by Lisa Childs
The problem was no one else had seen anything, either. No witnesses and no body made Nadine’s murder tough to solve. But he would. He owed both Nadine and her daughter justice. He would find the killer, whether he’d left the island or still lived among them.
He touched Sasha Michaelson’s back, turning her down the path toward his small, fieldstone cottage. She wasn’t very tall, her head barely as high as his shoulder. And despite the bulky jacket and heavy pants, he could tell her frame was delicate. Like Nadine’s.
He’d felt protective of Nadine and Annie. And it tore him apart that he hadn’t been able to protect Nadine from death or Annie from the loss of her mother.
But he didn’t feel protective of Sasha Michaelson. It was something else that flared inside him, something he hadn’t felt in so long that he barely recognized it as the hot sting of desire.
“Nice,” she murmured as she passed through the door he held open for her.
His ex-wife had hated the place for being too cramped, too primitive. A fire still burned in the grate, casting a warm glow over the hardwood floor. Sasha walked toward it, her hands out. “I forgot gloves,” she said. “I thought I’d thought of everything, but I forgot gloves.”
Reed caught the rising note of hysteria in her voice. Maybe she wasn’t cold and unemotional. Maybe she was just scared. He glanced down at Annie’s face. The child had fallen asleep in his arms, not a surprise after her restless night. He shouldered open the door to the spare bedroom and laid her on the mattress on the floor. Because of the chill in the room, he didn’t bother removing her coat and just pulled the comforter over her legs.
When he rose to his feet, he found Sasha in the doorway, watching him and her niece. “She’s so little,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Just a baby, isn’t she?”
“She’d argue that if she was awake,” he said with a short chuckle. The little girl knew many words other than Mommy, had even gotten good at stringing some into basic sentences. She was at the age of wonder and development, and her mother would miss it all. If only Nadine had trusted him enough to tell him what had been troubling her…
“She talks?”
“She’s very smart,” he said, not bothering to disguise his pride in the child.
Sasha must have caught it because her eyes narrowed. Then she shivered again. He brushed past her, resisting the urge to slide an arm around her, as he walked back into the living room, his boots clunking against the floor. He didn’t worry about Annie waking, Nadine had always said she was a sound sleeper. He worried about his reaction to Annie’s aunt, about his urge to touch her.
Sasha stood in the doorway another minute, staring at her sleeping niece before she turned to him. “Does she know her mother’s dead?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You haven’t told her?”
“It’s not my place.” Nadine had had a legal document drawn up stating that fact, but in Reed’s heart, he knew it was very much his place…as Annie’s was with him.
“I have to tell her?”
“That’s up to you, Miss Michaelson.” And he did try to curb his bitterness. She didn’t deserve it.
She lifted her hands, then let them drop back to her sides. “I don’t know what to do….”
“You’re in shock.” He saw that now, as well as the fear that widened her crystal-blue eyes. More guilt plagued him for his lack of sensitivity.
Pride lifted her chin as she made a visible effort to pull herself together. “I’m just worried about her, about Annie. Losing her mother…”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t say any more, emotion choked his voice. A small kitchen was hidden behind the fireplace. He ducked around to splash coffee into two mugs. “Here, this’ll warm up your hands.”
And maybe Annie would warm her heart. She kept glancing toward the bedroom, alert to any murmur the child uttered in her sleep. She accepted the mug, barely distracted from her vigilance over her niece.
Still looking toward the bedroom, she asked, “How did my sister die?”
He didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to reveal the gory details. “In her home,” he said instead. Nadine should have been safe there, should have been safe on Sunset Island. But since her murder, Reed couldn’t see the island as a sanctuary. Until Nadine’s killer was caught, an aura of danger would engulf the island like the fog that wrapped around it every night.
She glanced toward him, irritation flashing in her blue eyes. “I didn’t ask where. I asked how.”
She was good at pulling herself together, her voice strong now. Maybe she could handle the truth. And even if she couldn’t, she had a right to know some of it. “She was murdered.”
She didn’t even flinch.
“You’re not surprised.”
“If it had been an accident, you would have said on the phone. You didn’t. I expected the worst.”
“Sounds like everyone always expected the worst of Nadine.” Himself included. The things he’d found in her past, while some criminal, hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought, nothing that should have cost her Annie or her life.
Sasha flinched, then squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s not fair.”
“Hell, no,” he said, anger eating at him. But he wasn’t angry with her. “None of it’s fair. It’s not fair that Nadine won’t be alive to watch her child grow up, and it’s not fair that Annie’s lost her mother.”
A tear slipped from under Sasha’s thick lashes and slid down her cheek. His gut clenched. God, he hated tears. He’d rather face an armed suspect than a weeping woman. His ex had learned that fast and used it against him. Hell, even Annie knew how to play the waterworks. Was that the reason for Sasha’s silent tears? Manipulation?
To get what she wanted? But what did she want? Sympathy? Forgiveness? He doubted he was the person she wanted it from. No, that person was dead and had died with whatever had kept the sisters from speaking for so many years still between them. He could see the guilt in her eyes, in her refusal to meet his gaze. He recognized guilt because he carried his own share of it, over his failure to protect Nadine from whatever or whomever she’d feared.
Did Sasha carry the guilt for whatever had caused their rift? Or was it guilt that she had carried a grudge over whatever her sister had done to her? Either way, the burden was just as heavy on her thin shoulders.
He gripped his mug harder so he wouldn’t reach for her, so he wouldn’t pull her into his arms to offer comfort…or more. Desire gripped his gut, knotting the muscles. God, she was beautiful. And that wasn’t fair, either…not to a man who’d been alone too damned long.
“Do you know who? Have you arrested anyone?” she asked, blinking back the rest of her tears.
Would she shed them later, when she was alone? Would they be as silent as those that had escaped down her face here, or would she let loose wrenching sobs? And would there be anyone to hold her while she cried?
She had come alone to the island and had answered the phone last night. She still bore her maiden name, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a significant other, that she wouldn’t provide Annie with the father he’d tried so hard to be.
“What?” he asked, shaking off his thoughts with a concentrated effort.
“Do you know who killed my sister?”
“Not yet.” But he damn well would. He might not be able to raise Annie, but he could give her justice for her mother.
“Your deputy said something that made me think you weren’t here when it happened.”
“No, I wasn’t. I’m not on the island that much. I divide my time between here, the town of Whiskey Bay and the surrounding areas. Sunset Island is only part of my jurisdiction.” But he hadn’t been at work that day, anywhere.
He’d been playing a damned game of golf with some of his law enforcement friends. “I was with a sheriff from Winter Falls, over by Traverse City, and some others.” He might not ever forgive himself for not being on duty when Nadine had needed him, and from the di
sapproval tightening Sasha’s lips, he figured she wouldn’t, either.
“So I guess that gives you an alibi,” she said, her soft voice as hard as it could probably get.
He laughed without humor at her attempted interrogation. “Yeah, I guess it does. So everybody’s a suspect?”
“You tell me.”
Hell, yes, but she didn’t need to know that. “It’s a police investigation.”
“So you’re not going to tell me anything else?”
He didn’t really know anything else…yet. He didn’t know how much Sasha knew of Nadine’s past. Was she aware of the bad checks, the shoplifting? If she didn’t already know, he didn’t think she needed to. But who was he protecting, Nadine or Sasha? “It’s for the best.”
“Whose best? Mine or yours?” she asked, anger tightening the curve of her lips. Would a kiss soften that hard line?
“You’ve got a lot of things to deal with. Focus on them.” And he had a great many other things to focus on other than her mouth, on wondering how soft it would feel, how sweet it would taste.
“Of course.” She lifted her chin even though her eyes watered up again. “I have to plan a funeral for my sister. Where’s her body?”
God, he wished he knew. Had the bastard taken her body as a trophy or hidden it to further complicate the case? Only the killer knew. “Ms. Michaelson…”
“Sasha,” she corrected him as she set the mug of untouched coffee onto a scarred wooden end table. Then she unzipped her jacket and shrugged out of it. Under it she wore a sweater in a soft pink, nearly the same shade as her flushed cheeks. Was it the heat of the dying fire or embarrassment that had caused that? She needn’t be concerned about not immediately planning her sister’s funeral. She had no body to bury.
“Sasha,” he said, liking the sensation of her name on his lips. Exotic…like the combination of her black hair and almond-shaped, blue eyes.
“What is it?” she asked, dread knitting her forehead into furrows.
“We haven’t found her body yet.”
She blew out a ragged breath. “Then she’s not dead. She can’t be dead. Why did you do this? Why did you call and scare me like that?” Anger flushed her face now, and she stepped closer to him, hitting his arm with her clenched fist.
Even though he hardly felt the blow, he caught her by the elbows, holding her tight. “She’s dead. The crime lab verified it was her blood, and there was too much of it.” Blood everywhere. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the spray pattern on the walls, the pool on the floor… “She can’t be alive.”
“But she’s missing…”
“She’s dead, Sasha. She’s really dead.”
She dipped her head, pressing her forehead against his chest, and her body trembled in his loose embrace. “She can’t be dead. She shouldn’t be dead.”
“No, she shouldn’t. And I will find out who did this, Sasha. I promise you that.” And he made few promises. His ex had taught him that the more promises a person made, the less she was likely to keep. “I’ll worry about catching the killer. You worry about Annie.”
She lifted her gaze, her blue eyes wide with fear again.
He found himself touching her, sliding a fingertip along her smooth cheek. “What are you afraid of, Sasha? You’ve had nothing to do with your sister in years. You can’t be in any danger from her killer.”
A little cry warbled from the bedroom as Annie murmured in her sleep.
“That’s who I’m afraid of, Sheriff,” Sasha said, her voice only a soft, quavering whisper. “That poor little girl. That’s who I fear.”
WHAT MUST HE THINK of her? Sasha wondered as Reed went to check on the child. That she was a coward or, worse, crazy? Scared of a little girl? It was ridiculous. She felt ridiculous. But she was so scared of hurting the child. Of failing her.
What should she do? Pretend to be Nadine, the child’s mother? Or tell the truth and hope Annie understood? Was she old enough to understand that her mother was gone and wouldn’t ever be coming back?
Sasha crossed the small living room to stare out the picture window that faced the lake. It was so close, only a rocky shore separated it from the little cottage. If the frothy waves rose much higher, the lake could swallow the shore. Sasha shivered over her awareness of the island’s vulnerability. Then she caught her wide-eyed reflection in the glass, her face a ghost of a dead woman’s, and she was frighteningly aware of her own vulnerability.
Counseling teenagers was nothing like caring for a small, helpless child and being solely responsible for that child’s care and well-being. Her parents had been good people, but somehow they’d lost Nadine. She’d run away rather than stay with them, with Sasha. Whatever Sasha’d done to put distance between her and Na dine, would she do it again? Would she make the child hate her as Nadine had?
Tears threatened, but she blinked them away. She’d already cried once in front of the sheriff. She would shed the rest of her tears in private. She didn’t need a strong shoulder to cry on. She’d decided long ago, when her fiancé had left her at the altar, that she didn’t need anyone.
But Annie did.
Annie needed her, so she had to pull herself together. The sheriff stepped out of the sparsely furnished bedroom. He hadn’t gotten the little girl back to sleep. She was clutched to his chest, a worn blue blanket trailing over his arm.
“Mommy?” she asked, her voice a broken quaver.
Sasha reached for her. Annie leaned forward, wrapping one little arm around Sasha’s neck while she held tight to the sheriff with the other.
“Mommy…” Annie’s breath sighed out as she snuggled against her.
With her niece stretched between them, Sasha stood very close to Reed, so close that she could discern each gold fleck in his green eyes. And with Annie clutching her so tight, his forearm pressed against Sasha’s midriff, just below her breasts. She would have never considered passing a child from one person to another to be such an intimate gesture. But with Sheriff Blakeslee it was.
Even sharing a cup of coffee with him had been intimate, too intimate. The brush of his fingers against hers when he’d handed her the mug. And later, when she’d punched his strong arm, he’d held her, his strong hands touching her.
And when she’d leaned her head against his wide chest, his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath her ear, had made her want to snuggle into his arms…. It had been much too long since a man had touched her, especially if an innocent gesture of comfort could affect her so much. Plus she didn’t know him, couldn’t trust him.
She’d learned the hard way that she couldn’t trust any man. Not after Charles, her high school and college sweetheart, her best friend, had betrayed her in the most painful, humiliating way…by leaving her for her sister. No, if she couldn’t trust Charles, if she couldn’t trust her sister…she couldn’t trust anyone.
She should be relieved that Annie had awakened. But Annie scared her more than the sheriff. Black curls tickled Sasha’s chin, and she buried her face in the little girl’s hair. Then her breath sighed out, ragged, broken with emotion…
She didn’t know this child. Until last night she hadn’t known about her existence, but she loved her. With all her heart she loved her. And Sasha made a silent vow to her dead sister, “I’ll take care of her, Nadine. I promise you I’ll take good care of her.”
When she opened her eyes and met the sheriff’s intense gaze, she almost believed he’d heard her silent words. Something had softened in him. He didn’t seem as disapproving and suspicious of her.
“When does the next ferry leave for the mainland?” she asked.
The sheriff shook his head. “The one you took already returned. That was it for the day. It’s not tourist season yet.”
“So I can’t leave tonight?” Unless he took her back in the sheriff’s boat, and maybe he would if she asked. She only carried some essentials in her backpack purse. She hadn’t planned on staying long, at least not on the island.
“You can’t
leave this evening even if more ferries were running now,” he said, his deep voice a rumble, his breath warm on her face as they stood so close.
Only the child separated them, or held them together…. Is that why she couldn’t leave? Or did he not want her to leave? Her pulse jumped, but she calmed herself with common sense. He didn’t know her. He couldn’t be attracted to her. He’d known Nadine. He missed Nadine.
“Why can’t I leave?” she asked. It wasn’t as if she could be a suspect in her sister’s death. She hadn’t even known where Nadine had been living.
“You’ve also inherited your sister’s estate. There are legal matters to attend to.”
She blinked, confused. “You mean in trust for Annie?”
“No. I mean you’re her sole heir.”
But why?
“That can’t be right. There must be a mistake.” She wanted Annie even though the responsibility scared her more than anything in her life ever had. Annie was her flesh and blood, her last connection to her lost sister. But she didn’t understand why Nadine hadn’t left everything in trust for Annie.
“Her lawyer will explain. He’s waiting at the estate. But I knew you had questions about your sister’s death.” Questions he hadn’t really answered. “I’ll take you there now.” Yet he didn’t seem in a hurry to move. He stayed close to Sasha, with his arm pressed against her and his breath warm against her face with each word he spoke. “And the house can be a little overwhelming.”
Was it safe to go to the house at all? “Annie…”
“Her nanny will be there. She’ll watch her while you and I talk to the lawyer.”
“Nadine had a nanny?” She couldn’t understand any of it. How did Nadine afford an estate? A nanny for her child?
“She kind of came with the estate. She used to be Mrs. Scott’s nurse.”
“Mrs. Scott?”
“Nadine inherited the estate from her a couple of years ago. Some people have disputed Nadine’s inheritance.”
“Could that be why she was murdered?” Sasha asked.
He shook his head. “Someone waited two years to kill her? To accomplish what? You inherited. It doesn’t make sense.”