The Substitute Sister Read online

  Fudge shops were the main retail store. For any other shopping or entertainment, an islander had to take a ferry to the Upper Peninsula and from there another hour’s drive to a city. The isolation was so extreme few people stayed year-round, but Nadine had. He had delivered Annie because Nadine had been determined to have her child on the island…and there had been no one else around.

  Before Nadine’s murder, he’d considered the isolation of the island the perfect atmosphere to raise children, safe from all the dangers of the world. He’d seen those dangers up close and personal while he’d been a homicide detective. He hadn’t ever thought that kind of danger would visit Sunset Island. But it had.

  That was why, despite the nanny at the mansion, Reed hadn’t taken Annie back there. He wanted to keep her close and safe…until he had to hand her over to a stranger.

  THE CHOPPY WAVES jerked the ferry up and down. In addition to the rooster spray shooting out of the rear of the boat, a fine mist rose from the lake. Damp and cold, Sasha huddled inside her coat, shivering. Maybe she should have gone below, as the deputy suggested, but she’d been drawn to the deck, to the anger of the water and the closeness of the low-hanging dark clouds that suited her mood.

  She hadn’t slept since the sheriff’s call despite the wait she’d had before the first flight available between Grand Rapids and Escanaba. Packing had only taken her a short while. The rest of the time she’d spent looking through the family albums her parents had entrusted to her while they RV’d across America in their retirement.

  Old-fashioned and on a fixed income, they’d refused to get a cell phone, so she had no way of contacting them to let them know about their other daughter.

  That she was dead.

  They would call her on Sunday night, as always. She’d left a message on her machine for them to call her cell. And then she’d have to break the news as the sheriff had broken it to her…over the phone.

  How was she going to tell them? “Nadine’s dead.” That simply? But nothing was simple about this. She didn’t even know how her sister had died. Their parents would want to know that.

  Nadine was their biggest regret. Instead of supporting her through her difficulties, they’d threatened and punished her. The bad grades hadn’t been Nadine’s fault; she’d been dyslexic. But their parents hadn’t understood that. If she’d tried harder, they’d argued, she could have gotten grades as good as Sasha’s. After all, they were twins.

  But so very, very different. Never more so than now that one of them lived and one had died.

  Maybe Nadine had been right all along. Everything bad always happened to her. But was it, as their parents claimed, because of the choices she’d made?

  Somehow, despite their long separation, Sasha was sure if given the choice, Nadine would have chosen life. If not for herself…then for her daughter. Wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t the responsibility of a child have caused her wild sister to settle down?

  Nadine had a daughter.

  That was the other thing she had to tell her parents. “I’m an aunt. You’re grandparents.”

  Nadine’s running away had aged them. Could they handle these shocks?

  God, she hoped so…because she needed someone to talk to. The sheriff’s deputy had barely said two words to her since picking her up at the airport. His first reaction had been an audible gasp, then she had explained that she was—had been—Nadine’s twin.

  A dark shadow fell across the deck, and Sasha lifted her gaze toward the sky. The thick clouds had shifted even lower, an impenetrable layer blocking out the sun. A sense of foreboding chilled her soul, and she shivered. She was being silly, letting the deputy’s reaction affect her. She wasn’t her sister’s ghost, she was her niece’s guardian.

  From his end of the bench seat on the ferry, the deputy kept shooting her furtive glances. When she caught him, red flooded his pitted cheeks. He reminded her of the teenagers she counseled at the high school; heck, he probably wasn’t much older.

  Today, Sasha felt a lot older. It had nothing to do with sleep loss and everything to do with Nadine’s loss. Despite that vow she’d made, she’d always had a little hope in her heart that they’d be able to make amends someday. That they’d be able to form that almost sacred relationship that twins were supposed to have.

  Now Sasha felt no hope. Although she was used to counseling teens, she knew nothing about babies. At two, wasn’t Annie still a baby? Could she talk? Did she know her mother was dead?

  Was she devastated? As devastated as Sasha?

  Fear gripped Sasha, clenching her already knotted stomach muscles. As her sister, as her twin, she’d failed Nadine. She should have been there for her, should have stopped her from running away all those years ago. Would she fail Nadine’s daughter, too?

  Tired of the thoughts running through her head, she turned toward the deputy. “Can you tell me how my sister died?”

  The sheriff hadn’t given her any details, hadn’t given her much of anything but a sense of disapproval. Not all siblings were close. She shouldn’t feel guilty for knowing nothing about Nadine’s life, but she did. The guilt gnawed at her, leaving her feeling hollow inside.

  The deputy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard then shook his head. “No, Miss Michaelson.”

  “You don’t know?” Or he didn’t want to tell her? Maybe it had been suicide? No, Nadine wouldn’t have done that. She’d always been so independent, so strong. But if it had been an accident, surely the sheriff would have said.

  “Sheriff Blakeslee said he’d tell you everything when we meet him on the island, ma’am.” And from his diffident tone, the young deputy was too in awe of the sheriff to ever consider disobeying a command from the man.

  She could make him talk; that was her job. If she could make teenagers open up, she could get the deputy to spill. But she had to admit that she didn’t want to hear the particulars from him. She wanted his boss to tell her. Sheriff Blakeslee was only a voice in the darkness to her, but she felt closer to him than this young man. She’d already shared something with him, the horrible news of her sister’s death.

  “How long before we reach the island?” Maybe it was the violent waves that made her think miles of water had passed under the ferry’s jumping hull.

  “Not much longer. It’s a two-hour ride total.”

  She didn’t know much about boats even though she’d been raised in the Great Lakes state. How many miles did a boat travel in two hours? How many miles from civilization was the island? And why had Nadine chosen to live there? “Does the sheriff live there, too?”

  “He divides his time between Whiskey Bay and the island. He bought a place on Sunset years ago when he was still a detective in Detroit.” The wind ruffled the young man’s fine hair as he shook his head, probably unable to understand why someone would have moved from Detroit to the remoteness of the north country.

  “Did he retire here?” Although she’d only heard his voice, she doubted he was old enough to be drawing a pension.

  The deputy shook his head again. “No, he’s only in his thirties, the youngest sheriff we’ve ever had. But with all his years on the force in Detroit, he’s got more law enforcement experience than any sheriff before him.”

  Did he need it? Would he use it on Sunset Island? She peered up at the dark clouds and shivered.

  She preferred talking about the sheriff, talking about anything, rather than tormenting herself with regrets over Nadine’s death. She’d had so much living to do yet, had a child to raise.

  And now Sasha had that responsibility. Unable to fight the guilt any longer, she found herself asking, “Can you tell me about my sister?”

  Like, who had fathered her baby and why wasn’t he around to be guardian for his child?

  The young man wouldn’t meet her eyes, glancing out over the rolling waves instead. And in the distance, through the mist rising from the water, a dark shadow formed. The island. “Miss Michaelson, the sheriff can tell you everything. He was really
close to your sister.”

  How close? Intimate. From the nervous shift of the deputy’s gaze, she suspected as much.

  Would the sheriff tell her everything? Or, out of loyalty to Nadine, would he resent her as much as her sister always had? Was it resentment that had kept Nadine from telling her about her niece? Or had it been because Sasha had told her she never wanted to talk to or see her again?

  Sasha had never been so angry as she’d been the last time she’d seen Nadine, had never held a grudge the way she had these past five years. Now guilt and grief replaced the anger, threatening more tears. She blinked hard. She couldn’t cry now, not in front of anyone. She’d suffered that humiliation when she’d been left at the altar five years ago; she wouldn’t do it again.

  And as for the sheriff, she’d get him to tell her everything about her sister. If she could handle surly teenagers, she could handle a resentful sheriff.

  What had Nadine been to him? Lover? If he were half as attractive as he’d sounded on the phone, Nadine would have gone after him.

  Sasha wanted to flat-out ask the deputy how involved his boss had been with her sister, but for her answer she’d only get a deeper blush out of him. So she would save that question for the sheriff along with all her others. And she wouldn’t stop asking until she got her answers about Nadine’s life and…death.

  The ferry neared the island, where a large dock jutted out of a rocky shore. From that area, a hill rose up, dotted with houses. Small cottages were squeezed in between large, elaborate homes. Here, so far north, the leaves were little more than buds on the trees, and the early-spring gloom hung in low clouds over the island. A chill raced over her skin, the sense of foreboding returning with more force. She shouldn’t have come here. But she’d had to…for Annie. And the chill—it was probably just the cold spring wind.

  Late April. She’d had over a month left of the school year, but after the sheriff had called her, she’d called the principal and arranged for a leave.

  “We’re lucky the weather’s been so warm,” the deputy remarked with a sigh, probably with relief that he had found a safe subject and that the island…and the sheriff…were near.

  “Warm?” she asked, as she huddled inside her winter jacket. Having visited the Upper Peninsula in the spring before, she’d known to wear heavier clothes. With the jacket she wore thick corduroy jeans and a sweater.

  “Oh, yeah, we had major snowstorms this time last year. It’s so nice this year. The sheriff, along with some other sheriffs in the surrounding areas, even had their golf outing already.”

  “Before or after my sister died?” she asked, frustration sharpening her tone. She wanted answers. The long ferry ride had given her mind time to formulate more questions, the first being why had Nadine chosen to live in such isolation?

  The deputy’s cheeks colored again. “It was actually the day your sister—look, we’re here now.”

  The ferry pulled to the dock. Sasha’s breath caught over the enormity of the situation. This was where Nadine had lived and where, Sasha assumed, she’d died. This was where Sasha would meet her niece for the first time, where she would pick up the child who was now her responsibility. This poor little motherless girl. Would she be terrified of her aunt, of this woman she’d never met but who looked eerily like her mother?

  The deputy hovered at her side as she walked down the gangplank toward the dock. The wind whipped up, tangling her hair around her face. She nearly stumbled, then stopped and turned her attention to the waiting people. The small crowd shifted as she joined them, people staring, some gasping as the deputy had, a general sense of fear emanating from them. She ignored their reactions as best she could but was thankful for the deputy standing beside her as she looked for the sheriff.

  “There he is.” The deputy gestured toward a dark-haired man. He didn’t wear a uniform, but he didn’t need it.

  His height separated him from everyone else, giving him an air of authority. He had to be well over six feet with shoulders so broad she was tempted to lay her weary head on one and weep the tears burning inside her for her sister’s loss. The temptation surprised her, as did the quick flare of attraction she felt for him. For five years she hadn’t allowed herself either weakness.

  Then she saw the child in his arms, the little girl pressed close to his chest. She looked exactly the way Sasha and Nadine had looked as curly-haired toddlers.

  Crystal-blue eyes widened as Annie stared at her, then a soft voice called out, “Mommy!”

  Little arms reached for her, but Sasha froze, her reaction having nothing to do with the chill wind whipping around the open dock. Fear paralyzed her, holding her feet to the planks. She hadn’t been able to save Nadine from the life she’d chosen, a life that had led to her death. How could she accept the responsibility of raising Nadine’s child? What if she let them both down?

  The sheriff walked toward her. His long, jeans-clad legs carrying him to her in a couple of strides. Despite the cold, he wore only a denim shirt with his faded jeans, the cuffs rolled to his elbows. His forearms, thick with muscle, cradled the little girl with no effort. His jaw, lightly stubbled with hair as dark as that brushing the collar of his shirt, was hard and clenched as he stared down at her. The gloom of the dark clouds shadowed his eyes, but the green gleamed vividly.

  She shivered, not from the cold but from the awareness tingling across her skin. Last night his voice had rasped along her nerves, but today his stare was so intense, so intimate, it weakened her knees.

  Despite the howl of the wind whipping up and the resumed conversation of the small, milling crowd, she caught the emotional rumble of his deep voice as he whispered, “Nadine?”

  Chills chased away the nerves. Nadine? Although he stared at her, she wasn’t the woman he very obviously wanted to see.

  Nadine.

  He must have loved her sister.

  She had come to Sunset Island to collect Annie, to serve as her niece’s substitute mother. And that was the only substitute she would ever serve for her sister. As much as she lacked confidence in her parenting abilities, she lacked even more in the bedroom. She knew she could never replace her sister there.

  Chapter Two

  He had known she was dead even before the crime-scene techs had verified that nobody could live with that much blood loss, which could have only been caused by the severing of a main artery. With DNA testing they had also verified that the blood was Nadine’s.

  The woman standing before him now didn’t bear a single scratch that he could see, but he was tempted to pull back her collar to check. She was pale, her eyes the same vivid crystal blue of Annie’s, the only color in her face. The wind tousled her long, black hair, swirling it in an ebony cloud around the shoulders of her blue jacket.

  God, she was beautiful. He sucked in a quick breath of crisp air.

  And she wasn’t just a sister. She was Nadine’s identical twin. “Sasha Michaelson.”

  She nodded. “Yes, and you’re Sheriff Blakeslee? And this is Annie?”

  The little girl reached for her, again calling out, “Mommy.”

  The woman didn’t extend her arms to the child. Didn’t she have any compassion? How could a woman this cold nurture a baby? “You look exactly like your sister.” Beautiful and unapproachable. “She’s confused.”

  “Annie, I’m your aunt. Your Aunt Sasha,” she said to the child, her voice soft as she tried to explain.

  Annie snuggled her head into his shoulder again; she must have recognized the difference. Despite identical faces, they didn’t sound alike. Sasha’s voice wasn’t as husky as her sister’s.

  Reed patted the little girl’s back, trying to soothe her the way he would a distraught crime victim, which in a way Annie was. Her mother’s murder had affected her, too. It didn’t matter how much this woman looked like Nadine, to Annie she was still a stranger. How could he turn the child over to her? “Ms. Michaelson—”

  “Did I—should I have let her think…” Her voice crac
ked, and she shivered.

  “Come on, let’s get out of the wind,” he said, leading her away from the dock. When his deputy moved to follow, he turned back toward him. “Tommy, I’ve got it from here. You can take the ferry back to Whiskey Bay. I need you to help Bruce at the office.”

  “But, Sheriff Blakeslee…”

  The kid wanted to be where the excitement was. The biggest thing to have ever happened in the far-reaching area that was Reed’s jurisdiction was Nadine’s murder. But it was so much more to Reed, so much more per sonal. Maybe he’d thought he’d been acting as her friend by not digging into her past, but she might be alive if he had. And now, because she was dead, he had to dig. “I need you there.”

  “Yes…yes, sir,” the young man stammered. While he didn’t immediately head back to the ferry, he didn’t follow when Reed started walking again.

  Sasha Michaelson glanced back toward the deputy, probably wishing she could take the next ferry away from Sunset Island, too. “There are no cars?”

  “Nope. We could take a horse-drawn carriage, but my house isn’t far from here.”

  “House?”

  “I don’t have an office on the island. Nothing’s ever really happened here.” Until now. “A drunken brawl or two at one of the bars. And then I take them to the jail and office on the mainland.”

  “By ferry?”

  “There’s a sheriff’s boat.” He could have sent it for her, but he’d wanted it close…in case of emergency.

  From the dock a cobblestone lane headed into the little town where the shops, restaurants and inns were. Reed led her the opposite direction, down a gravel path toward the houses. His cottage wasn’t much closer than the Scott Mansion, but he wasn’t ready to take her, or Annie, to the big house where Nadine had been savagely murdered, where her blood still stained the foyer.

  Annie hadn’t been home when her mother was killed. The nanny had taken her for a walk, so she hadn’t seen anything. For that, but not much else, Reed could be grateful.