Diane proudly held a huge bluefish at arm’s length as their mother looked on. Broad grins illuminated both faces.
Dan plucked his coffee mug from the desk and took a long swallow.
His mother and sister. He’d lost them both in a manner of speaking. Diane had drowned two weeks after the picture had been taken. His mother’s mini strokes and her downward spiral into dementia had landed her in the nursing home three months later.
Perhaps fate had taken away his mother’s ability to remember Diane’s inexplicable death, but it hadn’t taken away the thoughts that haunted Dan.
Even though his father had deserted them when he and his sister were young, his mother had never remarried, never loved again. Her obvious heartache had taught him to focus on career, not family. Yet now he found himself faced with a grim reality. His sister was dead because of a drug he’d brought to market, and the vital mother he’d once known was fading away. He’d never be able to recapture the years he’d lost with both.
Dan knew in his heart Diane’s death had been no accident—just as Rachel’s had been no accident. He’d have no peace until he found the truth. All he had to do was piece together the facts—if only he could find them.
Narrowing his focus, he made another notation on the pad, this time circling his writing. He might not have Rachel’s notes to work with, but he had her house—and her friend.
THE MORNING had brightened by the time Kelly finished unpacking the groceries. She poured a fresh cup of coffee and headed for Rachel’s work area, banishing all thoughts of her unsettling grocery store trip to the recesses of her brain.
She walked into the bedroom and sat her mug on Rachel’s desk. Pulling open the French doors to let in the autumn breeze, she inhaled the moist air, pungent with the scent of the bay and marsh grasses. She tipped her face to the sun, letting the warmth permeate her skin.
How sad that Rachel would never feel the sun’s warmth or the brush of a damp sea breeze against her face again. Why had Kelly been so stubborn about a reconciliation? Oh, who was she kidding? She’d learned from the best. Her parents had taken every grudge they’d ever held to their graves.
She forced herself to concentrate on Rachel’s desk. Maybe taking care of the loose ends would help ease the guilt in her heart.
Kelly sank into the chair and pulled open the file drawer. Neatly labeled colored folders lined the hanging file frame. Rachel had always had an amazing work ethic—driven to the brink of obsession, actually. Had it gotten her killed?
No. Kelly shook her head. That thought came solely from the ramblings of the woman in the grocery store. Her words had no basis in reality.
Refocusing her attention, Kelly pulled a file labeled Outstanding Queries and spread it open on the desk. In alphabetical order by target market, the letters ranged from one for Family Circle to one for the Washington Post.
Kelly turned back to the drawer, fingering through the remaining folders. Working articles. Someone needed to tell these editors their articles weren’t going to make deadline.
One by one, Kelly pulled each contact number and placed the call. An hour later she was done, returning each folder to its place in the drawer.
A knock sounded at the front door and she jumped, her stomach tilting sideways. Chicken. The woman in the grocery store had made more of an impression than she cared to admit.
She padded down the hall and pulled open the inner door. Dan Steele stood on the other side of the locked screen door, leaning against the doorjamb, the sharp line of his jaw set with even more intensity than it had been the day before. Shadows tinged the skin beneath his eyes, but the blue heat of his gaze coiled Kelly’s stomach into a tight knot.
“You again.” She frowned.
He held up his hands. “Let’s start over.”
She narrowed her eyes.
He swept one arm in a grand gesture. “Welcome to North Carolina.”
Kelly glared at him, not sure how to answer his statement. “Back for another look?”
His features tensed, his expression growing serious. “Actually, yes.”
“Forget it.” Kelly moved to close the door.
Dan leaned his forehead against the screen. He might look like an expectant child with his face plastered against an ice-cream parlor window, but Kelly knew better.
“It’s imperative I explain something to you about Rachel.”
Kelly eyed him carefully, her curiosity getting the best of her. “Like what?”
“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”
“I can hear you just fine through that locked door.”
She met his stare, angling her chin determinedly.
“Fair enough.” He straightened.
He stood easily taller than six feet, his presence commanding. His brown hair tumbled carelessly, as if he had just run a strong hand through the short strands. Kelly’s gaze followed the drape of his navy sweatshirt to the trim fit of his khaki shorts. Her pulse quickened at the sight of his bare, muscular legs. One thing was for certain. The man was in some serious physical shape.
The breeze picked up, washing Dan’s clean scent past her into the house. Every one of Kelly’s nerve endings snapped to attention. She hugged herself, glad to have the door between her stirring attraction and the man who’d inspired the unwanted response.
The last man who’d evoked such a visceral reaction had turned out to be anything but what he’d first seemed. She had no intention of repeating the mistake.
“I need you to listen carefully.”
The ferocity of Dan’s gaze startled her, capturing her full attention. “I’m listening.”
“I met Rachel when she interviewed me about my sister.”
“Your sister?”
Dan nodded. “She died of a drug overdose last year, and Rachel was doing a piece on the same drug. Oxygesic.”
A momentary shadow passed across his face, but he continued, “My sister was an athlete. She’d never take that drug knowingly.”
Kelly said nothing, riveted by the man on the other side of the door.
“I need Rachel’s notes.” He stepped close to the screen, erasing any space between them. “You need to let me search this house.”
She considered his request, scouring his face for any sign he might be lying. She found none. “I already went through her files.”
Dan’s eyes widened.
Kelly shook her head. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing on Oxy…Oxy…”
“Oxygesic.” Disappointment darkened his gaze. “That makes no sense. A friend of hers died high on the stuff. Crashed a car into a pole. Rachel was obsessed with that story.”
“What kind of drug is it?”
Hope flickered across his features. “A time-released opiate.”
“Opiate?”
“Painkiller.”
Kelly blinked, confused. “Did her friend take too many?”
“Maybe not.” Dan stared deeply into her eyes, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. “Sometimes it only takes one.”
Kelly took a step back, wanting to put a bit of distance between her and this man’s determination. “Is it a controlled substance?”
He nodded, his expression grim. “It’s not difficult to get illegally, unfortunately.”
“How?”
“Sometimes