“Was that your dad’s? Your mom’s?”
Still not answering, she set it on the seat next to her, turned the clasp and threw back the flap. Three file folders had been placed inside.
“What is it? Why would your dad keep papers in the cab of his old pickup truck?”
She pulled the first file out of the bag, opened it and stared down at the paper.
“He didn’t,” she said finally. “The bag wasn’t his. It’s Riley’s. A prize possession.”
“So what’s it doing out here? What’s in it?”
Once again, she didn’t answer, but she turned the paper so that Mick could see it, too. The letterhead at the top said “Bilton Holdings.”
“Well, you were looking for answers, so—”
She lifted her hand, signaling for him to stop, then pointed to words just below that letterhead and a date from nearly twenty years in the past.
To the Mount Isabel Police Department:
I wish to confess to a long list of crimes associated with Bilton Holdings Corporation and the Bilton Foundation…
Her hand moved too quickly for him to see what else the letter said as she traced two fingers down the page to a signature at the bottom and a name printed below it.
That part, he read aloud. “Stanley F. Hoffman, Chairman of the Board.”
* * *
Rachel backed out of the truck and reached for the zipper pull on her coat, her hand trembling so much that she missed twice before clasping it between her thumb and forefinger. Once she’d unzipped it, she couldn’t shake out of her jacket fast enough. She dumped it on the floor. What did she care if Mick saw her topless again? Nothing else mattered since she’d learned that everything she believed about her father—and her whole family—had been a lie.
There was no honor. No decency. Only lies. How could she wrap her head around the idea that her father was…a criminal? She didn’t want to believe it, but the words were right there in black and white. Shaking her head, she tried to brush aside the questions as she slid her arms into the straps of her bra and fixed the clasp.
“Riley told me not to look,” she said, not caring if Mick could hear her. “Why didn’t I listen? Why couldn’t I just forget about it?”
A shiver overtook her from so much more than the cold just as Mick rounded the truck to the driver’s side. Like her, he’d pulled his jeans on, but he was still shirtless and barefoot. While rocking from his heels to his toes, he held out her sweater and socks. He’d draped his own shirt over his arm.
With a nod of thanks, she accepted her clothes. She yanked the top over her head.
Mick pulled on his shirt and then coughed into his sleeve. “I know what you’ve found is upsetting, but—”
“Upsetting? You think that’s all it is?”
He held up his hands. “No, I realize it’s bad, but we haven’t even read it.”
“Isn’t it enough already? The man just confessed to God-knows-what involving Bilton. We didn’t even know he was part of that company, and he waschairman of the board?”
“You still don’t know everything. You still have to read the rest of the file.”
As gooseflesh skimmed up her arms over what she still might find, she lunged for the file folder. Then she dropped it back on the seat. “I can’t read thathere.”
She jerked her hand to indicate their surroundings, which still included a pile of blankets on the floor. “I should never have come. What was I even doing here?”
The look they exchanged made her cheeks burn at the memory of Mick’s touch. What they’d both been doing in the garage seemed like an even bigger mistake now. Rather than looking for information that could have helped Riley, they’d been christening her father’s truck and her mother’s quilts.
“You weren’t the only one in that…bed.” He gave her another look and stepped to the pallet to clear away the blankets.
“Let’s not talk about that now. I can’t—” She shook her head, trying to clear her muddled thoughts. “It was a blip in judgment. That’s all.”
But she couldn’t look at him as she said it. Otherwise, those kind, gentle eyes would see the uncertainty in hers.
