Silver River Secrets Read online

  As Lacey drove up the hill to Dalton’s Auto Repair, she wondered how Rory had managed to hang on to his business location. As Claire Roche had said, A. J. Dalton never let a prime piece of property go undeveloped. Some of the townspeople agreed with him, while others thought Silver River should remain a quiet rural community.

  Lacey wasn’t sure what she thought. Since she didn’t live here anymore, her opinion didn’t matter, anyway.

  She pulled up in front of the garage. All three bays were occupied. In one, a late-model Chevrolet sat on the hoist; in the second, a red sports car; and in the third, an older-model Honda.

  Rory was bent over the Honda’s open hood.

  Lacey suddenly had another attack of nerves, although quite different from what she’d experienced at Claire Roche’s. She couldn’t do this, after all. She’d go back to the newspaper and tell Elton he’d have to find someone else for the job.

  No, she had to do this. Pretend he’s just another person to interview.

  Yeah, right.

  She cut the engine, took a deep breath and climbed from the car.

  Rory stepped out of the garage. He wore jeans and a tight-fitting blue T-shirt, which showed off his muscular arms.

  “Can I help—” He stopped and stared. “Lacey? What are you doing here? Car trouble?” His gaze traveled over her shoulder to her car.

  “No, my car’s running fine. I’m here about Silver River Days.”

  He propped his hands on his hips. “What do you have to do with that?”

  “Elton Watts hired me to finish the newspaper’s special edition and write articles for the regular edition. You’re on my list for the Classic Car Show.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you were at his office yesterday.”

  “You saw me?”

  “I was waiting for the light to change when you and he came out.”

  “If you’d rather talk to someone else—”

  He waved a hand. “No, no. Your coming here is just so…unexpected.”

  “I should’ve called. I’ll come back some other time.” She turned to go.

  “Now’s fine. John’s on an errand, but I have time to talk. Come on in my office.” He nodded toward an open doorway inside the garage.

  She followed him into a room with a counter and a cash register, a couple vending machines, a cart with a coffeepot and cups, and a row of chairs. From there, another door led to his office, which was little more than a cubbyhole. He waved her into the one extra chair and then sat behind a scarred wooden desk. He pulled a file folder from a desk drawer, shuffled through it and took out a sheet of paper.

  “Here’s the map I made.” He cleared a spot on the desk and laid the paper between them. “Elton can publish this along with your article. We assemble at Fifth and Main.”

  She leaned over the desk at the same time he did, and their heads were inches apart. Her heart started to pound. “Ah, how many cars do you expect to participate?”

  “At least fifty.”

  He sat back, putting some distance between them, but still dangerously near.

  She licked her dry lips and swallowed. “I’d better make some notes.” She pulled her tablet from her purse. “Okay, go on.”

  “Where was I?” He laughed.

  “Ah, people. Participants.”

  “Oh, right. We have entrants from all over the state, as well as Washington and Montana. There aren’t that many shows around, and there’s nothing a classic car owner likes more than to show off his car.”

  Lacey tapped her tablet’s keys. “So, it’s free?”

  “No, there’s an admission fee. Proceeds go to the summer sports camp for kids. Prizes, too, for People’s Choice, Best Antique, Best Custom and Best in Show.”

  A bell tinkled and a door slammed. Rory looked over Lacey’s shoulder to the outer room. “Carl Schroeder, picking up his car. Back in a sec. Here, you can look through this stuff.” He slid the file in her direction.

  Lacey flipped through the file, making notes on her tablet as she went along. Once, she glanced into the outer office to see Rory punching his computer’s keys while Carl stood nearby.

  Carl had been a carpenter friend of her father’s. But when Rick was arrested for Al Dalton’s murder, Carl joined the other townsfolk who believed him guilty.

  Carl’s wandering gaze landed on Lacey. He widened his eyes and stared. Oh, great. Soon it would be all over town that Lacey Morgan was in Rory Dalton’s cozy garage office. Lacey sighed. She’d been crazy to take this job.

  Rory and Carl left the office and went into the garage. Lacey returned to reading through the file, recording more of the information. The men’s voices, along with the sound of a car’s revving engine, drifted in from the garage.

  Lacey closed the file folder. Restless, she stood and stretched. She could leave. She had all the pertinent information. Her gaze idly scanned the office, landing on a file cabinet with papers sticking out of the drawers and a cactus plant in an orange pot sitting on the top. A worktable held a paper cutter and a pile of wrenches.

  Her attention moved to the wall. A calendar featured a Ford from the ’70s, and several framed photos showed Rory—and sometimes other people, too—posing with various cars. A ’50s Hudson, a ’40s Ford, and a ’57 Chevy that looked familiar.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Rory said from behind her. “Carl likes to talk.”

  Lacey turned. “And I’m sure he will—all over town.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Will that upset you?”

  She shrugged. “I’d think it would upset you.”

  “I’m used to small-town gossip. I don’t let it bother me—anymore,” he added, looking away. Then his attention moved to the photos. “What do you think of my gallery?”

  “Very impressive. You’ve restored all these?”

  “Yep. Starting with the ’57 Ford.” He pointed to the photo. “You should remember that one. You were with me when I bought it.” He added in a low voice, “A couple weeks before the prom.”

  That was why the car looked familiar. Memories washed over her. The excitement of their upcoming graduation, and of the prom, and of their future together. All wiped out with a shot fired from her father’s rifle.

  Feeling suddenly sick to her stomach, she turned away from the photos.

  “Lacey—”

  She met his gaze, and something seemed to pass between them. Her heart beat faster. “I—I’d better be on my way. I have more stops to make.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Did you get what you need from the file?” He gestured to the desk.

  She nodded. “I would like a copy of the flyer, though.”

  Rory picked up the flyer and stuck it in the copy machine. While the machine hummed and the copy printed, neither spoke. When he held out the paper, she plucked it from his hand with her thumb and forefinger.

  Rory led her from the office and out to her car, where he opened the door and held it while she slid onto the seat. Once the door was shut between them, she took a relieved breath. Soon, there would be even more distance between them, and then maybe she could start breathing normally again.

  She looked up at him. “Thanks for the information.”

  “No problem. But I gotta say one more thing. I never meant to upset your grandmother the other day…”

  “I don’t want any more discussion about that—even if I had the time. Which I don’t.” She stuck the key in the ignition.

  He backed away. “All right. I hear you.”

  She turned the key, expecting to hear the sound of the engine firing.

  Instead, she heard only a dull click.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LACEY TURNED THE key again—and heard the same dull click. She tried a third time. Nothing happened. “Come on!”

  Rory stepped forward again. “You’re not going anywhere. Not right now, anyway. Pop the hood, and I’ll take a look.”

  Lacey froze. She needed to get away from there, away from him.

  And now this.
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br />   “Lacey?”

  Heaving a sigh, she reached under the dashboard and pulled the latch. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and wanted to cry. Or maybe scream.

  Rory entered the garage and returned with a toolbox. “Could your problem be the battery?”

  Get a grip. You have to deal with this. Lacey sat up and took a deep breath. “Not likely. I had a new one put in a couple of months ago.”

  “I’ll check it anyway, and then the fuel line.”

  “And I’ll look at the connection,” she heard herself say.

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’ll do what?”

  “I still remember a few things from Mr. Callahan’s class. Give me a wrench.” She stepped from the car and held out her hand.

  He stared at her open hand, and a slow grin spread across his lips. He pulled a wrench from his toolbox and handed it to her. “Okay, go for it.”

  Lacey ducked under the hood and went to work. For the next few minutes, neither spoke. Then Rory said, “The battery’s good and the fuel line is clean.”

  “I don’t see any problem with the connection. What about the ignition cylinder? I know it can go bad with no warning.”

  “You’re right about that.” Rory spent the next few minutes removing the cylinder, and then they both examined it.

  “Sure is dirty,” she observed.

  “To be expected in an old car like this. But see how it’s all worn along here?” He indicated the spot with his screwdriver. “Pretty much shot.”

  “So, I was right,” Lacey said with a note of triumph.

  “Mr. Callahan taught you well.” Rory tossed the screwdriver into his toolbox.

  “Taught us well,” she corrected.

  “That was a good class. I learned what was to become my livelihood and—”

  She waited for him to finish.

  “And I met you.” He picked up his toolbox and headed for the garage. “C’mon, let’s wash up.”

  Yes, Rory, best we not say any more about those days.

  “I’ll need to order the part,” he said while they washed their hands.

  His statement confirmed what she already feared. An ignition cylinder for a car as old as hers was not something he’d keep in stock. “How long will it take, do you think?”

  He tore a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to her. “Shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

  She wiped her hands and tossed the towel into the trash can. “Guess I’ll have to rent a car.”

  “No need for that. I have a loaner you can use. It’s at home, though. As soon as John gets back, we’ll go get it.”

  “And when will that be?” The high from solving the car problem was wearing off and, once again, Lacey was eager to leave.

  Rory made the call on his phone. “He’s on his way,” he said when he’d talked to John. “You can wait in the office. Or out back. There’s shade there, and a breeze, most days.”

  “Sounds good.” That would put distance between them, anyway.

  Behind the building, she sank into a lawn chair next to a picnic table. She called Gram to tell her of the delay. While she explained the situation, Rory appeared, carrying a bottle of water.

  “Thought you might be thirsty.”

  “Thanks.” She accepted the bottle with her free hand.

  “You’re where?” Gram shouted in Lacey’s ear.

  “I’ll explain everything later,” she said, sorry she’d started to say anything.

  Rory disappeared into the garage.

  Lacey drank the refreshing water. She fiddled with her tablet and recorder and returned to the office. Rory was on the phone when John Lawton arrived. In his early twenties, John of course had not been one of their high school friends, but she remembered him especially because their grandmothers were friends.

  “Hey, Lacey.” John tipped his baseball hat to reveal a shock of blond hair. “That sweet car of yours giving you trouble?”

  Lacey nodded. “It appears so.”

  “If it had to happen, this is the best place to be.”

  Lacey could think of a lot of places she’d rather be, car trouble or not, but instead of sharing that thought, she said, “Sorry if my problem rushed you to return.”

  He shook his head. “I was on my way, anyway. Heard you’re going to be in town for a while this time.”

  “Right. I’m doing some writing for Elton Watts. That’s why I came here today—to talk to Rory about the Classic Car Show.”

  John shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “I’m looking forward to that. Should be a good time.”

  “Are you into restoring old cars, too?”

  “Oh, yeah. Not as much as Rory, though. I’ve been working on an old Hudson—used to be my uncle’s. Hope to have it ready for the show.”

  Rory hung up the phone and turned to them. “The part’s ordered. Should be here in a couple days.”

  “That’s good news. Can you take me to your loaner now?”

  “Yep. All set.” He pulled car keys from his jeans pocket. “Back soon,” he told John.

  “No hurry. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  On the drive down the hill in Rory’s truck, instead of appreciating the view of the river and the mountains, all Lacey could think about was the man sitting beside her. It felt almost like they were driving home from high school or on one of the rides they often took through the town and countryside.

  But if that had been the case, they’d be talking and laughing instead of sitting in stony silence.

  Her gaze landed on his bare arms. How many times had she felt the strength of those arms around her?

  How would being in his arms feel now?

  “—is where we’ll start.”

  Rory’s voice broke into her thoughts. “What?”

  “This is where the car show will start. We’re assembling at Johnson’s.”

  She looked around and saw they’d reached Main Street and Johnson’s Food Mart. “Their parking lot will be a good place to meet.”

  “That’s what I thought. If you’re still in town, you should join us.”

  “I won’t be. My work for Elton will be finished before then.”

  When Rory stopped for a traffic light, someone parked at the curb honked a horn. Lacey recognized the driver as Lon Trainer, who owned the local bowling alley. His wife, Trillie, peeked around him from the passenger’s seat.

  Rory waved.

  Mouths gaping, the Trainers waved back.

  The light changed, and Rory stepped on the gas.

  “Oh, great,” Lacey said. “Thanks to Carl Schroeder and now the Trainers, you and I being together will be all over town by tomorrow.”

  He frowned. “Just because you’re riding in my truck doesn’t mean we’re back together.”

  “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant.” Did he think she hoped for a reconciliation? After ten years? Ridiculous.

  “So what did you mean?”

  “Just that people in this town gossip. That’s one nice thing about living in Boise. I can walk down the street and nobody knows me.”

  “Or your past.”

  “Or my past. Yes, that’s something I live with every day of my life.” She didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  “You’re not the only one,” he said in a grim tone.

  Lacey clamped her jaw shut.

  Rory turned off Main, entering a residential area where modest frame homes lined the street. A couple blocks later, he swung into the driveway of a house painted cocoa-brown with white trim. “We’re here,” he announced.

  This wasn’t the first time she’d seen Rory’s home. A few years ago, she’d overheard where he lived and, curious, had dared to drive by when she figured he’d be at work.

  Rory parked in the driveway and turned off the truck’s engine. “The loaner is in the garage, but the keys are in the house. I’d ask you in, but you—”

  “—need to go,” they said in unison.


  Rory walked down the driveway to the house’s back door. She took in the swing of his broad shoulders, the stride of his long legs. To say she’d forgotten the effect he had on her would be a lie. He still had the power to warm her with his presence, to make her yearn for his kiss.

  The sound of children’s laughter caught her attention. She glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see several kids on bicycles ride by. Like most residential areas in town, families filled this one.

  Why hadn’t Rory married and started a family of his own? Why hadn’t she?

  Rory reappeared and then disappeared again into the garage. The garage door swung open. The hum of a car’s engine drifted along the air, and then a late-model sedan, painted a metallic blue, emerged from the garage.

  Lacey stepped from Rory’s truck. “Pretty fancy car for a loaner,” she said when he pulled up beside her.

  He leaned his head out the window. “Only the best for my customers.” Leaving the engine idling, Rory got out of the car and held open the door.

  She slipped into the driver’s seat, passing dangerously close to him in the process.

  “I don’t think you’ll have any problems, but the owner’s manual is in the glove box, and you can always call me.” Rory closed the door. He pulled out his wallet and took out a business card, handing it to her through the open window. “This has my number.”

  She dropped the card into her purse, and then took out one of hers and gave it to him.

  Rory pocketed the card. “I’ll let you know when the part arrives.”

  “Okay. And thanks, Rory.”

  “Sure. It’s my job.”

  *

  IF LACEY THOUGHT leaving Rory standing in his driveway would banish him from her thoughts, she was sadly mistaken. The car he’d loaned her had “Rory Dalton” written all over it. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a tiny, silver-plated four-leaf clover, his favorite good-luck charm. He’d given her a similar one long ago. It didn’t hang in her car anymore, but instead was tucked away in a jewelry box.