“Then I guess I’ll have to read about it in your diary.”
Abby hastily put her journal into her backpack. “Don’t even think about it.”
“You like someone,” Lauren teased.
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. Who is it? Tell me.”
Abby shrugged, an odd look in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t—I can’t have him.”
“Why not? Does he have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Lauren. You wanted to go, so let’s go.” Abby breezed past her, knocking her in the shoulder with her bag.
“Ow,” Lauren said, rubbing her arm. “You did that on purpose. You are such a pain in the ass. I should make you walk.”
“But you won’t, because you love me,” Abby tossed out with a knowing smile.
“Not that much,” she returned.
The next morning, Abby was dead.
Lauren’s eyes flew open, her breathing labored. The last thing she’d said to her sister was that she didn’t love her that much. Had Abby known she was just joking? God, she hoped so.
Her gaze traveled back to the desk. She knew the journal wasn’t there, because they’d all looked for it after Abby’s death, hoping they might learn some secret that might have gotten Abby killed. But Abby’s bag had gone missing and had never been located.
What had Abby meant—a boy she couldn’t have? The obvious answer had been Shane. That’s certainly where everyone had jumped when Lauren had repeated the conversation. The fact that Shane had been seen giving Abby a ride to the high school that night had only reinforced that theory.
Had there been something going on between Shane and Abby? He’d denied it and she’d wanted to believe him, but he’d lied to her that day. He’d told her he was going out on a fishing charter with his father that night, but he’d been in town, with Abby, and he’d never explained why. It hurt to think that Abby and Shane might have betrayed her, and she’d never been able to put the thought away.
But two teenagers cheating was one thing; murder was another.
“Oh, Abby,” she said out loud. “I wish we could rewind the clock and replay that conversation, so you could tell me what you were up to that day.”
A chill seemed to blow through the room. Although the windows were closed the curtains shimmered with some phantom breeze, and Lauren had the strangest sensation that she wasn’t alone. “Abby?” she whispered.
“What are you still doing up?”
She started, whirling around.
Her father stood in the doorway wearing his pajamas and slippers. “It’s late, Abigail. You should be asleep. We leave at four. The fish won’t wait.”
His words shocked Lauren back to the present.
“I don’t think we’re going fishing tomorrow, Dad,” she said slowly, not sure how to talk to him. Was it better to confront him or to go along?
“Of course we are. It’s your birthday. We always go fishing on your birthday.”
“How old am I going to be?”
“Thirteen. You’re a teenager now.” His smile turned sad. “You won’t be my baby girl for very long. The boys will be knocking on the door soon, but tomorrow will be just for us. Don’t tell your mother or Lauren, but I stopped by Martha’s and picked up those blueberry muffins you like so much. We’ll have them for breakfast. It will be one of our little secrets.”
There was something about the way he said the word secrets that bothered Lauren even more than the rest of the disjointed conversation. “What are some of our other secrets, Dad?”
He frowned, his gaze narrowing on her face. Uncertainty passed through his eyes. “Lauren?”
He was back to the present.
“Yes, it’s me, Dad,” she said gently.
“Well, of course it’s you. I suppose you think I should have gotten rid of Abby’s things by now.”
“Doesn’t it make it harder for you to see the room like this?”
“I feel closer to Abby in here. I talk to her, and I think she can hear me.” He walked across the room and picked up one of several fishing trophies displayed on the dresser. “Abby was only eleven when she won this. She was a natural-born fisherman.” He scratched his chin. “Not like you—you hated the waiting. I never could understand how I got a daughter who didn’t like the ocean.”
“I liked the ocean in the daytime, and for short periods. I just liked other things more—but you didn’t really care about those other things.”
“Your mom always knew what you liked,” he said, as if that excused him from the responsibility.
She took a deep breath, feeling as if she were about to step off a cliff. She’d never discussed anything personal with her father. “I wanted you to know, too.”
“I knew. Your mother would tell me.” He set down the trophy. “I’m going to bed.”
“Dad—in all these years, did you ever find Abby’s diary?”
“No. It must have been in her book bag that night.”
She nodded as he left the room. That’s what they’d always thought. Her sister’s secrets had gone with her to the grave.
Lauren couldn’t see how the movie producer was going to be able to come up with the name of Abby’s killer. There weren’t any clues; there never had been. If Mark Devlin was going to name a villain, he would have to make one up.
FOUR
Lauren woke up Saturday morning with a pain in her back and a cramp in her leg. She stretched with a groan, feeling bruised and battered. She doubted the old sofa bed had even been opened in the last decade. But she’d been unable to imagine sleeping in her old bedroom, now a shrine to her sister.
Getting to her feet, she stumbled to the bathroom. The mirror over the sink was not kind. Her dark brown hair was tangled and wild, and there were shadows under her eyes. She smoothed her hair and splashed some cold water on her face. Coffee first, then a shower. She grabbed a sweatshirt out of her suitcase and threw it over her pink camisole and purple pajama bottoms.
She’d make some eggs—maybe French toast with powdered sugar and bacon. It had been years since she’d had bacon, but being home reminded her of the sandwiches her mother used to make, crispy bacon on toast with lots of butter. It was a wonder none of them had had a heart attack.
As she looked at her father’s empty shelves, her excitement faded. The only coffee was instant and probably a few years old, which surprised her. Her father had always loved his coffee in the morning. It was one thing they had in common.
She closed the cupboard, suddenly aware of the quiet house. It was nine fifteen; her father should have been up by now. He’d been a fisherman since he could walk, and he’d always talked about the wonder of being on the ocean in the stunning stillness of dawn. She’d never been a big fan of daybreak, but she was a big fan of breakfast. Maybe she’d wake him and they’d go get some pancakes.
But her father wasn’t in his room, or anywhere in the house. He was gone again, and she had no idea where. As she considered her options, the doorbell rang. A moment of pure vanity made her hesitate. She looked like hell, and she really hoped it wasn’t Shane. She needed her armor on when she talked to him again—or at least some lipstick.
She returned to the living room, glanced through the peephole, and was surprised to see a familiar and attractive blonde on the porch. For the first time since she’d arrived, she was truly happy to see someone. She threw open the door with a smile. “Charlotte Adams. I can’t believe it’s you.”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened in amazement. “Lauren? When did you get back?”
“Yesterday.” Charlotte had been her very first best friend. They’d met in kindergarten. Terrified of the big school, they’d held hands at recess and hadn’t let go of each other for a long time, not until high school when boys and other problems had gotten in the way. “You haven’t changed at all.”
Charlotte’s golden blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her skin was clear and beautiful, her light blue
eyes framed by ridiculously long dark lashes, and she looked fit in her running shoes, black leggings, and T-shirt.
“That is definitely not true. I never thought you’d come back, Lauren.”
“I had to. My dad is ill.”
“I know.” Charlotte gave her a compassionate smile. “You look like you had a rough night.”
“I had a battle with the pull-out couch. So what are you doing here?”
“I’m dropping off a casserole and some cookies for your father.” Charlotte held up the box in her hands. “Courtesy of my mother.”
“That’s very thoughtful. Can you come in for a minute, or do you have to work? I hear you’ve been busy bringing new lives into the world as an ob/gyn.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “I guess the Angel’s Bay network transmits all the way to San Francisco.”
“My mother still keeps in touch with a few people.” Lauren led the way into the kitchen. She put the casserole dish in the fridge and the plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table. “These look delicious.”
Charlotte grinned as she pulled out a chair and sat down. “Nowhere near as good as yours, I’m sure. Are you still baking?”
“Not much. Too busy working. I’m a corporate event planner.”
“Really? I remember when your mother gave you that miniature oven for Christmas. You made me play restaurant for hours on end,” she added with a laugh. “I always thought you’d end up in a bakery somewhere.”
“Do you still run?” Lauren asked, eager to change the subject.
“Almost every day. We should go together while you’re here. We could take the path that runs along the bluffs. You won’t believe how much Angel’s Bay has grown. Grand Avenue has completely changed—upscale art galleries, antique stores, and designer clothing boutiques. And there are some mansions going up along the coast. Apparently the rich and famous have decided to make Angel’s Bay their new summer escape.”
“I noticed a few big houses on my way in,” Lauren said. “I guess it’s not such a small town anymore. When did you get back? I thought you were practicing in New York.”
“I came home several months ago, when my father died. My brother is a marine, stationed in the Middle East. My sister is in San Francisco with her husband and kids, so my mom was here all alone. I was elected to come and take care of her.” Charlotte gave a rueful smile. “My mother was thrilled to have her least favorite child move back into the house.”
Lauren grinned at her dry comment. She remembered the battles Charlotte had had with her very strict and always opinionated mother. “How’s it going?”
“That is too long a story to get into now, and one I should probably save for a therapist. So are you going to make me ask for a cookie?”
“Sorry.” Lauren took off the plastic wrap and handed the plate to Charlotte.
“What are you going to do about your father?” Charlotte asked.
Lauren started, suddenly reminded that she didn’t know where her father was. “I’m not sure. In fact, I was about to go look for him when you rang the bell.”
“He’s probably at Dina’s Café. He has breakfast there every day.”
“Well, I hope that’s true. Last night he decided to go for a joyride in his boat.” She hesitated, then figured Charlotte would probably hear the story before the day was out. “I saw Shane. He was on the dock when my father took off, and we went after him together.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened with surprise. “Are you serious? How was that?”
“Uncomfortable, tense.” She wasn’t going to tell Charlotte about their kiss.
“That good, huh?”
“It’s been thirteen years since I saw him, but it felt like five minutes, which scared the hell out of me. The last thing I want to do is go back to that time or place.”
Charlotte reached across the table, placing her hand over Lauren’s. “What happened to Abby was unimaginable. And having Shane accused of her murder—I don’t know how you got through it.” Guilt flitted through her eyes. “I wanted to be there for you, but we hadn’t been talking for a while, and I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”
“I was so wrapped up in my misery, I didn’t want to talk to anyone.” Lauren paused, thinking about how their friendship had splintered. “What happened between us, Charlie? One minute we were best friends and the next minute we weren’t.”
Charlotte smiled sadly as she let go of Lauren’s hand and sat back in her chair. “We let some boys and mean gossip get in the way.”
Lauren tilted her head. “It was more than that. You went through something, but you never told me what. You just pulled away.”
“I made a lot of mistakes in high school. I got so tired of being the minister’s daughter, the good girl, and I went a little crazy. Thank God I finally grew up. It took me long enough.” Charlotte popped the last bite of her cookie into her mouth. “Did you hear about poor Kara?”
“Kara Murray—Shane’s sister? What happened?”
“The good news is that she’s having a baby in two weeks. The bad news is that her husband, Colin, got shot a few months ago and he’s in a coma.”
Lauren’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God. That’s terrible. How is Kara coping?”
“She’s a fighter, but the prognosis isn’t good. We’re all doing what we can to support her.”
“That’s tremendously sad. How did Colin get shot?”
“In the line of duty, unfortunately. He’s a police officer now,” Charlotte said.
“He was always such a good guy. I hope he recovers.”
“We all do. And on a happier note, we’re having a baby shower for Kara tomorrow at two o’clock at the quilt shop. You should come.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Lauren said immediately.
“Kara would love to see you, and so would everyone else.”
“I’m not part of things anymore.”
“That doesn’t matter. I was gone for a long time, too. Believe me, a few minutes at the quilt shop and you’ll feel like you never left.”
That’s what Lauren was afraid of. “I don’t think Kara would want me there. The Murrays were upset with me for not standing up for Shane.”
“The Murrays understood that Abby had just been killed. No one blamed you.”
“Shane did,” she murmured. “He wanted me to believe in him, stand up for him, but I couldn’t. I was so confused and shattered by Abby’s death.”
Charlotte’s gaze met hers. “You don’t really think Shane hurt Abby, do you? I know he saw Abby that night, but he was in love with you.”
“Then why was he with Abby?”
“He never told you?”
Lauren shook her head. “No. Never. He just asked me to trust that he was innocent.”
“Well, I think he was innocent, and I’m betting you think so, too.”
Lauren gave a small nod. “Yes. But I don’t know why I do.”
“Because you knew him better than anyone. So come to the shower. Kara doesn’t hold grudges, and right now she needs all the friends she can get. Plus, seeing you would take her mind off of her own situation. Think of it as an act of charity.”
Lauren waved a warning finger at Charlotte, who had always been very persuasive. “You’re not playing fair, Charlie.”
“You’re going to run into people eventually. You might as well get it over with.”
“I don’t know if I can face all the questions about Abby and Shane and me. I thought enough time had passed, but now there’s a movie producer going around town talking about Abby’s murder. I had no idea I would come home and end up right back where I was.”
“Another good reason to come to the shower. You’re one of us, Lauren. You grew up here. These are your friends, your neighbors. The movie producer is an outsider. You need to remind the women in this town that you’re a local girl. They’ll circle around you. You’ll see.” Charlotte got to her feet. “And you don’t need to bring a present.”
“I�
�ll think about it,” Lauren said as she stood up. “It was nice talking to you, Charlotte.”
“You too. It’s funny how so many of us left Angel’s Bay, and now we’re all coming back.”
“Who else is back?”
“Andrew Schilling,” Charlotte said with a mischievous smile.
“Your old boyfriend?” Lauren asked in surprise.
“That’s right. He replaced my father as the new minister. How do you like that?”
“How do you like that?”
Charlotte laughed as she headed toward the door. “Come to the shower. Maybe I’ll tell you.”
Kara stood in the doorway of her baby’s bedroom. It was almost noon and she’d planned to be at Colin’s bedside by now, but she just hadn’t gotten up the energy to go. She hadn’t slept well, and she felt tired and really, really fat. The baby was getting so big; her abdomen was tight as a drum, which reminded her that time was passing too quickly. The baby’s room wasn’t done yet. The trim needed to be painted, the curtains hung, and the new bedding had yet to be unpacked. She’d been waiting for Colin to wake up, come home, and finish it, the way they’d planned.
She pressed her hand to her abdomen, feeling the tiny outline of a foot. Her little girl was itching to get out. “Just a little while longer,” she told her. “Daddy needs to wake up first.”
Tears gathered in her eyes as her daughter kicked. There was a tiny life inside her, a life she and Colin had created. He had been so happy when she got pregnant. He’d watched over her like a hawk and talked about his dreams for the future, all the things they would do with their child. Her big, burly husband had cried when they’d seen the first sonogram. Colin had lost his parents to divorce, and all he’d ever wanted was a family to hold on to.
He has to wake up.
Desperation bubbled through her veins, making her hot and sweaty, and even more anxious by the following thought . . .
What if he doesn’t?
She hated herself for going there, but in recent days the doubt had begun to take root. She wanted to be brave and resolute in her optimism, but it had been three months and the clock kept ticking. There was a good chance she would have to raise this baby on her own, and how on earth would she do that?
On Shadow Beach Page 5