Copper Lake Confidential - By Marilyn Pappano Page 0,61
Clary and put her to bed.
She shifted the van into Reverse and automatically checked the back-up camera but didn’t move her foot from the brake. What reason could Stephen possibly have for moving her keys? And why last night, when he was the only one whose time in the house was unaccounted for? If he’d wanted to play mind games with her, he’d had plenty of other opportunities.
But if it hadn’t been him, that left her. Why would she misplace her own keys? Because this whole trip to Copper Lake had her a little unhinged. Because she’d imagined an intruder in the guesthouse and misplaced the Fair Winds contract and the cologne bottle. Because she had a history of mental illness related to Mark and his passing. Because she was one of those people all her friends and acquaintances said things like Poor thing and Bless her heart about.
Because that fluttering and sweating and shaking this morning had been the precursor of a panic attack, even if she was taking her medicine and staying active.
Because she was losing control again.
Blowing out a heavy breath, she checked the camera once more, then backed out of the driveway. Even driving slowly, it took only a minute or two to reach Stephen’s house, where she parked on the side of the road next to the gate.
“Is this were Dr. Stephen lives?”
She checked her smile in the rearview—steady enough for a little girl—then faced her. “Yep.”
Clary unbuckled her harness in the time it took Macy to unhook her seatbelt and open the door. Clary scrambled over the console and the driver’s seat, then jumped to the ground, raising little puffs of dust in the soft dirt. They’d reached Stephen’s door and Clary had banged on the wooden frame of the screen before Macy had time to second-guess coming here. He might be writing. Sunday could be his day to sleep in until noon, or he could be getting ready for church or have plans with someone else.
A welcoming bark sounded inside, then the door opened. It was a toss-up whose greeting was more excited—Clary’s or Scooter’s. Though Stephen’s was much quieter, just a smile that sent warmth all the way to her toes, it persuaded Macy of two things. She wasn’t interrupting his morning, and he hadn’t played some weird mind game with her keys last night. Granted, Mark had fooled her, but she’d learned to be cautious as a result. If Stephen knew about her inpatient care, if he’d moved the keys to screw with her, she was ten times the fool Mark had made her. Something deep inside, something primal and instinctive, said she wasn’t that big a fool. She could trust this man.
Which meant there’d been an intruder—not likely with the alarm always armed—or a ghost or she couldn’t trust herself.
“What brings you two pretty girls to our place this morning?” Stephen asked.
“We wanna do something fun,” Clary replied.
He unlatched the screen door and held it open for them to enter. Scooter hesitated a moment as if he couldn’t quite resist the lure of freedom, but in the end the lure of playing with Clary won out. “I can think of a lot of fun things to do,” Stephen murmured as Macy followed her daughter inside. “We’d have to ditch the little one for some of them.”
This time the intensity on his face ignited the heat. She resisted the urge to fan herself because common sense told her the temperature rise was all internal. With the windows open and the ceiling fan whirring, the small living room was perfectly comfortable.
“No ditching,” she said just as quietly. “My baby said, ‘But I wanna do something fun with yooouu, Mama.’ I was thinking we’d start with breakfast.”
“Hmm. I have protein bars and coffee. I’m not sure I want to see Little Bit on caffeine.”
“It’s not a pretty sight. I thought maybe the four of us could go to Ellie’s, then do...something.”
His laughter was genuine. “Have you forgotten what constitutes fun, Macy?”
“Back in Charleston, we’d go to the beach or to the Battery downtown or visit one of the historic sites.”
“Here we go to the lake or the parks or to the square downtown or visit one of the historic sites. We have an active historical society, the botanical society’s gardens are in full bloom and we even have a couple of museums. Oh, wait, I bet you worked on all of those, didn’t you?”