Page 275 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

Chapter Fifty

Nate sat on one of the huge, comfy couches in the Sandersons’ family room, dozing in and out while Callie snuggled against his side and Winston rested his head on Nate’s foot. Three or four conversations carried on around him, and on occasion Dad or Liam let out a cheer for the Minnesota Vikings on TV since the New England Patriots weren’t currently playing. Nate listened to Callie laughing at something Leah was saying and smiled, content to take it all in with his eyes closed—a damn near perfect day. So far, their twenty-four-hour pause was going off without a hitch. They’d both slept like the dead, not waking once during the night. And today Callie’s appetite was a little better. She’d smiled all afternoon, joking and conversing with the Carters and Sandersons alike.

Callie laughed again and inched her hip closer to Nate’s, making room for Mini to cram onto the crowded furniture in the equally packed room. Everyone was here minus the governor and his family, who were stuck back on the mainland.

Nate wrapped his arm tighter around Callie, pulling her down to press a noisy kiss to her cheek.

“You’re awake.”

“I’m drifting in and out.” He opened one eye, looking at her. “I’m still trying to recover from dinner.”

“Today I’ve actually witnessed a food coma.”

He’d eaten too much, filling his plate twice with all kinds of Thanksgiving goodness—until he’d been certain his stomach would explode if he ate one more bite. He grinned. “Damn right.”

“And I imagine you plan to eat yourself sick when we have dessert.”

He made a scoffing noise. “Don’t act like you know me.”

She rolled her eyes as she grinned. “I guess it’s a good thing there are two doctors in the house.”

He chuckled and pulled her closer, holding her gaze as he touched his lips to hers. “I won’t need a doctor. Maybe a couple of antacids. We do have antacids, right?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

He nuzzled her neck and looked toward the huge picture windows when the blowing snow caught his attention. “It’s starting to come down out there.”

She followed his gaze. “I should probably head home for the rest of those pies we couldn’t fit in the trunk with all of the appetizers.”

“We don’t have to. There are tons of desserts to choose from right here.”

“Yes, but your mom and I made them look extra pretty, so I plan to put them out on the table.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you were thinking about keeping them all for yourself.”

He grinned and shrugged when the thought had crossed his mind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, giving him a playful poke in the belly.

He chuckled. “I’m going to take a detour to the bathroom. Then I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.” He leaned closer to her ear. “Because A, we brought the Tahoe, which you can’t drive because you don’t have a cool badge like mine, and B, I was thinking we could take a couple of minutes and have a little dessert of our own.” He wiggled his brow, holding her gaze.

“Mmm.” She smiled again. “I like that idea.”

“Give me two minutes.” He got up from the couch, spotting Brad noodling with the keys on the piano while Molly flipped through a magazine in the corner of the room. Typically, they played their annual after-feast Scrabble game—with plenty of smack talk included. Things were definitely off between those two. Deciding he would have to talk to his buddy later and find out what was up, he headed for the powder room, spotting Isaac Sanderson waiting with his toddler for their turn. Instead of hopping in line, he detoured, walking up the gorgeous winding staircase to one of the five bathrooms on the second story. The Carter mansion was just as pretty—his mother had decorated both homes—but the Sandersons had one hell of a staircase.

He headed for the first guest room on the right, did his thing, and washed his hands, eager to get back to Callie and their much anticipated “dessert date.” Hurrying downstairs, he passed the library on his way back to the family room and stopped dead, turning back and walking into the large, drafty space, staring at the bold painting of a field of flowers hanging above the ancient fireplace. Moving closer, he frowned as he scrutinized the artist’s work, even when he’d seen this piece hundreds of times before. How often had he sat right here over the years—oblivious—doing his homework at the table or talking to Brad on the couch? He stood in front of the ornate frame, swallowing when his gaze was drawn to the right-hand corner of the massive work of art and stared at Samantha Fletcher’s trademark sweeping S.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, rubbing at the hair standing up on the back of his neck. “Holy shit,” he said again, stumbling back three or four steps and sitting on the arm of the couch close by. His heart pounded as he listened to the dozens of voices carrying down the hall—voices he’d known his entire life. Someone in the Sanderson home had known Samantha Fletcher. For weeks, he’d been searching for answers, yet no one had said a thing. Studying the painting again, he rushed to his feet when something clicked in his brain and flittered away just as quickly—before he could grab a firm hold of his thoughts. There was something about the artwork here that reminded him of the smaller painting locked away at the sheriff’s office. Hurrying for the hallway, he smacked into Molly standing in the doorway and automatically hooked his arm around her waist, hugging her close to steady them both and keep his sister from falling. “Whoa.”

She frowned. “Jeez, Nate.”

“Sorry.” He released her from his grip and stepped back. “I have to head to the office real quick.”

Her frown deepened. “Right now?”

“Yeah.” He opened the hall closet and grabbed his jacket, then hurried toward the door. “I have to check on something. Tell Callie I’ll be right back—ten minutes and we’ll go get the pies.”