Read Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) for Free Online

ill, so my wife stayed home.”
    “I’m sorry.” She lowered her gaze. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
    “It’s all right,” Ben said. “Seagrove is a small village. Few have secrets.” He leaned forward and laced his fingers. “I’m sure where I’ve been is common knowledge.”
    “It is,” Hank Green, the mayor’s younger brother, said. “You’ve been down in the islands, visiting friends.”
    “Ah.” The corner of Ben’s mouth lifted. “Nora’s been busy, I see.”
    “No, not your housekeeper,” Hank said. “Peggy Crane told me.”
    “She was my next guess.”
    “Ben?” the lawyer asked. “Are you at all interested in local landmarks.?”
    Gregory’s relief was short-lived. Hank leaned over to Darla and whispered just loud enough for Gregory to hear. “You know he’s been in isolation with counselors for two months. This is the first social he’s attended since his family died. Back off and leave him be.”
    She fired Hank a frosty glare, then quickly masked it. “I wasn’t starting trouble; I was just being friendly.”
    “Well, don’t.” Hank’s gaze sparkled. “It’s bad enough every tongue in the village is wagging about him. You don’t have to flaunt it in his face.”
    Darla started to object, but John clasped her hand. “Hank’s right, honey. I know you meant well, but Ben has really struggled with his loss. He’s finally coming around. We wouldn’t want to do anything to cause him to regress, would we?”
    Her eyes glittered, but her voice sounded soft. “Not for the world, darling.”
    Gregory nearly puked. But no real damage had been done. Ben hadn’t overheard their exchange, thanks to a deep discussion about preserving local landmarks—the stated reason for the lawyer being in the village. Still, the urge to rip out Darla’s idiotic tongue had Gregory rushing to leave his opulent dining room.

    Darla sat stiff and silent until Gregory disappeared beyond the dining room door and John engaged Hank on the subtleties of being diplomatic. Tuning them out and lowering her lashes, she scanned the table to be sure she had again become invisible and ignored by all.
    Convinced she had, she lifted the lumped corner of her napkin and unveiled a small square of white paper. She read it and then tucked it into her beaded bag, its words echoing in her mind: O FFER R EFUSED .

    Gregory strode down the hallway without glancing at Paul Johnson. Mentioning a problem in the presence of guests? What was he thinking?
    That faux pas would be dealt with shortly.
    Gregory keyed in the code to unlock the door, then entered his private den. It was soundproof and swept for listening devices after anyone other than himself or Paul entered it, just to be safe. One didn’t accomplish all Gregory had accomplished the way he had accomplished it without careful planning
and
diligent execution of essential precautions.
    His footfall soft on the plush carpet, Paul entered behind him. Gregory shut the double doors, then turned. Slight and stooped, Paul wasn’t a man’s man. He’d never in his life cast a fishing rod, thrown a football, or played any sport, and his idiosyncrasies made the odd habits of notorious eccentrics pale by comparison. That caused many to underestimate Paul and make the erroneous assumption that Gregory had hired him
faute de mieux
.
    But there was no absence of someone better, and Gregory hadn’t underestimated anyone. Paul was a decade younger—just shy of twenty-five—but from their first meeting his skills, abilities, and assets had been evident and useful. The man was brilliant, resourceful, meticulous, deviously clever, ridiculously loyal, and he could make anything happen and never leave a trace. More important, he would, could, and had made unpleasant situations disappear for Gregory,
and
he kept his mouth shut. So Paul’s social skills were lacking. That was a minor annoyance and required only that Gregory exercise areas of restraint.
    Gregory was a