The Substitute Sister. Lisa Childs

And Nadine, grateful for his help delivering her child when they’d been snowed in on the island, had asked him to be Annie’s godfather.

      So, why not her guardian?

      He eased down onto the floor next to the mattress, the bare wood boards hard and cold beneath his worn-denim-covered legs. Even in spring the temperature still dropped below freezing at night on the island. Reaching across the mattress, he tugged a soft blanket up over the comforter. Then he tucked the baby-blue satin edge under her chin.

      Annie’s security blanket. The kid would need that blanket more than ever. How much security would she have now that her mother was dead and she would be turned over to a stranger?

      His gut twisted, anger and regret churning inside him. He’d known something was going on with Nadine, but despite sharing the birth of her child, they hadn’t shared much else. Nadine’s secrets had died with her.

      Violently.

      During his years as a Detroit Homicide detective, he’d seen a lot of gruesome things. But the blood pooled on the marble floor and dripping from the walls of the foyer of Nadine’s house had affected him strongly because it had spilled from a woman he’d known…personally. Maybe would have known more personally if the timing had been different.

      Even now, more than two years later, bitterness over his divorce burned in him. And Nadine’s heart had been heavy with the secrets she carried and refused to share. But because of his role as Annie’s godfather, they’d been friends.

      And now she was gone.

      Where the hell had the sick bastard hidden her body? Reed hadn’t found it yet. So Nadine’s survivors would have nothing to bury but memories.

      He brushed the tangle of black curls back from the little girl’s face, then stroked his finger over her soft cheek. A shaky little breath sighed out of her rosebud lips. Would Annie even remember her mother? She was so young.

      If her aunt took her away, would the child remember him?

      Perhaps the woman would stay on Sunset Island? Not damned likely. Not even with the inheritance of the old Scott mansion would a young woman willingly endure the isolation of a mostly undeveloped island where motor vehicles weren’t even allowed.

      So why had Nadine? After she’d inherited the mansion from her former employer, why hadn’t she sold it and left for the brighter attractions of a city? What had she been hiding, or from whom?

      And why in the hell hadn’t he pushed harder to find out?

      If he had, she might be alive. But he’d been afraid, for Annie’s sake, of what he might find. Even though he’d found no evidence to support some of the rumors whispered around the small, gossipy community about Nadine, he could have dug deeper into her past. But then he might have found something to take her away from Annie. Now someone else had.

      And now that it was too late to save her, he’d started the deep digging in the hopes of uncovering the identity of her killer. That was one of the reasons he’d given up Homicide and moved to a small rural department where the most violent thing that had ever happened was a bar fight. He’d gotten sick of being called when it was too late, when he couldn’t save the victim anymore…like he should have saved Nadine.

      He lifted his gaze toward the window, not that he could see anything outside the dark glass. Fog and the blackness of a starless night wrapped around the small cottage. As soon as the sun had dropped from the sky, thick moisture had risen from the cold surface of the lake and drifted across the island, seeming to isolate it from the mainland even more than the miles of water surrounding it.

      No, Sasha Michaelson wouldn’t be staying.

      His ex-wife hadn’t even liked to visit when he’d bought the cottage on the island years ago, although like many other things, she hadn’t admitted her displeasure until their divorce. She would never have given up the bustle of Detroit for the backwardness of Sunset Island. She’d pointed out that few women would, that he’d never have the family he wanted if he moved there.

      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