Kathleen Long - Silent Warning

“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.