The Substitute Sister

by Lisa Childs

  “No…” the voice moaned.

  A shudder wracked her body. Had she lost her mind? She was arguing with a ghost.

  Or was Nadine a ghost? Was she really dead? No one had found her body, just the blood.

  Nadine had hated her enough to steal away her fiancé on her wedding day. Did she hate her enough to drive her out of her mind?

  Sasha wouldn’t make it easy for her. She dropped her hands from her ears. And as she did, she heard another cry. Annie’s. She’d already figured the child wouldn’t sleep through the night. Despite how soundly she usually slept, the storm must have awakened her.

  “Sasha…”

  She ignored the whisper as she kicked back the covers. Because of the dark, she didn’t bother searching for a robe. And maybe a little of the coward remained, restraining her from opening the closet doors. Instead she pulled open the bedroom door from where it had stood ajar so that she’d be able to hear Annie.

  The nanny was closer. She was the one who always responded when Annie awakened. But Sasha had to go to the little girl, not because Annie needed her but because she needed Annie. Needed to hold her, to soothe her, to soothe herself.

  Her bare feet padded against the worn, Oriental runner as she felt her way down the hall toward the room in the turret, the nursery. That door stood open. Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating the room where the child now slept peacefully again in the crib. And in the corner the rocker moved to and fro, as if someone sat in it.

  She had caught that movement earlier today when soft humming had drawn her into the nursery. But then, in the greenish light that was all the storm had allowed, she’d thought the nanny had just vacated the room…and the chair. When she’d later asked the girl about it, she had denied being in the room at the time.

  But she doubted the young nurse told the truth all that often. And earlier, her thinly veiled threat had unnerved Sasha.

  Maybe that was why she’d called Reed, to ask him about Barbie, to have him investigate the young woman. She needed to tell him about her threat.

  But she couldn’t tell him about this. Not about this voice….

  “Sasha…”

  Tears burned behind her eyes. Emotion tearing at her, she asked, “Why, Nadine? Why are you doing this? Why do you hate me so? I loved you…as much as you let me. Why?”

  But the whisper didn’t answer her impassioned plea for understanding.

  The rocker stopped moving.

  Outside the storm died down.

  All she heard now was the soft, even breathing of Nadine’s sleeping child.

  She wasn’t needed here. The blue blanket had even been tucked under Annie’s chin, so that the satin edge rubbed against her skin, the way she liked it.

  Annie was fine.

  Sasha was the one who needed sleep. That had to be it. Lack of sleep was making her crazy.

  Wasn’t sleep deprivation a method of torture? It would take more than this to break her spirit or her mind.

  When the whisper called out again, urgency in Nadine’s raspy voice, Sasha shut her out. She wouldn’t listen.

  She backed out of the nursery, heading down the hall toward Nadine’s room. But as she passed the stairs, something moved in the deep shadows. Before she could turn around, strong hands struck her back, pushing her toward the hardwood steps. She threw her arms out, clutching, but found only empty air.

  Chapter Six

  “I didn’t hit my head,” Sasha said, anger sharpening her soft voice. “I caught the railing.”

  And she had the swollen wrist to prove it. The faint glow of dawn filtered through the blinds, barely illuminating the redness of her wrist and the paleness of her frightened face.

  Reed pressed a pack of melting ice against the bruised skin, anger causing his fingers to shake some. “I believe you, Sasha. I believe that someone pushed you.”

  And he wanted to push that person back…behind a cell door. Or worse.

  “You’re the only one, then.” She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pillow. He’d talked her into resting while he searched the house using a flashlight, since the blackout continued. But he doubted she’d closed her eyes until now. “Did you find anything?”

  He stalled for time. “What do you mean?”

  “You said you were looking for signs of a break-in, of an intruder.”

  Despite her objections, he had searched. It wasn’t that she’d been afraid of his leaving her, or at least that wasn’t what she’d admitted to. She didn’t believe an intruder had pushed her.

  And neither did he.

  “You didn’t find anything.” She correctly interpreted his silence even though she kept her eyes closed. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

  “A break-in wasn’t necessary, Sasha. The back door wasn’t locked. Mrs. Arnold admitted that it never is.” So that Mr. Scott could use the kitchen, or any other part of the house that should have been his. He’d gotten that much of a confession out of the closemouthed housekeeper.

  “Nobody came in from outside,” she said, her voice breaking with either fear or outrage. Maybe both. “The person who pushed me was already inside.”

  When he’d questioned the staff, he’d picked up on their disbelief of her claim that someone had pushed her. And he’d also picked up on their dislike of Sasha. They’d disliked Nadine, too. He’d only known these people a couple years. He didn’t know what they were capable of.

  Murder? Pushing someone down a flight of stairs?

  Or trying to.

  Sasha had caught herself.

  Thank God.

  He released the breath he’d held since Sasha had called his cell phone from hers. Since the power was still out, candles lit the rest of the house. But the one on her bedside had already burned out. Only the greenish light of dawn slanted across the bed where she lay. “The important thing is that you’re all right.”

  But was she? She’d made some pretty wild accusations when he’d first arrived at the mansion.

  She opened her eyes and trained her crystal-blue gaze on him. “You’ve got that look again,” she said. “Like you think I took a blow to the head. I didn’t.”

  “But you said…” That Nadine had pushed her.

  Some color finally flushed into her face, which had been nearly as pale as the white silk pillowcase beneath her head. “I know what I said. I’m telling you she’s not dead. This is a trick.”

  He brushed a lock of glossy ebony hair back from her cheek. “An FBI lab processed the crime scene, Sasha. That’s how I got the results so quickly. And I don’t doubt their accuracy. She’s dead. I believe you were pushed, but Nadine wasn’t the one who pushed you.”

  She caught his hand, holding it to her face. “I know you don’t know me, but you have to believe me, Reed. I’m really not crazy.”

  “I know that.” And he did. Nadine wouldn’t have trusted her with her daughter if she’d thought that. She’d loved Annie too much. While he might not trust his own instincts about women, he trusted a mother’s instincts regarding the well-being of her child. That and his background check of Sasha were the only reasons he’d been able to turn Annie over to an aunt she’d never met.

  Her fingers threaded through his, and her eyes moistened with unshed tears. “I hear her.”

  Just the hint of her tears had his gut tightening. “You what?”

  “I hear her.” She shook her head, tumbling her silky hair around the hand and wrist he still held to her face. “Oh, God, that sounds so crazy. I know you think you have evidence of her death—”

  “Sasha, I do have evidence. Irrefutable evidence. Your sister is dead.” Annie’s mother. His friend. He hated it and, like Sasha, he’d rather believe it wasn’t true.

  “No, until I see her body I won’t believe it. She’s alive, Reed.”

  She wasn’t the first victim’s family member to refuse to accept a loved one’s death. Maybe the guilt she felt over her estrangement from her sister was so extreme that she couldn’t acc
ept that Nadine had gone before they made amends.

  He stroked his fingers over her silky cheek. “I’m sorry, Sasha…”

  She closed her eyes, but one tear slid through her thick lashes. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Sasha…”

  “With how you felt about Nadine, I would think you’d be happy that she’s alive.”

  “None of this makes any sense.” He wasn’t even going to question what she thought he had felt about Nadine. He hadn’t always been sure about that himself. “You think she faked her death? Why? What could she gain from that?”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, as she blinked furiously at her tears. “She hated—hates me.”

  He had no siblings, just parents who thought he was crazy for moving farther north as they had retired to Florida. He didn’t understand sibling rivalry. “This isn’t like stealing a fiancé.”

  Sasha nodded. “I know. It doesn’t make sense….”

  She blinked a few more times, clearing away her tears but not the sleep. Had she gotten any sleep since he’d called her with the tragic news of Nadine’s death? He doubted it.

  “I don’t know what Nadine felt about you. She never mentioned you.” But maybe once. Once when she’d flirted, as Nadine had always flirted, she’d made a remark that Reed needed a woman just like her but not her. Had she been talking about Sasha?

  He’d laughed off her comment then. He’d had a woman turn his life upside down once, and he wasn’t willing to take that risk again.

  Not then.

  Not now.

  Not even for Sasha.

  “Nadine would never have put Annie through this. She loved her daughter, Sasha. And she left her daughter in your care. I don’t think she hated you.” He lifted his other hand from the ice pack he had on her wrist, cupping her face with that hand, too. “I think she loved you.”

  She shivered. “Your hand’s cold.”

  She moved her face, brushing her lips across his palm. Then shock filled her eyes over her impulse.

  He grinned, touched by her gesture. And aroused. Desire coursed through his body, tautening his muscles, as her breath teased his skin. He’d wanted her kiss since the moment he’d met her.

  He tipped her chin up as he leaned forward, trapped in her crystal-blue gaze…until she closed her eyes. Then he moved closer, his mouth touching hers, so soft, so sweet. A sigh slipped out of her lips, feathering against his, and he breathed in her sweetness.

  His gut clenched as desire gripped him. He deepened the kiss, then stroked his fingers along her jaw to her throat. Her skin was as silky as the mound of pillows against which she lay. And her flavor…

  His tongue dipped inside her mouth, sliding along the soft inside curve of her lip. Delicious and sweet like an overripe peach.

  She moaned and arched into him. He wanted to crush her to him, to bury himself inside her. It had been too damned long…and it had never been Sasha. But she’d been hurt and she was so exhausted she thought her dead sister had tried to kill her.

  He couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. Groaning, he drew away. But she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him back for another kiss.

  Her lips slid over his, warm and moist, and she moaned his name. “Reed…”

  “Sasha…”

  He traced her face with his fingertips as he sank into the kiss and pressed his taut body close to her soft one. She arched into him, the tips of her breasts pushing against his chest even through the layers of clothes separating them.

  His fingers stroked around her waist, toying with the hem of her sweater while his knuckles brushed against her bare skin. He wanted to lift the knit fabric, wanted to see her, wanted to taste her.

  He deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing through her parted lips, teasing her and himself with the promise of all the intimate things he wanted to do to her…with her.

  Sasha’s hands slid from his hair, running down his back to grasp at his shirt as she jerked it from his jeans. Then she whimpered.

  He pulled back, some latent sense of chivalry reminding him of her injury. “You’re hurt, Sasha.”

  The ice bag he’d pressed to her wrist lay now against his thigh, but he needed more than that to cool his ardor. While he considered putting the ice on his lap, he doubted that would help, either.

  She shook her head, her black hair tangling around her flushed face. “No, I’m not…”

  “You are. Your wrist—”

  “Reed, I think I’m losing my mind,” she said, her voice catching with emotion. “Nothing feels right, but this…but you….”

  And she slid her arms around his waist, then reached up, kissing him again.

  He cursed his weakness, but he couldn’t resist one more brush against the softness of her lips, one more taste of her sweet mouth. But one more wasn’t enough, only left him greedier for more…for everything.

  Her nails raked up the skin of his back as her hands moved beneath his shirt. He inched up the hem of her sweater, baring a tantalizing inch of satiny skin as his mouth made love to hers, as he wanted to make love to her….

  The creak of an opening door dimly registered in his passion-fogged mind. Then a man cleared his throat and said, “I hate to interrupt…but you called me here.”

  Reed swallowed a curse. The man had great damned timing. “Norder.”

  “You called him here?” Sasha asked, her eyes narrowing even as her swollen lips attested to the passion of their kisses. Anger flared in her bright eyes and something else, something vulnerable, that kicked at his conscience. “You called him here. Again.”

  He had to make her understand, about Norder…and about them, how they could not let this happen again. But with the man listening and watching them, he could only offer a quick explanation. “I have some emergency medical training, but I wanted you checked out by someone with more.”

  “He’s a med school dropout—”

  “I went back, Sasha,” Norder added with quiet pride. “I’m a resident now.”

  “I didn’t hit my head,” she said again, but the anger in her eyes indicated that she’d thought Reed had. And after the way he’d kissed her, he wondered if she might be right.

  “Your wrist needs to be looked at,” he said, know ing that her well-being was the most important thing, maybe a little too important, to him.

  She bent it without wincing, but a little muscle ticked in her cheek. “It’s fine. I couldn’t move it like that if it was broken.”

  “That’s not true. There are a lot of fine bones in your wrist,” Norder argued. “We should get you to a hospital. You really need an X ray.”

  “I really need some sleep,” she argued. “Annie will be up soon.”

  The light filtering through the blinds had brightened as much as the thick gray clouds allowed. Dawn had passed into morning as quickly as Reed had passed another sleepless night.

  “The nanny will watch her,” he said.

  Sasha shook her head. “I don’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone in this house.” Her gaze included Norder and him.

  With the reception she’d gotten since her arrival on Sunset Island, and with what Norder had done to her, Reed couldn’t blame her. She was a smart lady. Especially since she didn’t trust him.

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  Not about calling Norder. That had been for her welfare.

  About kissing her. He should have resisted the temptation. And he should have had enough sense to not want to do it again. But his lips burned to touch hers, to taste her even as her flavor lingered on his tongue.

  He should have enough sense.

  But he didn’t. And that scared him as much as a killer on the loose.

  “THINGS MOVING KIND OF FAST between you and the sheriff,” Charles observed as he held her wrist, gently probing the swollen flesh.

  His touch didn’t raise goose bumps on her skin as Reed’s did. It didn’t make her feel crazier than hearing her dead sister’s voice in h
er head.

  How could she have kissed Reed like that? How could she have wanted him so much that she’d nearly thrown herself at him? Embarrassment burned in her cheeks. She was glad the sheriff had left the room after she’d overridden his objections to leaving her alone with Charles.

  And he’d settled her fears about the nanny. The young woman would not hurt Annie. But what about Sasha? Had Barbie been the one to push her? Or was her other suspicion right, the one the sheriff had said was impossible? Had Nadine pushed her?

  Charles cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “Don’t you think it’s too fast, Sasha?”

  It was none of his damned business what she thought anymore. Anger pushed the embarrassment aside. “Oh, I don’t know…I’ve known him about as long as you knew Nadine before you ran off with her on our wedding day.”

  He flinched. “That’s not exactly true.”

  “What?” Not that she cared. But she was intrigued that he would try to defend himself now, all these years later.

  “Before she dropped out, Nadine went to the same high school as we did.”

  “And?”

  “I knew her then.”

  She’d never realized that. She and Charles had only started dating after Nadine had run away. Had she served as a substitute then for the woman he’d really wanted? Had she just nearly served the same purpose for the sheriff?

  At the thought, nausea rose to her throat, and she had to swallow hard. Maybe she should have been grateful to Charles for interrupting her and Reed, but all she could summon for her ex-fiancé was disgust.

  “So that excuses what you did to me?” she asked. “That excuses leaving me at the altar on our wedding day?”

  “No. Nothing does that. I’m sorry, Sasha,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You’ll never know how sorry.”

  “Guess not, since you never bothered to apologize before.” She hated the bitterness she still felt, but it was all she felt for Charles Norder. Nothing else. And shouldn’t she have felt something else, some trace of whatever had attracted her to him in the first place? She’d almost married him, would have if he hadn’t run off with her sister.