Best-Kept Lies by Lisa Jackson Page A

idea that I was pregnant…and probably wouldn’t have cared one way or the other had he found out.”
    “You think.”
    “I’m pretty damn sure.” She straightened.
    “Then why would he be cruising by Sharon Okano’s place?”
    “Oh, God, I don’t know.” Her remaining calm quickly evaporated. She had to get to her baby, to see that he was all right. She made a beeline for the closet. “This is making less and less sense,” she muttered and was already reaching for a jacket. Glancing at her shoes, she saw a pair of black cowboy boots, one of which had fallen over. Boots she hadn’t worn since high school. Boots her father had given her and she’d never had theheart to give away. Ice slid through her veins as she walked closer and saw that the dust that had accumulated over the toes had been disturbed. Her throat went dry. “Dear God.”
    Kurt had followed her into the walk-in. He was pulling an overnight bag from an upper shelf. “Randi?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “What?”
    “Someone was in here.” Fear mixed with fury. “I mean…unless when you got here you came into my closet and decided to try on my cowboy boots.”
    “Your boots?” His gaze swept the interior of the closet to land upon the dusty black leather.
    “I haven’t touched them in months and look—”
    He was already bending down and seeing for himself. “You’re sure that you didn’t—”
    “No. I’m telling you someone was in here!” She tamped down the panic that threatened her, and fought the urge to kick at something. No one had the right to break into her home. No one.
    “Who else has a key?”
    “To this place?”
    “Yes.”
    “Just me.”
    “Not Donahue?”
    “No!”
    “Sharon? Your brothers?”
    She was shaking her head violently. Was the man dense? “I’m telling you I never gave anyone a key, not even to come in and water the plants.”
    “What about a neighbor, just in case you lost yours?”
    “No! Geez, Striker, don’t you get it? It’s just me. I even changed the locks when I bought the place so theprevious owner doesn’t have a set rattling around in some drawer somewhere.”
    “Where do you keep the spare?”
    “One with me. One in the car. Another in my top desk drawer.”
    He was already headed down the hallway and into the living room with Randi right on his heels.
    “Show me.”
    “Here.” Reaching around him, she pulled open the center drawer, felt until her fingers scraped against cold metal, then pulled the key from behind a year-old calendar. “Right where I left it.”
    “And the one in your car.”
    “I don’t know. It was with me when I had the accident. I assume it was in the wreckage.”
    “You didn’t ask the police?”
    “I was in a coma, remember? When I woke up I was a mess, broken bones, internal injuries, and I had amnesia.”
    “The police inventoried everything in the car when it was impounded, so they must’ve found the key, right?” he insisted.
    “I… Geez, I’m not sure, but I don’t think it was on the report. I saw it. I even have a copy somewhere.”
    “Back at the Flying M?”
    “No—I cleared everything out when I left. It’s here somewhere.” She located her briefcase and riffled through the pockets until she found a manila envelope. Inside was a copy of the police report about the accident and the inventory receipt for the impounded car. She skimmed the documents quickly.
    Road maps, registration, insurance information, three sixty-seven in change, a pair of sunglasses and a bottleof glass cleaner, other miscellaneous items but no key ring. “They didn’t find it.”
    “And you didn’t ask.”
    She whirled on him, crumpling the paper in her fist. “I already told you, I was laid up. I didn’t think about it.”
    “Hell.” Kurt’s lips compressed into a blade-thin line. His eyes narrowed angrily. “Come on.” He pocketed the key, slammed the drawer shut and stormed down the hallway to the bedroom. In three swift