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 disapproval 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
