Secret Hearts

  Secret Hearts

  Marci Bolden

  Copyright © 2020 by Marci Bolden

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Okay Creations

  ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-950348-40-4

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  More Marci Bolden Please!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Also by Marci Bolden

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  Prologue

  “God damn it, Eliza,” Quinn Stanton muttered under his breath. He checked his phone for the twentieth time, but no matter how many times he looked, there was no reply from his ex-wife. Again. They’d been divorced for long enough that Quinn knew her pattern. Eliza met a new guy, immersed herself in his life, and started ignoring Quinn’s calls and texts. He understood why she’d ignore questions about how she was, where she was. But when it came to their son…

  When Eliza didn’t show to pick up Danny, Quinn had loaded the boy in his car, grabbed a fast food kid’s meal for dinner, and headed out toward his ex’s house. Eliza was supposed to pick up Danny—per their custody agreement. Since she’d started dating before the divorce was even final, she’d said that having Quinn come back and forth to their old house made her feel vulnerable—and even watched. She wanted to know that she could have the privacy to date, and be free, during those precious few hours a week when Danny was with his dad. Eliza was probably snuggled up with the flavor of the month on the couch, making out, watching a movie, oblivious to the fact that it was Sunday evening and Quinn’s weekend visitation with Danny had ended—three hours ago.

  As Quinn pulled into the driveway of the house he and Eliza used to share, he peered in the rearview mirror at his six-year-old son. Danny was sound asleep in the back seat. Quinn cut the engine on his SUV and sighed. The living room lights were on, and by the flickering images he could make out through the curtains, he could tell the TV was on too. So Quinn hesitated in the driveway before getting out of the car. He knew Eliza would be pissed he’d showed up. She’d make accusations. Maybe make a scene. If one of the cops from work she was so fond of dating was over at the house, then… Well, Quinn expected to end up in cuffs. Or worse. But it was a Sunday night, and Danny was supposed to be back home with his mom. It wasn’t his fault if Eliza had her head too far up some dude’s ass to tell time.

  Quinn checked his watch and decided to try one last time. He stepped quietly out of the car so he didn’t wake his son. He closed the car door softly and paced halfway up the drive while dialing Eliza’s phone. He squinted to try to see movement or shapes or anything beyond the privacy curtains hanging in the living room. Nothing seemed to move or change as he listened to her phone ring and ring and ring.

  “Come on, Li-li,” Quinn grumbled. “Answer the phone, damnit.”

  Quinn tossed a glance back at the car to assure himself Danny was still asleep. His stomach clenched in a knot as he looked at the front door of his former house. Memories flooded back as he fought the highlight reel in his brain. Putting out the holiday doormat monogrammed with the letter S for Stanton. Hanging bunny wreaths at Easter. Shoveling a path to the car when Danny was just coming home from the hospital, born six weeks premature.

  Quinn sighed. If he’d known then what he knew now… Danny and Eliza had come through an incredibly complicated pregnancy, but nearly losing her life and their son had changed Eliza. She came home from the hospital angry, afraid, defensive. She seemed to see every fault Quinn had before fatherhood as ten times bigger after. If he was disorganized before, he was an absolute train wreck after the baby. Losing his keys or misplacing the remote was no longer an annoyance—these were reasons to bail on the marriage.

  They separated when Danny was only six months old. The kid had never known what it was like to have two parents tuck him in at night. To have a mother and father peer over the bathtub and laugh at a pile of bubbles that he’d piled on his face like a beard. To wake up on Christmas morning to parents who had stayed up late to plant gifts “from Santa” before making love quietly and falling asleep way too late on Christmas Eve. Quinn shoved away the could-have-beens. The past was the past now, and what mattered was getting along with Eliza for the good of their son. And if that meant interrupting Eliza on a date, when she didn’t have the decency to show up for her son when she was supposed to, then…

  Quinn braced himself. If Eliza was dating another cop from work, then he might end up with a fat lip or a bruised ego. But he was Danny’s dad, and it was his job to get the kid home, in bed on a school night, and back where he belonged. With his mom.

  After a last glance toward the car to ensure that Danny was still sleeping, Quinn walked quickly up the front walk. He still had keys to the house—in case of an emergency—but Eliza had warned him that if he ever just let himself back into their house, she would call the police. He was to ring the bell and wait like any other invited guest. That was another reason why she normally picked up Danny. Eliminate the temptation of Quinn forgetting that he wasn’t really welcome here anymore. That this had ceased to be his home six years ago.

  But Quinn thought this—parental abandonment of their child—constituted an emergency. He checked his keychain and confirmed the house key was there. If she didn’t answer the door, he’d let himself in and shout at the top of his voice from the entryway. And pray to God no one inside shot first and asked questions later.

  But Quinn didn’t need to let himself in. As soon as he approached the front step, he could see that the heavy, varnished front door was not fully closed. It wasn’t ajar, but the catch hadn’t fastened. Anyone who passed by could have nudged it and just walked in. The anxious twist in Quinn’s gut turned to something more like dread. The cops Eliza normally dated would never leave the front door open like that. Eliza had lived alone with Danny for years—she would never not lock the door…leave it open and unsecured like that. Never.

  Quinn pushed the door open and called out tentatively. “Eliza?” He listened for any sounds of her shuffling feet, her high-pitched laugh. Or her all-too familiar yell. But all he heard was the tinny, canned sound of a commercial on TV echoing back at him.

  “Eliza? Are you home? It’s Quinn! I’m back with Danny!” He stepped inside the doorway, leaving the front door open behind him so he could keep one eye on his son––and the other braced for Eliza’s boyfriend. But still, nothing. No response, no sounds. Nothing but the overly loud volume of the TV.

  Quinn scanned the familiar layout of their first floor. From the front hallway, he could see the TV mounted above the fireplace. There were lamps on in the living room, and the kitchen lights were on too. Her purse sat on the kitchen table, and while he didn’t see her cell phone, on a whim, he dialed it again. Maybe she hadn’t heard it ringing over the sounds of the TV?

  Quinn waited for the ring of Eliza’s phone as he stepped carefully into the house. If he turned
off that damn TV, maybe Eliza would hear him calling her—or calling out to her. He headed toward the living room in search of the remote. If he could shut off the damn TV… But before he made it past the foyer, he heard the telltale ringtone of Eliza’s cell not on the other end of his call but from inside the house.

  “What the hell?” he asked. He cocked his head in confusion. It sounded like Eliza’s phone was in the living room. He followed the sound and walked through the open floor plan toward the well-worn sectional sofa Li-li loved so much. By the time her phone went to voice mail, Quinn had dropped to his knees on the carpet.

  “Oh my God, no! Eliza!” he screamed.

  Quinn jammed his phone in his pocket and ran to the front door. The streetlights illuminated the back seat of his SUV. His son was still buckled in and sleeping. Quinn stifled a wave of nausea and rubbed a hand over his mouth and then pulled his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans. His brother picked up on the first ring.

  “Keith,” Quinn said, his voice shaking. “I need your help.”

  1

  Private investigator Rene Schwartz leaned forward in her chair and rested her forearms on the cool surface of the conference room table. She studied the man sitting across from her. The potential client continually ran his hand over his face and sucked in breaths of air like a drowning man breaking the surface of choppy water.

  “So you called your brother before you called 9-1-1?” Rene asked. Keeping her voice neutral in an interrogation was second nature, although this was not an interrogation. This was a prospective client intake-interview—one of the more unusual ones they’d had. Rene flicked an almost imperceptible glance at Holly Austin, founder and lead investigator of HEARTS Investigative Services. Rene and Holly often partnered up on the intake of the more complex cases that presented to HEARTS. Cheating spouses and parents who suspected their kids were on drugs—those cases were simple enough. Those were the bread-and-butter of the PI business. Even Sam, the gossip-magazine obsessed receptionist-slash-hacker, could complete that kind of assessment. But this case was different. Quinn Stanton’s ex-wife had been murdered. He’d been alone when he found her after she failed to pick up their son per their formal custody agreement. Nearly four months later, the case had gone completely cold.

  “Yes,” Quinn replied, meeting Rene’s gaze. “My twin brother Keith is a cop. I knew he’d want to know immediately that Eliza was dead. I called 9-1-1 less than fifteen seconds after I hung up with him.”

  As weary as the man seemed, he had quickly and consistently answered every question they’d asked. But this wasn’t Rene’s first rodeo—nor was it Holly’s. Rene had always been excellent at reading people. Since joining HEARTS, she spent a good amount of her time proving people were liars and cheats. But before becoming a private investigator, Rene had worked as a U.S. Marshal for the Witness Security Program—the department most people knew as Witness Protection. After years of hiding people, who themselves were hiding secrets, Rene knew how to read people. Though the man sitting directly across from her didn’t set off any of the usual alarm bells, she couldn’t help but question his story.

  Holly intervened, but more gently than she normally did in these situations. “Mr. Stanton,” she said, absently twisting the diamond engagement ring on her finger. Rene knew that was something Holly did when she wanted to attract the attention of a witness or client. When Holly was really lost in thought, she touched the simple silver heart charm on her necklace—a token that reminded her of her departed mother. The ring was different. Intentional. Rene knew too well that fidgeting with the glittery ring from her fiancé, Detective Jakeem “Jack” Tarek, was simply a tiny movement meant to disrupt the train of thought of someone who might be working really hard to keep his story straight. “You realize,” Holly continued, “that placing the 9-1-1 call second, not first… That alone is unusual. Highly unusual. Most people’s instincts in that situation would be to call 9-1-1.”

  Rene watched the quick flicker of Quinn’s eyes around the conference table. The light purple shadows under his eyes testified to his lack of sleep. But Rene was focused on the man’s posture. His slumped shoulders and inability to stop sighing suggesting something deeper—something he probably hadn’t admitted to even himself yet.

  Rene smoothed the lapels of her charcoal-gray blazer and picked up where Holly left off. Being able to partner in these meetings was what made working at HEARTS so fulfilling for Rene. She might not have been on the same kind of team as she was with WITSEC, but HEARTS gave her a chance to flex her muscles in a satisfying way.

  “You know, Mr. Stanton, some people might say that the twin brother of a police officer would know better. We’re trained as children to call 9-1-1 in an emergency. I’m sure you considered how that call might look…maybe even before you placed it?”

  “Yes. I did. And I do know,” Quinn said, nodding. “I explained all of that to the police. My brother knew Eliza—knew her well.”

  “Romantically?” Rene interrupted. She didn’t know yet if Quinn was lying. The only way to test him was to push him—break up his train of thought, trigger his emotions. Quinn’s ex-wife, Eliza Stanton, had been found dead in her home four months ago. By Quinn. Within minutes of that discovery he became the only suspect in his ex-wife’s suspicious demise, on top of going from divorced dad with visitation to full-time caregiver for a grieving six-year old. A dead ex, a brother who received the first call after the body was found… The police may have cleared Quinn as a suspect, but in Rene’s experience, that sure as hell didn’t mean he was innocent.

  “We’re sorry, Mr. Stanton.” Holly charged ahead with their familiar ‘good cop’ routine. “That may seem like an insensitive question given the circumstances.”

  Other than the quiet hum of the heater circulating air through the vents, the conference room was quiet. Quinn looked past Holly and Rene and seemed to skim the whiteboard panels on the wall behind them. Rene knew he wasn’t seeing any vital or confidential information on the cases the HEARTS team had been working up on those boards. Whenever one of the investigators wasn’t staring at notes trying to tie evidence together, they rolled two privacy panels over the photos and notes. Right now, Quinn was looking at nothing more than a highly polished surface—a not-quite mirror reflection of himself and the backs of Holly’s and Rene’s heads.

  “No. I mean when I say he knew her well, I didn’t mean that,” he said thoughtfully. “Romantically? Eliza and Keith? Not my brother.” He hesitated. Curiosity wasn’t drawing his attention to the wall. He was avoiding Rene’s hard stare as he considered the question she’d just asked. Rene knew she’d pressed a button. And she intended to press harder.

  “What can you tell us about the relationship between your twin brother and your ex-wife?” Rene asked.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders, the wool cardigan stretching with the movement. “I can’t,” he said as he looked at her, his eyes dark. “I can’t really say much about it. Keith and I are incredibly close, but my marriage to Eliza was a short one.”

  He sighed again, one of those long, shuddering sighs. Rene hadn’t yet decided who he was feeling sorry for—Eliza, his brother, or himself.

  “Eliza and I split when Danny was just a baby,” Quinn explained. “We’d only been married about two years We’d been dating a year when we found out she was expecting Danny.” He looked at Rene. “He wasn’t planned, but I was happy about it. I was ready to be a husband and father—or so I thought.”

  Rene allowed herself the slightest smile. At the mention of his son, if she didn’t show a little warmth, she might lose any rapport she was building with this man. Not that she didn’t love kids. The adorable Danny was down the hall playing in Alexa’s office. And if she knew her teammate, the boy was eating a meal home-cooked by Alexa’s abuela herself.

  “Eliza worked at the police station,” Quinn explained. He looked down at the conference table. “And she had a tendency to date cops.”

  “Cops plural?” Rene
asked. “Do you know anything about who your wife was dating before she died?”

  Quinn looked at her with slightly bloodshot eyes. The question seemed to cause him pain—but exactly why, she couldn’t yet be sure.

  “Well, not Keith,” he said resolutely. “My brother has been dating a detective for about two years. They’re solid. But not only was Eliza my ex-wife and Danny’s mom, I know Keith knew her from work.”

  Suddenly, with that small admission, something in Quinn’s demeanor changed. He seemed to be begging her to hear what he was saying. To make sense of the pieces that he’d tried—and clearly failed—to connect.

  “I don’t get it,” Quinn said quietly. “Why would anyone want Eliza dead?”

  Rene had seen the desperate look on his face a thousand times in her line of work. People who’d lost something big. Sometimes the losses felt so senseless, so huge, that the world itself no longer made sense. Gravity and sunshine and the rules of law—nothing changed in the day-to-day lives of most of the world, but after a horrific loss like this… What he needed was what everyone in this situation needed. He needed answers. To be understood. To believe that the incomprehensible madness of the loss of the magnitude Quinn and Danny had suffered would somehow make sense. He needed what anyone in his situation needed. To be validated by someone, anyone. Right now, Quinn Stanton was looking to HEARTS for that confirmation. And as much as Rene may have wanted to give it to him, she wasn’t sure yet how much of his pain was grief…as opposed to guilt.

  “Can we talk about that a little more?” Holly opened the manila file folder that Quinn had brought in when he’d made the appointment. “So the medical examiner determined that Eliza had been gone about two days when you found her?”