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Silent Warning
Kathleen Long


SHE'D RISK HER NECK TO EXPOSE THE TRUTHKelly Weir wouldn't rest until she brought a murderer to his knees. But if Summer Shores's swirling riptide was any indication, she was in way over her head. Now targeted by the killer, Kelly's very survival depended on an enigmatic stranger with a penchant for keeping dangerous secrets….HE'D CROSS THE LINE TO PROTECT HERPlagued by his role in developing the breakthrough prescription drug that was now being peddled on the black market, Dan Steele joined forces with Kelly to smoke out the "Candy Man." Blindsided by raw, primal desire, he became overwhelmed by his need to protect the captivating beauty. But love was a distraction he couldn't afford. One wrong move and they just might find themselves trapped in the mastermind's lethal maze….









He ran a thumb across her jaw. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”


I promise. Kelly brushed a lock of chestnut hair from his forehead, suddenly wanting to stay like this forever. Close to Dan. Sheltered from the rest of the world.

She met his gaze, the tension between them undeniable. She knew right then she wouldn’t leave Summer Shores. Not until they’d seen their investigation through—together.

Without thinking, Kelly pressed her lips against his, gently at first, then hungrily. She needed the comfort of his touch, needed to lose herself with him, if only for a little while.

Dan’s mouth moved to the soft flesh of her neck, his hands encircling her waist.

She wanted him. Wanted to feel his skin against hers, his hands on her body. More than anything, she longed to give herself to him completely.

Apprehension swelled in her gut. Her need was even more terrifying than the danger swirling around them….


Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

You won’t be able to resist a single one of our May books. We have a lineup so shiver inducing that you may forget summer’s almost here!



Executive Bodyguard is the second book in Debra Webb’s exciting new trilogy, THE ENFORCERS. For the thrilling conclusion, be sure you pick up Man of Her Dreams in June.

Amanda Stevens concludes her MATCHMAKERS UNDERGROUND series with Matters of Seduction. And the Montana McCalls are back, in B.J. Daniels’s Ambushed!

We also have two special premiers for you. Kathleen Long debuts in Harlequin Intrigue with Silent Warning, a chilling thriller. And LIPSTICK LTD., our special promotion featuring sexy, sassy sleuths, kicks off with Darlene Scalera’s Straight Silver.

A few of your favorite Harlequin Intrigue authors have some special books you’ll love. Rita Herron’s A Breath Away is available this month from HQN Books. And, in June, Joanna Wayne’s The Gentlemen’s Club is being published by Signature Spotlight.


Harlequin Intrigue brings you the best in breathtaking romantic suspense with six fabulous books to enjoy. Please write to us—we love to hear from our readers.

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue




Silent Warning

Kathleen Long





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


It’s difficult to believe I’m sitting here typing the dedication for my first

Harlequin Intrigue novel. Somebody pinch me.

I have so many people to thank—family, friends, writing buddies, mentors—

all who believed this day would come. Thank you!

To Kim Nadelson, for giving me the opportunity of a lifetime, and to Paige Wheeler,

for being a wonderful agent and cheerleader. Thank you both.

To my parents, who always taught me I could become whatever it was

I dreamed of becoming. Thank you for the most important lesson of my life.

For my husband, Dan. I find it difficult to put into words how much your love and

support mean to me. Thank you for standing beside me, supporting me as

I worked to make my dream come true.

And last, but not least, for my father-in-law, Joseph Long. The world is a bit too quiet

without you in it. We miss your smile and your stories.

I’m quite sure you had a hand in this one, Dad. Thanks.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Kathleen Long spent her career as a public relations consultant putting words into the mouths of others. In the summer of 2001, she decided it was time to put words into the mouths of her own fictional characters. She realized her dream of becoming a published author in early 2004 with her first sale.

Today she shares her life with her husband, Dan, and their neurotic sheltie. She divides her time between suburban Philadelphia and the New Jersey seashore, where she can often be found—hands on keyboard, bare toes in sand—spinning tales. After all, life doesn’t get much better than that.

Please visit Kathleen at www.kathleenlong.com to say hello and take a peek at excerpts from upcoming releases.




CAST OF CHARACTERS


Rachel Braxton—Investigative reporter who drowns following an apparent drug overdose.

Kelly Weir—She travels to Summer Shores to pack up Rachel’s belongings, but gets drawn in to the mystery surrounding her friend’s death.

Dan Steele—He’s convinced Rachel’s death was no accident and is determined to uncover the killer’s identity.

Diane Steele—Dan’s younger sister also died of accidental drowning, with Oxygesic in her system.

Maddie Steele—Dan’s mother may hold knowledge of the killer’s identity locked in her dementia-damaged mind.

Jake Arnold—He’s the local detective hesitant to believe Kelly and Dan’s theories.

Helen Carroll—She’s the feisty neighbor who befriends Kelly while keeping an eye out for trouble.

Vince Miller—He’s the local pharmacist who may be doing a whole lot more than filling prescriptions.

Dr. Robinson—The primary physician at Serenity Pain Institute—is he hiding valuable information?

Scott Jansen—He’s the State Pharmacy Board employee quite certain something illegal is brewing in Summer Shores.

Jim Braxton—Rachel’s brother is counting on Kelly to handle the details of his sister’s affairs.

Jane Weir—Kelly’s sister calls with news of a crucial clue.

Rick DeSanto—He’s a reporter from Kelly’s hometown who provides information on Miller’s past.

Frank and Marge Healey—They’re nosy locals who provide a bit of insight into Rachel’s life.




Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue




Prologue


He dug his fingers into the flesh of her upper arm, relishing the lack of resistance beneath his grip.

“You’re hurting me.” Rachel Braxton’s words were nothing more than a whimper. Probably all the so-called reporter could manage. Typical.

He raised a brow then yanked her forward, the dense foliage snapping as he pulled her through. A tangle of weeds raked her bare legs and she stumbled, letting out another cry.

Weak. So weak.

A trickle of blood trailed the length of her shin, mesmerizing him for a moment. It was a shame to mar her beautiful body, but she’d left him no choice.

He refocused on his task, dragging her behind him. He ducked beneath a large branch, laughing as it caught her in the face, clawing her neck and hooking the chain of her locket.

She groped for the necklace too late and it was gone, vanishing into the dark depths of the marsh.

“My necklace.”

Her whine turned his stomach. As if she didn’t have bigger things to worry about. “You won’t need it where you’re going.”

“Let me go.” Terror tinged her voice. Good. It was about time. “I don’t have what you need, but I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever I can. I swear.”

He stopped then, savoring the fear glistening in her brown gaze. “Should have thought of that a long time ago, sweetheart.”

Her expression pleaded with him, anxious and begging. Too little. Too late.

“I’m telling you the truth,” she whispered, a tear sliding over her lower lid.

“Honey, you haven’t told me the truth since the day we met.” He smiled, enjoying the widening of her eyes, the shortness of her breath. The hunted and the hunter. Her desperation and his power.

He jerked her into motion, excitement slithering through him as they reached the edge of the trees. The glistening water of the sound appeared as they broke through to the clearing. Pale moonlight dappled the surface like a ghostly dance of lost souls. Perfect.

A small boat sat anchored next to the marshy beach. He shoved her forward. “Get in.”

“No.” Rachel stiffened as if steeling herself in one last desperate effort to appear fearless.

He leveled his gun at her face. “Now.”

Her body sagged as she climbed into the boat and dropped onto the unforgiving bench. Her teeth chattered noisily. She wrapped her arms around her waist as he pushed the boat from the shore, the small vessel slipping like a whisper through the murky water.

When they neared the inlet, he started the motor, raising his gaze to meet her terrified stare. “Enjoying your ride?”

Her trembling intensified. She lowered her head, her long blond hair covering her face as she gagged, vomiting onto the floor of his boat. The acrid smell mixed with the damp, salt air. He winced. So weak. Useless, actually. It was unfortunate. With her brains and investigative skills, she could have accomplished great things.

He kicked her foot, grinning as she looked up. “Chin up. You’re about to get the story of your life.”

He watched as her eyes darkened, the reality of her fate settling upon her. She lowered her head again, this time to pray, her words whispering into the unforgiving night.

“God, please help me….”

Too bad he didn’t have his camera. She’d be one to immortalize. One more example of how untouchable he was.

She’d thought she could expose him, but he was about to prove her wrong.

Dead wrong.

He laughed, throwing back his head to let his laughter mingle with the sound of her prayer.




Chapter One


Kelly Weir shifted her Jetta into Park, staring up through the windshield at the gray bungalow. Cool, autumn air whipped through the sunroof, surrounding her with the smell of salt air and sunshine. She snapped off the volume on the radio then cut the car’s ignition.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since Rachel’s brother, Jim, had called, yet here she was in Summer Shores, North Carolina. Her agreement to help the family by packing up Rachel’s things had been a knee-jerk reaction, the news of Rachel’s death having rocked her to the core.

Scrutinizing the weathered lines of the small house, she blew out a slow breath and tamped down the sadness lurking at the back of her brain. How long had it been since she and Rachel had spoken? More than a year?

Kelly climbed from the car, popped the trunk and threw her backpack over her shoulder. Time to get this over with. She grabbed two other bags and headed for the stairs, the distressed wood creaking beneath her as she climbed toward a screened-in porch.

She dropped one of her bags onto the painted decking, shifting to reach the key she’d shoved in her pocket. Her elbow brushed against the front door and it cracked open. Kelly’s pulse quickened. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, pushing the door open wide to glance inside.

The floors and furniture gleamed, an orange scent heavy in the air. Jim had mentioned there might be housecleaners here when she arrived. Judging by the appearance of the place, she’d just missed them, and they’d obviously forgotten to lock up.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped inside, lowering her bags to the floor. She tossed her backpack onto a faded teal sofa and crossed to the kitchen window to let in some additional fresh air.

She’d no sooner slid up the old wooden sash than a noise sounded from another part of the house. Kelly stopped short, anxiety whispering through her.

Her imagination. It had been a long day and her mind must be playing tricks on her. She gazed out the window, trying to focus on the scent of brine hanging on the ocean breeze.

Thump.

A chill rippled down her spine. Darn it. She wasn’t that tired.

She steadied herself, trying to think rationally. The sun was out. People didn’t rob houses in broad daylight, did they? It was probably a neighbor doing something…neighborly. Surely everyone knew of Rachel’s death by now. Maybe someone had stopped by to help pack her things.

Better still, maybe a window was loose, or a door or something. This was Summer Shores, North Carolina after all. Small town. Friendly. Safe. There were a multitude of possibilities for why the house was making a—

Thump.

Her nervous gaze landed on a spiral staircase that dropped to the lower level just past the main section of the living room. Whatever—or whoever—was making the noise was downstairs.

The small hairs at the nape of Kelly’s neck pricked to attention.

Eyeing a pair of pewter candlesticks, she tiptoed across the floor to grasp one, the metal cold and heavy in her now-shaking hand.

Thump.

She started, white-knuckling the candlestick and holding it high. “Who’s there?” She forced out her voice, strong and loud. Not bad for being completely rattled. Not bad at all.

Keeping the candlestick between herself and the stairs, she fumbled in her backpack for her cell phone, pulling it free and pressing the Power button.

She moved toward the front door, planning to get out before anyone could answer.

The noise from below had stopped. Probably a stray animal or something completely harmless, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She backed toward the door, trying to punch 911 on the tiny keypad. Darn these things.

“Whoever you are,” she yelled. “I’m calling the police.”

“I assure you I’m harmless,” a man’s voice answered.

The deep timbre sent awareness and fear washing through Kelly. She stumbled and the candlestick fell from her grasp, clattering loudly against the wood floor.

A dark-haired man appeared at the top of the steps, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.” His midnight-blue gaze moved from Kelly to the candlestick to Kelly again. One dark brow arched. “Were you planning to use that on me?”

Kelly picked up the heavy metal object, pointing it at him. Her heart jackhammered in her chest. “Who are you?”

“I’m a…was…a friend of Rachel’s.” His expression softened, but the furrow between his brows remained. Deep lines etched into his forehead, leaving no doubt he was a man on a mission. “She had something of mine and I thought I’d pick it up before you got here.”

Kelly blinked, her head spinning from the surge of adrenaline racing through her. The man took a step forward and her breath caught. His well-worn denim shirt stretched taut across broad shoulders, his stance conveying nothing but sureness and pure male virility. Her heart slapped so loudly against her ribs, she had no doubt he could hear her fright.

She glanced at the cell phone in her hand. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? I should call the police.”

“The name’s Dan Steele.” He continued toward her, close-cropped chestnut-brown hair framing his rugged, thirtysomething face. “They know me.”

“Oh. This is a frequent activity of yours?” Kelly backed onto the porch and punched the last digit into the phone. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’m telling the truth. Here.” Steele dangled a small silver object toward her. “She’d given me a key.”

Kelly suddenly felt like an idiot. She knew nothing about Rachel’s recent life. This guy might have been her lover for all she knew.

She concentrated on calming her whirling mind. “How did you know her?”

“Friend,” he repeated.

“And what did you need?”

He hesitated, reawakening her suspicions. “Something.”

“Something?” She frowned. “How do I know you’re not a fast-talking burglar?”

“With a key?” He shook his head, his expression incredulous.

“You never know.” Kelly set the candlestick on the floor and held out her open palm, nodding toward the key. “I’ll take that. I’d rather not have you stopping back unexpectedly. Nothing personal.”

One dark brow arched again as Steele pressed the key into her hand, his touch lingering a moment too long. Heat built at the spot where their skin met, searing her palm. The man’s intense stare never left hers, and Kelly fought the urge to look away. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction.

“Just what is it you’re missing?” she asked as she closed her fingers around his key then pocketed it, still gripping the cell phone tightly in her other hand.

“You know, you look a bit like her around the—”

“I know.” Kelly pinned him with a glare, frustration edging out her fear. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m leaving now.” He brushed past her and pushed the screen door open.

“I have half a mind to check out your story,” she called after him as he headed toward the steps.

He stopped short, turning to face her, his smile not quite reaching his deep blue eyes. “This didn’t go well. I’ll stop back later.”

Kelly focused on drawing deep slow breaths as she watched him cross the drive. The air seemed to still, as if the man owned the space around him and the ground beneath his confident stride. He turned toward the beach without looking back. Much to her dismay, a purely female response tangled with the anger and fear battling within her. The man oozed vitality—raw, male and intriguing.

She shivered with awareness.

He no doubt had known Rachel. Kelly’s friend had been beautiful, and never had trouble turning a male head. Dan Steele apparently had not been immune to her charms.

When he was fully out of sight, Kelly dropped her cell phone into her bag and headed for the kitchen. She plucked the receiver from the wall phone, dialing the keypad—911.

Hers might not be a true emergency, but if Steele planned to follow through on his promise to return, she intended to find out exactly who he was.



DAN STOOD AND STARED at the ocean. The woman had unnerved him. There weren’t many things in his life capable of eliciting that response. Not anymore.

He should have headed out the side door instead of checking the third bedroom. There’d been nothing there. He’d managed only to wedge his arm behind a bookcase reaching for a blank sheet of paper. As if Rachel would be that careless with anything important.

Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he headed up the beach toward his house, the woman’s face filling his mind. At first it had been like looking at a ghost, but once her fiery spirit flashed through her mesmerizing deep brown gaze, he knew she was no Rachel. Rachel had always put on a good show, but behind her reporter’s notebook, she was nothing more than a pretty bundle of nerves.

The friend had hidden her fear and surprise admirably. Beauty and backbone. Imagine. A longing stirred deep within him—evidence he wasn’t completely dead inside after all. No matter. He needed to find Rachel’s notes, not worry about her friend.

His interest in Rachel’s work had been personal. During his tenure in pharmaceutical marketing, his pet project had been one drug in particular. Oxygesic. Its development had been a godsend for those suffering from chronic pain and cancer. Then people began to die from its misuse.

People like Diane. His baby sister.

The familiar ache squeezed his heart, but he shoved it away, digging deep for the determination that had carried him this far.

Now that Rachel’s notes had apparently gone missing, Dan was even more convinced her death was no accident. She’d been the only person to listen to his theories. His gut told him she’d uncovered something someone hadn’t wanted her to find. The frantic message she’d left for him the day she disappeared confirmed as much.

And now she was dead.

He cast a glance toward the ocean, watching the September swells crash against the deserted beach, swirling against each other before they slid back out to sea. Riptide. Opposing currents. The story of his life.

His cell phone chirped to life, yanking him from his thoughts. “Yes.”

“Who the hell do you think you are now? The damned welcoming committee?” Detective Jake Arnold’s voice barked in his ear. Dan winced, the annoyance palpable in his old friend’s tone. “Meet me at your house. Ten minutes.”

The phone clicked dead.

Great. As if he needed any more complications today.



KELLY REPLACED the receiver and headed for the lower level of the house. Her call to the sheriff’s office had gotten her nowhere other than having to listen to Dan Steele’s upstanding citizen résumé. Apparently he’d settled here a few years ago, returning to his roots after a successful career up North.

She hadn’t been able to glean much more in the way of detail, but the tone of the woman she’d spoken to had made it clear he was one of Summer Shores’ favorite sons. What did Kelly expect? Small towns protected their own.

A light glowed from a spare bedroom as she rounded the bottom of the steps. Nothing seemed out of place as she peered inside, but then, she’d never set eyes on the house before today. Kelly opened each drawer and ran her hand over both shelves in the closet. Nothing. She sank onto the edge of the bed.

What had he been looking for?

Exhaustion washed over her, the earlier adrenaline fading from her system. She fingered the corner of a letter she’d tucked into her sweatshirt pocket as the numbing reality of Rachel’s death uncoiled from the pit of her stomach.

How many other letters and phone calls from Rachel had she ignored over the past year? Dozens? Yet, this one had been different. In it, Rachel had begged for forgiveness. Begged. But Kelly had ignored her plea, clinging instead to the grudge she’d carried instead of making amends. Now Rachel was dead. Drowned in the ocean she’d loved.

An inexplicable sense of dread sent a shudder down Kelly’s spine. Hoping she’d find some coffee to help erase the chill, she headed back toward the stairs, looking up just as she rounded the bottom step.

Her heart slammed into her ribs.

A large, gray tomcat loomed at the top of the steps, two yellow eyes lazily winking down at her.

“Who are you?” She was beginning to think that was the question of the day. Did everybody have a key?

The cat rose to his paws and stretched, leaning into the side of her leg as she passed.

“Edgar,” a female voice called from outside.

Kelly squinted at the cat, which still studied her curiously. “Edgar?” He rubbed against her calf, stretched then kicked out his back feet as he headed toward the door.

Opening the door to step onto the porch, Kelly let the cat saunter ahead. An elderly woman toting a large bakery box looked up from the bushes along the driveway.

“Are you looking for your cat?” Kelly asked.

The woman’s gaze narrowed as she spotted Edgar sitting at the screen door. “Oh, that bum. Was he bothering you?”

“Not at all.”

“You the friend from up North?” The woman walked to the bottom of the steps, the bakery box nestled in the crook of her arm, a lit cigarette dangling from the opposite hand. She paused to take a drag.

“Kelly Weir.”

“I’m Helen Carroll.” She waved the glowing butt over her shoulder. “Live across the street. Heard you were coming and thought you could use a welcome.” She waved the cigarette toward the cat. “Guess he thought the same thing.”

“No problem. Would you like to come up?”

“Thanks.” Helen dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the toe of a red high-top sneaker. A Surf Naked sweatshirt topped a pair of faded, black jeans. Wild spikes of snow-white hair framed her tanned, weathered face. She climbed the wooden steps with the nimbleness of a teenager, balancing the box in one arm and skimming the railing with the other. Her eyes remained lowered, focused on the steps. “I brought you some cinnamon buns. Figured you could use something sweet after your drive.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s a small town. We try to be neighborly.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kelly muttered under her breath.

As she reached the top of the steps, the woman raised her pale gaze to look at Kelly. “I’ll be darned.” Her features fell slack. “You look just like her.”

“Everyone always thought we were sisters.”

Helen slowly shook her head, staring intently at Kelly’s features.

“You’re the one who found her, aren’t you?” Sadness flickered through Kelly as she spoke the words.

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.

Refocusing her attention, Kelly pulled a file labeled Outstanding Queries and spread it open on the desk. In alphabetical order by target market, the letters ranged from one for Family Circle to one for the Washington Post.

Kelly turned back to the drawer, fingering through the remaining folders. Working articles. Someone needed to tell these editors their articles weren’t going to make deadline.

One by one, Kelly pulled each contact number and placed the call. An hour later she was done, returning each folder to its place in the drawer.

A knock sounded at the front door and she jumped, her stomach tilting sideways. Chicken. The woman in the grocery store had made more of an impression than she cared to admit.

She padded down the hall and pulled open the inner door. Dan Steele stood on the other side of the locked screen door, leaning against the doorjamb, the sharp line of his jaw set with even more intensity than it had been the day before. Shadows tinged the skin beneath his eyes, but the blue heat of his gaze coiled Kelly’s stomach into a tight knot.

“You again.” She frowned.

He held up his hands. “Let’s start over.”

She narrowed her eyes.

He swept one arm in a grand gesture. “Welcome to North Carolina.”

Kelly glared at him, not sure how to answer his statement. “Back for another look?”

His features tensed, his expression growing serious. “Actually, yes.”

“Forget it.” Kelly moved to close the door.

Dan leaned his forehead against the screen. He might look like an expectant child with his face plastered against an ice-cream parlor window, but Kelly knew better.

“It’s imperative I explain something to you about Rachel.”

Kelly eyed him carefully, her curiosity getting the best of her. “Like what?”

“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”

“I can hear you just fine through that locked door.”

She met his stare, angling her chin determinedly.

“Fair enough.” He straightened.

He stood easily taller than six feet, his presence commanding. His brown hair tumbled carelessly, as if he had just run a strong hand through the short strands. Kelly’s gaze followed the drape of his navy sweatshirt to the trim fit of his khaki shorts. Her pulse quickened at the sight of his bare, muscular legs. One thing was for certain. The man was in some serious physical shape.

The breeze picked up, washing Dan’s clean scent past her into the house. Every one of Kelly’s nerve endings snapped to attention. She hugged herself, glad to have the door between her stirring attraction and the man who’d inspired the unwanted response.

The last man who’d evoked such a visceral reaction had turned out to be anything but what he’d first seemed. She had no intention of repeating the mistake.

“I need you to listen carefully.”

The ferocity of Dan’s gaze startled her, capturing her full attention. “I’m listening.”

“I met Rachel when she interviewed me about my sister.”

“Your sister?”

Dan nodded. “She died of a drug overdose last year, and Rachel was doing a piece on the same drug. Oxygesic.”

A momentary shadow passed across his face, but he continued, “My sister was an athlete. She’d never take that drug knowingly.”

Kelly said nothing, riveted by the man on the other side of the door.

“I need Rachel’s notes.” He stepped close to the screen, erasing any space between them. “You need to let me search this house.”

She considered his request, scouring his face for any sign he might be lying. She found none. “I already went through her files.”

Dan’s eyes widened.

Kelly shook her head. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing on Oxy…Oxy…”

“Oxygesic.” Disappointment darkened his gaze. “That makes no sense. A friend of hers died high on the stuff. Crashed a car into a pole. Rachel was obsessed with that story.”

“What kind of drug is it?”

Hope flickered across his features. “A time-released opiate.”

“Opiate?”

“Painkiller.”

Kelly blinked, confused. “Did her friend take too many?”

“Maybe not.” Dan stared deeply into her eyes, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. “Sometimes it only takes one.”

Kelly took a step back, wanting to put a bit of distance between her and this man’s determination. “Is it a controlled substance?”

He nodded, his expression grim. “It’s not difficult to get illegally, unfortunately.”

“How?”

“Sometimes it’s a crooked doctor writing phony prescriptions.” Anger flashed through his eyes. “Sometimes it’s a crooked pharmacist.”

It was evident Dan had decided on the latter. “You think it’s a pharmacist?”

“Guy named Miller.”

“How would he get away with it?”

His voice dropped low, intense. “That’s what I need to find out.”

Thoughts and questions raced through Kelly’s mind. “I’m still not understanding how this drug can kill someone unless they take too many.”

Dan’s gaze wavered momentarily as if he wasn’t quite ready to answer her question. When he spoke again, he did so slowly.

“The drug is time-released, meant to be swallowed. If you chew the tablet, you experience a rush. Some people stop breathing.”

“Like your sister?”

“Supposedly. The coroner said her heart failed while she was swimming. The Oxygesic was already in her system.”

“And you don’t believe it?”

“Call it a brother’s hunch, but no.” His gaze roamed her face, trailing hot paths across her skin as if he were searching for a sign she believed him. “Rachel left a message on my machine saying she’d found something unbelievable. She didn’t want to talk on the phone. I never heard from her again.”

Kelly’s breath caught. “You believe Rachel’s death had something to do with the story?”

He nodded, the muscles of his jaw clenching tight.

They stood in silence for several long moments, eyes locked. Kelly fought the urge to look away, entranced by the depth of emotion evident in Dan’s gaze.

What if he was right? Didn’t Rachel deserve for the truth to be uncovered? No matter what had happened between them, if Kelly had been the one who died, Rachel would have left no stone unturned in her quest for the truth.

Kelly scrutinized the man before her, realizing she’d never seen anyone more sure of what he believed. Unlatching the screen door, she pushed it open. “Maybe I missed something. Why don’t we look together?”

A few moments later, Dan patted the computer monitor in Rachel’s bedroom. “Did you check this?” He squinted, his suntanned skin crinkling into fine lines around his eyes.

Kelly dragged her attention from his appealing features to the computer. “Not yet. I’ve only been through her filing cabinet.”

She sank into the chair as Dan powered on the machine. A welcome screen flashed a box for password entry.

“Any ideas?” Dan leaned close. Kelly stole a glance at the strong angular lines of his profile, mentally chastising herself. So the guy had a good story; the reality was she didn’t know him from Adam.

“Actually, yes.” She typed in a single word. Nellie.

The screen instantly displayed the operating system’s start up page.

“Nellie?” Incredulity tinged Dan’s tone.

“Nellie Bly. First woman reporter,” Kelly explained. “Rachel’s idol.” And one heck of a lucky guess.

Within seconds they both stared at the screen, scanning the list of files on Rachel’s system. Kelly was just losing hope when her gaze landed on two words. Black market.

“Whoa.” Dan spoke at the same instant. “That has to be it.”



DAN WATCHED as Kelly scrolled back, double-clicking the title. He held his breath as the document opened, trying to ignore the creamy expanse of her neck just inches away. She’d swept her long, auburn hair up into some sort of clip, and if he weren’t so intent on finding Rachel’s notes, he might find the sight distracting.

Okay. Truth was, the woman was very distracting, but he’d promised himself a long time ago to avoid matters of the heart. He’d listened to his mother cry behind her closed bedroom door enough to know true love was nothing more than a myth. Besides, all he cared about right now were the words on the screen.

“Frank Jones. Virginian-Pilot,” Kelly read out loud, curiosity palpable in her voice as she skimmed the query letter. “I didn’t find an acceptance letter for this one.” She twisted in the chair, her rich brown gaze jolting Dan’s senses. “Maybe she never got the assignment.”

“Or maybe someone got to her notes but not to her computer files.” Satisfaction filled him. He’d been right all along.

Kelly dialed Information then rang the newspaper’s switchboard. She whispered she’d been put into Frank Jones’s voice mail as she listened.

“All we can do is wait.” Dan shrugged a few moments later as she set the receiver back in its cradle.

The phone rang within seconds, the shrill ring startling them both. Hope uncoiled in Dan’s gut.

Kelly answered the call then frowned. “My sister,” she mouthed.

Disappointment washed through him as he moved away to give her space. No matter. Sooner or later, Jones would return their call, and he’d be one step closer to the truth.

He watched a myriad of expressions play across Kelly’s face as she spoke to her sister.

“Open it,” she said, her features growing tense. She shot him a confused look and his breath caught at the uncertainty in her gaze.

She’d been nothing but cool since the moment she’d first found him in the house, but right now, at this moment, a glimpse of the vulnerable woman within shone through.

“A post office key?” Kelly’s voice grew tight, climbing up at least two octaves. “She didn’t enclose any sort of note?”

He watched as her frown deepened the soft lines that framed her wide-spaced brown eyes. There was an intensity to the woman that intrigued him, a hint of a past pain or secret she kept carefully tucked away.

She hung up the phone and dragged a hand through her hair.

Concern eased through him, and he stepped close. “You all right?”

Kelly visibly started, as if the question had taken her by surprise. She nodded. “Rachel sent me a post office key. My sister’s overnighting it down.”



KELLY COULDN’T HELP but admire the light that sparked to life in Dan’s vibrant, blue stare when she explained her sister’s call. His intensity and determination were characteristics to admire, and to watch.

Her ex-fiancé had taught her all about driven men—ones who stopped at nothing to get their way. Was Dan Steele cut from the same cloth?

He stood close, leaning his full weight against the desktop, eyes wide. “Let’s hope it yields her notes.” He straightened his features, as if consciously working to hide his hope. With a slap of his palm against the wooden desk, he turned toward the door. “We’ll know tomorrow.”

The suddenness of his movements took Kelly by surprise. “Should I call you when the key gets here?”

“FedEx guy hits town by nine-thirty most mornings. I’ll see you then.”

She listened as the door slammed shut behind him, assuring herself she’d made the right decision to believe his story. Packing, however, had lost its appeal.

She connected to the Internet using the remote number from her own account. Now was as good a time as any to study up on Oxygesic. It couldn’t hurt to know exactly what she was getting herself into.

In the middle of downloading the fourth article she’d found, Frank Jones returned her call.

He confirmed Rachel had been working on an Oxygesic story, yet even more intriguing was his question regarding Rachel’s notebook. A crazy looking thing with butterflies all over it. According to Jones, he’d never seen her without it.

Kelly leaned against the chair back after she hung up, rubbing her hands over her face then massaging her temples. Exhaustion seeped into her every muscle.

Rachel had loved to make lists and notes. Always had. So where would she leave a notebook? Kelly searched the house from top to bottom. Between sofa cushions. Under mattresses. Behind chairs. In drawers. In closets. Finally, she retreated to the porch empty-handed, dropping into a rocker.

A gull flew past and landed on the roof of her car. Of course. Kelly raced into the house and dialed Information. She should have thought of this before. The notebook had probably been left in Rachel’s car.

“Sheriff’s office,” a clipped female voice answered.

Less than a minute later, Kelly winced at the buzz of the dial tone in her ear. Apparently small towns not only took care of their own, they also didn’t talk to outsiders. The woman had dismissed her by simply explaining Rachel’s effects had been forwarded to her family.

Kelly dialed the phone once more. Rachel’s brother answered on the third ring.

“Jim, it’s Kelly.”

“Kelly.” He sounded exhausted and she hoped she hadn’t called at a bad time—as if there could be a good time when you’d just lost your sister. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “How’s the packing going?”

“I’m off to a slow start.” She took her time, wanting to choose her words carefully. “I needed to ask you something.”

“The rent’s paid through to the end of the month,” he interrupted. “So don’t worry about taking your time.”

Kelly squeezed her eyes shut and continued, “Jim, I’m not calling about the house. I spoke with the police and I understand the coroner has given his final determination.”

“She drowned.” His friendly tone evaporated, growing strained.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

Silence.

“Jim?”

“The toxicology report showed drugs in her system, Kelly. It’s been a great shock.”

Kelly sat stunned for a moment. “She never used drugs,” she said, realizing she sounded just like Dan talking about his sister.

“I don’t think the results would lie.” A tired sigh whispered across the line. “The family would like to keep this quiet.”

“Understood.” Alarm bells screamed inside Kelly’s head. “Did you know she was doing a story about the very thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Rachel was investigating an illegal drug ring. That’s the reason I called. Did the police forward a notebook to you?”

“A notebook?”

“Covered with butterflies.”

“No. Look, Kelly, my sister’s dead. That’s all I can deal with right now.”

She’d pushed too hard. “Forgive me.”

“No problem. I’ve got to go.”

“Jim?” She took a deep breath, gathering her courage for one last question. “May I ask what kind of drug showed up in her system?”

“An opiate.”

Kelly’s mouth went dry. A time-released opiate. Dan’s explanation bounced around her brain. “Could they tell the specific type?”

“We didn’t request additional tests. What difference would it make?”

“I understand. I’m sorry, I—”

“The police did say one more thing.” His words cut her short.

“Yes?” She straightened, holding her breath.

“They thought it might be something called Oxygesic. Apparently it’s real popular up in those parts.”




Chapter Three


Early the next morning, Kelly leaned her full weight against the smooth shower tiles, letting the steaming water pelt the small of her back. She rolled her head from the left to the right then back again to ease the knot of tension in her shoulders.

Oxygesic. She’d never heard the word before yesterday and now it was all she thought of. That and Dan Steele’s breathtaking blue eyes. Those two things had haunted her dreams, the little that she’d slept.

She’d spent several restless hours realizing she might have been too quick to believe Dan’s story. After all, he was a complete stranger, even if he’d been a friend of Rachel’s. Yes, he’d piqued her curiosity where Rachel’s death was concerned, but from now on, she’d be more cautious in following his lead.

Kelly straightened, letting the water run over the top of her head. The man might have a sound reason for wondering how Rachel and his sister had died, but Kelly didn’t know him well enough to trust him, and she didn’t plan to.

She’d once trusted her ex-fiancé, Brian, with all of her heart. What a lesson that had been.

Brian had entered her life like a knight in shining armor. Her parents had died in a small plane crash during one of their European jaunts. Kelly and Brian had been colleagues at a large Philadelphia advertising agency, and his kind, concerned manner had been most welcome in her time of emotional need. Hell, she’d clung to him like a love-starved puppy. He and Rachel had become all she had.

Two years later, she’d learned every move he’d made had been carefully choreographed to achieve his goal of a vice president’s slot. In the end, he’d broken Kelly’s heart, cost her a career and reputation, and taught her trust was an attribute highly over-rated.

Kelly had been falsely accused of trading corporate secrets, and Brian had been hailed for his role in exposing her. Rachel had exploited the story for a front-page byline.

A knock sounded out front just as Kelly finished drying off her hair. She shook off the old hurt, anchored a towel around herself and rushed to open the door. An express envelope sat wedged against the screen.

Pushing the door closed behind her, she dropped onto the sofa to open the envelope. The key sat taped and folded inside a note from Jane. Happy hunting, was all she’d written.

A chuckle slipped from Kelly’s lips, and she shook her head. Hunting was right, but she wasn’t so sure how happy she and Dan would be when they found their answers.



DAN STOOD on the deck, staring at the angry morning ocean. Storm coming, he thought. His mind wandered to Rachel and Diane. Did they have anything in common other than the way they died?

Guilt welled from deep inside him. Maybe if he’d been more available to his sister he could have prevented her death. All he could do now was continue his search for the truth about how she’d really died.

As for Rachel, had his quest for the truth pushed her into harm’s way? His gut said yes—most definitely yes—but one thing was for certain, she’d grabbed on to the story like a pit bull, as determined as he had been to find answers.

Rachel’s desirability had stemmed from the fact she was a reporter. Once Dan had discovered that, he’d manipulated her investigative nature to draw her interest to Oxygesic. They’d briefly shared a physical relationship, but neither had had any interest in taking things further.

Kelly’s image flashed through his mind. So much like Rachel and yet, so not like Rachel. The pull of attraction tugged at him, but he fought it. He’d slipped last night when he’d felt concern for her. As intriguing as he found the woman, he needed her for her ties to Rachel, nothing more. She was his one possibility to make a breakthrough on this investigation—his one hope at finding something that would convince Jake to go after Miller.

He glanced at his watch. Nine-fifteen. Time to find out what treasures her post-office key held.



DAN PULLED THE CAR into the gravel lot of the post office. Stones flew as he brought the car to an abrupt stop.

“Her brother said it was some kind of opiate.” Kelly sat in the passenger seat, scrutinizing the key in her palm.

Dan glanced at the small, brass object, wondering what answers would be unlocked by the tiny sliver of metal. “Oxygesic?”

Kelly nodded. “He didn’t know that for sure. The family didn’t request more specific testing.”

He gripped the steering wheel, struggling to control the frustration and anger he’d fought to keep in check ever since he’d learned of Rachel’s death. “And that doesn’t seem a bit convenient to you?”

“Convenient?” Kelly met his glare, curiosity shimmering in her brown gaze.

Sudden heat licked low and heavy in Dan’s belly. He shoved the unwanted sensation away, retraining his focus on the mystery he so desperately needed to solve. “That she died with the very drug in her system she’d been investigating.” He cut the ignition, reaching for the door.

“What if it’s a coincidence?”

The uncertainty in Kelly’s voice stopped him cold. He needed her with him on this if they were to find the proof he needed. “You don’t believe me?”

Their gazes locked. Kelly held her ground, but didn’t answer.

He pushed again. “What does your gut tell you?”

Kelly shifted in her seat. “My gut says something’s up.” She spoke the words softly, yet surely.

“Exactly.” Dan opened the driver’s door and nodded to the key now clasped in her fist. “Let’s go.”



“WHAT’S THE NUMBER on the key?” Dan approached the first row of post-office boxes.

“Four-three-six.” Kelly ran her fingers over the metal squares. Two-twenty… Two-sixty-seven. She tipped her head. “This way.”

Dan followed her into a dark corner of the post office. Sand grit beneath her sneakers, and she slipped as they rounded the last row of boxes.

“Help you folks?” A middle-aged woman leaned over the service counter.

Dan stole a quick glance in her direction. “No thanks. We’re good.” He leaned close to Kelly, dropping his voice to a whisper. “She must be new. I’ve never seen her before.”

His breath brushed against Kelly’s cheek, and a whisper of awareness danced down her spine. She stood still for a moment, shocked by the effect of his nearness on her senses.

He turned away, resuming his scan of the box numbers. “Found it.”

His gruff tone snapped her back to reality. She stepped to where he waited and handed him the key. Dan slipped the tiny object into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicked, and their gazes met.

Kelly’s heart lurched in her throat. The now familiar determination fired from the depths of Dan’s eyes. It was a determination she couldn’t help but admire, even though the look rang chillingly familiar to her memories of Brian.

Dan swung the small metal door open then reached for the stack of waiting envelopes. Kelly held her breath, not knowing what she expected him to find. It wasn’t as if the killer would have mailed Rachel a signed confession—would he? A small spiral notebook appeared as Dan lifted the pile. Butterfly stickers covered the red cover.

“Jackpot.” Kelly reached past him to pluck the notebook from the box, gripping it tightly in her shaking hand.

“Let’s get out of here.” He snapped the box closed, grabbed her elbow and steered her abruptly toward the door.

The strength of his grip startled her, and she eased her arm free from his grasp. “Don’t you want to—”

“Outside.”

A few moments later, they sat in Dan’s car, staring at the box’s contents on their laps.

“What’s in the envelopes?” Kelly’s heart pounded. To think, just yesterday she’d thought her trip would involve nothing more than packing up Rachel’s life. Now she found herself growing obsessed with discovering exactly how that life had ended—and why. She might never have the chance to make amends with Rachel, but she could make amends with her memory.

“Looks like a bunch of junk. An electric bill, a book club ad, a postcard from the chamber of commerce. What’s this?” He turned an envelope in his hand. “State board of pharmacy?”

He ripped the end off the envelope and pulled out a note handwritten on professionally printed letterhead.

“Unable to reach you by phone,” Dan read out loud. “Didn’t want to leave a message. Call me. Think I found what you needed. ‘S.’”

Excitement and hope rushed through Kelly.

Dan scowled. “‘S.’ How the hell am I going to find out who ‘S’ is?”

“What’s the chamber thing?” Kelly tapped the postcard, hoping for another clue.

Dan turned over the small piece. “Business After Hours.” He grimaced, meeting Kelly’s gaze. “It’s a business card exchange. Time of your life.” He shook his head and started to rip the card in two.

Kelly snatched it from his fingers. “Maybe I should go.”

His puzzled gaze captured hers and held. She steeled herself, refusing to be intimidated by his intensity. He narrowed his eyes without saying a word.

She spoke first. “Couldn’t hurt to meet some people. Don’t most of the local business owners attend?”

He nodded, still silent.

Kelly lifted one shoulder then let it drop. “What about the local pharmacist?”

“Don’t even think it.” Dan started the ignition then eased the car out of the space.

Annoyance flashed through her. “I need to know what really happened to Rachel.”

“That makes two of us.”

A muscle worked in his jaw as Kelly scrutinized his sharp profile. “Do you expect me to sit back and let you call the shots?”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Dan cast a sideways glance, one dark brow arching. “Or do you think he’ll take one look at you and explain the accounting method he uses for his illegal drug sales?”

Kelly crossed her arms over her chest, her annoyance morphing into anger. “What makes you any more qualified for this than me?”

His features softened momentarily, but he seemed to catch himself, restoring his carefully controlled expression. “I know the locals.”

Kelly pulled herself as tall as she could against the passenger seat. “From what I understand you spent most of your adult life up North. Didn’t you just come back recently?”

A smile played against his lips for a split second. “You checked me out?”

“I said I would.”

He turned to meet her gaze as if studying her face.

Kelly started at the heat sparking between them. “Just what is it you did up North?”

“Corporate development.” Dan spoke the words flatly, as if he hadn’t appreciated her asking.

“And now?”

He inhaled sharply. “And now I figure out what really happened to my sister…and Rachel.”

They rode in silence for several long seconds. Kelly turned to stare out the side window, her focus landing on a small cemetery tucked away along the side of the road.

“Diane would have celebrated her birthday later this week.” Dan’s voice broke the silence. “Instead she’s in there.”

Kelly’s heart squeezed. She turned, intending to reach for his hand, but catching herself before she made the far-too-intimate gesture. “I’m sorry.”

The fact she’d come so close to touching him shocked her. She hadn’t felt compelled to reach for any man since Brian had stomped all over her faith in the opposite sex, yet the raw emotion strangled inside Dan’s voice had registered deep inside her. She’d have to watch herself, and her reactions.

Silence beat between them yet again.

“I’m a graphic designer,” Kelly blurted out, suddenly uncomfortable with the tension squeezing the air out of the small car. “You don’t suppose a business owner like a pharmacist could use a new brochure every now and then to boost business, do you?”

She turned toward Dan in time to see the lines of his profile sharpen. “Might be worth a shot.” He jerked a thumb toward the colorful notebook still sitting on her lap. “Anything?”

Kelly flipped through the blank pages. “Not much. Just one word on the last page.” She fanned the sheets. “And it looks like several pages are missing.”

“What’s the word?”

“Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare?” He grimaced, shooting a glance at Kelly. “Was she a big fan?”

“No.” Kelly shook her head. “She couldn’t stand him.”

She stared at the word then flipped the notebook closed. Disappointment eased through her. She’d hoped the notebook would hold more than one word. At least they had the pharmacy board lead.

“Do you think ‘S’ could be Shakespeare?” she asked.

“I’ll call and find out.” Dan pulled into the driveway of Rachel’s house and cut the engine. “I’ll meet you at the chamber at six. Miller shouldn’t see us together.”

Kelly gathered the mail and the notebook and hesitated as she climbed out of the small car. Tension still filled the space between them, but the fact he’d accepted her idea had shifted something intangible between them. “Thanks.”

He nodded, averting his gaze from her face. “I’ll see what I can find out about our friend Shakespeare.”

She climbed to the top of the steps, pausing to watch as his car pulled away. What had Rachel gotten herself into? Whatever it was, Kelly had a sinking feeling it had gotten her killed.



DAN SAT staring through the car windshield at the Sunset Assisted Living complex. Lilac mums lined the sidewalk and hunter-green shutters framed spotless windows. The sun reflected off the bright white vinyl siding.

The building looked so calm on the outside. Orderly and neat. Nothing like the inside where minds and bodies failed—some slowly, some quickly.

His mother had been a resident for almost a year, since her dementia had worsened to the point where she needed round-the-clock care. She seemed content here, though. As content as could be expected.

Dan sat for a moment, letting his thoughts trace back over his conversation with Kelly. He shouldn’t have mentioned Diane’s birthday when they passed the cemetery. He wasn’t a fan of sharing personal details, let alone details that hinted at weakness. Kelly and her questions had somehow burrowed beneath his skin like an itch he had no intention of scratching. He’d have to be more careful when he saw her again tonight.

Dan’s stomach tightened at the thought, but he shook it off, refocusing on the building waiting before him. He pulled the key from the ignition and climbed from the small car, slamming the door shut before heading for the entrance.

“How are you doing, Dolores?”

The strawberry-blonde sitting at the reception desk looked up, flashing a warm smile as Dan pushed through the glass doors. “Pretty good, Mr. Steele. How ’bout you?”

“Can’t complain.” Liar. “Is she down in activities?”

The young woman glanced at the clock on the wall. “Should be.”

“Thanks.”

A long walk later, he found his mother sitting in a wingback chair facing a window. The familiar ache pulled at his heart. She deserved so much more.

The rest of the unit residents sat in a circle, tossing a beach ball from one to another. Strains of Glenn Miller filled the air.

His mother’s back served as a wall between herself and the others, so unlike the vital, social woman she’d once been before her world had fallen apart.

Dan nodded to the activities aide and pulled up a chair. He put his hand on the arm of his mother’s chair, letting his gaze follow hers.

Gulls floated in the breeze above the sound. Sunshine glistened off the surface of the water, broken only by the wake of a small sailboat headed back toward the marina.

“Mom.”

She turned to face him, her soft white hair seeming to have grown even thinner since last week, her pale blue eyes more milky.

“It’s me, Dan.”

“I know who you are.” She turned her attention back to the window. “How’s your sister?”

“She’s d… She’s okay, Mom.” He’d probably go to hell for lying to her, but why not?

“I saw him kill her, you know.”

His pulse quickened. “What?”

His mother’s gaze stayed fixed on the sound. She raised her hand, pointing a bony finger toward the water. “Right there. I tried to tell her. They wouldn’t let me tell her.”

She lowered her hand to her lap and fingered the zipper on her housecoat.

“Who, Mom? Diane?”

“No.” She frowned, the grimace accentuating the wrinkles left by age and the life she’d loved alongside the ocean. “The other girl. I tried to tell her, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“I don’t understand, Mom. Who?”

“At the market. I saw her at the market.” She looked at him with searching eyes, gripping his hand with a force that shocked him. “She’s dead, Danny. I saw him kill her and they wouldn’t let me tell her.” She looked back toward the water. “They made me leave.”

Sadness squeezed Dan’s heart, twisted his stomach. His mother had never done a thing to deserve this fate—this smothering disease that nibbled away at her mind a little more with each passing day.

“Wouldn’t let me tell her.” Her voice trailed off into a faint whisper.

Not fair at all, Dan thought.



KELLY PULLED into the lot outside the chamber’s office a little before six. The warm architecture made the building look more like a home than a professional building. People milled about on the covered porch, shaking hands, patting backs and sipping drinks.

She climbed out of her Jetta and checked her purse one last time. She tucked her business-card holder into the back pocket of the bag, making it easily accessible. Head high, Kelly took a deep breath, smoothing her skirt before heading for the entrance.

A middle-aged woman with short gray hair greeted her at the top of the steps. “I’m Barb Parker,” she said with an outstretched hand. “Welcome to the chamber. Are you a guest this evening?”

“I am.” Kelly shook the woman’s hand, giving her warmest smile. “I spoke to you earlier today on the phone. I’m Kelly Weir.”

“Well, welcome.” The woman’s demeanor slipped from pleasant to curious in the span of a split second. “So sorry about your friend, Rachel. Have you finished packing up her house?”

“Working on it.”

“Come on in. Let’s get you a name tag and get you introduced around.” She put her hand on the back of Kelly’s shoulder, steering her toward the registration table. “What was it you do again?”

“Public Relations and Marketing.” Kelly concentrated on tamping down the nerves clawing their way up her throat. “Graphic design… Writing.”

The next few minutes passed in a whirlwind of handshakes, greetings and smiles. Kelly wondered if she would ever remember any of these names.

“Ms. Weir.” A gruff voice behind her made her jump. Kelly spun around. “How are you getting settled in?” Frank Healey, the Realtor who’d given her the key to Rachel’s house stood smiling, his expression expectant.

“Fine, thanks,” Kelly said, relieved to see a familiar face. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too. This is my wife, Marge.”

Kelly shook hands with a plump woman of about fifty. Her blond hair fell smartly in a short crop. She wore no makeup, and her skin showed the wrinkles that came from years of sun exposure.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Marge nodded thoughtfully, measuring Kelly. “Frank said you looked like Rachel. He was right.”

“I’ve heard that most of my life.” Kelly smiled. “I take it as a compliment.”

“You should.” The skin around Marge’s eyes softened. “Rachel was a lovely girl. Such a shame.”

“Horrible accident.” A deep ache blossomed in Kelly’s chest. She straightened, feeling a renewed determination to get to the bottom of what had actually happened.

“Well.” Marge looked over both shoulders and leaned toward Kelly, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I heard it was drugs.”

Kelly pasted on a shocked expression. As much as she hated gossips, she might have hit the jackpot with Marge Healey.

“Margie,” Frank snapped.

Marge shrugged. “I was shocked to hear it. Not that I’d ever speak ill of the dead.”

Frank cleared his throat, his expression amused. “You need to know anything in this town, Margie’s your gal. Dead or not, she’s got the latest dirt on everyone.”

Sadness flickered through Kelly. Had Rachel changed so much these people wouldn’t question drugs in her system? It didn’t seem possible. “I don’t believe she’d use drugs.” She directed the comment to Marge, hoping for an explanation.

Marge pressed her lips together, shooting a glance at Frank.

“The thought is she got hooked while she worked at the institute,” he said.

“The institute?” Kelly frowned.

“Serenity Pain Institute.” Marge gave a shake of her short hair. “She didn’t last long. Last I heard she was a freelance reporter.”

“We called that out of a job in my day.” Frank fell silent as his gaze landed on Kelly’s serious stance. “Are you enjoying it here?” He patted Kelly’s arm, obviously trying to change the subject. “As much as you can under the circumstances.”

“I am. But, I can’t help admitting I’m concerned about Rachel’s death. Do you think one of her stories got her into trouble?”

Frank and Marge exchanged a quick glance. Kelly’s pulse quickened. She’d obviously struck a chord.

“Now why would you ask that?” Marge gave a tight smile. “Someone been putting ideas in your head?” Marge touched her fingertips to Kelly’s shoulder. “Don’t go looking for trouble where there is none.”

The woman’s comment didn’t sit well. Kelly’s instincts screamed that trouble was exactly what Rachel had discovered, and as the result of her work.

“You folks are monopolizing this young lady’s time.” A deep voice rumbled from behind her, pricking the hairs on the back of her neck to attention.

She turned, chilled instantly by the coldest pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“Vince Miller.” The man extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”




Chapter Four


The woman on the other end of the phone let out an exasperated sigh.

“I know it’s a tall order,” Dan said. “But I need a list of your employees whose first names start with ‘S’. Someone left me a message and I couldn’t make out what they said. It’s urgent I reach whoever it was.” He mentally crossed his fingers. If the woman bought his version of the truth, she just might help.

“You do know it’s after hours and I’m the last one here,” she replied. “I was just locking up. Why don’t you call back tomorrow?”

Dan glanced at his watch. Five forty-five. He had to get going to meet Kelly at the chamber. The last thing he wanted was for her to be alone with Miller without him close by.

“I apologize, and I appreciate your time. I do.” He thought for a moment then asked, “What about Shakespeare? Anyone named Shakespeare?”




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