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Helen sighed, handing her the pastry box. “I’d like to forget that day. Haven’t walked on the beach since.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Actually—” Kelly took the box, doing her best to focus on the printed logo rather than the regret building inside her “—we hadn’t spoken in a long time.”
“She told me.” Helen ran a hand through the front of her hair, a kind smile spreading across her face. “We’d talk sometimes.”
“Did you know her well?”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t think anybody knew her well. She was always out looking for a story.”
Kelly warmed, remembering Rachel’s tenacity. “Her specialty.”
“Hadn’t seen her in a while. Figured she had a hot one cooking.” A shadow passed across Helen’s face. She glanced down at her feet then up at Kelly, her lips parting as if she were about to speak. After a moment, she shook her head, apparently dismissing whatever it had been that had crossed her mind.
She turned back toward the steps. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do to get settled in, and I’m missing my shows. Holler if you need anything. I’m across the way in the little gray shack.”
“Thanks.” Kelly held the door as Helen stepped outside. “Want a sticky bun for the road?”
The slender woman shook her head as she descended the steps and started across the driveway.
“Do you know a man named Dan Steele?” Kelly blurted out the question before the woman was out of earshot.
Helen stopped short and turned, her eyes wide. “You meet him?”
“He was downstairs when I got here. Did he know Rachel?”
“That he did.” Helen thought for a moment, then grinned. “Got a nice caboose, that one.”
Kelly stood, stunned, watching the woman and her cat cross the street. A nice caboose?
The man’s handsome features flashed through her mind, and she fought back her quickening pulse. Doing her best to ignore the attraction thrumming through her veins, she pulled open the screen door and slipped into the house. She had work to do.
DETECTIVE JAKE ARNOLD steepled his fingers and leaned across Dan’s kitchen table. “Want to tell me what you were doing in Rachel’s house?”
“I forgot some socks.” Dan shot an impatient glare at his friend. He didn’t have time for a full inquisition. The sooner he could send Jake on his way, the better.
“Right.” Jake’s blond brows snapped together. “So why didn’t you tell our newest visitor that? Might have saved us all a lot of trouble.”
Dan shrugged, not answering.
Jake leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I’ll tell you why. You refuse to accept Rachel died accidentally, isn’t that right?”
Dan remained silent, doing his best to keep his face emotionless.
Jake nodded toward the glass sliders and the roaring ocean outside. “Hell of a riptide out there this time of year. People swim alone. Sometimes they drown.” He pursed his lips, stood and took a step toward Dan. “Forget Rachel Braxton and leave this friend of hers alone.”
Dan straightened, growing annoyed at Jake’s condescending attitude. He plucked a photograph from the stone mantel. “Her investigation had to do with Diane.” He thrust the frame toward Jake.
Jake narrowed his gaze, his jaw stiffening. He took the frame, touching a finger to the image beneath the glass. “I loved your sister.” He met Dan’s stare, the edge gone from his blue eyes. “But she did something stupid and she died. It was an accident.”
Frustration and anger eased through Dan. “She’d never use drugs. You know that.”
“What about a drug her own brother helped bring to market?” Jake leaned forward, brows furrowed. “Maybe she wouldn’t think twice.” He set the framed picture back on the mantel, turning for the front door. “Stay away from the whole Rachel Braxton thing.”
“It wasn’t an accident.”
“The subject’s closed.” Jake yanked open the door, casting a warning glance in Dan’s direction. “I may be your friend, but I won’t hesitate to toss you in jail if you break into that house again.”
The door slammed closed behind him.
Dan crossed to the sliding glass door, stopping to stare out at the churning ocean. Rachel had found some proof of illegal activity involving Oxygesic, and whatever she’d found would lead him to the truth behind his sister’s death. He knew it in his gut.
But where were her notes? They had to be somewhere in that house—somewhere he hadn’t thought of before her friend had interrupted.
Jake could toss out all the threats he wanted. Dan had every intention of getting back inside Rachel’s house.
KELLY CARRIED the box of sticky buns into the kitchen and pushed it to the back of the counter. She found a half-empty tin of coffee in the freezer, started the coffeemaker then decided to check the rest of the house.
A narrow hallway led to two bedrooms and a bath. French doors opened from the larger room to the back deck. Beyond the faded gray railing, the water of the sound sparkled.
Inside, a spotless mahogany desk took up a third of the room; a printer and fax sitting next to a gleaming desktop computer. Rachel’s pride and joy. Her writing.
At least the equipment would make managing Kelly’s clients easier while she was here. After all, she didn’t have to be in Philadelphia to meet graphic design deadlines.
A photograph on the nightstand caught her attention as she turned back toward the kitchen. In it, she and Rachel smiled brightly, kneeling on top of Jockey’s Ridge. Beach week in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
Rachel’s blond hair blew around her face to mingle with strands of Kelly’s auburn waves. Brilliant periwinkle and fuchsia ribbons of sky framed their suntanned faces, the sun only partially visible behind the huge sand dune. Identical wide-spaced brown eyes sparkled in both faces.
Frick and Frack. They’d been inseparable since first grade. Kelly’s parents had been more concerned about their tee times at the country club than they’d been about their daughter. Her friendship with Rachel had been her one true source of solace.
She had thought they’d be friends forever, until Rachel had used a bogus scandal involving Kelly as fodder for a front-page story. Kelly touched her fingertips to the glass covering the photo. Smooth. Cold. Lifeless.
A long while later, after she’d unpacked and settled in, she lay in Rachel’s bed staring into the darkness. Dan Steele’s rugged features popped into her mind uninvited. She shoved the image away, ignoring the curiosity simmering in her belly. There was no sense in thinking about the handsome stranger or whatever he’d been looking for.
Tomorrow she’d pack up Rachel’s things and be gone. The friendship she and Rachel had once shared was lost forever. As much as she longed for closure, she’d never find it at the bottom of a packing box.
THE BEDSPREAD rose and fell with each breath the woman took. A sliver of pale moonlight shimmered through the door, lighting her face.
She looked so much like Rachel he felt a chill. He’d heard the murmuring around town and had wanted to see for himself. Not that he cared. Not really. As long as she packed up Rachel’s things and left, he didn’t care if she was the dead woman’s spitting image.
He pulled a hard candy from his pocket, peeling the wrapper as quietly as he could. He slipped the morsel between his lips, grimacing. Grape. He was growing tired of grape.
He watched the woman for a few more minutes before he turned and walked down the hall, stopping in the kitchen to throw out the wrapper, not caring if she noticed.
He only cared that this one didn’t cause trouble. Not now.
He balled his hands into fists. If she did stick her nose where it didn’t belong, she’d end up just like her little friend.
Very wet. And very dead.
Chapter Two
Kelly woke to the sensation of weight at the end of the bed. Something moved alongside her and she struggled to open her eyes. A large gray face purred like an engine, nuzzling her cheek.
Her stomach pitched with the sudden contact and awakening. “Edgar. You scared me half to death.”
She gave him a quick pat on the head and threw off the covers. Grabbing her sweatshirt from the back of the chair, she pulled it over her nightshirt.
“Come on. Let’s figure out how you got in.”
The front door remained closed, locked as she’d left it. As she checked the doorknob, Edgar walked into the kitchen and let out a meow.
“I don’t have anything for you, baby. Sorry. I’ll get you some tuna when I hit the grocery store.”
Kelly trotted down the spiral steps to the lower level. The inner door sat ajar, a sliver of daylight glowing brightly between the wood and the frame.
“Great.” She rubbed her tired eyes. In her exhaustion the night before, she’d never thought to check downstairs when she locked up. “Good thing I’m not at home. The axe murderer would have walked right in.”
Edgar pushed past her, nudging the screen door open. He slipped through, stretching out his back legs before he swaggered down the walk.
Kelly pulled both doors tight and flipped the dead bolt. She trudged up the stairs, deciding Edgar had the right idea. Food was a definite priority.
Twenty minutes later, she’d dressed and headed south toward the shopping area she remembered from her college days. When a supermarket appeared, she zipped into the lot, quickly parking her car and pulling a shopping cart from the cue.
The grocery store was deserted except for a group of senior citizens gathered in the produce section. She supposed everything slowed down once mid-September arrived and tourist season ended.
Scanning each aisle, Kelly tossed only essentials into her cart, choosing just enough to hold her for a day or two. She had no intention of staying in this small town any longer than that.
An end cap piled high with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies beckoned to her. Why not? She reached to pluck a plastic container from the display, starting when a slender hand touched her arm.
“Why are you here?” An elderly woman eyed her quizzically. Short white hair waved gently around her face, her cloudy blue eyes blinking then refocusing on Kelly.
“Pardon me?” Kelly took a step back, thrown off balance by the encounter.
“You don’t belong here. You’re dead.”
Adrenaline spiked in Kelly’s veins. She pulled her arm from the woman’s grasp.
“He killed you.” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I saw him.”
“Maddie,” a voice called out. “Let’s get you back with the group.”
A young woman sporting wire-rimmed glasses smiled at Kelly, gently taking the woman by the elbow. “I’m sorry. Sometimes she gets confused during our outings.”
Kelly shook her head. “No problem.” Was it a case of confusion? Or had the woman mistaken her for Rachel? Heaven knew, it had been happening for years.
Maddie shrugged off the younger woman’s touch, pointing a bony finger at Kelly.
“He killed you.” Her soft voice sent tremors through Kelly’s bones. “The Candy Man killed you.”
The young woman shook her head, smiling nervously. “I’m very sorry.” She put her arm around Maddie, this time leading her away.
Frozen to the spot, Kelly watched as the old woman turned to waggle a finger in her direction. Kelly’s pulse and thoughts raced at matched speeds. What on earth had just happened? And what had the woman meant?
Rachel had drowned. Right?
Shaking off the encounter as just what the younger woman had said, she turned her attention back to her cart.
The sooner she paid and left, the sooner she’d be able to start packing up Rachel’s things.
DAN SIGHED deeply, rubbing his tired eyes. He scribbled another note onto the pad of paper then scratched a line through the words.
No matter what scenario he used, no matter what theory he tried, the puzzle came back to Rachel. She’d believed something illegal was going on in Summer Shores and had done nothing but gather information during the last weeks of her life. He’d encouraged her every step of the way, urging her to dig deeper.
And now she was dead.
Guilt and doubt tangled inside him. If only he’d been there to take her call. Could he have saved her somehow? He stretched his neck, willing his frustrated brain to work through the mystery of what had happened.
Where were her notes?
He spun his chair to face a wall of framed photos, focusing on his favorite. Diane proudly held a huge bluefish at arm’s length as their mother looked on. Broad grins illuminated both faces.
Dan plucked his coffee mug from the desk and took a long swallow.
His mother and sister. He’d lost them both in a manner of speaking. Diane had drowned two weeks after the picture had been taken. His mother’s mini strokes and her downward spiral into dementia had landed her in the nursing home three months later.
Perhaps fate had taken away his mother’s ability to remember Diane’s inexplicable death, but it hadn’t taken away the thoughts that haunted Dan.
Even though his father had deserted them when he and his sister were young, his mother had never remarried, never loved again. Her obvious heartache had taught him to focus on career, not family. Yet now he found himself faced with a grim reality. His sister was dead because of a drug he’d brought to market, and the vital mother he’d once known was fading away. He’d never be able to recapture the years he’d lost with both.
Dan knew in his heart Diane’s death had been no accident—just as Rachel’s had been no accident. He’d have no peace until he found the truth. All he had to do was piece together the facts—if only he could find them.
Narrowing his focus, he made another notation on the pad, this time circling his writing. He might not have Rachel’s notes to work with, but he had her house—and her friend.
THE MORNING had brightened by the time Kelly finished unpacking the groceries. She poured a fresh cup of coffee and headed for Rachel’s work area, banishing all thoughts of her unsettling grocery store trip to the recesses of her brain.
She walked into the bedroom and sat her mug on Rachel’s desk. Pulling open the French doors to let in the autumn breeze, she inhaled the moist air, pungent with the scent of the bay and marsh grasses. She tipped her face to the sun, letting the warmth permeate her skin.
How sad that Rachel would never feel the sun’s warmth or the brush of a damp sea breeze against her face again. Why had Kelly been so stubborn about a reconciliation? Oh, who was she kidding? She’d learned from the best. Her parents had taken every grudge they’d ever held to their graves.
She forced herself to concentrate on Rachel’s desk. Maybe taking care of the loose ends would help ease the guilt in her heart.
Kelly sank into the chair and pulled open the file drawer. Neatly labeled colored folders lined the hanging file frame. Rachel had always had an amazing work ethic—driven to the brink of obsession, actually. Had it gotten her killed?
No. Kelly shook her head. That thought came solely from the ramblings of the woman in the grocery store. Her words had no basis in reality.
