Keep No Secrets Read Online Free PDF

here. I made Michael watch Jamie. A little extra punishment, I guess."
    "Good idea."
    When she doesn't say more, he says,
    "What were you trying to reach me about?"
    "Nothing. It wasn't a big deal. We can talk about it tonight." She swivels back around toward her desk and collects the papers she was grading. Holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, she places them in a manila folder and sets the folder on the corner of her desk for later.
    "Are you still there?"
    "Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm just gathering my notes." The activity outside her open door has picked up as students pass in the hallway.
    "Will you be on campus for a while? I thought I'd head over later this afternoon after I stop by my office."
    In the last few years, once a week or so, he's taken to spending evenings at the law library at a study table on the fifth floor.
    He claims it helps him escape the distractions of the DA's office, but Claire knows the DA's office after hours is just as quiet as the law library. It's a government office; come five o'clock, most of his attorneys and staff are long gone. She suspects his visits to the library began instead as an effort to spend more time with her. Sometimes, after enlisting Michael to watch Jamie, they'd leave campus to have dinner alone before heading back to their house.
    But his visits became a habit. Now he often stays late into the night, even after Claire has locked up her office door and left for home. He seems to appreciate the unique solitude he finds at the vacant library, where he sits hidden from sight between the stacks. He's always been a quiet man, preferring the company of his thoughts to the social chatter of others, but after he accepted responsibility for imploding their lives, his preference grew to a need. She doesn't begrudge him the time alone.
    "No, Michael wants me to take him to Sports Authority, and I also want to stop by the grocery store." She picks up the folder again, yanks on a file drawer and fingers the files inside until she finds a spot for the folder. "We've got a lot of errands to run, so take your time. No rush. I'll feed them while I'm out."
    Two students—a young man and
    woman—loiter in her doorway. It's obvious they're waiting for her to hang up. She wishes now that she'd closed her door.
    "I'm sorry, Jack, but I really need to go.
    Two students have noticed I'm here and they're waiting to talk to me."
    "Okay." He sighs. "Claire? Before you hang up . . ."
    She stops her busyness, reclaims the receiver with one hand. Listens.
    He hesitates. "I don't know for sure, but the press might, you know, decide to have some fun with me about the
    Bedford case."
    Oddly, the warning calms her. She feels a surge of affection for him, for his desire to protect her, even though he can't.
    "Oh, well, we've survived worse, right?" She tries to say it lightly, tries to insert a short laugh after the words, but her efforts fall flat. She hears him take a deep breath.
    "Right. I guess we have."

    CHAPTER FOUR

    HE SMELLS THE scent.
    It's happened before. The first time, when he and Claire cut through the cosmetics department at the mall, his heartbeat soared with such trepidation that he clutched at his chest, startling Claire. Another time, alone in line at a coffee shop near their house, it came up behind him like a wind on a blustery day.
    Both times he experienced the same physical sensation, the fleeting but intense pounding of his heart. It ended as soon as it began, after the mistake in his assumption quickly (and with much relief) became apparent.
    Those other times, no touch came on the heels of the scent. Neither the girl at the cosmetics counter nor the woman who stood behind him in line at the coffee shop knew him intimately enough to touch him.
    This time is different. It happens so fast. So fast that his brain doesn't even have time to think, "Someone wearing the same cologne must have just walked the same path I'm about to walk." No time to reassure himself, "It's