikes Small Town a Second Time ...a third girl is found dead...

Dana couldn't read this stuff anymore. She'd lost count of the newspapers. The dozens of headlines churned in her brain. It was like reading a story about someone else. She knew it happened, yet she couldn't recall experiencing any of it personally.

What was wrong with her?

Why couldn't she just remember that night!

Dana closed her eyes and tried to stop the spinning inside her head.

"Hey," Spence said quietly.

For one moment Dana kept her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his warm hand on hers. He made her feel safe. No one had made her feel this protected since...before that night. It didn't hurt that he was tall and strong-looking with broad shoulders. She liked his eyes. Dark and soothing.

"They're ready to lock up. They're just waiting for us to go."

Dana opened her eyes and looked around. He was right. The library was deserted save for the two women behind the front desk. The return counter and carts had been cleared. She'd had no idea it was eight o'clock already.

"Right." As she grabbed her purse she felt compelled to apologize. "I'm sorry we've wasted more time."

"Anything we do that gives us more information is not a waste of time."

She had to try and remember that. Finding the answers, the truth, was the goal. Each detail discovered was one additional, however tiny, step toward that seemingly elusive goal.

Going to the Colby Agency was the best decision she'd made in a long time. No, scratch that. It was the best decision she'd ever made. The idea of facing these people-people she'd known her whole life-alone was unimaginable. He made it bearable.

Spence was right beside her as they pa.s.sed the front desk. With him next to her she could tolerate the way the librarians stared at her. She knew what they were thinking. What everyone in this town appeared to think. She couldn't let that deter her from her goal.

As she reached for the door, a poster snagged her attention. She stalled, read the words that accompanied the image of an author's upcoming release.

Private Confessions...One Woman's Journal Journal.

She'd kept a journal when she was a kid.

Images and words exploded in her brain.

"Is something wrong?"

Dana blinked. She turned to Spence. "I kept a journal."

The antic.i.p.ation that lit his eyes signaled that he understood this could be important.

It could be really important.

Dana couldn't get to the car fast enough. Her mind whirled with the possible places she might have hidden her journal. She'd kept one, faithfully. She just had to recall where she'd put it last.

In her room somewhere.

The room was trashed. What if someone had found it and taken it?

Dana couldn't catch her breath until they were in the car and headed toward the house on Waverly Street. She'd written her innermost thoughts in a journal since she could form sentences. How had she forgotten that?

Her heart was racing now. Her palms were sweating. Would she have written about that night?

"Hurry."

"Well," Spence said, "since that deputy is still following us around, staying under the speed limit might be the best course of action."

Dana hadn't realized she'd said the word out loud. "Sorry, I was just thinking aloud."

Spence flashed her a smile. Even with nothing more than the dash lights, the gesture made her feel secure. And unafraid.

Ice-cold fear stabbed deep into her chest.

What if they were right?

What if she was the one...?

He would hate her then.

When Spence parked in the driveway, Dana couldn't move.

He climbed out of the car.

She couldn't breathe.

He hesitated at the front of the car. She could see him in the moonlight.

Move. Her body refused to cooperate.

He walked around to her side of the car and opened the door. "Come on," he urged gently. "I'll be right there with you every step of the way."

She could do this. She had to do this.

Her fear about this was so tangible...so overwhelming. She felt like a helpless child.

Dana put one foot on the pavement and pushed up and out of the car. She could do it.

The house was dark. Even the moonlight didn't help the looming structure. Her movements were stiff as she followed Spence onto the porch. This had been her home as a child. The only home she'd ever known. She shouldn't be afraid. Nothing bad had happened inside this house...until after she moved away.

Spence unlocked the door. "Wait. I should get a flashlight."

He jogged down the steps and hurried across the street. The lights were on at the Bellomy house. It wasn't ten yet, so they were probably still up.

Dana hugged herself. She looked around the dark porch and tried to picture playing here. The porch had been her mother's favorite place to sit in the evening. She and Dana's dad would wave to the Bellomys, sip their evening tea and talk about how things were changing in town.

How was it she could remember those details and not one thing she and Donna had done on those same evenings? It was like her entire personal history began and ended that one night. Nothing before was clear, nothing for days afterward that could be retrieved.

The night's chill had leached deep beneath her skin by the time Spence returned with a heavy-duty flashlight. Inside, he waited for her to catch up. She'd stalled in the doorway.

"You want to wait until morning to do this?"

It took every ounce of courage she possessed not to take him up on that suggestion. Waiting until tomorrow would only delay what she'd already waited sixteen years to know.

"No. I'm through waiting."

"Where would you like to start?"

He had to know the answer to that question. There was only one place to look.

Her bedroom.

"The bedroom. You go first," she urged.

He moved down the hall, allowing the flashlight's beam to rove the area in front of them. Dana's pulse wouldn't slow. No matter how long she held her breath or how deep the breaths, her heart rate wouldn't slow.

At the door, she braced for the cruel images beyond. He opened the door, and she followed him into the room. The ugliness rammed her senses all over again. Voices whispered in her ears.

You can't go...they don't want you there.

Dana shivered.

It's not my fault. They just don't like you.

Dana resisted the impulse to put her hands over her ears. It was Donna's voice, but she didn't remember her saying those things.

"You okay?"

Dana jerked from the disturbing thoughts. "Yes. I'm fine."

"Why don't you hold the light? I'll pick through things."

She accepted the flashlight and took a deep, steadying breath. She could do this. Focusing the beam on his movements, she mentally inventoried the items as he sifted through the strewn pieces of her past.

A blue-and-white school sweater. The teddy bear she hadn't been able to give up as a preschooler. Donna's favorite teen magazine. Stuff...so much stuff.

"Did you have a special hiding place for your journal?" he asked after digging around for what felt like an hour.

"I must have." Why couldn't she remember? d.a.m.n it!

Think! It couldn't be that difficult. How many places were there to hide things?

They opened each drawer, sifted through the closets...

Nothing.

Her anxiety gave way to frustration. She'd kept a journal. It had to be here.

She needed it to be here so this could finally be over.

While she held the light, Spence disa.s.sembled the beds. Nothing under the mattresses.

Nothing anywhere.

Okay. Think. Maybe she'd hidden it somewhere else in the house. If her goal was to keep her private thoughts a secret from her sister, their shared bedroom wouldn't have been the best hiding place.

"We should check the other rooms," she suggested. She hoped with all her heart this wasn't going to be another dead end.

"Wait."

Spence held her back when she would have headed for the door. "What's wrong?"