On Shadow Beach

by Barbara Freethy

  “Even if one of them involves you?”

  She slowly turned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You were never really questioned, Lauren.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. Her jaw dropped in shock. “What the hell are you saying? Abby was my little sister! How could you think I had anything to do with her death?”

  “She was beautiful, popular, an accomplished athlete, a great student. Some people claim you were in her shadow, that you were jealous of her.”

  “I was proud of her.” Lauren refused to admit to any tinge of envy for her sister’s success. Sure, things had come a little easier for Abby, and sometimes that had been frustrating, but she’d loved her sister far more than she’d ever felt jealous of her.

  “There’s also the question of your alibi—it had a lot of holes in it. The librarian said she saw you enter the library, but she never saw you leave,” he said, his gaze never leaving her face. “But even if you had stayed until the library closed at ten, you didn’t arrive at your house until eleven twenty-five. That’s an hour and twenty-five minutes that were unaccounted for.”

  Her heart pounded against her chest, but she tried to stay calm. He wanted to get a reaction from her, but she wouldn’t give him one. “I went for a walk after I left the library. I got some coffee and then I went home. The police confirmed that I stopped at Dina’s to get coffee.”

  “You were at Dina’s for only five minutes. What did you do after that?”

  She had gone down to the marina to see if Shane was back from the fishing charter he’d told her he was going to run with his dad. The boat was there, but there was no sign of Shane. She’d gone by his house, but his motorcycle was gone. She’d finally given up and returned home.

  She threw back her shoulders. “I don’t have to answer your questions. I didn’t kill my sister.”

  “Then who did? Shane Murray?”

  “This is just your roundabout way of getting me to implicate him, isn’t it?” she challenged.

  A small smile crossed his lips. “Maybe. Although when I mentioned my theory about you to Mr. Murray, he didn’t dispute the possibility that you could have been involved.”

  She stiffened. Devlin was lying. Shane wouldn’t throw suspicion on her. Would he?

  “The reports that I read indicated that your family was very concerned about Abby’s relationship with Shane,” Devlin continued.

  “Abby didn’t have a relationship with him, and in the beginning we were all in shock. We were surprised that Shane and Abby had been seen together, but it was no big deal that he gave her a ride. And there was no evidence to connect Shane to Abby’s death.” She ran up the stairs, hoping to escape his questions, but he was right on her heels as she re-entered the kitchen.

  “I realize this is a difficult situation for you, but I’m trying to help,” he said as he followed her through the house.

  “No, you’re trying to make money off my sister’s death. Why would you want to put our family through the worst nightmare of our lives a second time?”

  “Because your sister deserves justice. I’d rather work with you than against you,” Devlin said as they reached the foyer. “But with or without your help, I’m going to pursue the truth.”

  Before Lauren could answer, a woman came through the front door. She had on a stylish red business suit with a short skirt and very high heels, her black hair pulled back from her face. She gave Devlin a smile, sending a questioning look in Lauren’s direction.

  “Hello,” she said. “Sorry I’m late, Mark. Am I interrupting something?”

  “No, we’re done,” Lauren said briskly.

  “This is Lauren Jamison,” Devlin interjected. “Rachel Silveira,” he added to Lauren.

  “Silveira?” Lauren echoed. “The chief’s wife?”

  The woman frowned. “In Los Angeles, I never have to introduce myself that way,” she grumbled to Devlin.

  “The charm of a small town, darling.”

  “Yes, I’m the chief’s wife,” Rachel said to Lauren. “I’m also a real estate agent, and an associate of Mr. Devlin’s.”

  “Why are you here?” Lauren asked.

  “To help Mark scout the location,” she replied.

  “I’m going to recreate part of the house, in particular the basement, on a soundstage in L.A.,” Devlin interjected. “The exterior scenes will all be shot here.”

  “You’re building a set before you have a script?” Lauren asked. “How can you make a movie if you don’t know who the villain is?”

  “Everything takes time. I’m just setting the wheels in motion.”

  He’s really going to do this. The truth hit Lauren hard. It wasn’t just a vague idea, there was actual progress being made. “This movie is just going to hurt innocent people.”

  “Or perhaps finally catch the killer,” he said. “I am going to find out who did it.”

  She might have found his confidence inspiring if she hadn’t just heard some of his half-baked theories, one of them making her the murderer.

  “It’s not the innocent who need to be afraid,” he added. “Just the guilty.”

  His words ran around in her mind as she walked out of the house. When she reached her car, she slipped behind the wheel, locked the doors, and drew in a deep breath. Mark Devlin had certainly given her a lot to think about. She didn’t know what to focus on first: some nebulous relationship with Abby, Lisa, and Coach Sorensen; Shane’s involvement with her sister; or her own lack of a concrete alibi. No one had ever doubted her until now. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea that Mark Devlin could believe she killed her own sister.

  And Shane hadn’t disputed that possibility, according to Devlin. Well, why would he? He was probably happy to have someone else on the hot seat. But dammit, he should have spoken up for her, not stayed silent.

  The way she’d stayed silent all those years ago, when he’d been the one accused.

  But that had been different. Shane had lied. Shane had been with Abby. Shane had refused to explain why.

  It was past time that he did.

  Shane had just returned from a fishing charter and was headed to the Java Hut to pick up some coffee when he saw Lauren striding across the harbor parking lot. She was dressed casually, more like the girl he remembered. Her blue jeans were tight and the white tank top and pink sweater clung to her curves. Her dark brown hair fell loosely around her shoulders and the sway of her hips made his body tighten. He wished to hell he didn’t react so strongly to her, but she was pretty and sexy as hell, and he’d had a thing for her since the first moment they’d met. Time and years had done nothing to diminish that attraction. If anything, it was stronger than ever, because Lauren was no longer a shy, uncertain girl, but a beautiful woman—a woman moving toward him with a purpose that did not bode well.

  When she reached him, she pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. Her dark blue eyes had always reminded him of the sea, of the blue water that could only be found miles and miles from shore. He’d once felt like he could drown in her soft, dreamy gaze, but now there was nothing but dark, stormy shadows.

  “What do you want?” he asked warily.

  “Answers.”

  “What happened?” Something had clearly set her off.

  “I went to the Ramsay house.” Her mouth tightened. “I went into the basement.”

  “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “Because I couldn’t stop myself. Something drew me there, and the next minute I was walking through that creepy old house and imagining how Abby must have felt when she went down those steps, when she was confronted by her killer, when she realized there was no way out. I could feel her terror, Shane. I could feel that cord tightening around my neck.” Her voice faltered as she struggled for composure.

  “You shouldn’t have put yourself through that, Lauren.”

  “Well, I did, and I was all alone in that basement when a man came through the door. I almost jumped out of my
skin. I thought it was Abby’s murderer come back to get me. But it was Mark Devlin. Have you heard who he believes killed Abby?” The angry fire in her eyes burned brighter.

  “He has a lot of theories,” Shane said neutrally.

  “Including one that features me as the murderer, the jealous older sister. The one who was afraid that her boyfriend wanted her sister instead, so she decided to kill her.”

  “Mark Devlin doesn’t believe you killed Abby.”

  “Really?” she challenged. “Why? Because you told him it was a ridiculous idea? He said you didn’t dispute his theory at all.”

  “He’s playing us off each other, Lauren. Can’t you see that? Whoever he accuses will try to direct his attention to someone else. It’s his way of getting people to talk.”

  “Is that what you did? Turn his focus to me?”

  It pissed him off that she could think he would be such a coward. “That’s not what happened.”

  “So tell me what happened, Shane—and I’m not talking about your conversation with Mark Devlin. Tell me what happened with Abby—why you were with her that night. Tell me what I don’t know, what you should have told me thirteen years ago.”

  Her demand stole the breath from his chest. He’d known this moment was coming the second she’d stepped back into his life, but he wasn’t ready. There were other people involved, innocent people.

  But Lauren was innocent, too, he reminded himself. At least she had been before he’d gotten involved with her. He should have stuck with girls who were as wild as he was, because he’d always known Lauren would want more from him than he could give her. If he’d had any sense, he never would have started a relationship that was doomed from the beginning.

  “I ran away before, Shane, but I’m not leaving now until I get some answers,” she said with determination. “You owe me.”

  “All right, we’ll talk, but not here. There are too many people around.” He could see some of the other fishermen looking their way. “Let’s take a ride.” He waved his hand toward his motorcycle, which was parked nearby.

  “Really? The motorcycle?” she asked, obviously not thrilled with the idea.

  “We’ll leave town, find some open space, some fresh air—”

  “Where we can be whoever we want to be,” she finished. “It’s what you always used to say.”

  “It’s still true.”

  He saw the indecision in her eyes and was almost sure she’d say no, but then she lifted her chin.

  “Fine, let’s go,” she said.

  They walked over to his bike. He handed her a helmet, and she slid onto the seat behind him. As she wrapped her arms around his waist the way she’d done so many years ago, his throat tightened with unexpected emotion. They weren’t young, carefree, or crazy in love anymore, and he needed to remember that. When their ride came to an end, Lauren was going to expect some answers. He’d better come up with some, fast.

  SIX

  She was insane, Lauren decided. No way should she be on the back of Shane’s bike, her body pressed against his solid back. But as they sped down the Pacific Coast Highway on a road that twisted and turned high above the ocean, the tension she’d felt since she’d run into Mark Devlin began to ease. With the bright blue sky above and nothing but endless road in front of them, she felt her problems sliding away, along with the years that had passed between her last trip and this one.

  The first time she’d gotten on Shane’s bike, she’d been sixteen years old and terrified of crashing. She’d never been a risk taker or a thrill seeker. She wasn’t impulsive or spontaneous. She made plans. She set goals. She tested the water before she jumped in. Her mother used to say it was the curse of the first-born child to be wary and cautious, and the description had certainly fit her.

  Shane had changed all that. He’d swept her off her feet metaphorically and literally when he’d put her on the back of his motorcycle and suggested she take a ride on the wild side with him. Oh, he hadn’t used those exact words, but she’d heard them in her head, and she’d been seduced by his sexy smile, the promise in his dark eyes. He’d invited her out of her comfort zone, and she’d thrown her organized calendar to the wind and given in to her emotions. He’d opened her up to a new world. He’d made her feel things she’d never imagined.

  She’d never know if she and Shane would have made it if Abby hadn’t died, if he hadn’t lied, if she hadn’t left town . . . There were too many ifs, too many turns they’d both taken, choices they’d made, decisions they couldn’t take back. She had no intention of getting involved with him again. She had guys back home who were a lot of fun and fit into her life exactly the way it was. They didn’t try to change her, or challenge her to do more than she was comfortable doing. They didn’t make her nervous and edgy and in danger of losing control. Who needed all that unsettled emotion? She was thirty years old, a responsible adult, interested in a mature relationship.

  But as the wind blew against her face, she felt more like that reckless young girl who had yearned for something she couldn’t quite define—something she’d found in Shane’s arms.

  Racing along the shoreline now, she could feel Shane’s heat, the power in his body. He was a physical man, one who labored in the sun, on the sea, who made his living battling nature. She’d always liked his power, strength, and confidence. And despite his bad-boy reputation, she’d felt safe with him. The only thing that had ever really scared her was her own desire—a reckless, irrational desire that was as strong as it ever had been.

  Why hadn’t Shane gotten married? Why hadn’t she? Why weren’t there people between them and reasons to stay apart?

  There were reasons, she reminded herself. They were different people now. They didn’t trust each other. She was leaving in a few days, and who knew how long Shane would stay? He’d always had one foot out the door, a guy who wanted to keep his options open.

  He’d always wanted to travel, and it appeared that he’d fulfilled at least some of his childhood dreams. Her dreams had changed when Abby died. Everything she’d thought she’d wanted for herself had taken a backseat to surviving the grief, being there for her mother and her brother, making it to the next day, hoping to forget the past.

  She’d thought she had, but now it was all coming back, and she was caught between the girl she used to be and the woman she’d become. Did Shane feel as rattled as she did, or was she just another girl from his past? He’d never been a saint, and she doubted he’d spent the last decade pining for her.

  She was surprised that he’d come back to Angel’s Bay. There’d been a restless fury inside him for as long as she’d known him. He’d always been itching to get out of town, whether it was by motorcycle or by boat. He couldn’t breathe in Angel’s Bay. He didn’t like the fact that everyone knew everyone’s business. He’d wanted so much more than she could give him. But now he was home, and so was she . . .

  Twenty minutes later, Shane pulled off the highway and drove down a sandy path that ended at a cliff overlooking the water. She’d been enjoying the ride so much, she was almost sorry they’d stopped. It took her a minute to peel her fingers from his waist and slide off the back of the bike. She took off her helmet and shook her hair free.

  Shane removed his helmet, then turned and looked out at the ocean. He looked more relaxed now, his anger and rebelliousness had always been tamed by a race down the highway.

  She followed his gaze, enjoying the sunbeams dancing off the ocean, the white caps crashing along the beach below, the never-ending pull of the tide. It was beautiful, and Shane was mesmerized. How could he have spent so much time at sea and still look at the ocean with such wonder in his eyes?

  “Don’t you ever get tired of the water?” she asked. “You see it every day. You go out on your boat each morning. Doesn’t it ever get old?”

  He turned his head, giving her a half smile that almost undid her. It had been a long, long time since she’d seen that smile.

  “Never. The water always looks di
fferent, in light, in dark, in wind, in quiet. Sometimes it acts out like a spoiled child, or a furious monster, and other times like a sweet, seductive lover.”

  She was stunned by the poetry of his words. Shane had never been one to use two words when one would suffice.

  “Let’s get a little closer,” he suggested.

  She started in surprise, thinking for a moment that he meant the two of them.

  “Go down to the beach,” he added, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “What did you think I meant?”

  “Nothing. But I’m fine here. It’s a great view, and I don’t think we can get down there.”

  “We can. I’ve been here before.” He held out his hand, his gaze meeting hers. “Come with me, Lauren.”

  She hesitated for a long moment. Finally she slipped her hand into his, catching her breath at the intense heat of their connection. Shane’s eyes locked with hers, and she willed him not to say anything.

  He led her toward a steep, rocky path carved out of the bluff. She was grateful for his strong hand when her feet slipped on the loose dirt. Shane seemed to have no problem picking his way down the hillside.

  Their journey reminded her of another time. She didn’t want to go back there, but the memory had such a strong pull . . .

  It was dark, the moon rising high in the sky, the beam from Shane’s flashlight bouncing off the rocks as they headed down to the beach. Her pulse raced and not just from the kiss Shane had given her when they’d gotten off of his bike, but from the promise in his eyes.

  She was supposed to be at a movie, not headed to a desolate beach with the baddest boy in town, two beers, and a blanket. She was excited, nervous, and breathless by the time they reached the sand.

  Shane gave her a smile and spread out the blanket. The waves crashed against the shoreline only thirty feet away. This strip of beach was just a small inlet along miles of wild coastline. They were completely alone, isolated from the rest of the world.

  “Do you want a beer?” Shane asked.

  She shook her head. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t want to be drunk.” It might be easier if she were, because she’d never had sex before, but she was ready. She wanted to be with him.