The Hidden Years. Susan Kearney

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СКАЧАТЬ since he’d never had one. And he never ever took relationships casually, because he’d had so few people who’d cared about him. Because Cassidy didn’t trust herself with Jake, because she couldn’t let their friendship change, she’d deliberately chosen to stop any further feelings from developing between them.

      She’d always looked at Jake as a brother, and they’d kept that platonic friendship until she’d left for college.

      When a slip of paper that hadn’t fallen from the box earlier wafted into the air on a gust, Cassidy snatched the paper by instinct and crushed it. She didn’t care if that paper had the names, addresses and social-security numbers of both of Jake’s sisters. No way would she return to that house. She couldn’t face another of Jake’s rebuffs.

      He’d made it very clear that she wasn’t wanted, and Cassidy wouldn’t stay and help now if he came out on his knees and begged. That image brought a slight upward quirk to her lips. The thought of Jake Cochran begging anyone was a ludicrous image.

      A bit calmer, Cassidy slipped behind the steering wheel, the paper still crumpled in her fingers. She backed out of the drive, letting the wheels squeal as she turned a sharp corner, eager to leave behind the disturbing image of an angry Jake. But she couldn’t relax the tension in her shoulders even after she passed out of sight of Jake’s house.

      What had happened to him? She mourned the loss of the young man she’d known, recalling their short time together with a fondness that couldn’t have been totally one-sided. They’d been good friends, sharing their dreams and hopes for the future. She’d told Jake how she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and become a lawyer. He’d spoken of finding his family and joining Special Forces. They’d rarely argued, and she recalled a unique closeness. She’d thought of him as the older brother she’d always wanted and never had. Or were her memories skewed? She’d always believed Jake had liked her. But maybe he’d just used her friendship in an attempt to get to her father. If that had been his plan, he’d failed. To her knowledge, her father had never spoken to anyone about the adoptions. Not even to her.

      Remembering she needed to pick up a few things, Cassidy stopped for gas and bought fresh milk at the convenience store. She ran the car through the wash and checked the tires for air before slipping back behind the wheel. She headed for home, determined to ignore Jake and his problems.

      Cassidy stopped at a red light and started to toss the crumpled paper she’d left on the seat into the trash. But she noticed writing on the paper and looked more carefully. Numbers. A ten-digit phone number.

      Curious, Cassidy punched the numbers into her car phone. As the light turned green, a bored-sounding female voice answered. “Password, please.”

      Password?

      Behind Cassidy, a car honked. “Hold on a sec.”

      She pulled off the road and parked, then stared at the yellowed slip of paper while the bored voice requested again, “Password, please.”

      Cassidy flipped over the paper and read the scrawled script aloud, “Blow back?”

      She heard several clicks and then a different voice said, “One moment.”

      Pleased with herself, Cassidy waited, wondering who would answer the other end of the line. She waited at least a minute or two and was about to hang up when a harried male voice finally responded. “Who are you working for? How did you get this number?”

      Suddenly nervous as the voice demanded answers, Cassidy speculated about whom she was talking with and why he was acting as if she’d done something illegal. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.”

      Quickly she hung up the phone and then tossed the paper into her purse. She wouldn’t return to give it to Jake, but maybe she’d mail it. Then she remembered how he’d treated her. Maybe she wouldn’t bother.

      Cassidy drove into Crescent Cove along sunny palm-lined streets, and slowly the tension left her shoulders. Her grip on the steering wheel eased. Her hometown usually had a relaxing effect on her. In Crescent Cove, the neighbors still knew one another and waved as Cassidy drove by. The kid next door mowed the lawn and children played in the yards and laughed on swing sets. If the state hadn’t been undergoing a drought and the county hadn’t been under water restrictions, the kids would be running under sprinklers. Instead, they made do with bikes and inline skates.

      Her own lawn was turning brown, but tomorrow was her morning to water. Cassidy used the automatic opener and pulled in to her two-car garage, then closed the door behind her. Glad to be home in the house she’d inherited from her father, along with his small-town law practice, Cassidy opened the door that led into the kitchen she loved. The oak table she’d found at the flea market last month still needed another coat of varnish, but she was pleased by the effect it made under the curtains decorated with daisies.

      A trash can lay on its side.

      Cassidy straightened the can with a frown. Had another duck flown down the chimney? Cautiously she headed into the den and set her purse on the table. The morning sun usually shone brightly through the window, but she must have forgotten to open the curtains.

      After her father died, she’d redecorated, painting the plastered walls a yellow that complemented the gleaming parquet floors. She’d bought colorful seascapes by local artists and added a homey touch to the couch with hand-embroidered pillows. Cassidy spoiled herself by buying fresh flowers every week. She’d picked sprigs of orange blossoms off her citrus tree out back, and the scents mingled in a flowery bouquet. She sniffed appreciatively and caught a whiff of smoke. With the drought conditions, everyone feared fires.

      But this smelled like cigarette smoke.

      The hair on the back of Cassidy’s neck stirred. Had someone been in the house? The next thought felt like a punch to her stomach. Suppose she wasn’t alone.

      Cassidy didn’t hesitate. She whirled on her heel to head back toward the kitchen.

      The curtain in the den moved. Was someone behind it? Or had a breeze caught it, flickering ominous shadows across the wood floor?

      Cassidy changed direction. Heard a footstep that wasn’t hers. A thud.

      Heart pumping, she raced down the hall toward the front door. Lost time twisting the dead bolt. Flung open the door.

      A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

      Chapter Two

      Cassidy screamed.

      Before she could turn around, she glimpsed a gloved hand as the intruder slid an arm around her neck, yanked her back to his chest, placed a knife to her throat, slammed the front door. The blade bit skin, and the sting convinced Cassidy the man meant business. She held perfectly still, so frightened she could barely make her knees stiffen enough to hold her upright.

      “There’s two hundred dollars—”

      “Silence.”

      The intruder put a black cap on Cassidy’s head and pulled it down over her eyes, blinding her.

      Oh, God. If he didn’t want her money, what did he want? Cassidy knew the statistics. One in three women would be raped during their lifetime, but she’d never expected it to happen to her. In her own house. Without a chance to fight СКАЧАТЬ