The Substitute Sister. Lisa Childs

of it. Under it she wore a sweater in a soft pink, nearly the same shade as her flushed cheeks. Was it the heat of the dying fire or embarrassment that had caused that? She needn’t be concerned about not immediately planning her sister’s funeral. She had no body to bury.

      “Sasha,” he said, liking the sensation of her name on his lips. Exotic…like the combination of her black hair and almond-shaped, blue eyes.

      “What is it?” she asked, dread knitting her forehead into furrows.

      “We haven’t found her body yet.”

      She blew out a ragged breath. “Then she’s not dead. She can’t be dead. Why did you do this? Why did you call and scare me like that?” Anger flushed her face now, and she stepped closer to him, hitting his arm with her clenched fist.

      Even though he hardly felt the blow, he caught her by the elbows, holding her tight. “She’s dead. The crime lab verified it was her blood, and there was too much of it.” Blood everywhere. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the spray pattern on the walls, the pool on the floor… “She can’t be alive.”

      “But she’s missing…”

      “She’s dead, Sasha. She’s really dead.”

      She dipped her head, pressing her forehead against his chest, and her body trembled in his loose embrace. “She can’t be dead. She shouldn’t be dead.”

      “No, she shouldn’t. And I will find out who did this, Sasha. I promise you that.” And he made few promises. His ex had taught him that the more promises a person made, the less she was likely to keep. “I’ll worry about catching the killer. You worry about Annie.”

      She lifted her gaze, her blue eyes wide with fear again.

      He found himself touching her, sliding a fingertip along her smooth cheek. “What are you afraid of, Sasha? You’ve had nothing to do with your sister in years. You can’t be in any danger from her killer.”

      A little cry warbled from the bedroom as Annie murmured in her sleep.

      “That’s who I’m afraid of, Sheriff,” Sasha said, her voice only a soft, quavering whisper. “That poor little girl. That’s who I fear.”

      WHAT MUST HE THINK of her? Sasha wondered as Reed went to check on the child. That she was a coward or, worse, crazy? Scared of a little girl? It was ridiculous. She felt ridiculous. But she was so scared of hurting the child. Of failing her.

      What should she do? Pretend to be Nadine, the child’s mother? Or tell the truth and hope Annie understood? Was she old enough to understand that her mother was gone and wouldn’t ever be coming back?

      Sasha crossed the small living room to stare out the picture window that faced the lake. It was so close, only a rocky shore separated it from the little cottage. If the frothy waves rose much higher, the lake could swallow the shore. Sasha shivered over her awareness of the island’s vulnerability. Then she caught her wide-eyed reflection in the glass, her face a ghost of a dead woman’s, and she was frighteningly aware of her own vulnerability.

      Counseling teenagers was nothing like caring for a small, helpless child and being solely responsible for that child’s care and well-being. Her parents had been good people, but somehow they’d lost Nadine. She’d run away rather than stay with them, with Sasha. Whatever Sasha’d done to put distance between her and Nadine, would she do it again? Would she make the child hate her as Nadine had?

      Tears threatened, but she blinked them away. She’d already cried once in front of the sheriff. She would shed the rest of her tears in private. She didn’t need a strong shoulder to cry on. She’d decided long ago, when her fiancé had left her at the altar, that she didn’t need anyone.

      But Annie did.

      Annie needed her, so she had to pull herself together. The sheriff stepped out of the sparsely furnished bedroom. He hadn’t gotten the little girl back to sleep. She was clutched to his chest, a worn blue blanket trailing over his arm.

      “Mommy?” she asked, her voice a broken quaver.

      Sasha reached for her. Annie leaned forward, wrapping one little arm around Sasha’s neck while she held tight to the sheriff with the other.

      “Mommy…” Annie’s breath sighed out as she snuggled against her.

      With her niece stretched between them, Sasha stood very close to Reed, so close that she could discern each gold fleck in his green eyes. And with Annie clutching her so tight, his forearm pressed against Sasha’s midriff, just below her breasts. She would have never considered passing a child from one person to another to be such an intimate gesture. But with Sheriff Blakeslee it was.

      Even sharing a cup of coffee with him had been intimate, too intimate. The brush of his fingers against hers when he’d handed her the mug. And later, when she’d punched his strong arm, he’d held her, his strong hands touching her.

      And when she’d leaned her head against his wide chest, his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath her ear, had made her want to snuggle into his arms…. It had been much too long since a man had touched her, especially if an innocent gesture of comfort could affect her so much. Plus she didn’t know him, couldn’t trust him.

      She’d learned the hard way that she couldn’t trust any man. Not after Charles, her high school and college sweetheart, her best friend, had betrayed her in the most painful, humiliating way…by leaving her for her sister. No, if she couldn’t trust Charles, if she couldn’t trust her sister…she couldn’t trust anyone.

      She should be relieved that Annie had awakened. But Annie scared her more than the sheriff. Black curls tickled Sasha’s chin, and she buried her face in the little girl’s hair. Then her breath sighed out, ragged, broken with emotion…

      She didn’t know this child. Until last night she hadn’t known about her existence, but she loved her. With all her heart she loved her. And Sasha made a silent vow to her dead sister, “I’ll take care of her, Nadine. I promise you I’ll take good care of her.”

      When she opened her eyes and met the sheriff’s intense gaze, she almost believed he’d heard her silent words. Something had softened in him. He didn’t seem as disapproving and suspicious of her.

      “When does the next ferry leave for the mainland?” she asked.

      The sheriff shook his head. “The one you took already returned. That was it for the day. It’s not tourist season yet.”

      “So I can’t leave tonight?” Unless he took her back in the sheriff’s boat, and maybe he would if she asked. She only carried some essentials in her backpack purse. She hadn’t planned on staying long, at least not on the island.

      “You can’t leave this evening even if more ferries were running now,” he said, his deep voice a rumble, his breath warm on her face as they stood so close.

      Only the child separated them, or held them together…. Is that why she couldn’t leave? Or did he not want her to leave? Her pulse jumped, but she calmed herself with common sense. He didn’t know her. He couldn’t be attracted to her. He’d known Nadine. He missed Nadine.

      “Why can’t I leave?” she asked. It wasn’t as if she could be a suspect in her sister’s death. She hadn’t even known where Nadine had been living.

      “You’ve also inherited your sister’s estate. There are legal matters to attend to.”

      She blinked, confused. “You mean in trust for Annie?”

      “No. I mean you’re her sole heir.”

      But why?

      “That can’t be right. There must be a mistake.” She wanted Annie even though the responsibility scared her more than anything in her life ever had. Annie was her flesh and blood, her last connection to her lost sister. But she didn’t understand why Nadine hadn’t left everything in trust for Annie.

      “Her