He poured another shot of alcohol and tossed it down as his dad came over.
John Murray’s eyes lit up with pleasure. “Shane. Good to see you, son.” John gave him a slap on the back. “I’m glad you came.”
“Happy birthday, Dad.” He tried not to let any emotion show on his face. It was the only way he knew how to deal with his parents.
“Help yourself to some food. Your mother outdid herself tonight.”
“I will,” he promised, but when his dad moved away, he poured himself another drink. He saw two women watching him from across the room with scowling, judgmental looks—Nancy Whittaker and Michelle Holmes, friends of his mother. He raised his glass as if to toast them. Michelle’s frown deepened, she whispered something to Nancy, and then the two walked away.
After setting down the shot glass, Shane headed through the house and out to the back porch, where it was dark and quiet. A wide expanse of lawn greeted his gaze, along with several tall trees that ran along the edge of the property. One of them held the treehouse that he’d built with his father and older brother, Patrick. They’d needed a place to get away from the younger kids, especially pesky Kara, who always wanted in on their action. Not that the treehouse had kept her out. In fact, it had become a popular meeting place for everyone in the neighborhood.
He crossed the lawn and tested out the boards nailed into the tree. He had no idea if the old steps would hold his weight, but he had an irresistible urge to find out. He scaled the tree and crawled through what now seemed like a midget-sized door. There were a few newish toys in the treehouse, probably left behind by Patrick’s kids. A new generation was enjoying the hideaway.
He sat on the floor and gazed up at the roof. There were large open slats where the moon and the
stars showed through.
He’d seen the night sky a million times. Out in the middle of the ocean the stars could be something special, but this sight took him back to high school, to another night a very long time ago.
He’d had a bad day, another fight, and being in the house was too much, so he’d come here to escape. Someday he would leave Angel’s Bay. He just needed enough cash and then he’d be gone.
“Shane, are you there?” Lauren’s sweet voice washed over him like a warm caress.
He’d been avoiding her all day. He never should have gotten involved with her. She made him want to stay in this town, and he couldn’t do that.
“I’m coming up,” she said.
He watched as Lauren juggled a plastic container in one hand while she climbed up the ladder. She had on jeans and a long-sleeve top that clung to her breasts. Her long brown hair curled around her face, her skin lit by the moonlight. God, she was pretty. Beautiful and perfect and innocent, and he should leave her that way.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he told her roughly.
She sat down across from him, worry in her eyes. “What’s wrong? I’ve been calling you all day. Why didn’t you call me back?”
“I didn’t want to talk to you.”
She looked startled by his blunt response but immediately shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
“And you’re a liar. What is going on with you? Why were you fighting Marty? He’s one of your best friends.”
“I just like to fight.”
Lauren held out the plastic container she’d brought with her. “I baked you some double chocolate nut brownies. Chocolate always cheers me up.
”
He wanted to yell at her that she was crazy if she thought a brownie could make him feel better, but there was something about the sweet affection in her eyes that prevented him from lashing out at her. This wasn’t her fault. He didn’t want to hurt her, but dammit, couldn’t she take a hint?
“Shane,” she began.
“If you’re staying, let’s make out.” He yanked the container out of her hand and set it down. Then he put his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him. He saw the surprise in her eyes and he waited for the fear, the anger. But all he saw was trust, and he froze. What the hell was he doing? He let her go.
“What’s wrong now?” she asked in confusion. “You can talk to me. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you.”
“Go home, Lauren.”
“Stop trying to scare me away. I know you, Shane,”
“You don’t know everything,” he whispered.
“You’ll tell me one day,” she said confidently. She put her fingers against his mouth as he started to protest. “Let’s not talk anymore.” She covered his
mouth with hers and pressed her breasts against his chest, and drove everything else out of his mind.
Shane opened his eyes and stared up at the sky. Lauren had always wanted to see the good in people, especially him, but so much had changed since that night. So many things had happened that couldn’t be taken back or undone. The past was gone, and he was far too old to be hiding out in the treehouse.
He swung his leg over the side and climbed down to the ground. He was thinking about slipping through the side yard when his father came out the back door.
“Shane? Is that you?” his dad asked, squinting into the darkness.
“Yeah.” He walked over to the deck. “I’m here.”
“Hiding out?” John asked with a speculative gleam in his eye. “I know things are heating up for you around here, but you have to ride it out, son. You can’t run away again; it will only make you look guilty.”
“I am guilty. I didn’t kill Abby, but I left her alone at the high school that night. I should have made sure someone was there to meet her.” It was a regret he would never get over. “If I’d waited . . .”
His father put a hand on his arm. “Life is full of should haves, Shane. You can’t look back; you just gotta move forward. It’s not your fault, what happened to Abby.” John smiled. “Kara told me that you might need to hear that again.”
“Kara should butt out.”
“No, she was right. I want you to know you’ll always
have my support. Now come back to the party. Take your mind off your problems.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Some people in there aren’t nearly as happy to have me here as you are.”
“Screw ’em. You’re my son and you’re always welcome here. Who don’t you like? I’ll throw them out.”
Shane grinned at his father’s offer. “Thanks, but I can’t see you tossing Nancy and Michelle out on their asses.”
“Don’t tempt me. Those women have been driving me crazy for thirty years.”
“John,” his mother interrupted, sticking her head out the door. She gave them a quizzical look. “What are you two doing out here? We have a house full of guests.”
“Just talking,” his father said.
Moira stepped onto the deck. “About what? Is something wrong, Shane?”
Something had been wrong for a long, long time. “Everything is fine,” he said. “You should go inside, Dad. You’re the guest of honor.”
“We’ll talk later,” John promised.
“Talk about what later?” his mother asked as John led her back into the house.
Moira shot Shane a worried look over her shoulder, a look he knew all too well. She’d been trying to stop him from talking to his father for a very long time.
Charlotte slipped into the back of the church during Andrew’s Sunday sermon. She was late, but Donna March’s newborn daughter had decided to come a week early. She still felt a little giddy from the delivery. No matter how many babies she’d helped come into the world, there was nothing better than hearing a child’s first cry and seeing the look of wonder on the parents’ faces. It was truly the miracle of life.
As she shifted in her seat, she saw her mother and Annie in the first row. Andrew’s mother was sitting in the first pew on the other side. The two women had been in competition for a long time, and Charlotte felt sorry for Andrew’s future wife, who would have to battle for a seat up front—which reminded her that she really needed to tell Andrew that she wasn’t interested in dating him. It was fun to flirt, and it was flattering to be pursued, especially since, once upon a time, she’d been the one running after him.
Andrew had grown up well. He seemed to genuinely care about ministering to the community, and he was gaining more confidence in his role as a spiritual leader. Although some of the older members of the congregation still muttered about him being too young to know what was best, most people had come around. Andrew certainly had a plethora of single women attending church now. With his good looks and heavenly aura, he was pretty damn irresistible. So why was she resisting?
Her gaze moved to a man sitting a few rows in front of her, Joe Silveira. Joe, with his dark hair and dark eyes, was night to Andrew’s day. The chief was rugged and physical, with rough edges that were always apparent despite his polite and professional manner. She’d seen him in action and off duty, and she found him more than a little intriguing, which was completely inappropriate, because Joe was married.
His wife sat next to him in the pew. Rachel had the brittle sophistication of an L.A. transplant and didn’t quite fit into Angel’s Bay, unlike Joe, who seemed happy to have ditched his big-city cop days for life in the picturesque seaside town. Rachel seemed to have more in common with the man who sat on her other side, Mark Devlin. He also gave off that slick L.A. vibe, and Charlotte didn’t trust him one bit. He’d left her a couple of messages, wanting to talk about the past. She hadn’t returned them. She didn’t know who killed Abby, and she certainly didn’t want to help anyone railroad Shane or one of
her other friends.
As the congregation rose to its feet, she started. The service was over, and she hadn’t heard one word of it.
When she made her way out of the church, she found Andrew on the steps surrounded by women. He sent her a silent plea for rescue, but she simply smiled. She didn’t want to give anyone ideas about her and Andrew—at least any more ideas than they already had.
But Andrew wasn’t about to let her get away that easily. “Charlotte,” he called. “Excuse me, ladies. I have to speak to Dr. Adams.”
The women looked like they wanted to shoot her.
“Hey,” Andrew said as he drew near.
“Hey, yourself. You just made all those women want to kill me.”
He grinned. “You used to like it when I singled you out.”
“I used to like a lot of things, and then I grew up.”
“You’re not still mad at me about the fake boobs comment, are you?”
“No, but if you keep looking at my breasts, I think God might strike you down.”
His smile broadened. “I like talking to you, Charlie. I can be myself. I don’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations.”
Judging by the weary note in his voice, maybe everything wasn’t going as well for him as she’d imagined. “You’re doing fine. Don’t worry about what people think of you.”
“I’m still figuring out what
I
think of me,” he said with a rueful expression. “By the way, my mother is hosting a lunch today, and she’s having at least five eligible women over to meet me. She’s decided that since I’m settled in a job, I should be thinking about marriage and children.”
“Well, you’re not getting any younger,” she said lightly, wondering who some of the women were. Not that she cared. She should be happy that he was mixing with other people.
“I want you to come, stake your claim.” He gave her a hopeful smile.
“I don’t have a claim.”
“Yes, you do.” He moved in closer. “Seriously, Charlotte.”
“Andrew, we can’t talk about this now. People are waiting to speak to you.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a half dozen interested gazes focused on them.
“Why do you keep pushing me away?”
“Because I’m not interested.” There, she’d said it.
“Ouch.”
“You asked.” She refused to weaken in the face of his disappointment.
“I’m not taking that as your final answer. But I’ll go—for now.” He moved away, joining an older couple and their grandchildren.
Charlotte let out a breath. She wasn’t getting through to Andrew at all. Now that she didn’t want
him, he wanted her even more. She should have played harder to get in high school.
Turning to go in search of her mother, she stumbled right into Joe.
“Careful,” he said, grabbing her arm to steady her.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Heat ran through her body, and she fought back the urge to hold on to him.
“You were in deep conversation with the minister,” Joe said, letting go of her arm. “The two of you are close, aren’t you?”
There was an odd note in his voice. She wished she could read his expression, but his eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses.
“We grew up together,” she said.
“High school boyfriend, right?”
“You’re up to date on the rumor mill. It was a long time ago.”
“He doesn’t act like it was that long ago.”
“How does he act?”
“Like he wants you.”
Joe’s words were warm and husky, and she felt herself melting, until she reminded herself that Joe was talking about Andrew, not about himself. She straightened. “It’s not like that. We’re friends.”
“Maybe you should tell him that.”
“I have. So, where did Rachel go? I saw her in church earlier.”
“She went with Devlin to talk to someone,” he said shortly.
She frowned. “Can’t you get rid of him, Joe? He’s talking all kinds of nonsense. This morning at the hospital, someone told me that Mr. Devlin thinks there’s a possibility Mr. Jamison killed his own daughter. It’s not right. He’s making everyone suspicious of each other. You have to stop him.”
“I’d love to do just that, but he’s not breaking any laws.” Joe tilted his head, giving her a curious look. “You were in town back then. Who do you think killed Abby?”
“I have no idea. But it wasn’t Shane. He had a bad rep in high school because he was reckless and short-tempered, but he had a good heart. He helped me out of a bad situation once, and I know he wouldn’t have hurt Abby.”
“What happened to you, Charlotte?” Joe asked curiously. “That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned a problem in your past.”