On Shadow Beach

by Barbara Freethy

  “No, you’re not one of them.” Her eyebrow arched. “Were you one of them?”

  “I don’t remember.” He gazed back at the photo in his hand, a smile curving his lips. “Here’s one of us at that car wash fundraiser. You look hot in your shorts, and you look like you want to eat me up.”

  She took the picture and blushed. “Oh, my God, I look like a lovesick puppy. How could you stand me?”

  He laughed. “You were cute.”

  “I can’t believe Abby took this picture! How embarrassing.”

  He grabbed the photo from her hand. “I can’t believe I never figured out a way to get your T-shirt wet. What a waste of a car wash.”

  “Thank heavens that shot didn’t make the yearbook. Anyone would think—”

  “That you were in love with me?” he offered.

  “Let’s move on, shall we?”

  When she looked back at the pictures on the bed, he slipped the car wash one onto the night table.

  A moment later Lauren said, “There are quite a few shots of Jason, usually with Kara and Colin, but a few alone. Here’s one with Lisa and Jason, and—” She stopped and pulled out another picture. “Jason and Abby.” She held it out.

  Jason had his arm around Abby and the two were smiling. The photo had been taken at some beach, a bonfire burning off to the side. “Jason said he knew Abby. This doesn’t prove anything,” Shane pointed out.

  “What about the rest?” she asked, holding up the pile. “I think Jason was her crush. Why else would she take so many pictures of him?”

  Shane handed her the pictures he’d collected. “I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions yet. Coach Sorensen was also a popular shot.”

  Lauren frowned. “Maybe she just wanted to make sure the volleyball team got enough coverage in the yearbook.”

  “They’re not all at volleyball games. There are a couple of him in the stands at the basketball game, and at a pizza parlor with some other girls.”

  “Volleyball players,” Lauren said. “It must have been a team party.”

  “Here are some from what appears to be a hotel room.”

  “One of the away tournaments. But these shots aren’t of Abby and the coach. He’s with other girls in every single picture. We don’t know if she was taking shots of him or of her friends.”

  Lauren was definitely fighting the idea that Abby could have been involved with her coach, and Shane couldn’t blame her. He didn’t like that scenario much, either.

  She sighed. “This was a dumb idea.”

  “We’re not done yet. Don’t give up.”

  “I’ve seen enough.” She scooped up the photos and began shoving them back into the envelope. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep imagining Abby and a married man—” She swore as the envelope ripped.

  Shane put his hand over hers, stilling her frantic action, and pulled the envelope out of her grip. He set it on the table, then hauled her into his arms. She resisted for only a fraction of a second and then gave in, resting her head on his chest, sliding her arms around his waist.

  He held her trembling body against his. She was struggling to keep it all in. He wished he could do something to ease her turmoil, but there were no words that could take away her pain, so he just held on tight as she cried. Her small, muffled sobs tore him apart. When she’d first lost Abby he’d wanted to hold her, but she’d pushed him away. He’d give her what comfort he could now.

  Finally she was spent, and he got up to get her some tissues. She blew her nose, then stretched out on her side, closing her eyes. “I’m so tired. I just have to close my eyes for a minute.”

  He pulled a blanket off the bottom of the bed and covered her with it. Then he stretched out beside her, putting his arm around her waist. Her hair tickled his nose, and as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo, he knew he was never going to forget her sweet smell, no matter where he went or what he did. She’d gotten under his skin, into his heart. They might not have forever, but for now, he’d hold on to her until he had to let go.

  “Shane,” she murmured.

  He tightened his hold on her. “What?”

  “I did love you back then.”

  “I know.” He just wished she loved him now.

  SEVENTEEN

  Joe awoke to what he thought was the sound of sirens. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock. One thirty-five, and it was quiet now. Had he been dreaming?

  Then the phone rang. Adrenaline surged through his body and he grabbed the receiver. “Silveira.”

  Jason Marlow was on the other end, and Joe listened to his report with growing uneasiness. “Thanks. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up, his heart beating hard and fast. He stood up, grabbed his uniform out of the closet, and began to get dressed.

  Rachel sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. “Joe? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have to go to the station?”

  “Not the station, the hospital.” He buttoned his shirt, stalling for a moment. He had to tell her, but he really didn’t want to.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Rachel, you need to get dressed and come with me.” He reached for his jacket and put it on.

  “Why? The only people I know in this town are you and . . .” Her voice trailed away.

  He saw the sudden fear in her eyes and moved back to the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, taking her hands in his. “It’s Mark.”

  She immediately shook her head in disbelief. “No.”

  “He was in an accident. He’s being taken to the trauma center in Montgomery.”

  “That’s not possible. I spoke to Mark an hour ago, right before we went to bed. He was fine. He was just going to have a drink at the bar. He was fine,” she repeated, desperate to make it true.

  “He was hit by a car, honey,” Joe said gently.

  “Oh, God.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Is it bad?”

  “It’s very serious. Do you know where his family is? We need to contact them.”

  “They’re all on the East Coast, in New York and Connecticut.” Rachel climbed out of bed and began to throw on her clothes. “Mark will be all right,” she said with determination. “He’s young, strong, and healthy. He’ll survive this.”

  Five minutes later they were on the road. The drive to the trauma center reminded Joe of the last time he’d made this trip in the middle of the night, when Colin had been shot. Then he’d had Kara in the passenger seat. Kara hadn’t spoken a word the entire time, but he’d felt her panic as well as his own. He could feel Rachel’s fear now.

  He wanted to comfort her, but she seemed completely closed off. Her gaze was turned toward the window, her arms folded across her chest. He had no idea what she was thinking, which wasn’t unusual since he didn’t have any idea what she was thinking most days. They’d once shared every thought. Now they rarely shared dinner. But she was his wife and he was her husband, and that stood for something, didn’t it?

  He’d married with every intention of staying with her forever. He’d never taken his commitment lightly; he’d never been unfaithful. And he believed she’d been faithful to him, but there was no question that they’d drifted apart. Even though they’d both said they wanted to get the marriage back on track, neither of them seemed able to make that happen. Their sex life was more habit than passion. But maybe that was to be expected since they’d been together for years. Passion died down, didn’t it?

  Or was he just making excuses? That’s all he seemed to do lately. He shook the thought out of his head and concentrated on the dark highway.

  When they reached the hospital they were told Devlin was in surgery, so they went up to the third-floor waiting room. It was empty, the hospital eerily quiet.

  Rachel sat down while Joe got Jason back on the phone. “We’re at the hospital now,” he said. “Can you give me more details on the accident?”

  “Mr. Devlin left Murray’s Bar at approximately
one a.m. He was struck near the corner of Second Street. Roger Harlan saw a car speeding away but couldn’t give any further details. He found Mr. Devlin in the street and called 911. The paramedics and I arrived about three minutes later,” Jason reported. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s in surgery. Was he conscious at the scene?”

  “He mumbled a few words, but I couldn’t make sense of them. I’m at the bar now, trying to find out if anyone had an altercation with him or if anyone left drunk. I’ll check out the Blue Pelican and the Sunset Bar, as well.”

  “Keep me posted.” Joe ended the call with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Mark Devlin had been stirring up trouble in Angel’s Bay for weeks. Maybe someone wanted to scare him off, or shut him up for good.

  Rachel gave him an inquiring look. Her white skin was even paler under the harsh lights and her dark eyes were filled with concern.

  “Hit-and-run,” he said. “We don’t know anything yet.”

  “Someone hit him and left?” she asked in surprise. “Do you think it was deliberate, Joe?”

  “It’s possible. He’s been all over town questioning people about a murder.”

  “You have to find who did this to him.”

  “I will. Don’t worry about it now.”

  “I can’t stop worrying.” She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands. “I feel so helpless. I just want to make it right. Mark is a good guy. I know you don’t like him, but he’s a great person.” Her voice caught and she choked on a sob.

  He sat next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, honey.”

  “You don’t know that.” She shrugged off his arm and stood up. “I need to use the restroom.”

  She didn’t return for nearly fifteen minutes, and when she did, she sat in a chair across from him. There was barely three feet between them, but Joe felt like they were on opposite ends of the earth.

  “Rachel,” he began.

  “Don’t,” she said quickly, her gaze meeting his. “I can’t talk right now. You don’t even like Mark.”

  “I don’t dislike him. I certainly don’t want him to be hurt.”

  “Fine, but I just want to concentrate on Mark making it through surgery.” She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.

  He watched her for more than an hour. He didn’t know if she was asleep or praying, but she was definitely somewhere far away from him.

  Finally a doctor came into the room dressed in surgical garb. Rachel jumped to her feet and Joe followed, hoping there would be good news.

  The doctor was a man in his early thirties by the name of Ron Waxman. He was reluctant to give them any information since they weren’t family, but Joe’s badge persuaded him.

  “Mr. Devlin has fractures in both legs,” Dr. Waxman stated. “He also suffered a broken rib, a concussion, and some internal bleeding. We were able to stop the bleeding. His condition is serious but stable, and we believe his prognosis is good.”

  Rachel let out a breath. “Can I see him?”

  “He’ll be asleep for several hours. You might want to come back tomorrow.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Rachel said immediately.

  “I’ll have the nurse get you when he’s out of recovery,” the doctor replied.

  “Rachel, we should come back in the morning,” Joe said when they were alone. “You’re exhausted.”

  “I don’t care. You can leave. I’ll take a cab when I’m ready to go home.”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “No, you have to work in a few hours, and I want you to find whoever did this to Mark. You should get some sleep.”

  He was reluctant to leave her alone; he needed to show her that he was there for her. “If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Okay.” She sat back down in her chair.

  He took the seat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders once again. She resisted for a moment, then rested her head on his chest.

  “I’m so scared,” she said. “This is my fault. I got Mark involved in Angel’s Bay. I encouraged him to spend time here because it was nice to have a friend nearby. Now he’s hurt.”

  “It’s not your fault, Rachel. And this may be just an accident.”

  “I don’t think it was.”

  He didn’t, either.

  It was dawn when the nurse came to get them. Mark was awake but dazed when they entered his room. He had casts on both legs, a bandage around his head, and was hooked up to IVs and a heart monitor. His face was bruised, and he looked like hell.

  Rachel put her hand on Mark’s arm. “You’re going to be all right. Just rest, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  The look on Rachel’s face made Joe’s stomach turn over. She clearly had feelings for Mark. But how deep did those feelings go? Was it just the concern of friendship, or something more?

  Rachel caught his stare, read his mind. “He’s just a friend, Joe. A really good friend.”

  Was she lying to him? Or was she lying to herself?

  “I’m going to work,” he said abruptly. He needed to leave before he said something he couldn’t take back.

  Lauren slipped out of Shane’s bed just as the dawn light streamed through the windows. Shane was still asleep, his thick hair mussed from the pillow, a shadow of beard on his jaw, and his beautiful lips slightly parted. Her heart ached with a yearning that only got worse the more time they spent together. The boy she’d hated was blurring with the boy she’d once loved and the man she was getting to know. What had once seemed so black and white was now a confusing gray.

  Shane suddenly stretched and opened his eyes. She should have left when she had the chance.

  “Sneaking out?” he asked her, his morning voice undeniably sexy.

  “I was trying not to wake you up.”

  “What’s your hurry? Are you sure you don’t want to stay and have some . . . breakfast?”

  Desire swept through her at his barely veiled invitation. By the look in his eyes, he wasn’t talking about pancakes.

  “I have to go.” She didn’t even bother to make up an excuse, because they both knew why she was leaving. “Don’t ask me to stay.” As she said the words, they echoed in her mind. But she wasn’t the one who had said them before; he was. “That’s what you told me the last time we were together. You said, ‘Don’t ask me to stay in Angel’s Bay for you, Lauren, because I can’t.’ ” She gave him a thoughtful look. “Why couldn’t you stay for me? Or why couldn’t you ask me to go with you? I might have said yes.”

  He sat up, his dark gaze on her. “I needed to leave town. I needed to breathe different air, to be around people who didn’t know me, who didn’t have any expectations.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to marry me. I was seventeen.”

  “It wasn’t just your expectations. I had other issues.”

  “Other secrets,” she said with a nod. “They’re always between us—even now. How could I ever be with a man who won’t let me all the way in, who can’t trust me with his soul? I can’t, Shane. I deserve more than that.”

  The color left his face, his jaw setting in that familiar forbidding line. She willed him to speak, but he remained silent.

  There was nothing to do but leave.

  Charlotte had seen Joe at the Water’s Edge Fitness Center a few times, a perk of her early morning workout. She usually hit the streets for a jog, but the weather had turned and the cold fog had sent her indoors. She’d finished off an hour on the elliptical machine and was headed for a shower when she saw Joe working a punching bag.

  He wore black shorts and a gray tank top with LAPD on the front. His arms were muscled and tan, his legs just as strong, and he wasn’t carrying an extra ounce of weight. But he did appear to be carrying an unusual amount of pent-up energy; he was beating the crap out of the punching bag. She’d never seen him so physical before, and so very, very male.

  Feeling hot from her workout and her t
houghts, she grabbed a paper cup at the water cooler and filled it, then turned her back to drink it. She had no business ogling a married man, but she couldn’t help wondering what had gotten him worked up. He was usually so calm and even tempered when she saw him, though that was usually when he was on the job. She’d always suspected he had a hot side.

  While she sipped her water she took a look at the bulletin board, hoping for a distraction. Maybe she’d vary from her usual solitary exercise routine and take a kick-boxing class. Or maybe she could go a few rounds with Joe—boxing, of course! She bit back a smile at her thoughts and tossed her cup into the trash. As she turned around, she saw Joe heading toward her. He had a towel around his neck now and was wiping away the sweat from his forehead.

  “Charlotte,” he said, an odd note in his voice.

  “Joe.” She cleared her throat. “Did the punching bag survive? You were pounding the hell out of it.”

  “I had a rough night.”

  “Anything you can talk about?”

  He hesitated. “I’m sure you’ll hear the news as soon as you leave here. Mark Devlin was hit by a car last night. He’s in the hospital in serious condition.”

  She was shocked. She hadn’t spoken to anyone on her way to the gym, nor had she picked up the morning newspaper. “That’s terrible.”

  “I doubt it was an accident. He’s pissed a lot of people off.”

  “That’s true, but it’s difficult to believe someone would deliberately run him down.”

  “Maybe someone who didn’t like his questions.”

  “Like the person who killed Abby. That would mean he’s still here in town.” A shiver ran down her spine. “Do you think you can find him?”

  “I’m going to do my best.”

  “I’d love to help.”

  He gave her that slow smile that always made her heart beat a little faster. “You already have.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’re a good listener.”

  She studied his weary face and wondered if Mark Devlin’s accident was all that was bothering him. “You must not have gotten much sleep last night.”

  “About an hour. And it’s going to be a long day.”