Free Taken by Barbara Freethy Page B

from a newspaper highlighting the opening of a new strip club on Broadway featuring “Sweet Charlie” and
    “Dazzling Dana.”
    Kayla swallowed hard. She couldn’t believe it. Her grandmother had been a stripper? She felt her stomach turn over. Was no one who they appeared to be? Did everyone have a secret life? “This is crazy and shocking,”
    she muttered. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
    “Maybe she thought you’d be horrified,” he said pointedly.
    “Well, it is kind of horrifying, isn’t it?”
    “It was a long time ago.”
    “She’s always lived such a respectable life. My grandfather was a banker. They went to church every Sunday.
    They were conservative. I just don’t understand how she could go from stripping to that life.” She paused. “I wonder if Grandpa knew about her past.”
    “Maybe he liked the fact that she had something to show off, you know?” Nick suggested.
    Kayla’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you just said that. She’s my grandmother, for God’s sake.”
    Nick smiled. “She stripped, big deal. She didn’t kill anyone. And she was a young, single woman at the time.”
    “I don’t think she’d like it if I were doing the same thing now.” Kayla saw Nick’s gaze drop to her chest and linger there. She instinctively crossed her arms, knowing she was not nearly as well-endowed as her grandmother.
    “Hey,” she protested.
    “Sorry, male reflex,” he said with an unapologetic laugh.
    “Yeah, well, as you said a few minutes ago, stay focused.” As she stuffed the clippings back into the enve-TA K E N
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    lope, she saw something they’d missed. It was a black-and-white eight-by-ten photo, and in it her grandmother stood next to a tall, dark-haired man with a mustache. He had his arm around Charlotte, and she was smiling up at him with complete adoration. She looked like a young woman in love.
    A glint of silver caught Kayla’s eye. Her heart stopped.
    There, hanging out of the man’s coat pocket, was a chain and a watch, a pocket watch — her grandfather’s watch, the same watch she’d given Evan. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There had to be some mistake.
    “Kayla? Did you find something?”
    Swallowing hard, she turned the photo around so he could see it.
    “Is that the watch?” Nick asked.
    “Yes, but the man wearing it is not my grandfather.
    I’ve never seen him before. They look like they’re . . .
    friends.”
    “Or more than that,” Nick said, as he gazed into her eyes. “I knew your grandmother was hiding something.
    Maybe this man is the reason she didn’t want to talk about the watch.”
    “Maybe,” Kayla conceded.
    “Do you mind if I take that photo home with me? I’d like to look at it under a magnifying glass.”
    “I guess,” she said, a little reluctant to let it out of her sight. “I still don’t know what Evan would want with a fifty-year-old watch, even if it did belong to someone other than my grandfather. It can’t be worth that much.
    Can it?”
    “I don’t know yet.” Nick tapped the photo in his hand.
    “I think this guy is important.”
    She gave a reluctant nod of agreement. Maybe her 66
    Barbara Freethy
    grandmother was right. Maybe nothing good ever came from looking back. It was too late now; they’d already opened the door to the past. And a stranger had walked through it. Who was he? She had to find out.

    4
    Charlotte Hirsch opened the door Saturday morning and offered Kayla a resigned smile. “I had a feeling you would be back.”
    “We need to talk, Grandma.” As she entered her grandmother’s condo, Kayla saw no evidence of the poker game from the night before. The living and dining rooms were spotless. Charlotte was dressed in a pair of conservative black slacks and a navy-blue sweater. She looked like a grandma, not a chorus girl or a stripper. If Kayla hadn’t spent most of the night going through the theater programs and scrapbooks, she might have been able to convince herself it was all a