Winter's Secret Read online

  And if there was a damn good reason, Aiden would have heard it. After all, Aiden had been a part of Justin’s case since the young boy was kidnapped after his parents’ murder.

  As he glanced over the recent addition of the potential evidence from Harrisonburg, his eyes widened.

  “What the hell?” he muttered to himself.

  According to the scanned copies of the evidence release forms, Winter had been the agent on site when the crime scene techs arrived. And the address.

  He doubted he’d ever forget that damn address. For years, that address had haunted his dreams.

  Heaving a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and fixed his stare on the dimpled ceiling of his office. He could recall the last time Winter had visited her childhood home. Specifically, he remembered the pitiable shape she’d been in when Noah Dalton carried her out of that damn house.

  A litany of questions about Winter’s motive for visiting the house flitted through his head, but he would only find reliable answers if he went directly to the source herself.

  Pushing himself from the comfortable seat, he stretched his arms and legs before heading toward the door. But as he stepped into the hallway, he wondered if she would even be here today. During the Kilroy case, she had skipped more days of work than she’d been present for.

  Part of him expected to make it down to the Violent Crimes section to be told that no one had heard from her. That same part of him anticipated a return to the same state of mind he’d occupied all those months ago. He was used to charming and manipulating the occasional person to further his ambitions, but even he could admit he’d gone too far.

  Lost in the midst of his contemplation, he had to do a double take when he stepped off the elevator. Though her attention was fixed on her phone, Winter stood off to the side of the hallway. Before she had a chance to notice the scrutiny, he took stock of her appearance.

  Her long, glossy hair was fashioned into a neat braid that hung over one shoulder of her white, button-down dress shirt. The shirt itself was spotless, and she’d completed the ensemble with a pair of dressy black slacks and shiny flats.

  She looked normal.

  As he took the first few steps off the elevator, her bright blue eyes snapped up to meet his. “Oh. Morning, Aiden. What brings you down here?”

  Her greeting was normal.

  She seemed fine.

  What the hell was going on?

  He didn’t see any reason to dance around the subject. “I got a message about an update to your brother’s case. Figured I’d come down here to see how that came about.”

  A flicker of recognition passed behind her eyes, but he spotted no hint of the anxiety or irritability he had expected.

  Seriously. What in the hell was going on?

  With a quick glance in either direction, Winter gestured to the open doorway of a nearby conference room.

  Wordlessly, he nodded.

  After he followed her into the small space, he flicked on the light and eased the door closed.

  He half-expected to see the same cold, unfeeling look in her eyes that had been so commonplace during the Kilroy investigation. Instead, she still looked normal. Intense, but not on a level that was disconcerting.

  Crossing both arms over his chest, he pinned her with a matching stare. “Well, let’s hear it.”

  She tucked the smartphone into the pocket of her slacks and nodded. “You know that email I got a couple weeks after the end of the Lopez investigation? The one that called me ‘sis?’” At the mention of the message, her expression turned grim.

  Aiden didn’t let his gaze waver. “I remember it. You sent it to Cyber Crimes, right?”

  “Right. Well, they sent me a message the night before last to tell me that they’d been able to trace the geographic location from where it was sent. They didn’t get anything else, but…”

  He clenched his jaw. “But what?”

  “It was sent from Harrisonburg, on a wireless connection. The email domain was disposable, so they didn’t get anything else from it. The sender also hid their device, so there’s no telling if it was sent from a phone, a laptop, tablet, or what have you.” The cadence of her voice was hurried.

  “Harrisonburg?” Aiden echoed. “Is that why you went back to that house? To see if he had been there too?”

  Slowly, she nodded. “Look, he disguised the email address and the device he sent the message from, so why wouldn’t he use a proxy server to conceal the geographic location? He could’ve used a proxy to make it look like he’d logged in from Norway or China or anywhere else in the world, but he didn’t. He let them find the location.”

  Well, there was no point in arguing her logic now. She had been right, after all. “What did you find?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I thought you said you got the message from forensics? Don’t you know all of this already?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t look that closely at it. I figured I’d come to find the source and get the information firsthand.”

  Lips pursed, she studied him in the moments of silence that ensued. “You think I can’t handle it or something?”

  There it was. There was the self-righteous indignation he’d seen so often during the search for Douglas Kilroy.

  With a slight sigh, he rubbed his eyes. “I can tell you expect me to refute that, but honestly? It’s accurate. You’re not the only one who lost their shit a little during the Kilroy investigation, remember? Dedication is one thing, but obsession is something completely different.”

  For what had to be the fifth time, he was surprised at the lack of ire. Her blue eyes were wary and even a bit rundown, but the fire of hostility had fizzled out.

  Slowly, almost reluctantly, she nodded her understanding. “Autumn was with me. That’s basically what she told me too.”

  His eyes flicked back to hers as his pulse spiked. “Autumn? Why?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Because she’s my friend, and she wanted to help me. Because I asked her to help me.”

  For several seconds, he merely stood there, transfixed in a rare moment of surprise. Winter had asked Autumn to help her with the single most sensitive aspect of her entire life.

  A pang of guilt edged its way in beside the surprise. Winter wasn’t a volatile newbie who needed his constant attention. She wasn’t the single-minded, self-destructive vengeance machine she’d been during the Kilroy case. He should have known better. He should have trusted her.

  After a long moment of awkward silence, he cleared his throat and nodded. “You’re still on the Eric Dalton case right now, aren’t you?”

  Her visage was still steely as she nodded. “I am. But right now, it’s still not really clear where it’s going. Could be something that just takes until the end of the week for all we know right now. I’m going to focus on his…issue while CSU works through what they found at the house.”

  A weight seemed to lift from Aiden’s shoulders. As he met her determined gaze, he was struck by another twinge of pride. Winter had come a hell of a long way since the beginning of the year, and he was glad to see that her progress still held up in the face of what was, to her, the ultimate stressor.

  He nodded his approval. “That’s a good plan. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on what’s happening in your brother’s case. If anything comes up or anything changes, I’ll let you know as soon as it does. I’ve got some free time this week, so I’ll look back over what we gathered the first time around.”

  All at once, her tense demeanor slipped away. Her eyes still held the same glint of determination, but the grim expression was gone. “Okay. That sounds like a plan.”

  With a slight smile, she extended a hand.

  As he accepted the handshake, he returned the expression.

  He was right. She was going to be a damn fine agent.

  9

  In an effort to allay at least a portion of Noah’s suffering, Winter had offered to accompany him to dinner with his father that night. According to Noah,
he hadn’t been able to concoct a suitable excuse to turn down the unexpected offer, but he didn’t want to add to her misery by asking her to join him either.

  Winter had dropped Bree off at the airport earlier that afternoon, and by now, she had landed in Baltimore. Autumn was inundated with follow-up paperwork from an evaluation she had conducted that day, though she’d assured Winter she would be available if anything came up. But otherwise, Winter was on her own for the night.

  She hadn’t yet told Noah about the message from Justin. Throughout almost all their interactions that day, his demeanor had been marked by the same irritability and strain as the day before. Though Noah didn’t want Eric’s presence in his life, the man’s presence was undoubtedly marked by a slew of painful memories and feelings of betrayal.

  So, even though Eric Dalton’s case didn’t yet warrant a tremendous amount of mental bandwidth, Winter was glad for Aiden and Autumn’s help. If she knew that discovering Justin’s whereabouts was in good hands, she could focus her efforts on being a good friend to Noah.

  The knowledge that they’d obtained a lead into Justin’s disappearance would have only been a new source of stress for Noah. In addition to the discomfort of his biological father’s presence, he would be worried about Winter. And right now, Winter was confident she had the situation under control.

  To her relief, Noah offered a running commentary of his night out with his biological father. Before he summoned an Uber to take him to the restaurant, he had told her that he was certain he would be hammered drunk by the end of the night. Now, three hours later, he sent her a text message to lament his sobriety.

  If I knew I was going to be stuck being mostly sober for this whole damn thing, I would’ve at least driven myself so I could make up an excuse and leave when I wanted to. The message ended with a couple angry cat emojis.

  Winter’s lips curled into a smirk. Why are you staying sober?

  You should see the prices on this drink menu. I’d have to take out a loan just to get a buzz.

  Winter stifled a chuckle with one hand as she leaned back in her seat on the couch. You should have brought a flask, she wrote.

  Tell me about it. Seriously, this is the most awkward dinner conversation of literally my entire life. I’m surprised we haven’t devolved to chatting about the weather or the color of the leaves. My god, I want to leave.

  Her thumbs stabbed at the screen. Do you need a chauffeur?

  If you’re offering, then yes, please, for the love of god, yes.

  All right, I’ll leave the excuse part to you. I’ll be there soon. Send me the address.

  Chuckling to herself, Winter pushed to her feet and made her way to the front door. She slid on her favorite leather jacket, a pair of flats that didn’t go with her casual t-shirt and leggings combination, and grabbed her keys.

  At almost eight in the evening, traffic was light enough, and she pulled into the parking lot within fifteen minutes. Most of the dinnertime diners had already dispersed, and there weren’t many other cars in front of the upscale eatery. As Winter glanced from one shiny vehicle to the next, she suddenly felt out of place.

  Based on the brief description that had accompanied her search for directions, the restaurant catered to a wealthy demographic. Still, she hadn’t expected the place to be quite so elegant.

  “Hoity-toity,” she murmured to herself as she shifted her gaze from a Lexus to a Mercedes and then a Tesla.

  Hoity-toity was exactly how Gramma Beth would describe the restaurant and its patrons.

  Winter hadn’t seen her grandmother in a couple months, but now that it was mid-September, she and her Gramma would be due for their annual apple orchard expedition. They would load up with fresh apples, and when they returned to the house, Winter would help Gramma dice the apples into little slices so they could stash them away in the freezer.

  As the fall season took hold, Beth would cook all manner of apple desserts—apple pie, apple crisp, apple cake, apple Danish.

  Maybe this year, Winter would finally take the time to learn her Gramma’s trade secrets. Winter had never been much of a cook, but based on Autumn’s musings, cooking and baking were two different beasts. Cooking required a great deal of improvisation, but baking was specific and orderly. According to Autumn, baking was a great way to alleviate stress and anxiety.

  Plus, at the end of it, she would have a delicious treat to eat.

  She was so caught up in the idea of learning to bake that she didn’t see Noah until he was almost at the car.

  Flashing him a quick smile, she pressed a button to unlock the doors.

  As he dropped down to situate his six-foot-four frame in the passenger side of the little Civic, he glanced over to her. “Hey,” he greeted. “You look like you’re in a good mood.”

  “No.” The denial popped out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she had to backpedal. “Well, yes, sort of. I just had an idea.”

  He paused in the process of fastening his seatbelt. “An idea? Does it involve us going to a bar and doing a line of tequila shots? Because that sounds like a downright amazing idea after dealing with that man for three hours.”

  She wagged a playful finger at him, enjoying how much lighter she felt. “No, it doesn’t. You know how Gramma Beth and I always go to different apple orchards in the fall, right?”

  He gave his lips an exaggerated lick. “Right.”

  “Well, it’s more like I go with her and help carry the apples, but it’s something we’ve done since I started living with them when I was a kid. I was just thinking that, this year, I might have her teach me how to bake. And maybe I can bring Autumn with me so she can take home a bunch of apples for herself. You can come with us if you want, or you and Grampa can hold down the fort and play poker while we’re gone.”

  The last bit of tension seemed to drain from his face. “Poker and pie are two of my favorite things.” He patted his flat belly for emphasis.

  In that moment, Winter realized how similar Noah and Autumn behaved when they were under stress. Both of them diffused tension with humor, often made at their expense.

  Winter returned his smile and shrugged. “Autumn says that when you’re going through a tough time, it’s good to make plans that you can look forward to. I’ll call Gramma tomorrow and set it all up. That way we’ve all got something to look forward to in the next couple weeks.”

  There was a wistful glint in his eyes as he nodded. “That’s perfect, Winter. Thank you.”

  She gave him one last smile before she turned her attention back to the car. Though she wasn’t entirely sure what the newest strained shadow behind his eyes meant, the sentiment was shared between them.

  Any time she spotted a pang of unease or sadness in Noah’s eyes brought on by the recent reconnection with his sperm donor of a father, she was torn between her desire to punch Eric in the face or give Noah a hug.

  Maybe I could do both, she thought bitterly.

  Tapping a finger on the steering wheel, she pulled her thoughts back to the present. “So, did that go better than you expected, or worse?”

  “Oh my god.” The words were muffled as he rubbed his eyes with both hands. “I don’t know if he asked me to come to that restaurant because he’s just genuinely that damn out of touch, or if he was trying to prove something. He’s one of those people who has to constantly remind everyone he knows of how damn well he’s done for himself. He’s in debt to the damn mafia right now, but he just had to find a fancy restaurant where he knew the owner. Couldn’t settle for someplace where the normal peasants go, you know what I mean?”

  With a snort, Winter nodded. “Oh, I do.”

  “He’s more like one of those people who try to one-up everything you say, and not the types like Aiden Parrish. Parrish doesn’t have to remind anyone of anything, and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s because he probably doesn’t really give a shit about his social status. You know, I’d almost like to get those two together. I bet Parrish would make Eric f
eel like a dumb little kid.”

  She put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. “You have no idea how accurate that is.”

  “But that…” he mimicked sipping from a teacup with his pinky sticking out, “that whole upper-class yacht, country club bullshit, that’s the whole reason that asshole ditched us in the first place.”

  She glanced over to him when she was forced to stop at a red light almost immediately. “Really?”

  The ruddy yellow streetlights shifted along his face as he scowled into the distance. “I’ve never asked him specifically, but it seems pretty obvious. Mom’s a Texas farm girl, and she’s always been content with her roots. Eric’s from the same damn small town, but I guess he wasn’t all right with that. Like he hides behind all this nice shit and all these expensive places and fancy cars so he can try to forget that he grew up in a single-wide trailer in the middle of rural Texas.”

  She fought the urge to reach over and squeeze his hand. “It’s one thing to be proud of what you’ve accomplished, but it’s another to rub other people’s faces in it.”

  “Exactly! Thank you! And that’s something that none of them can wrap their heads around. Not him, not his wife, not his kids, none of them. They’re all just like him. They’re up at the top of the food chain now, and they don’t want anyone to forget it, even if it meant borrowing money from the damn devil himself.”

  She glanced to him and then back to the windshield as the light turned green. “You think that’s part of it, then? His obsession with being a rich person is part of the reason he decided to be an idiot and ask the Russians for money?”

  “You know, I wasn’t really sure he could be that stupid until he had me come to this place for dinner tonight. The guy’s up to his eyeballs in debt, and he’s eating out at restaurants with menus that don’t even list the prices. I mean, granted, he paid with gift certificates and got a discount because he knows the owner, but still.”