“So…Mom took her back to school?” Claire remembered there being some confusion about that in what she’d read.
“No. She was crying too hard. She’d had a terrible fight with Leanne. You can imagine what it must’ve been like after they left Joe’s. So I closed up and took Leanne back to school for her. I thought it might help your mother to have some time alone.”
“When was that?”
“I can’t remember exactly. About one o’clock, I think.”
But the log said Leanne hadn’t signed in until two. “And Mom was…”
“At the house. That’s where I left her.”
“And she was fine?”
“As fine as could be expected, under the circumstances.”
That meant Alana had gone missing between one and three-thirty, when she and Leanne got home. “That’s why you were so worried when I called that day.”
“Yes. I was worried before you called.”
This made sense, but what about the previous sightings of her car at Joe’s house—if those reports were true? “Thanks for telling me.”
He lowered his voice. “What are you going to do with the information? Roni, even Joe’s wife—they don’t know, Claire. I don’t want it coming out. It would really hurt Leanne and could cause problems for Joe.”
Obviously, he felt that being honest with her had betrayed her sister. They’d always been close. “Nothing. For now,” she told him.
“Leanne’s your sister.” The caution in his tone suggested she should protect the secret as well as he had. But if everyone was protecting this secret or that secret, how would the sheriff’s department ever get to the bottom of what had gone wrong?
Claire felt she owed Leanne a lot. They were sisters, as her stepfather had just pointed out. She understood how the slightest upset could throw Leanne into a tail-spin, especially since the accident. But did those considerations outweigh the hope that full disclosure and absolute honesty might bring Alana back—or catch the man who killed her?
7
Working for himself made it possible for Isaac to accept only jobs that excited him. It also enabled him to do a lot of projects on spec. He often edited his own footage and created pilots and trailers, which his agent submitted to various film and television producers. For the print photography side of his business, he had a different agent who sent his pictures to various magazines internationally, as well as book publishers. He’d recently sold a coffee-table book, which would be a collection of some of his finest photographs.
He loved what he did. He could get lost in editing and refining his films and photographs for hours. After Claire had married David, his work gave him something he could devote himself to full-time so he wouldn’t have to dwell on his personal life—what he’d thrown away when he rejected Claire. His career also meant he was gone a lot, so he didn’t have to be constantly reminded…?.
But somewhere along the line, all the flights and airport transfers and taxis and hotels had begun to wear on him. Traveling so much started feeling more like drudgery, like running away, than career advancement. Which was why he’d decided to take an extended break. It wasn’t as if he had to go anywhere. He was in the middle of several projects he could finish right here, like the Alaskan sled dog series he was working on. He had plenty of footage from last winter when he’d gone to live with a family of Eskimos in northern Alaska. He was pretty sure he’d be able to sell it to his friend at Nat Geo. Michael had bought a lot of pictures from him in the past, had been a fan since his first spread in National Geographic, back when Michael had worked for the magazine, before he joined the TV network.
But today Isaac wasn’t making much progress. He couldn’t concentrate. He kept glancing over at the files he’d brought from Alana’s studio, wondering who had attacked Claire and why, whether David had been killed in an accident or on purpose, and if he should air his suspicions or keep his mouth shut. He’d hoped Leland would be able to convince him he was way off base, but Leland’s response to his call had only left Isaac more unsettled.
He drummed his fingers on the desk while staring at a frozen image of Kitbohn, the leader of the pack of dogs he’d become so close to last winter, on his computer screen. Something about the accident that had killed David wasn’t as it seemed. Leland obviously believed it, too, and yet he hadn’t sounded the alarm.
Why? Surely, he was in a better position than Isaac to do so.
He was probably holding off for the same reason Isaac was: no proof. Isaac didn’t want to stir up any drama, or hurt Claire by dragging her through more of the same crap she’d already been through. He’d caused her enough pain when she’d told him she loved him and he couldn’t reciprocate.
David’s death, even Alana’s disappearance, wasn’t any of his business. He prided himself on staying out of matters that didn’t concern him. He had enough to deal with in his own life.
So why was he tempted to jump into this?
Because he couldn’t get Claire out of his mind. He knew how much finding her mother meant to her, how much she loved David and would want to see his killer punished—if he’d been purposely shot. It was a testament to Isaac’s fascination with her that he was so willing to give her what she wanted, even when it came to the man who’d replaced him.
Or was it his way of making up for his own shortcomings?
Should he call and ask her to pick up the files?
He wasn’t sure if she was on her feet. He also wasn’t sure he wanted her in his house again. Touching her last night had convinced him that the past ten years had changed nothing. Not for him.
With a sigh, he watched the clock tick away. Ten, twelve, fifteen minutes. Frustrated at the waste of time, he tried to focus on the computer, but it was no use. He wasn’t worth a damn today.
Cursing his own stubborn heart, he retrieved the accordion folder he’d stashed under his bed. Then he got his keys. He’d pay Claire a visit, just to drop these off, and keep his suspicions to himself. Maybe then he could return to his normal routine. He’d thought about her before last night, especially when he was in town, because there was always the possibility of bumping into her, but his emotions hadn’t seemed quite so intense. Today, every time he heard her voice in his head, saying, “It hasn’t been easy for me after David. But this is better than being alone,” he felt as if she’d rammed a knife in his gut.