THE MORNING SIDE OF DAWN Read online

  "He loves you. I'm sure he doesn't feel there is anything to forgive."

  "Maybe now," Rory agreed, "but it took a while to get there." She looked at Cassie consideringly. "You know if you … pursue this, you're going to be taking on one heck of a battle."

  "I know. Your husband already warned me off."

  Rory blinked. "Sean?"

  Cassie nodded, and related yesterday's encounter with Sean.

  "Don't mind him," Rory said soothingly. "He's just overly protective."

  "I know. I have a brother just like him."

  Rory laughed. "Yes, I guess you do, don't you?" Then, seriously, "Dar's tough, admittedly because he's had to be. But I'm more worried about you."

  "Frankly, so am I. I tried to put him out of my mind, after your wedding, but I couldn't. I keep telling myself I should just walk away, but there's something about him…"

  She shrugged helplessly.

  "Well, in that case, I won't try to talk you out of it. I remember too well how that feels. And who knows? Stranger things have happened." She laughed again, patting her abdomen, which as yet showed little sign of her pregnancy. "Look at me."

  Cassie smiled. "You look awfully radiant for someone who's having such a hard time."

  "Well, after I throw up, I feel fine. For a while, anyway. And I'm so happy about this baby, I can put up with anything."

  "That's wonderful," Cassie said, feeling a little wistful. Sean and Rory were so happy; since they were newlyweds still, she supposed it was to be expected. But Stevie and Chase were as much in love now as they had been when they were married nine years ago. She couldn't doubt that—she'd too often seen them exchange a look that fairly crackled, usually followed by their mutual disappearance for a while. And the expressions they usually wore when they appeared again left little doubt as to what they'd been doing.

  It must be wonderful to love and be loved that much. She wondered if she would ever know. The world that looked at her and thought she had it all would be astonished to know how little all those trappings were really worth, she thought. Especially when stacked up against that kind of love. She didn't begrudge Sean or Rory, and certainly not her brother and Stevie, but still—

  The clamor of the phone interrupted her melancholy thoughts. When Rory automatically began to move to answer it, Cassie stopped her with a warning waggle of her finger.

  "Uh-uh, you just stay still. I'll hand it to you."

  As it rang again Rory rolled her eyes, but stayed put. Cassie rose and picked the phone up from the table at Rory's feet and handed it to her on the third ring. To give Rory some privacy, Cassie picked up the empty cups and carried them into the kitchen. She quickly washed them—and was reaching for a towel to dry when she heard Rory call her. She set the cups to drain instead and went back into the living room.

  "That was the sheriff's office," Rory said. "They were looking for Sean."

  Cassie's pulse accelerated, then slowed as she assessed Rory's expression; she seemed concerned, but not frightened or panicked.

  "What did they want him for?"

  "They said there may have been a break-in at Chase's office."

  "May have been?"

  "They're not sure. That's what they wanted Sean for. They found a broken window, but they don't know if anything's missing. I'll have to call his cellular phone, since he's still out at the second Laurel Tree project."

  Cassie nodded, thinking quickly. "You try to reach Sean, and I'll go over to the office now. Maybe I can help."

  "I'll call the sheriff back, too, and tell them you're coming," Rory said gratefully, and Cassie left her dialing the number to the now seemingly indispensable cellular phone.

  She saw the marked sheriff's car parked in front of Chase's office as soon as she turned the corner. Cameron and Associates took up both floors of this corner of the Spanish-style, tile-roofed building; Chase had had to expand last year after the first Laurel Tree Independent Living project, designed for occupants with varied handicaps, had won him notice—and business—statewide. She saw no sign of a broken window, but knew there was a small window around in the back, a much more likely place for a break-in, since it was less visible than the windows on the fairly busy front street.

  She pulled in behind the sheriff's black-and-white, got out and locked the little convertible and walked cautiously up to the door; she didn't want to startle the deputy. She had the key Chase had left her, but somehow she didn't think just walking in was a wise idea, so she knocked on the door instead. Immediately a blond young man in a green county sheriff's uniform leaned around a corner to peer at her. She waved, hoping she appeared harmless.

  He came to the door and opened it from the inside.

  "Hi. I'm Cassie Cameron. This is my brother's office, and I thought maybe—"

  The deputy let out a long, low whistle, cutting her off. "You're Cassandra!" he exclaimed. "Holy—" He broke off, and Cassie smothered a sigh as she saw his cheeks redden; he suddenly looked very, very young.

  "Please," she said, "can I come in? I was just here yesterday—maybe I can tell what's been disturbed."

  Still flustered, the deputy stepped aside to let her pass. Amazing, she thought, how quickly she'd forgotten about this, how quickly she'd put this kind of stunned, gushing reaction out of her mind. This young man was nice looking, probably charming and bright and suitably heroic. But she knew immediately she preferred Dar's somewhat acerbic view of life to this awed adulation, no matter how flattering it might be. She'd had her fill of it, and more, and she knew how little it really meant.

  "This guy is really your brother?" the deputy asked, gesturing at the office.

  "Yes," she said briefly, glancing around the outer office, where everything seemed much as it had yesterday.

  "Wow. I didn't know you were from around here."

  "I'm not. My brother and I both grew up in Seattle," she said, checking Mrs. Stewart's desk; it appeared undisturbed. "I was here yesterday to pick up the mail, and nothing seems to have changed. Out here, anyway."

  "Cassandra. The guys are never going to believe this," the deputy said. Cassie stifled a grimace.

  "Deputy—" she paused to glance at the name tag above his left chest pocket "—Barker, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but can we get on with this? Where's the window that was broken?"

  Somewhat belatedly, the man's training kicked in. "Oh. Sorry. It's back here."

  He ushered her down the hall to where she could see the rear door that opened into the small parking area out back. There was a hole in the door's frosted-glass window, low and close to the edge, where it would be easy to reach in and turn the knob.

  "This looks like the only place he got into," Barker said, leading her into Chase's office, where several file-cabinet drawers stood open and folders were strewn across the desk. "That's how I found it. Looks like your brother's a sloppy filer, or somebody's been in his office."

  "Chase may have his moments, but his secretary, Mrs. Stewart, is a one-woman army. She would never leave the office like this, not when they were going to be gone for a full two weeks."

  She walked around the desk to take a closer look.

  "Don't touch anything," Deputy Barker cautioned. "If this is really a burglary, we might have to dust for prints."

  Cassie nodded. "I just wanted to see what's out of the cabinets—"

  She broke off at a sound at the front door. Deputy Barker again leaned over to look out, and Cassie leaned over with him.

  "That's Sean Holt," she said quickly. "He works with my brother. He's the one your office tried to call first."

  Barker nodded. "Okay. I'll let him in, then."

  As he walked off, Cassie turned back to look at the files tossed seemingly at random across the desk. It was an odd conglomeration—a couple of client files, which appeared to have been closed and tossed aside, then several others with different colored labels left open on top of each other. With a vague image from several movies in her mind, she reached out and nudged the
top folder around to where she could read the tab, using only her fingernail to do it.

  Her brows lowered. Still using only her nail, she moved the top file a bare quarter of an inch, just enough so she could read the tab of the next file. She stared down at the papers she'd revealed for a long, puzzled moment. Then, as a possibility occurred to her, she felt a sudden chill. She sank down into Chase's desk chair, shaken.

  "Cassie?"

  At the sound of Sean's voice, she quickly composed herself and her expression, with the ease of long years of practice before a camera. By the time she looked up to see him in the office doorway, she was reasonably certain Sean wouldn't guess there was anything more wrong than the break-in itself. But her composure wavered a bit when she saw Dar wheel up behind Sean. She managed to nod at both of them.

  "Rory told me you were headed over here," Sean said.

  "I thought maybe I could tell if anything was missing, since I was just here," she said. "But you'd know better than I would."

  She got up and walked out from behind the desk, letting Sean go past her. He looked at the files on the desk, then back at Cassie.

  "The deputy says that's how he found things," she explained.

  Sean frowned, looked from the desk to the open file drawers, then back at Cassie.

  "I wonder if they were looking for cash?"

  She thought she knew exactly what the object of the search had been, but she merely shrugged. "I'll let you look," she said.

  She turned to leave the office and found Dar still there, in the doorway, watching her intently. As she approached, he backed up and turned his chair, letting her through. Deputy Barker walked past them into the office with yet another appreciative look at Cassie, and an almost furtive glance at Dar.

  The moment the deputy was out of earshot, Dar touched her arm. She nearly jumped at the unexpected contact.

  "Sit down," he said, indicating Mrs. Stewart's chair. She did so, not realizing until she had how much she had needed to. He spun his chair around to face her, putting his back to the office door.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  She gestured back toward the office. "That's obvious, isn't it?"

  Dar gave a disbelieving shake of his head. "Knock it off, Cassie. Something shook you in there. Badly. What was it?"

  She stared at him. She'd spent years hiding her emotions, years perfecting an exterior that projected to the camera only what the photographer or ad director wanted. People rarely saw past it. Sean hadn't. But somehow this man had.

  "I… It's probably nothing."

  "Cassie," he said, almost warningly, leaning toward her. Sitting down, she was level with his eyes, and saw the impatience spark there. The irony of that made her mouth curve wryly.

  "For somebody who's about as communicative as a brick wall, you certainly get testy when somebody else claims the same right."

  He had the grace to look chagrined, but obviously he wasn't going to let her divert him. "Can we discuss that later? What did you see in there?"

  Resigned, she answered. "The only things that look like they've been touched are those files on Chase's desk."

  "Maybe Sean's right, and somebody was looking for cash."

  "Maybe."

  "But you don't think so," he said.

  Only the fact that there wasn't a trace of inflection in his voice, of either doubt or belief, enabled her to go on with what was probably a harebrained theory.

  "They were Chase's personnel and insurance files."

  Dar drew back, looking puzzled.

  "Since it's Chase's company, there's no real personnel file on him, just a folder with some tax identification numbers and copies of his diplomas and licenses. But the top folder was his insurance file."

  "Why would anybody want that?" Dar asked, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully with one finger. Cassie found herself watching the motion, and how the tendons in his hand flexed with it, and had to drag herself back to the subject.

  "I'm not sure. Except…"

  "Except?" he prompted when she stopped.

  "It's one of the few places where Chase's home address is written down." When he just looked at her, she went on. "He and Stevie aren't listed in the phone book, and he's always careful to use the business address for any public listings. It's a habit he got into when he was on the run from that racketeer, and he never broke it."

  "But that's over, and the guy's been dead for years. Who couldn't get his address now, and would want it badly enough to break in here to get it?"

  She just looked at him. And after a moment she saw his dark eyes widen, saw understanding dawn there.

  "Damn. Willis."

  He said it under his breath, but it was no less heartfelt, and for some reason the intensity of it soothed her ruffled nerves. That he had gotten it, and so quickly, made her think that perhaps she wasn't so far afield after all. And that thought made her quail inside. She tried to suppress it, and Dar reached out to put a hand over hers. The action, one she was certain wasn't typical for him, made her search his face for some sign of why he'd done it. She found only puzzlement, as if he wasn't sure why he'd done it himself.

  "Nothing else touched, that I can see," Sean said as he came out of the office, the deputy behind him, holding a report form.

  Cassie turned her head in the same moment she felt Dar jerk his hand back, as if he'd been caught doing something illicit rather than simply offering comfort. She looked in time to see the deputy's gaze flick from her to Dar and back again, and the tinge of disbelief in his eyes was evident enough to be insulting. Fortunately it was gone before Dar turned his chair around.

  "So nothing's missing?" Dar asked.

  Sean shook his head. "Nothing. Not even the laptop computer that was right out in the open."

  "Something must have scared the guy off before he could finish the job," the deputy said.

  Or he found what he was after, Cassie thought. She glanced at Dar and saw the same thought evident in his expression.

  "I suppose I should call Chase," Sean began.

  "No, don't," Cassie said quickly. "There's no point. It would just mess up their vacation, and there's nothing he can do anyway."

  She felt Dar watching her, but didn't look at him as Sean considered her words and then slowly nodded. "You're probably right. It wouldn't do any good."

  "I'd get that window boarded up as soon as you can," Barker advised.

  Sean nodded. "I'll pick up some plywood and do it right away."

  Dar looked at Sean. "Want me to stay here until you get it done?"

  "Uh, that might not be a good idea," Deputy Barker said to Sean.

  "Why not?" Dar asked.

  Barker gave Dar an uncomfortable glance, then looked back at Sean. "That guy might come back."

  "Don't tell me," Sean said, an edge in his voice Cassie had never heard before as he gestured at Dar. "He's the one who's staying."

  Barker looked at Dar again. "That's what I mean."

  "Maybe you'd better explain it to me," Dar said icily.

  "But you—I mean, if he did, what would—you're—"

  The young deputy stammered to a halt under Dar's fierce gaze. Cassie felt a stab of anger, but knew anything she would say would not be welcomed by Dar. She stayed silent.

  "I'm what?" Dar asked ominously.

  "I just meant … what are you going to do if he does come back?"

  "Probably cripple him for life," Dar said, an unmistakable edge in his voice.

  The deputy backed up a step, obviously startled by Dar's choice of words, and not at all sure how he was supposed to react to this. Cassie held her breath, watching; there were undercurrents flowing here she couldn't begin to understand, some sort of silent communication going on between Sean and Dar that only they understood.

  "Believe him," Sean said. "He fights as well—and if necessary, as dirty—as anybody you'll ever meet."

  "Shut up, Sean. I don't need you bragging for me."

  Sean shrugged. "I wasn't bragging. Just sta
ting a fact. Don't forget, I saw that purse snatcher after you got done with him."

  "Okay, okay," Barker said, backing up again, this time taking a closer look at the breadth of Dar's shoulders and chest, and the size of his arms, stretching the sleeves of his black T-shirt. "I believe you."

  "I'll go get that wood," Sean said, turning his back on the somewhat chastened deputy. He looked at Cassie. "Thanks for coming over."

  She nodded, then lowered her gaze to her hands, where she could swear she still felt the heat of Dar's touch. Sean said something to Dar that she didn't really hear, then left. She heard the deputy walk back to Chase's office, leaving her alone with Dar. She wanted to ask him what all that had been about, but not while Deputy Barker was still there.

  "Are you going to tell him?"

  Her head came up in time to see him gesturing toward the deputy. If he had an opinion on what she should do, there was no trace of it in his face. But then she doubted Dar was the kind of man who told anyone what to do, any more than he let others tell him. If she wanted his opinion, she'd have to ask for it.

  "Do you think I should?"

  He shrugged. "It's up to you. What I think doesn't matter."

  "It does to me."

  Dar drew back a little, looking at her in that assessing way that was so unsettling. She didn't speak; she wouldn't beg him to believe she meant what she said. He leaned back in his chair, lifting an elbow to rest on the backrest as he at last spoke.

  "If we're right, they should know now."

  If we're right. At that we, Cassie felt a loosening of the lightness in her chest that had gripped her since she'd seen the file on Chase's desk, open to one of Stevie's medical forms from Jason's birth, their home address plainly visible. She wasn't alone in this, not entirely.

  "You're right," she said. She got to her feet and went to tell the deputy about Willis, and her suspicions. He seemed doubtful, until she told him about the letter she'd received there.

  "At this address?" he asked. She nodded. "You reported it?"

  "Yesterday, right after I found it. To a Deputy Thorne."

  "All right. I'll find it and cross-reference that case number to this one." He pulled a card out of his pocket, scribbled something on the back and handed it to her. "That's the report number for this one."