Our Little Secret Page 4

  She waited until nine o’clock, when Jeff would be at his desk, finishing his second cup of coffee. He dealt with problems better after a good dose of caffeine.

  “What do you mean, you aren’t coming back today?” Lauren could almost hear his scowl through the phone. “I thought we agreed that you would change your plane reservations.”

  “Actually, you suggested it; we didn’t agree. I want to be sure Meg is okay before I leave.”

  A long moment of silence followed. Lauren knew Jeff was taking a deep, meditative breath to calm himself. “Okay. We can still salvage our trip. Instead of just sitting around waiting to hear from Meg, you can rent a car and drive to my aunt and uncle’s house in Virginia. They’ve wanted to meet you for over a year now, ever since we got engaged. It’ll be a nice, relaxing drive, and you can forget about Meg for a while.”

  She didn’t want to forget about Meg, she just wanted to know her sister was safe.

  “I can’t do that, Jeff. I wanted to stick around here in case she calls.”

  “For Pete’s sake, can’t anyone there take a message?”

  After dealing with Drew, Lauren didn’t feel up to an argument with Jeff. She refrained from commenting as he laid out the reasons why a two hour drive to the Virginia countryside to see John and Betty Duchaine would be a good way to spend her time. As he finished, Jeff added, “I’ll be free tonight between dinner and my racquet ball game. Give me a call at eight fifteen, okay? I want to hear how your visit went.”

  “Hmmm,” Lauren said, still wondering how to tell him she’d rather sit in Georgetown and worry about Meg than drive to Virginia to see people she didn’t know. Still, the evening phone call to him could ease part of her problems. “How much time will you have between dinner and racquetball?”

  “Twenty-two minutes. Why?”

  It might help if she had some experience at this, but you had to start somewhere. “Do you think that’s enough time for phone sex?”

  “What? What’s gotten into you, Lauren?”

  She wondered about that herself. “I don’t know. Do you want to help me find out, or not?”

  “I don’t even know how to do that.”

  “You just describe what you’re doing.” The idea of hearing Jeff whisper suggestive things in her ear intrigued her.

  “Lauren.” She could already hear disapproval in his tone. “Don’t you think that’s a little low class?”

  “No. Lots of people do it, and it has nothing to do with class.”

  “We’ve never done it.”

  “There’s a lot of things we’ve never done. That doesn’t mean we can’t try them.” She tried to be patient, reminding herself that she was pushing against the very thing that had drawn her to Jeff, his predictable, conservative nature. He was her anchor, the person who kept her grounded whenever Meg’s lifestyle threatened to throw her calm life into chaos. Years of rescuing Meg from disastrous relationships had made Jeff appealing. She just hoped he could stretch those sensibilities a little.

  “I’ll, um, think about it,” he said.

  “Okay.” It looked like she’d have to settle for that for now.

  “In the meantime, meeting Uncle John and Aunt Betty will be the perfect antidote to spending a couple days in Meg’s world.”

  Back to that again. “Meg’s world isn’t so bad, and I’m concerned about her. Anything could have happened—”

  He cut her off. “Meg is a big girl, Lauren. She’ll come home eventually, no doubt with some sordid explanation of why she disappeared for a day.”

  “Three days, actually.”

  He hadn’t heard her. “Trust me, you’re better off spending your time with my aunt and uncle. Just don’t tell them about Meg. After all, we’re hoping she gets this marriage annulled, right? So there’s no need to mention it. I’m looking forward to hearing what you think of Uncle John’s antique car collection. You can tell me all about it when you call tonight.”

  “At eight fifteen.”

  “Right. Great, I’ll talk to you then. ’Bye.” The phone went dead before she could respond.

  Disgusted, she tossed it aside. No one seemed to be concerned about Meg but her—and Gerald. And he was downstairs with Drew.

  She’d already decided it was best to avoid Drew. When they weren’t arguing, she found herself noticing the devilish appeal of his smile, or the snug fit of his jeans. But by early afternoon, when she’d read the airline’s in-flight magazine cover-to-cover and her stomach was growling, she went downstairs.

  She found Drew and Gerald right where she’d left them.

  Gerald stood at the kitchen island, surrounded by enough food to stock a small deli. He looked up with a smile. “Hey, Lauren. Did you get caught up in your work? We were about to send out a search party, weren’t we, Andrew?”

  Drew twisted the top off a beer and drank before answering. “No.”

  Gerald gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s an expression, stupid. And it was rhetorical.”

  “But inaccurate.” Drew popped a pretzel in his mouth and smiled sweetly at her. “She wasn’t lost. I’m willing to bet Lauren Sutherland has never been anywhere but where she was supposed to be, and never caused anyone a moment’s concern. Am I right?”

  She didn’t know what she’d done to get under his skin, but he was definitely displeased with her. She lifted her chin, determined not to let him get to her. “That’s right, Creighton. Dependable and predictable, that’s me. You know what else? I’m always on time, too. What horrible qualities.”

  She helped herself to lunch, standing next to Gerald as they passed condiments back and forth. Drew was in constant motion, pacing restlessly from sink, to refrigerator, to table, to window. When he grabbed a piece of cheese from the counter in front of them, Gerald lowered his sandwich and addressed him in a firm tone. “Andrew. Stand still. I can’t eat when you’re running circles around me. I’m getting winded just watching you.”

  “Sorry.” Drew stuck his hands in his pockets and stood still. Half a minute later he grabbed a handful of chips, chomping through them with the efficiency of a wood chipper sucking in branches. Then olives. Then deviled eggs. Then he cracked his knuckles.

  Gerald’s sandwich hit the plate. Throwing a sharp glare at Drew, he picked up his food, grabbed a beer bottle, and stalked across the kitchen to sit at the table. Lauren stayed at the island. She might not feel as hyper as Drew, but she was too unsettled to sit down.

  “I know, I know,” Drew grumbled. “I’m not good at waiting. I prefer action.” He picked up a plum, looked at it, then put it down. “And I’m starting to get worried.”

  Lauren lowered a forkful of potato salad. “You, too?”

  “Of course me, too.” His gaze speared her. “Why wouldn’t I be worried? My dad calls to say he got married, I scramble to get here, and no one knows where he is. For over three days now! He’s a United States senator, for God’s sake. Someone must know where he is. You don’t just lose track of those people.”

  “Oh.” She’d nearly forgotten that his father couldn’t be located either. “I understand. I feel the same way about Meg.”

  Drew smiled, a cold gleam in his eyes. “I wouldn’t worry too much about her. You’ll probably get a postcard any day now from some tropical island, one that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. I just hope she tells you in what remote location she ditched my dad, so we can rescue him.”

  Her resentment flared. “Did it ever occur to you that something might have happened to Meg, too?”

  Drew studied her, looking much more calm now that he had her riled up. “You mean other than fleeing the country? No, I can’t say that it has.”

  The arrogant bastard. Lauren pushed her plate away and faced him. “You’re wrong. All you have to do is check that stupid safety deposit box and you’ll see that all your precious jewelry is still there.” Even if it were gone, Meg had every right to take it as Harlan Creighton’s wife. Yet she didn’t think pointing that out wou
ld make Meg look any better.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “What a brilliant idea.”

  Gerald spoke up from across the room. “I told you, only the senator or Mrs. Creighton can open the safety deposit box.”

  Drew nodded. “And they aren’t here. And the bank closes in”—he checked his watch—“three hours. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so it won’t be open. I guess we’ll have to wait until Monday before we’ll know for sure how much Meg ran off with. If they don’t show up by then, we can probably persuade the police to open the box.”

  No way. Whether they ended up calling the police, or not, Lauren wasn’t going to have Drew Creighton accusing her sister of theft all weekend, especially if it might delay a search for Meg. “Take me to the bank. I’ll pretend I’m Meg and you can open that damn box, which will prove she didn’t take anything. I can forge her signature, and we look so alike that no one will question me.”

  Drew slapped his hand on the granite countertop, suddenly energized. “Excellent. I’ll get your coat. Get the spare key, Gerald, and some sort of ID for Lauren that says she’s Meg. If they ask, she can pretend she left her driver’s license at home.” He strode toward the doorway as he talked, then paused to look back at Gerald, who frowned at him from the table. “Let’s go,” Drew said. “The bank closes soon.”

  Gerald looked as surprised by Drew’s enthusiastic acceptance as she was. And suspicious. “Just hold on. I don’t like this. It’s not legal.”

  “It’s close enough to legal,” Drew rationalized. “We’re family. And we’re just going to look, we’re not going to take anything.”

  Lauren could tell Gerald had stubbornly processed “close enough to legal” to mean illegal. “If it’s okay for family members to open it, then why don’t you have a key to the box?” he argued, and shook his head. “Uh-uh, I won’t do it.”

  Drew watched him, considering. “Gerald, you’re in charge of Dad’s finances, so I know you’ve been there before. You’ll be there to watch, to make sure we don’t touch anything else.” When Gerald still didn’t budge, he said, “What if something’s happened to my dad? Look, I know you like Meg. But what if Meg really did take the jewelry and skip the country? Do you really want to wait until Monday to panic and call the cops when they could be looking for them both by tonight?” He let Gerald waver a moment before delivering the final punch. “What would my dad want you to do?”

  Gerald nodded slowly. “You may be right.”

  Drew gave him a sharp look. “You aren’t afraid of what we’ll find, are you?”

  Gerald narrowed his eyes, taking the dare. “No.” Standing, he adjusted his vest with a determined look and began putting food away. “Just give me a minute. And Lauren has to change into a skirt. Meg is very stylish, and she’d never visit the senator’s bank looking like that.” He gestured at Lauren’s jeans and sweater, then noticed her expression. “No offense, sweetie. Meg is aware that Senator Creighton has an image to uphold and it applies to everyone close to him, too. You don’t see the First Lady going around town in jeans, do you? Same thing.”

  Not exactly the same, but she sighed and shrugged it off. He was probably right about the image. “I’ll change.”

  Drew turned a smile on Lauren, gesturing toward the door. “After you.”

  He was entirely too eager. She gave him a measured look. “Why do I feel like you wanted me to suggest this very thing?”

  “Are you waffling?”

  She glared. “I never waffle.” She strode from the room, eager to prove Drew wrong and get on with a proper search for Meg. And to pretend it didn’t worry her that he knew exactly which button to push.

  Any doubts they had about Lauren passing as Meg were quelled as soon as they walked into the bank. Passing through the double doors, a man hurried in the opposite direction, bumping Lauren’s shoulder as they passed. He glanced back with a muttered apology, then stopped and stared.

  “Mrs. Creighton!” The words were an astonished gasp.

  “Hello,” Lauren began, already playing her part, but the man was backing away, mumbling more apologies. He bumped into the outer door, then turned and dashed out to the parking lot.

  “What the hell was that?” Drew asked. He took her by the elbow. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She glanced outside where the man was jogging toward his car at a fast clip. “I guess he knows Meg.”

  “Looks more like he owes her money, the way he ran off.” Drew kept a protective grip on her arm until they reached the counter.

  “Mrs. Creighton! How nice to see you again,” the bank clerk oozed. While Lauren carefully forged her sister’s signature, the clerk slipped curious glances at Drew and Gerald. The signature didn’t receive even a cursory inspection. So much for security.

  Lauren tried not to fidget while Meg’s and the bank’s matching keys were inserted in the tiny door. The box that slid out was long and wide, large enough to hold several fortunes in jewelry. She grudgingly conceded that Drew might have reason to be worried. He was wrong about Meg, of course, but he had no way of knowing that. In a couple more minutes, she was sure he would.

  They followed the clerk to a tiny room, barely big enough for all of them to fit comfortably inside. No one spoke while she laid the box on the wide ledge that passed as a table, then squeezed around them, closing the door with a muffled click.

  The three of them exchanged looks. Drew motioned at Lauren. “Go ahead.”

  She took a step back. “Not me, it’s not mine.” Now that they were closed in this private room, she was reluctant to look inside. She told herself it was because the box wasn’t hers, not because she was worried about what she’d find.

  Apparently it had also occurred to Drew that his father’s safe deposit box might be private for a good reason. He hesitated.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Gerald muttered, and stepped between them, taking the solitary chair. “It’s a good thing you have me here to take charge, since you two obviously fold under the slightest pressure.” Lauren and Drew ignored the insult and stepped closer as he flipped back the lid. Lauren felt her heart kick into overdrive as she leaned forward for a better look.

  Silk- and velvet-covered jewelry cases fit like puzzle pieces inside the larger box. Lauren released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

  “Open them,” Drew instructed.

  She threw him a resentful glance, even though she knew they had to be sure.

  They watched as Gerald lifted each case out and opened it. Jeweled necklaces and large gemstone dinner rings glittered in the strong overhead lights as each lid sprang open, then was snapped shut again. With each sparkling item, Lauren felt her heart rate slow, until the anxious pounding returned to normal. Eight boxes covered the table when Gerald reached a light blue document-size envelope at the bottom of the box. He picked it up.

  “What’s that?” Drew asked.

  “I don’t know. I was with the senator last week when he stopped to get a necklace out for Miranda to wear at a charity ball. This wasn’t here.” He looked at them, eyebrows raised. “Should I open it?”

  “Hell, yes,” Drew said.

  Lauren nodded, an unexpected dread turning her hands icy. If Meg didn’t take anything out of the box, then she must have left this in it. What would she need to keep in a safe deposit box? It was probably completely harmless, her marriage license or an updated will, and of no concern to anyone but Harlan and Meg Creighton. But the fact that Meg seemed to have vanished after leaving it here sent ominous prickles down Lauren’s spine.

  Gerald undid the clasp and peeked inside, then slid something out. Before Lauren could tell what it was, he shoved it back inside and looked up in alarm.

  “What? What is it?” she asked.

  Gerald swallowed. “Pictures.”

  Drew scowled. “What kind of pictures?”

  His shoulders shuddered. “The wrong kind. Naked people. Two naked people.”

  Drew and Lauren exchanged a quick look.
“Who?” Drew demanded.

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.” He handed the envelope to Drew. “You look.”

  Drew’s face was determined as he reached inside the envelope. Lauren thought it would be unseemly to rush to his side and peer over his shoulder, even though she was dying of curiosity. Gerald’s comment left the possibilities wide open, and none of them fit her image of Meg.

  He slid the pictures out slowly. She eased onto her tiptoes but could only make out a black and white blur. But she could see his reaction.

  The pictures weren’t all the way out before he shot them back in again. His face was drawn and serious as he held the envelope out to her. “I don’t need to see any more.”