by Lisa Childs
Reed. She said it aloud, “Reed…”
It suited him. A reed could bend in the wind but wouldn’t break. The sheriff was like that, strong, resilient…
Maybe she was more tired than she’d thought if she was able to weave fantasies around a man she’d just met. A man who had felt something for her sister. She didn’t know a thing about him. At first meeting he’d resented her as much as everyone else on this island had.
But that afternoon when he’d left, he’d touched her shoulder and told her to call him if she needed anything. She glanced to the phone beside the bed, thinking of making that call. Instead of a card, like the lawyer had given her, she just had a scrap of paper where Reed had scribbled his name and number.
She pulled the paper from her pocket and laid it next to the phone. She could resist the temptation to call him. But she couldn’t resist the silk. So she kicked off her jeans and dragged her sweater over her head. Lacking the energy to fold them, she draped them over a Victorian fainting couch. Then she pulled on the cool silk, letting it slide over her skin.
Nadine had worn this. For whom? Herself or the sheriff? Like the blanket for Annie, had this been a gift from him?
Something had been between the handsome lawman and her twin, something that Sasha wanted no part of. All she would get now would be the scraps of whatever he’d felt for Nadine. No, Sasha wouldn’t be calling Reed. She crawled into the bed and extinguished the light.
Questions swirled in her brain, answers eluding her as sleep claimed her quickly. Her heavy eyes closing, her last lucid thought wasn’t of her dead sister or the niece who was now her responsibility. It was of the sheriff and his determination to find Nadine’s killer.
Out of guilt or love?
“Sasha…”
The raspy whisper roused her from her deep sleep.
“Sasha…”
She opened her eyes, but the darkness was impenetrable. The storm had moved off, not a rumble of thunder or clash of lightning distinguishable in the black sky outside the bedroom window.
Not even a star.
“Sasha…”
“Who’s there?” she asked, but she knew that voice that called her name in the night.
“Sasha…”
“Nadine?”
“DID YOU HEAR HER last night?”
Sasha’s hand trembled against the cup of coffee Mrs. Arnold had just poured her. Some of the hot liquid sloshed over the rim and onto her fingers. She dipped them into her glass of ice water before turning toward the disapproving housekeeper. “Who…hear who?” she stammered.
Not Nadine. She hadn’t heard Nadine. That had to have been another dream. Just a dream.
But then why did she feel as if she’d hardly slept, as though she’d stayed awake, wide-eyed and unnerved by the voice that had to have been only in her head….
Or had it?
“You did hear her,” Mrs. Arnold said, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her pale-gray eyes.
The woman couldn’t be talking about Nadine. She hadn’t bothered to hide the fact that she’d despised Sasha’s twin. “Who? Annie? Did she cry last night?”
Had the little girl needed her? Instead of comforting her niece, Sasha had cowered under the covers, wishing for the comfort of the sheriff’s strong arms for herself. Shame weighed on her, slumping her shoulders. Already she’d failed the little angel Nadine had trusted to her care.
“No, no, the child slept. Mrs. Scott. Did you hear her?” Excitement vibrated in the older woman’s gruff voice.
“Mrs. Scott? She’s dead?”
“Thanks to your sister, yes. But she hasn’t left her beloved house.” Her gaze softening, the housekeeper glanced around the dining room, the chandelier barely able to brighten its dark wood. Then she turned back to Sasha, her eyes hard with dislike. “You can hear her walking the halls, the metal legs of her walker clopping against the floorboards.”
God, the woman was insane. As crazy as Sasha had felt last night. Maybe the house caused that. “No, I didn’t hear anything like that.”
“But you heard something,” Mrs. Arnold persisted.
Sasha turned away from the older woman, her gaze drawn to the rain-streaked window. Dark clouds hung low over the island…like yesterday. Did the sun ever shine here? If not, how had the island earned its name? “The storm. I heard that, and the rain.”
“Hmm…I didn’t. I didn’t think it started until this morning.”
Still staring into the gloom outside, Sasha caught sight of the sheriff coming onto the porch. Rain slicked down his hair and darkened the broad shoulders of his denim shirt. Since Annie still slept, she was grateful for the company of someone who didn’t hate her.
“He’s here early. Wonder if he found her body yet,” Mrs. Arnold mused with a disgusted sniff. “I better get another cup for him. He likes his coffee strong and black.”
“He came here a lot?” When Nadine was alive?
Mrs. Arnold nodded, her thin lips twisting into disapproval. “Spent a lot of time with the little girl and your sister. Since she’s gone, maybe he figures you’ll do.”
The older woman slipped through the pocket doors into the kitchen before Sasha could defend herself against that last attack. She wouldn’t do in place of Nadine. She wouldn’t do at all.
“Hello,” Reed called out as his boots clomped through the foyer. He’d let himself in. Obviously, he was quite comfortable in Nadine’s home.
More comfortable than Sasha would ever be. She needed to get off Sunset Island, needed to take Annie back to her home. But she couldn’t do that, not yet. Not until Sheriff Blakeslee found Nadine’s body and her killer.
“You’re up,” he said, as he stepped into the dining room. “Early riser?”
She nodded. “I have to be. I work at a high school.” Not that he had any interest in her. His total focus was Nadine and her child. Their child?
“Teacher?”
“Counselor.”
Mrs. Arnold snorted over that as she placed a cup on the table before the sheriff. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked him.
He nodded, water dripping from his dark hair. “Yeah, down at the inn. But I can use more coffee. It’s still pretty cold out there.”
For Sasha, it might seem warmer outside than in Nadine’s house. The sheriff’s arms would be warmest, but it wouldn’t be her he was holding. “You’re an early riser, too,” she remarked.
He shrugged, then settled onto the ornately carved chair across from her. “When I have things to do, yes.”
But something flickered in his green eyes, a love of lazy mornings spent lolling in bed…making love. How would his eyes look then? Would the gold flecks shimmer and burn as he burned up the body of the woman lying beside him, beneath him, over him…
And she’d thought the coffee was hot. Now she needed to dip her entire body into the ice water as she flushed from the images she’d painted in her mind.
“Are you all right?” he asked, probably as concerned that she was losing her mind as she was. After all, she was Annie’s guardian, not him. Why not him? If he and Nadine had been so close, why wouldn’t she have left him her child?
“Tired,” she admitted.
“You didn’t sleep well?”
Not at all. But she wouldn’t admit that to him, wouldn’t admit that she’d thought a ghost had been calling her name. That would give him grounds to take Annie away from her. Maybe he should….
She didn’t answer, but he undoubtedly knew. Maybe he knew all of it, all of her doubts and fears. He seemed to look that deep, his green gaze intent on her face. “It’s understandable, you know.”
That she lose her mind? Somehow she didn’t think he meant that.
“That you wouldn’t sleep well. You lost someone very close to you,” he said, those eyes softening with sympathy.
But she hadn’t. She and Nadine hadn’t been that close, ever. “You were probably closer.” And she’d like to know just how close.
“And it�
�s a strange house,” he added, once again ignoring her too-personal comment.
She sighed as she leaned back as much as the stiff chair would allow. “That is very true.”
“You’re not comfortable here?”
She glanced around, making sure the housekeeper had gone back into the kitchen. “No. There’s really nothing welcoming about this house.”
But then a little voice rang out, calling, “Mommy! Mommy!” And a little body wiggled out of the arms of the harried nanny and into Sasha’s. She buried her face in Annie’s sweet-smelling curls, drinking in the scent of strawberries and baby.
“She woke up crying for you,” the young nanny said, her tone accusatory, as if she thought Sasha had forgotten about the child.
But Annie hadn’t been calling Sasha, not like the voice in the night. Instead she’d been calling for her mother, her dead mother.
“I’m here, baby,” she said to Annie, stroking her hand over the child’s curls. “I’m here.”
Annie sniffled, then sighed, burrowing her face in Sasha’s neck. “Mommy…”
“Hi, Sheriff,” Barbie said, turning a smile on Reed. “Poor little girl is so confused.”
Sasha would have suspected the young woman feigned the sympathy to impress the sheriff. But she’d witnessed her affectionate interaction with Annie. She did care about the child. She just cared about herself more.
Reed nodded. “It’s a difficult time for everyone.”
“Yeah, well…” the nanny sputtered, obviously not feeling the same regret over Nadine’s loss as he did. “I could hardly sleep last night, being back in this house.” She shuddered. “I need some caffeine. Do you need more coffee? I’ll bring it back out…”
He held his hand over his cup. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Annie sighed out a shaky breath and snuggled closer. “Mommy…”
“So you haven’t told her,” Reed remarked after the nanny had shot Sasha a final glare and traipsed into the kitchen.
Annie lifted her head and wiggled around to peer at Reed. “Hi, Wed.”
“Hi, gorgeous,” he said, a smile lighting up his green eyes and creasing his handsome face.
The little girl giggled, probably just as Sasha would have done had he said the same thing to her.
“Tell her?” Sasha asked. “How? And will she even understand?”
God, she had no clue how to deal with a small child, no idea how to handle her confusion or her grief. If Annie were one of her teens, she would have urged her to talk it out. To share her feelings. But Annie wouldn’t understand any of that. She didn’t even understand that her mother was dead.
The sheriff shrugged his broad shoulders. “You’re the counselor.”
“High school kids, not toddlers. I don’t know…” So much. There was so much she didn’t know. About Annie. And her sister. And the attraction Sasha couldn’t quite fight for the handsome lawman.
The light of the chandelier played over his rain-darkened hair, shimmering in the reddish-brown strands as it shimmered in his eyes, reflecting the gold flecks. He stared at her, his gaze intense. “Sasha, I need to tell you—”
Chimes tinkled, and it took a moment for Sasha to realize the sound was the doorbell. She wanted to hear what the sheriff needed to tell her, what had furrowed his brow and darkened his green eyes. Was he going to admit to being Annie’s father?
But he’d stopped talking as Mrs. Arnold hurried from the kitchen to the foyer. And he didn’t say anything as the housekeeper showed her ex-fiancé into the dining room. Reed’s handsome face showed not one flicker of surprise. He’d been expecting Charles Norder.
She had not.
HE SHOULD HAVE TOLD HER, should have prepared her. Somehow Reed had known seeing her ex-fiancé was going to hurt her. Not that she’d gotten all that visibly upset. She’d simply stood up, Annie tight in her arms, and announced that she was taking the little girl upstairs to get dressed. Then, as she’d headed from the room, she’d turned back with, “And I expect you both to be gone before we come back down.”
Norder, sweat sheening his brow despite the cold, hadn’t offered any argument or explanation. He’d merely obliged her wish, the door closing behind him before she’d even reached the top of the stairs.
Reed had followed her. He leaned against the doorjamb of the nursery where she played with her niece. The sunbeam brightness of the round room was wel come when outside and in the rest of the house darkness fell as shadows from the low storm clouds.
Although her mouth lifted into a smile for the child, the emotion dampening her bright eyes was not happiness. Something tightened in Reed’s gut. God, he hated a woman’s tears. Hated even more when he was partially responsible. He should have warned her.
She left Annie building a block tower and joined him in the shadows of the hall. More tears swam in her eyes, clinging to her black lashes. Her voice shook as she whispered, “He can’t have her. Tell him he can’t have her.”
“What?” Gut clenched, he lifted his hand to her face, cupping her soft cheek. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s why you brought him here—to claim Annie. To take her away from me.” One of her tears slid down her cheek and into his palm.
He didn’t want to catch her tears. He wanted to stop them. He pulled her close, stroking his hand over her back to soothe her as he’d tried to soothe Annie the day before. But this wasn’t a child he held in his arms. This was a woman, a soft, desirable woman. Her silky hair wound through his fingers, teasing his palms. How would her hair feel against his skin, brushing over his chest as she leaned over him….
“Shhh,” he said, as much to his thoughts as to her. “It’s okay. That’s not why he’s here.”
Reed hoped. The thought hadn’t occurred to him until she’d voiced her fear aloud. Could Norder be Annie’s father? Reed had never seen him around before, but then Nadine had already been pregnant when she’d come to the island.
Sasha’s breath hitched, and she rested her cheek against his chest, her tears dampening his shirt. His heart beat hard, as desire throbbed in his blood. She felt so damned right in his arms, so warm, so soft…
He wanted to sink into her softness, wanted her to burn for him…as he was burning for her. “Sasha…”
She jerked as if scalded and pulled out of his arms, her hands pushing against his chest. “Why…why didn’t you tell me he was here?”
“I was about to—”
She waved a hand in dismissal of his half-hearted explanation. “You had plenty of time to let me know he was here. Yesterday—”
“Yesterday I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know what he is to you.”
Her voice hardened. “Was.”
“Your fiancé.”
“Ex.” She rubbed her hands over the arms of her pink sweater, the same one she’d worn yesterday. “That was a long time ago. What’s he doing here now, after Nadine’s death?” Fear for Annie widened her bright eyes.
Reed shook his head. “He was here before her murder.”
“He lives here?”
“No. He’s visiting.”
“Why?”
Was her interest only because of her concern that he might take Annie, or was she curious for another rea son? Did she still have feelings for Norder? While it had nothing to do with solving Nadine’s murder, Reed wanted to know. And maybe that was why he hadn’t warned her, because he’d wanted to see her initial reaction to her ex-fiancé. He’d wanted to see if she still cared about the younger man.
“Nadine asked him to come. He claims that he doesn’t know why and that she died before he met with her.”
Bitterness pulled down the corners of Sasha’s full lips. He recognized the emotion because he’d lived with it so long himself.
“Don’t trust him,” she advised, her voice hard. “I know that you’re the sheriff and all, but take my advice on this. Don’t trust him.”
“You think he could be the one who killed Nadine?” Norder’s guilt would
make Reed’s job easier. He would be arresting a stranger, not a local. The case would be closed and Sasha would be free to leave….
That last part twisted a knot in his gut. He told himself that it was because she would take Annie with her. He told himself that, and he hated lying to himself.
He had swallowed enough of his ex-wife’s lies over the years of their marriage. And that was one of the reasons why he could never act on whatever he felt for Sasha. He couldn’t trust his instincts about women.
What about killers?
“It seems strange that he’d stay…if he killed her,” he mused aloud.
“Not if he’s staying to claim Annie,” Sasha said, her gaze on the playing child. Then she sighed and shook her head, “I’m not being fair. I’m letting my…feelings cloud my judgment.” She laughed, a short, brittle expulsion of sound. “That’s not the first time I’ve done that where Charles Norder is concerned.”
“What are your feelings for Mr. Norder?” he found himself asking, although the question had nothing to do with his investigation.
She laughed again. “Bitterness. Mistrust. Anger. And it’s been five years. You’d think I’d be over it by now.”
Yeah, you’d think. She must have really loved the bastard. “So what are you saying? You think I should look at him for her murder?”
Her narrow shoulders lifted and fell in a delicate shrug. “Don’t trust my judgment or my feelings for Charles Norder. I’ve known him since we were seventeen, and I found out I couldn’t trust them either.”
“Sounds like you found out you couldn’t trust him.” He definitely wanted to slug the guy.
“I should have known better.”
Despite his intentions to remain uninvolved, Reed reached out, his hand cupping her shoulder. He offered a reassuring squeeze, but she shivered beneath his touch. Their gazes met, held, and something flared in her crystal-blue eyes. Did she feel some of the same desire he felt? That wasn’t good. That would further complicate an already complicated situation.
He cleared his throat, forcing out the words to console her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all make mistakes, trust people we shouldn’t.”
