Page 62 of Where Secrets Lie

Dread curled in Savannah’s stomach. Her sister had hidden away a whole other life—her son. What other secrets might be uncovered as they probed deeper into Jess’s life? She turned toward Hez. “Let’s look at those old journals.” She led him inside to her office where she’d stashed them on a high shelf.

He got all three of them down and carried them to where she sat at the desk. “What are we looking for?”

“I need to understand why she did this. I think my great-grandfather, Luc, was gone by the time Jess was born. Let me look at his journal.” She reached for the thickest, most well-worn one and opened it. “I know some of the early history, of course.Joseph Willard founded the university and hired Louis Legare to teach. No one trusted Joseph from the very beginning. They called him a carpetbagger, and he was, even according to Helen Willard. He went to Mexico and came back with the Willard Treasure. A fire started during a burlesque show, and its aftermath turned up unpaid taxes that drove him out of town. My ancestors took over.”

“So after founding the college, the Willards felt pushed out and excluded all these years.”

She nodded. All the older history wasn’t what she was looking for. What corrupted Jess? She flipped through Grandpa Andre’s journal. The late 1990s were probably Jess’s most formative years. Her finger jabbed an entry. “Listen to this.”

Pierre is a fine president, though perhaps too focused on prestige projects at the expense of the mundane practicalities of running a university. I wish he would spend a bit more time with his daughters. Since Marie’s death he completely shuns young Jess, and while perhaps understandable, it’s not her fault. She’s a sweet child, desperate for approval and love from him. She came to me on Sunday afternoon and sat by my feet in the rocker on the porch. She asked why Pierre hated her so much. My son had actually shoved her and told her he hated her. What could I say? It’s not my place to explain something so complex. I hugged her and assured her of my love, but I could tell it was small comfort. I will have a talk with Pierre about it.

Tears rolled down Savannah’s cheeks as she saw Jess’s pain in this short entry. That poor lost little girl. Dad was the one at fault, and he didn’t care at all how much damage he’d done.

***

Hez scanned Pelican Harbor’s picturesque boardwalk and waterfront, looking for people who might want to kill him. He leaned against the Bayfront Inn’s clapboard exterior. The rambling old building started life as a mansion before being converted into a bed-and-breakfast two decades ago, and its harbor-facing side had convenient nooks between bay windows. Hez stood in one, which partially concealed him while offering a good view of the boardwalk and the beach beyond.

The mid-March sun warmed his face, and a gentle sea breeze carried the sounds of shouting and laughter from a group of swimsuit-clad TGU students playing beach volleyball. A few people strolled the boardwalk or sat at the wrought-iron tables outside Maria’s restaurant. A vaguely familiar little old lady with a tiny dog smiled at him. No obvious assassins lurked among the beachgoers.

Martine appeared at the far end of the boardwalk. She wore designer sunglasses, but otherwise she wasn’t dressed for the beach. She had on a formfitting cream suit and a navy blouse, and her heels knocked on the weathered wood as she approached.

Hez stepped out when she was about ten yards away. “Good afternoon, Martine.”

She flashed a perfect smile. “Ah, there you are. Good to see you, Hez.” She took off her sunglasses and her almond-shaped eyes examined his face. “I kinda like the scar and crew cut. They make you look a little dangerous and mysterious.”

He ignored her comment and looked past her. “Where’s your client?”

“Oh, my client isn’t here. They’re security conscious, remember?”

“Yes, which is why I’m here.” Hez let a hint of annoyance into his voice. “I thought we were meeting on the boardwalk so they could give me information about Hornbrook.”

“I have the information, but it’ll be just the two of us.” She sidled up to him and winked. “I hope that’s okay.”

His irritation grew. This sort of low-level flirting had been fun when they were unattached law students, but it got on his nerves now. At least Savannah didn’t have to deal with it too. “What’s the information?”

“Keep your voice down.” She glanced around and a frown creased her smooth forehead. “More people are on the boardwalk than I expected.”

He followed her gaze. A few people strolled around. None were within earshot right now, but it was true someone could walk past at any moment.

Martine slipped off her heels and put a hand on Hez’s lower back, guiding him toward the beach. “Let’s walk on the sand. It’ll be more private, and I love how it feels when it’s warm.”

Hez kept his shoes on. “So what do you have for me?” he asked when they had walked a few paces.

“I assume you’re familiar with that artifact-smuggling ring the police broke up a couple of weeks ago.”

“You might say that. What about it?”

“It started in Mexico and ended in New York, right? The Mexican authorities wrapped up their end and American cops made arrests all the way from the border to the Big Apple. But the trail went cold there. No one was arrested at the retail end of the chain. Strange, don’t you think?”

Hez kept a tight rein on his emotions. Was she going to tell him that Jess was the New York end of the smuggling route? Was that her secret information? “Go on.”

“Most of the artifact buyers were Hornbrook Finance clients. James Hornbrook personally facilitated a number of sales. He even owns one or two of the smuggled artifacts.”

“Seriously?” Hez stopped and stared down at her. “You have proof of this?”

She gave him a coy smile and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Yes.”

“Where is it?”

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