“Striking Distance by Debra Webb is a fast-moving, sensual blend of mystery and suspense…I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

—New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard

“…brims with tightly woven suspense around every corner, and twists and turns abound. Webb moves effortlessly between two very diverse romances and masterfully keeps the reader on the edge until the last page.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Striking Distance

“Webb reaches into our deepest nightmares and pulls out a horrifying scenario. She delivers the ultimate villain for our computer-driven world—a techno sadist. Fortunately, she also gives us a battle-scarred hero who is still willing to fight and a loyal heroine who believes in justice.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“A chilling tale that will keep readers turning pages long into the night, Dying To Play is a definite keeper.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Lots of action and an out-of-the-ordinary hero add up to an unforgettable adventure!”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub on John Doe on Her Doorstep

“A page-turning blockbuster.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Executive Bodyguard

“An engrossing thriller with a dynamic heroine.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Man of Her Dreams

“A chilling page-turner.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Full Exposure

Dear Reader,

It’s hard to believe that the Signature Select program is one year old—with seventy-two books already published by top Harlequin and Silhouette authors.

What an exciting and varied lineup we have in the year ahead! In the first quarter of the year, the Signature Spotlight program offers three very different reading experiences. Popular author Marie Ferrarella, well-known for her warm family-centered romances, has gone in quite a different direction to write a story that has been “haunting her” for years. Please check out Sundays Are for Murder in January. Hop aboard a Caribbean cruise with Joanne Rock in The Pleasure Trip for February, and don’t miss a trademark romantic suspense from Debra Webb, Vows of Silence in March.

Our collections in the first quarter of the year explore a variety of contemporary themes. Our Valentine’s collection—Write It Up!—homes in on the trend to online dating in three stories by Elizabeth Bevarly, Tracy Kelleher and Mary Leo. February is awards season, and Barbara Bretton, Isabel Sharpe and Emilie Rose join the fun and glamour in And the Envelope, Please…. And in March, Leslie Kelly, Heather MacAllister and Cindi Myers have penned novellas about women desperate enough to go to Bootcamp to learn how not to scare men away!

Three original sagas also come your way in the first quarter of this year. Silhouette author Gina Wilkins spins off her popular FAMILY FOUND miniseries in Wealth Beyond Riches. Janice Kay Johnson has written a powerful story of a tortured shared past in Dead Wrong, which is connected to her PATTON’S DAUGHTERS Superromance miniseries, and Kathleen O’Brien gives a haunting story of mysterious murder in Quiet as the Grave.

And don’t forget there is original bonus material in every single Signature Select book to give you the inside scoop on the creative process of your favorite authors! We hope you enjoy all our new offerings!

Enjoy!

Marsha Zinberg

Executive Editor

The Signature Select Program

Vows of Silence
Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Growing up on a farm in small-town Alabama provided many wonderful experiences for my fertile imagination. But it’s the lifelong friends who make my Southern history so cherished. One friend in particular was my classmate in school. She married the man of her dreams the same summer I married mine, and went on to have two lovely daughters just as I did. Together we have made the journey from naive young country girls to wives and mothers. We have suffered loss and risen above tragedy. We have made memorable marks in our communities. From birthday parties to PTA fund-raising events, we have worn dozens of hats and wouldn’t trade a single moment for anything in the world. This book is dedicated to my friend, my second sister, Joyce Campbell Alley.

Cheers, Joyce!

Dear Reader,

Though Ashland, the town in my story, is fictitious, I grew up in a small town in Alabama much like it. I lived on a farm with a family that was very close. We shared so many wonderful experiences together. Look in the bonus features at the back of this book for one of the more frightening moments from my childhood.

Another wonderful part of growing up in the South was the friends I made along the way—lifelong friends like Joyce, Candi and Evelyn. Friends who would do anything to protect each other and who would keep a secret for a lifetime if necessary. Vows of Silence is about that kind of friendship, one that transcends all else. I hope you’ll follow this journey with Lacy, Cassidy, Melinda and Kira and find out just how enduring—and at times dangerous—true friendship can be.

As always, I cherish your input. Please check out my Web site at www.debrawebb.com and contact me from there. I’d love to hear from you!

Until next time,

Deb

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

BONUS FEATURES INSIDE

Chapter 1

“They found the body.”

Lacy Jane Oliver froze mid-turn at her perpetually cluttered desk, the receiver clutched to her ear. They found the body. Her mouth went incredibly dry as vivid snatches of memory, snow falling from a dark, starless sky and murky waters flashed through her mind.

“When?” she heard herself ask. Her voice sounded alien to her own ears, and Lacy was quite certain her heart had stilled in her chest. It’s been ten years, she didn’t say. She didn’t have to. Cassidy knew every bit as well as Lacy did how long it had been. How could either of them ever forget?

“Day before yesterday,” Cassidy answered without inflection. “The chief informed Melinda this morning that the remains had been ID’d. Of course you know that she’ll be their prime suspect. The fact that she was in the hospital at the time won’t keep them from investigating that avenue,” she added with a resigned sigh.

Lacy’s chest tightened as her seemingly failed heart now slammed mercilessly against her rib cage. “Oh God,” she murmured. Though Cassidy was an attorney, it didn’t take one to know that Melinda, the wife of the deceased, would be the number-one suspect.

“I’ve already called Kira. We’re both taking the next available flights. We’ll meet in Atlanta, then fly home together.”

Home. Despite having lived away for more than ten years, Ashland, Alabama, was still home…for all of them.

“I’m on my way,” Lacy said quickly, instantly ticking off a mental checklist of all she would need to do to get away from the office for a few days. “I can probably be there before either of you.”

“Good. Melinda will need you.”

Dead air hummed between them for two beats.

“Remember, Lacy,” Cassidy finally said in a tone that made Lacy uneasy. “We’ve come together during every crisis each of us has endured. This time, especially, we have to do the same. Every move we make must be our routine…exactly what people would expect. We all took the same vow. We’re in this together.”

A strange calm settled over Lacy. “I remember. See you soon,” she murmured before hanging up the phone.

The vow…silence.

Ice suddenly filled her veins. Lacy could almost feel the snow and the sharp slap of the wind against her face. Then the biting fury of that winter night had stopped so very abruptly, as if even the wind had known that something was amiss. There had been nothing but silence…and the vow they had made to one another.

To stand by one another, protect one another…no matter the consequences. Equally guilty.

Not much had changed about Ashland, Lacy noted as she slowed her Explorer to the posted speed limit upon entering the city limits of her hometown. She had opted to drive from Atlanta to Ashland, Alabama, after she discovered that the next available flight going in that direction was two hours away. Add to that the actual flying time, luggage pickup and rental-car hassle, and driving direct had won hands down. Lacy had driven like a bat out of hell, which pretty much summed up her churning emotions at the moment, and had managed to make the road trip in record time.

The ever-lingering odor of sulfur hung in the early June air and offended her nostrils. The old paper mill, a couple of textile factories, and a mobile-home manufacturer lined the western end of Norman C. Ashland Boulevard.

Ashland. Lacy shuddered as the name ricocheted through some dark, rarely visited recesses of her mind. She would not think about that right now. She had to focus on keeping her cool and supporting Melinda.

Melinda. God, what she must be going through right now. And the kids. Chuckie was fifteen, but Chelsea was only twelve, too young to understand any of this and too old to be blessedly oblivious. Lacy prayed with all her heart that somehow this whole nightmare would just go away.

Yeah, right, she mused with self-disgust. Murder doesn’t just go away.

Murder.

Why couldn’t the bastard just stay buried? Even in death, he still tormented Melinda. And her, Lacy admitted. Not one night had passed in the last ten years that she hadn’t thought of that low-life son of a bitch. Not a single one. And now he was back to haunt her days.

And maybe ruin all their lives.

Lacy slowly maneuvered the narrow streets bordering the town square. The reconstruction-era courthouse stood proudly as the centerpiece of Ashland’s growing municipality. Leaves fluttered at the sudden, rare summer’s breeze invitation to dance. A few broke loose from their lush limbs and floated to the ground only to rustle along the aging sidewalks. A collage of shops, old and new, ranging from a turn-of-the-century drugstore with soda fountain to stylish contemporary boutiques, flanked the streets surrounding the courthouse. Other than a fresh coat of paint here and there, and a flashy new business sign, the town’s center looked much the same.

Lacy smiled when she caught a glimpse of three old men sitting on a park bench on the east side of the square whittling away at stubs of wood. She wondered if they could possibly be the same three from her childhood.

She shook her head at her mind’s foolish meandering. No way. Her childhood felt a lifetime away now. Besides, she hardly knew anyone here anymore. She rarely visited her parents, once a year at the most, and then only on Thanksgiving or someone’s birthday. Never at Christmas.

Never, ever at Christmas.

She shuddered again. What was Christmas anyway? Just an opportunity for toy and gadget manufacturers to get rich by intimidating unsuspecting parents into buying products their children didn’t need. Of all people, Lacy should know. It was advertising executives like her who paved the way for just such blatant thievery. Christmas had become little more than a gimmick. Besides, Lacy Oliver had little time for family or holidays anymore. She was a senior partner at Baldwin, Hall and Oliver, one of Atlanta’s top advertising firms.

She didn’t need anything Ashland had to offer.

But she had to be here now for Melinda’s sake.

For all of their sakes. To protect their secret.

Lacy guided her SUV into the driveway of Melinda’s two-story Colonial-style home. Bride-white siding and classic black shutters enveloped the two-story home that reigned amid a backdrop of mature oak and maple trees and meticulously maintained shrubbery. Long, sturdy columns stood as sentinels guarding the welcoming entrance.

After shifting into Park, Lacy turned off the ignition. For a while she simply sat there and stared up at one long window on the far right of the second floor. The master bedroom. She swallowed. The image of Charles lying naked in that ivory porcelain tub with a small, round bullet hole in the middle of his chest and another higher on his shoulder loomed large before her eyes. Then her mind fast-forwarded to the glint of moonlight on his silver Mercedes as it slipped into the murky depths of the natural lake that bordered a good portion of the town.

Lacy blinked away the horrible images. Remembered hysteria climbed into her throat just as it had done that cold, dark night ten years ago. Disbelief, fear, desperation all twisted inside her the same way it had then.

What had they done?

She clenched her jaw and reminded herself of what was really important now. They had to protect Melinda, and one another. The bastard had deserved to die. Lacy refused to acknowledge the little voice that always, always nagged at her battered conscience. She would not regret what she could not change. The world was a better place without Charles Ashland. For ten long years he had been a missing person whom no one missed at all, save for his parents, who were blind to his evil ways as parents will be with their own flesh and blood.

But now he was back and poised to destroy the lives of everyone involved. Everything Lacy had worked for, all she had hoped and dreamed of was about to go down the toilet. Self-preservation nudged at her waning determination to no avail. No matter how she justified their actions, the bottom line still hammered away at her self-rationalized defense—murder was wrong regardless of how much the victim deserved to die.

How had she fooled herself into pretending that what they had done was somehow right? Nausea roiled in her stomach. How in God’s name had she allowed this to happen? Everything had spun out of control so quickly. There had been no time to think, only to react. Now the past, their desperate act, had caught up with them. The secret they had watched disappear beneath the glassy black surface of the water that long-ago night, was now fully exhumed in the bright, unforgiving light of day.

Charles Ashland, Junior, was dead.

The intricately detailed wood-paneled entrance to the Ashland home suddenly opened and Lacy got her first glimpse of Melinda’s pale and drawn face. That picture slammed into Lacy with such force that she jerked with the momentum of it.

Melinda needed her.

The thought shored up her crumbling resolve, solidified her emotions. Melinda and the children had to be top priority now. Her movements deliberate and sure, Lacy opened the car door and got out. Without taking her eyes off Melinda, she walked up the sidewalk and steps and straight to her friend. Fear glittered in Melinda’s wide hazel eyes. The red, swollen rings around them told Lacy that she had cried all day. Her lips were set in a thin, grim line, bracketed by furrows of fatigue. Just like always, her long blond hair was pulled back into a clasp at her nape. And, just like always, Lacy wanted more than anything to protect her.

“What are we going to do?” Melinda murmured, then trembled.

Lacy pulled Melinda into her arms and held her tight for one long moment without answering. She closed her eyes and wished things had turned out differently. Lacy called to mind the happy little girls they used to be. She envisioned the jump rope swinging high over their heads, pigtails flying, laughter echoing. They had been friends forever. Nothing could change who they were…or what they had done.

“We’ll do whatever we have to,” Lacy whispered roughly. Tears burned behind her clenched lids as she held her friend closer to her heart. This was way bigger than the four of them—children were involved. Innocent children. How could fate be so very cruel as to resurrect this evil into their lives? She held on to Melinda and tried not to consider the answer to her own question.

Lacy took a deep, calming breath as she drew back. “Where are the kids?”

Melinda brushed at the tears sliding down her cheeks. “Chuckie’s away at school. Summer session just started. I went first thing this morning to talk to him. He doesn’t…” She cleared her throat. “He doesn’t want to come home while this is going on…he…” Renewed tears filled her eyes. “He doesn’t even want to talk about it. Chelsea…she’s with the Ashlands.” She shook her head slowly from side to side. “She adores them, you know. They picked her up early this afternoon in case I had to go to—” she swallowed back a sob “—the chief of police’s office when I got back from visiting Chuckie. They don’t want him to come home, either. I think maybe they’ve spoken to him about that already.” She shrugged and lowered her head in defeat. “They don’t tell me anything.”

Lacy gritted her teeth to hold back the retort she wanted to make. She had forgotten the Ashlands’ insistence that Chuckie be enrolled in the same private military academy his father had attended until his high school years. It hadn’t mattered what Melinda wanted. Fortunately this should be Chuckie’s final year away. Charles had started high school with Lacy and the others his sophomore year. His son, apparently, would do the same. And, of course, the Ashlands thought Chelsea was better off with them, too. Melinda was too common, too weak…too unlike them. But she was the mother of their grandchildren, so they tolerated her. Barely.

“What do you think?” Lacy said instead of the litany of comments she wanted to make about snobbery, arrogance, and self-centeredness.

Melinda shook her head. “I don’t know what I think.” Her gaze connected with Lacy’s. “Maybe they’re right. Lord knows I can’t think straight right now. I’m scared.”

Lacy took Melinda’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Cassidy and Kira will be here soon. We’ll take care of this.” She displayed a confident smile that she in no way felt. “Somehow,” she added with feigned reassurance.

Melinda winced. “I’m sorry.” She stepped back from the doorway. “Come in. I know you’re exhausted from the long drive. I wasn’t thinking.”

And how could she? Lacy defended. Melinda’s whole life was unraveling around her. Charles, the bastard, was reaching out from the grave and tormenting her and her children once more. Lacy stepped into the foyer and waited as Melinda closed the door behind her. Lacy took that moment to scan the house into which she would just as soon not set foot ever again. But she had no choice.

The elegantly curved staircase hugged one wall of the two-story entry hall, then flowed onto the upstairs landing. Its sleek oak banister gleamed beneath the sunlight that dappled in from the second-story windows. Conservative, linen-colored walls and rich, ornate trim work defined the generous space that was both inviting and pretentious—the mark of an Ashland family home. From what Lacy could see, Melinda hadn’t changed much about the place. Lacy knew money wasn’t a problem. Hell, she couldn’t imagine what had kept her in this house, period. Lacy would have moved long before now. She supposed it had something to do with the children. Maybe Melinda didn’t want to take them from the only home they had ever known.

“Would you like tea or…something?” Melinda offered hesitantly, interrupting Lacy’s intense reverie.

She blinked. “Maybe later.” Smiling, she looped her arm around Melinda’s to guide her toward the family room. “Let’s just sit and chat until the others arrive.”

Melinda paused, halting their forward movement. “About the investigation?” Renewed fear and a dozen other emotions that Lacy couldn’t quite sort flickered in the worried gaze that searched hers.

Lacy patted her friend’s arm in an effort to calm both their fears. “About anything but that,” she suggested with as much nonchalance as she could marshal.

Melinda breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I don’t want to talk about it…not yet.”

Lacy started forward once more. “Tell me how Chuckie’s doing in school. I’ll bet Chelsea’s broken a dozen hearts already.”

Melinda’s face burst into a smile bright enough to chase away most of the darker emotions clouding her eyes. “You should hear her play the piano. She’s amazing.” Melinda sighed. “And Chuckie’s doing great. I can’t believe how much he’s grown this past year. Wait until you see him, Lacy. He’s tall and handsome just like…” Melinda’s exuberant expression instantly crumpled.

Charles, she didn’t have to say. Lacy remembered all too well how handsome Charles Ashland had been. It was only his heart that was mean and ugly.

Lacy changed direction and headed toward the kitchen, Melinda in tow. “Maybe I’ll have that tea now after all.” They both needed something to do.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Lacy slipped her arm around her friend’s slumped shoulders and squeezed gently. “Me, too.” They were all feeling the weight of their past sins, Melinda in particular.

The kitchen hadn’t changed, either. Same fruit-and-Tuscan motif. Lacy slid onto a stool at the island bar as Melinda busied herself with adding water to the teakettle. Acres of weathered white cabinetry and tasteful Italian tile decorated the enormous gourmet kitchen. A huge rack, heavy with shiny pots and pans, cooking utensils and dried herbs and flowers hung over the island. Charles had spared no expense when he built this house to showcase his children and his less-than-socially-worthy wife.

Melinda’s family had crashed and burned financially when she was sixteen, but that hadn’t changed her standing with her true friends. But it sure as hell had turned the Ashland family upside down when Charles announced two years later that Melinda was having his child. They had married the day after high-school graduation, the entire grand event paid for by the reigning royal family. It hadn’t mattered that Melinda’s was a good family, it only mattered that their stock portfolio wasn’t up to par. But blood was thicker than water. The child she carried made Melinda acceptable, however marginally.

If only they had known the kind of man Charles really was beneath those devilishly handsome looks and all that smooth-talking charm.

But they hadn’t. Every girl in town had a crush on the prince of Ashland…Melinda just happened to be the one who didn’t get off without the life sentence.

Lacy shivered at the memory of the terrible bruises, concussion and fractured rib Melinda had suffered at her husband’s hand. Not to mention the years of emotional abuse. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d lost her father mere days before high-school graduation and then her mother when Chuckie was just a baby. She’d been all alone at the mercy of the Ashlands after Lacy and the others left. She’d suffered far too much.

“Sugar or cream?”

Lacy snapped back to the here and now. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Your tea,” Melinda gestured to the steaming cup. “Do you want sugar or—”

“Sugar is fine,” Lacy said quickly. She had to stay focused. She couldn’t keep zoning out like this. Too many lives depended on the events of the next few days. A clear head was a must. With monumental effort, she slowed her pounding heart and concentrated on leveling out her breathing. If the panic building inside her got a foothold, she would be in serious trouble.

“Chelsea’s going to try out for the junior-high cheerleading squad next year.” Melinda placed the tea and sugar in front of Lacy. Her eyes shone with motherly pride. “The gymnastics coach says she’s a natural. Chuckie’s too academic minded to be concerned with sports, but Chelsea loves it. Dance, cheerleading, you name it. Just like we used to do,” she tacked on with a futile attempt at a smile.

“That’s great.” Lacy tried hard to pay attention as her oldest and dearest friend doted on her children, but the past kept nudging her. Voices, images, emotions. He’s dead. My God, what happened? He’s dead! I didn’t do it. Are you accusing me? It doesn’t matter who did it. It only matters that it’s done. We’re all in this together.

Equally guilty.

Lacy sipped her tea and struggled to zero in on Melinda’s nervous chattering. A sheen of perspiration moistened Lacy’s skin despite her best efforts to tamp down the mounting panic. She resisted the urge to swipe her palms against her thighs.

He’s dead.

Oh, my God. What do we do?

“You just won’t believe how tall he is, but basketball is the farthest thing from his mind,” Melinda gushed. “All he wants to do is read or work at his computer.”

Hold that damned door open. Lacy started, her pulse tripping, as the cold, harsh order reverberated in her head as if it had only just been issued. They had half carried, half dragged Charles’s body down the stairs and into the kitchen. When Lacy had tried to back through the door leading to the garage, she had knocked it shut. She could feel the dead weight of his body even now. He was so heavy. So…lifeless. Even the shower curtain they’d had him wrapped up in couldn’t disguise the feel of death. The door, Lacy, hold the damned door, Cassidy had barked.

Lacy’s hands trembled. She tightened her grip on the dainty white porcelain cup and forced her fingers to still. The hollow thud of the closing trunk lid echoed in her head. She tensed at the remembered sound. They had shoved Charles into the trunk and closed it. Cassidy had driven his Mercedes to the lake, Lacy followed in her rental car…the hastily packed suitcase from Charles’s room in her back seat.

One final glimpse of silver had winked at her as the Mercedes disappeared beneath the water’s murky surface. And then he was gone.

Lacy forced down another sip of her tea, her throat so fiercely dry she could barely swallow. They had thought of everything. When the police investigated and the suitcase and missing clothes from his closet were noticed it would make it look as if Charles had suddenly left town. He had a reputation for drinking and womanizing. No one would ever be the wiser. Cassidy had carefully chosen the deepest and most obscure area of the lake accessible by car. The unexpected and unusually heavy snowfall later that night had hidden any tracks they might have left. When the thaw came, sending the winter blanket melting into the lake, any leftover tracks had eroded as well. Even Mother Nature had been on their side.

We won’t speak of this again. It’s done. We’re in this together. Equally guilty.

It was the perfect cover-up…the perfect crime. Until some fisherman had to go and get himself drowned in the swollen waters of the lake after torrential rains last week. The rescue operation had dredged up more than the poor fisherman.

The cup clattered onto its saucer. Hot tea splashed over Lacy’s hand, and spilled onto the counter’s smooth white surface.

“Damn.” Lacy dabbed at the pool of brown liquid with her napkin.

“It’s all right, I’ve got it.” Melinda quickly mopped up the mess with a hand towel. “Did you burn yourself? I’ll get the aloe.”

Lacy licked the stinging patch of skin at the vee of her thumb and forefinger. “It’s nothing.” She blew out a disgusted breath. She had to pull herself together. “Sorry about the mess.”

Melinda frowned, searching Lacy’s face, then her eyes. Resigned to what she found there, Melinda murmured, “We’re in really big trouble, aren’t we?”

Manufacturing a confident expression, Lacy made a sound of denial in her throat. “’Course not. We’re going to be fine. When Cassidy gets here, she’ll know how to fix everything. She’s a damn good attorney, one of the best in San Francisco. She’ll keep us out of trouble.”

Melinda clasped the damp towel, desperation etching itself across her worried features. She shook her head slowly from side to side in defeat. “For ten years I’ve been free.” She stared down at her hands. “It wasn’t nearly long enough, Lacy. I don’t want to go to prison and not be able to finish raising my children.” She paused to compose herself. “Charles made my life a living nightmare our entire marriage. He took and took and took…” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head again. “I don’t want him to take any more.”

Lacy placed her hand over Melinda’s. “We won’t let that happen.” She swallowed the last of the uncertainty clogging her throat. “I won’t let that happen.”

Tears shining in her eyes, Melinda nodded her agreement. “You’re right. Cassidy will know what to do. We’ll be fine.”

Lacy blinked back the moisture gathering in her own eyes and glanced around the haunting kitchen. Snippets of memories best forgotten flitted like a slide show amid the other whirling thoughts in her head. She could feel the panic surging once more, threatening her own frail composure like the angry waves of the ocean pounding the shore during a violent storm.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She scooted off her stool and tugged Melinda toward the door. “We need to find some neutral territory.”

“What about the others?” Melinda reminded, hesitant to leave the house.

“We’ll leave them a note.”

Lacy had to get out of this house. She couldn’t stand one more minute of the voices…the images…the memories.

She had to find someplace where she could think. Someplace away from the scene of the crime.

Away from the reality of what they had done one desperate night all those years ago.

Chapter 2

O’Malleys was crowded at five o’clock in the afternoon. The bar that extended the length of the establishment was lined with patrons glad to have the workday behind them. Brightly lit beer signs and the same dancing neon leprechauns added whimsy to the Irish decor Lacy remembered from her senior year in high school. O’Malleys was the place to be even if you were underage and Coca-Cola was the only thing you could order.

Authentic items picked up on the family’s annual trips to their homeland embellished the walls. The barrage of windows that faced the street were shuttered in true Irish style, lending privacy as well as ambience. No big-screen TVs would be found here, only the small one at the bar. People came to O’Malleys for the imported beer, the conversation and the occasional darts contest. Two things could be counted on at the most popular pub in Ashland—lots of noise and enough people that blending into the crowd would be effortless. No one ever paid attention to what anyone else was doing. It was a kind of unspoken rule.

An Irish folk selection emanated from the jukebox as Lacy and Melinda settled into a booth at the back of the dimly lit establishment. “Two beers, please,” Lacy told the waitress, who appeared reluctant to leave their table without an order. The place was too busy for the help to dawdle, she supposed. And getting the waitress’s attention again might not be an easy feat.

When the perky young woman scurried away in a flash of Kelly-green short shorts and long tanned legs, Lacy directed her attention across the table to Melinda. “This is better, don’t you think?”

Melinda surveyed their boisterous environment. “When we were teenagers it was better.” She smiled faintly. “Now it’s just loud.”

Lacy laughed, a weary but relieved sound. Man, they were getting old. She’d turned thirty-three last month. Melinda, the youngest of the group, was next in line. She was an Independence Day baby. How had so much time passed so very quickly?

“We’re not that old,” Lacy protested, more in an effort to convince herself than her friend. “We could still party with the best of these guys if the urge came over us.” She glanced at the twenty-somethings clustered around the bar. Fashionably thin and dressed in the latest fads, they weren’t really that different from Lacy and Melinda ten years ago.

Before that night.

Lacy swallowed, her muscles constricting with the effort. He’s dead. We’re in this together.

The waitress plunked two chilled mugs of foamy beer before them. “Anything else?”

Shaking off the memories she’d come here to get away from, Lacy lifted her mug and took a sip of the refreshing beverage. She licked her lips as the cool liquid slid down her parched throat. “We’re good,” she replied, dismissing the long-legged waitress with the impossibly large breasts she had only just now noticed. She shook her head as the woman hurried to a table where three men waved their empty mugs, tongues practically lolling out of their mouths more from the tremendous boobs headed their way than the lack of hops in their glasses.

“What’s wrong?” Melinda ventured cautiously.

Lacy glanced down at her own minimal chest then at her friend. “Those breasts can’t be real.” She arrowed her gaze in the direction of the waitress. “Hell, they don’t even jiggle, and she can’t possibly be wearing a support bra under that skintight tank top.”

Melinda watched the woman flit from table to table. “You’re right.” She frowned, considering. “You know, I think that’s Wade Hall’s youngest daughter. I’ll bet her daddy sprang for a boob job in hopes of getting rid of her. All of her sisters are married already. You know how it is around here. If you’re still single when you turn twenty-five, they think you’re an old maid and an embarrassment to the family.”

“Well,” Lacy said, and shrugged, still tracking the perky waitress’s progress, “they certainly detract from the crooked teeth and slightly crossed eyes.”

A bark of laughter burst from Melinda, the sound almost painful. Lacy smiled, thankful for even that bit of relief from the tension. “It’s true,” she insisted, restraining her own building mirth and hoping to encourage Mel’s. “I wonder if her daddy even considered an orthodontist and an ophthalmologist before he coughed up the dough for the tits?”

Melinda laughed outright then, and once she got started, she couldn’t stop. When the non-jiggling waitress bounced past once more, Lacy erupted into her own fit of elation. She laughed until tears streamed down her face. It felt too good to stop. Each time her eyes met Melinda’s, the convulsive laughter started all over again.

“This is definitely not the scene I expected.”

Lacy’s head shot up at the sound of Cassidy’s crisp voice. The fourth member of their group, Kira, stood right behind her. “You guys made it!” Swiping at her damp cheeks, Lacy scooted out of the booth and stood to give Cassidy and then Kira a hug. Melinda did the same.

“Was there any doubt?” Kira drew back and smiled at Lacy. “Girl, you look good.”

“So do you.” Lacy surveyed her friend with approval. “I love your hair longer.”

Kira touched her shoulder-length, corkscrew curls. “The curls I hated growing up are all the envy now.” She winked. “Besides, Brian likes it this way.” A cell phone chirped and Kira dug into her purse. “Speak of the devil, this will probably be him.”

Lacy vaguely remembered that Kira had gotten engaged to a Brian earlier this year. She couldn’t recall Kira looking better, or happier. Despite being black in small-town Alabama, Kira had been accepted without condition considering the Jacksons were quite wealthy. Even a mere twenty years ago that had been a major feat. Kira turned her back and lowered her voice but Lacy heard the sudden tension in her tone. The change dragged Lacy out of the past. Apparently Brian wasn’t happy about Kira’s unplanned trip south.

Trying not to be nosy, Lacy shifted her attention back to the leader of their little posse. Cassidy. Still striking in her own right, Cassidy’s dark auburn hair remained short, with not so much as a strand out of place. The unusual color of her hair and the sparkling green eyes provided a vivid contrast to her pale, porcelain skin and sharply defined features.

Guilt suddenly swamped Lacy. It had been too long since they’d all gotten together. Years. Three to be exact. Not since the memorial service for Charles, and then the visit had been excruciatingly brief. Seven years after his inexplicable disappearance he had been deemed deceased by the powers that be. The girls had assembled in support of Melinda and her children…and they hadn’t been back together since.

They should never have allowed so much time to pass. She sighed and gave Cassidy’s arm a squeeze. “Cass, it’s been too long. You look terrific.”

“Life is good, what can I say?” Cassidy cocked her head and fixed Lacy with an analyzing expression. “You didn’t tell me you made senior partner at your firm.”

Lacy felt a flush of embarrassment rush up her neck. She should have done a better job of keeping up with her friends. “This has been a busy year. I don’t think I’ve written anyone.”

“You do have e-mail, don’t you?” Cassidy looked more hurt than accusing. “Everyone else in the world does.”

The road had been long and hard for Cass. Though smart and beautiful, this deep in the Bible belt there were some things that came as close as you could get to the un-pardonable, despite family wealth. Choosing not to go along with the set standard of sexual preference fell slap into that category in these parts. But in San Francisco it was a whole different world. Cassidy was no longer an outcast. She was a partner in a prestigious law firm.

“Besides,” Lacy teased placatingly, “I couldn’t let you get too far ahead of me.”

Cassidy smiled briefly, then turned to Melinda. “How are you holding up, Mel?”

“I’m managing,” she said, but her voice wavered in spite of her brave smile.

“Are you guys staying?” The big-breasted waitress wanted to know, no doubt already counting on a larger tip with two additions to the table. She eyed Kira suspiciously.

Lacy tensed. Had nothing changed in this damned town? The color of one’s skin shouldn’t dictate the quality of service.

“We’ll have what our friends are having,” Kira replied as she dropped her phone back into her bag. “Unless you have a problem with that.”

The waitress shrugged one bare shoulder, and her expression instantly shifted to indifferent. “Whatever.”

Kira turned back to her friends and added offhandedly, “Anything that could have you two howling with laughter considering our current predicament and is legal in this state, I definitely want some of.” She scooted into the booth they’d vacated and Melinda settled in next to her.

Lacy didn’t bother explaining the “joke.” Especially considering Kira had gotten a boob job herself shortly after graduating from college.

“I think the episode we witnessed is called hysteria,” Cassidy commented as she and Lacy slid into the booth across from Melinda and Kira.

As usual, she was too close to the mark. “We decided not to talk about the investigation until you two got here,” Lacy explained. “Mel wasn’t ready.”

“I’m still not,” she muttered, intent on her nearly empty mug as if it were a crystal ball containing all the right answers.

“Have you been interviewed by the police?” Cassidy demanded, ignoring Melinda’s comment and cutting right to the chase. “Do you have an attorney yet? You’re going to need a good one just to show the D.A.’s office you don’t intend to take any unnecessary grief.”

“I did that already. Got my attorney I mean. But Chief Summers didn’t really question me,” Mel said thoughtfully. “He came by the house this morning and told me that an investigation was in progress and that he would keep me informed.”

“That’s all?” Cassidy prodded, clearly suspect.

Melinda nodded. “He was actually the one who suggested that I contact my attorney to find out the legal ramifications of—” she swallowed tightly “—of this new development. He said it would be in my best interest.”

“Summers?” Lacy stiffened. “Do you mean Rick Summers?”

“You remember him, don’t you?” Melinda massaged her left temple as if an ache had started there. “I think he had a crush on you back in high school.”

Lacy wasn’t sure a crush was an adequate description of what she and Rick had shared. She had never been able to put that night completely out of her mind. Rick Summers wasn’t the kind of guy a girl could forget that easily.

“He’s the one who came by the hospital when…” It was Kira’s turn to falter this time. “Oh, Jesus.” Kira closed her eyes and let go a heavy breath. “We’re screwed.”

A chill sank clear through to Lacy’s bones.

Charles Ashland, Junior, was dead. Murdered. It was no longer their secret.

Kira was right. They were screwed.

Tense silence cocooned the group for a long, awkward moment as if they were on a deserted island instead of in the middle of a crowded pub.

How could this have happened? Lacy shuddered inside. They were all good girls. Happy kids, excellent students. Never once had they ever been in trouble. They’d grown up carefree and with life served up to them on a silver platter. Except Melinda. Her parents had lost everything when she was just starting her junior year. Then, after graduation, when Lacy and the others had gone off to their preppy private universities, Melinda had stayed home and married the town’s golden boy because she’d gotten pregnant.

Nothing had been right since.

The waitress paused at their table long enough to plop down two more frosty mugs of beer. No one made any effort to thank her or even to sip their drinks.

Nothing would ever be right again.

Between their hectic schedules at college and Melinda’s two pregnancies, the four hadn’t seen much of one another those four or five years immediately following high school until the reunion. And even the reunion hadn’t been on time. The committee had decided a Christmas reunion would insure higher attendance. Most of the alumni returned home during the Christmas holiday.

Maybe it was fate…or the devil himself. That reunion had brought them back together in more ways than one. They had done what had to be done and then they had been united in their vow of silence.

Lacy had come home several times since then. She’d made it a point to stop by and see Melinda, but everything was different after that long-ago night. Too many secrets…too much pain.

“They’re going to charge me with murder, I know it.” Melinda’s hand shook, and she immediately tucked it beneath the table and visibly grappled for control.

“They can’t.”

All gazes flew to Cassidy.

“They’ll use the money, the property, his drinking and the other women.” Cassidy morphed into hotshot attorney right before their eyes. “They’ll use the physical and mental abuse if they get wind of it. Anything they can dig up, they will. And they’ll have enough motivation for a dozen murders.” She drew in a calming breath, released it slowly. “But they don’t have a murder weapon, and they don’t have a single shred of evidence against you.”

“Will that keep us in the clear?” Kira said slowly.

Cassidy smiled, one of those sly, barely a cut above sinister, lawyerly kind of smiles. “They can’t even arraign anyone without sufficient evidence, no matter how strong the motive. Any judge would throw it out. Hell,” she added, “any district attorney worth his salt wouldn’t even pursue it under the circumstances.”

“Thank God,” Melinda said softly, her relief palpable.

“So what do we do?” Lacy feared that things would never be quite that simple. Nothing ever was—at least not where Charles Ashland, Junior, was concerned.

“We lay low.” Cassidy looked from one to the other. “We provide moral support for each other as we always have, but our primary objective is to insure that no one lets down their guard and makes a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Kira’s eyebrows drew together in question. “What kind of mistake?”

“No one knows our secret.” Cassidy studied each of them in turn. “Only the four of us know what really happened. The water and other elements have long since destroyed any fingerprints or trace evidence we might have left on or in the car. There’s nothing to find in the house.” She turned to Lacy. “The suitcase was taken care of?”

She nodded quickly. A frame of memory—her digging relentlessly into the cold, hard earth as the snow fell around her—flashed through her mind. “There’s no way anyone would ever find it.” Not where she’d buried it.

Again Cassidy looked from one to the other, her pointed gaze settling lastly on Lacy. “I also assume that any other evidence was handled as carefully.”

For the space of two beats, Lacy had the distinct impression that everyone at the table was waiting for her to confess having knowledge of some other pertinent detail or item.

“Can I get you ladies anything else?”

The tension shrank to a more tolerable level with the intrusion. “I’m fine,” Lacy muttered. She had to get past this silly paranoia.

“No more for me.” Melinda shook her head, her face as pale with worry now as it had been earlier when Lacy had first seen her at her door.

“We’re fine,” Cassidy assured the waitress, who quickly left in search of thirsty patrons.

“So you’re saying that all we have to do is stay calm and this will blow over,” Lacy suggested.

“That’s right. We keep our mouths shut and this investigation will die a natural death.”

“But it could drag on for weeks,” Kira said abruptly, her words echoing Lacy’s precise thought.

Cassidy leveled a firm glare on her. “We’ll do whatever we have to do for however long it takes.”

“But—”

“We’re in this together,” she said, ruthlessly cutting Kira off. “Equally guilty. We stick together until it’s over. Like we always have in the past. No buts. If we do anything differently, then people will get suspicious. Call your respective offices, let them know it could be days or weeks. Agreed?”

The hesitation was gone. Kira nodded. “I can work from here to some extent. So I guess I’m agreed.”

Cassidy turned to Melinda and waited for her to voice her understanding, as well.

“Agreed.”

“Lacy?” Cassidy shifted in the booth to look directly at her.

“Of course.” Lacy blinked, the words they’d chanted all those years ago reverberating inside her.

…never tell a soul…complete silence…forever…and ever.

“Well, if this isn’t just like old times.”

The deep male voice vibrated through Lacy like a lightning bolt.

Rick.

Her head went up. She couldn’t help the way her greedy eyes lingered on him in the seconds that followed as greetings were exchanged by all around her. There was no way Lacy could be in the same room with Rick Summers and be unaffected.

He had matured into a heart-stopping, handsome man. But then he’d always been extraordinarily good-looking. All the girls had thought so. His black hair was shorter than before, but it suited him. His body looked lean and hard still. Lacy remembered how the taut muscles of his chest had felt beneath her inexperienced fingers. And the way he’d gentled his eager hands so that his touch had been tender despite the lust raging through his young body. No other man had ever touched her quite that way.

“Lacy.” He was looking at her now and she couldn’t ignore him. Not then…not now…probably not ever.

“Hello, Rick.”

“It’s good to see you.” His voice was deeper, huskier than before, but there was no mistaking the underlying tension there. His expression grew harder, more intense the longer he looked at her. Was he remembering as she was?

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Lacy broke away from those disturbing gray eyes and sipped her warm beer.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Melinda?” he asked, his tone sincere.

Melinda managed a decent attempt at a smile. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do,” she offered listlessly.

Had the question come from any other cop on the force, Lacy would have been certain an ulterior motive existed. But Rick genuinely meant what he asked. He wouldn’t beat around the bush. He would say what was on his mind.

“In a few days we’ll talk,” he went on. “But not now. I know you have your hands full dealing with all this. In the meantime, you be sure and let me know if you need anything at all.”

“We’re here, Chief Summers,” Cassidy said bluntly. “If Melinda needs anything, we’ll take care of her.”

He nodded, acknowledging the game point to Cassidy. “Of course. I’ll keep you informed of our progress on the investigation.”

He looked at Lacy one last time before he turned and strode away. She inhaled sharply, almost gasped.

“You okay?”

Lacy met Cassidy’s concerned gaze. “Yeah, sure.”

“This won’t be the last time the chief or one of his deputies wants to talk to us.” Cassidy’s focus moved from one to the other. “We have to be prepared to hold our ground. No one, and I mean no one, is to be caught off guard. Don’t allow anyone—not even your own family—to question you alone. We’re in this together. We’ve all known this day might come. We’ll take each necessary step together. As long as we’re united, no one and nothing can touch us.”

“Thank you, Cassidy,” Melinda said, tears glistening in her eyes. “I don’t think I could get through this without you—without all of you.”

“Right now we should all go home and get some rest. We need to stay on our toes. But we have to keep each other informed of our whereabouts. And Melinda—” she turned her full attention back to her “—I don’t want you left alone at all.”

“I’ll take her home and stay with her,” Lacy offered, anxious to be away from all this subterfuge.

“All right.” Cassidy dropped a bill on the table for the beers and a tip. “I’ll relieve you at ten tonight.”

Melinda heaved a tired sigh. “Really, Cassidy, I’m not a child. I can be alone.”

She shook her head. “It’s too risky. They’ll target you, Melinda. They’ll consider you the weak link.”

She looked confused and uncertain, then with a nod relented, “You’re right, I suppose.”

“Hey,” Lacy interjected with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “It’ll be like old times. Remember how we loved sleeping over?”

Melinda smiled weakly.

But it wouldn’t be like old times, Lacy admitted to herself. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Charles Ashland, Junior, was dead.

And now the whole world knew.

Lacy followed Melinda into her house. She would rather walk on broken glass and then tread across hot coals than come back to this house, but she had to. If Cassidy said it was necessary, then it was. They had to pretend that everything was normal—appearances were important right now. And Melinda definitely didn’t need to be alone. She looked like hell. Lacy caught a glimpse of herself as she passed a hall mirror, not that she looked any better.

“Are you hungry?” Melinda led the way into the kitchen. “I’m suddenly starved.”

“When did you eat last?” Lacy had a bad feeling that it hadn’t been today.

Melinda washed her hands in the sink and reached for a nearby towel. “I can’t remember. Sometime yesterday, before the call.”

“That’s what I thought.” Lacy opened the fridge door and surveyed the contents. “How about I make a loaded chef salad?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Melinda protested. “You’re a guest. Let me take care of dinner.”

Still standing in the vee created by the open door, Lacy lifted a skeptical eyebrow at her friend. “A guest?” She harrumphed. “Get real, Mel.”

“God.” Melinda dropped into a chair at the table. “I’m not sure I can get through this, Lace.”

Lacy shoved the door shut, and crouched down in front of her friend. “Look, we’ll get through it. No one has to do this alone.”

“But what if Cassidy’s wrong? What if they have that stupid inquest my attorney told me about and something goes wrong?”

Lacy shook her head adamantly. “Nothing is going to go wrong. Cassidy knows what she’s talking about.”

Melinda ran a hand over her face and then smoothed back her hair. “I know you’re right. It’s just so hard. I’m so afraid.”

Lacy took Melinda’s hands in hers. “We all are, Mel. But we’re going to be all right. Cassidy wouldn’t be so sure of herself if she had any doubts at all. You know her better than that. She’s a tiger when it comes to the law, and she’s totally honest and irreverently blunt.”

“What about Rick?” Melinda moistened her lips and blew out another breath of worry and helpless frustration. “I’m scared to death he’ll suspect something.”

Lacy managed a halfhearted laugh. “That’s his job. He’s supposed to suspect everybody until he solves or closes the case.”

An old anger and hurt turned Melinda’s hazel eyes as hard as granite. “The son of a bitch deserved to die. He’s not worth all the worry he’s causing now. The only good that came of him are my two kids.” She closed her eyes to fight the tears brimming. “I couldn’t live without my kids.”

“I have an idea,” Lacy offered, desperate to relieve her friend’s hurt. “Why don’t we go pick up Chelsea and go out to dinner in Huntsville. It’s only an hour or so from here and we won’t have to worry about running into anyone who might say the wrong thing. Hey, we could drive all the way to Marion and have dinner with Chuckie.”

Melinda smiled. “That’s a good idea, but I think we’d have to call in advance to have dinner with Chuckie.”

The telephone rang, making them both jump.

“Christ.” Melinda pressed her hand to her chest. “That scared the hell out of me.”

Lacy let go a shaky breath as she stood. “It shaved a couple years off my life too.”

Melinda crossed the room and picked up the cordless receiver. “Hello.”

Lacy watched the turmoil of emotions that skated across her friend’s face as she tried as politely as possible to protest whatever the person on the other end of the line was suggesting. Already etched with grief, Melinda’s face turned an even whiter shade of pale. This wasn’t good. Lacy’s pulse leaped, sending the blood pounding through her veins. Surely nothing else had gone wrong.

Melinda pressed the disconnect button and braced herself against the counter.

“What’s happened?” Lacy was at her side in four strides.

“That was Mrs. Ashland.” Defeated, Melinda lifted her head. “She’s coming over to pack a couple of bags for Chelsea. She thinks my daughter will be better off with her and the senator until this is completely over.”

Rage erupted inside Lacy. Just because they were rich and powerful the Ashlands thought they could do anything. “We won’t let her keep Chelsea! The old man’s only a senator not a god. We can just say no.” Charles, Senior had always dabbled in politics, but just over a decade ago he’d launched a serious political career, culminating in his taking a senatorial seat.

Melinda made a sound, not quite laugh and not quite sob. “Tell me, Lacy, how do you stop an Ashland in his own town?”

All emotion drained from Lacy’s body, leaving her numb and weak-kneed. Melinda was right. You couldn’t stop an Ashland…not in this town.

Chapter 3

Gloria Ashland had always been one of the town’s beautiful people. Time hadn’t changed that. Lacy glared, welcoming smile plastered in place, at the woman for a long moment before stepping back and allowing her and her friend entrance into Melinda’s home. The idea that Senator Ashland had been asked to run on the Democratic ticket for the vice presidency in next year’s election was downright scary.

“Where’s Melinda?” Gloria asked sharply, skimming Lacy and immediately flashing disapproval.

“She’s in the family room.”

Gloria headed in that direction, a flurry of Gucci and Dolce & Gabbana. What a bitch, Lacy fumed. Well, giving Mrs. Ashland grace, Lacy released a weary sigh. The woman had just been forced to relive the loss of her son all over again. Lacy’s lips tightened into a grim line. But then, Gloria Ashland had always been a bitch, even when her son was very much alive.

“I’m Renae Rossman. You remember me, don’t you, Lacy? I served as mistress of ceremonies at your debutante ball.”

Lacy closed the door behind the woman who had just spoken. Fifteen or so years younger than Gloria, Renae was even more striking than Lacy remembered. And she remembered her all right. A former Miss Alabama, Renae had married Wes Rossman when she was only twenty-one. The rumor was that she had dropped out of college and married so abruptly because she was pregnant, but nine months later that rumor remained unproved. Only about ten at the time, Lacy could remember wondering why such a pretty lady, blond haired, blue eyed, and built like a runway model, would marry such an old man. Wes was at least twenty years older than Renae. Eventually Lacy had come to understand that he was a very rich man, and money talked. He was connected as well. He’d served as the senator’s campaign manager in his every political race. Their ties ran deep.

Turning to face the woman, Lacy affected her most charming smile. “Why, of course, I remember you, Mrs. Rossman.” She offered her hand.

Renae clasped Lacy’s hand briefly but firmly. “Call me Renae. The ‘Mrs.’ always makes me feel old. You’re looking well.” Remorse flickered in her eyes. “I regret these circumstances have brought us together again.”

Again?

Lacy supposed she was referring to the memorial service the Ashlands had held for Charles shortly after he was officially pronounced dead. Lacy, Kira and Cassidy had surrounded Melinda then, as well, providing an insulating barrier between her and the harsh reality of their own actions. A shiver raced through her at the memory.

“So do I.” Lacy turned away from the beauty queen’s scrutiny and hurried to the family room. She’d left Melinda alone too long with Gloria. Cassidy would not approve. With good reason, Lacy chastised herself. Melinda was vulnerable right now.

“You know I only have the child’s best interest at heart,” Gloria was saying as Lacy and Renae entered the room. She sat alone on the sofa, her back ramrod straight as she perched on the very edge. “She and Chuckie mean the world to the senator and I.”

Melinda stood behind a wing chair opposite the sofa. She gripped the back of the chair, her fingers digging into the elegant brocade, whether for support or protection, Lacy couldn’t be sure.

“I know you mean well,” Melinda offered, her voice trembling. “But I would prefer Chelsea be with me. I’m her mother. She needs to be with me.”

You tell her, Lacy cheered silently.

Gloria sighed dramatically, then pressed her handkerchief to her flushed cheek. “Tell her, Renae, about the reporters.”

Lacy went on instant alert.

Renae sat down on the sofa next to Gloria and took her hand in hers in a comforting gesture. “They’ve gathered at the courthouse,” she explained quietly.

The woman’s voice oozed Southern charm. Lacy could hear her Miss Alabama acceptance speech now, all warm and chock-full of false humility. There was something oddly unsettling about the woman, something Lacy couldn’t quite put her finger on. Renae’s words filtered through her distracted focus and Lacy went as cold as ice.

“What do you mean?” The question came from her, but Lacy didn’t remember forming the words.

“The news of—” she moistened her lips and swallowed “—the discovery has apparently garnered the attention of the media, local and state. There are at least a dozen reporters hanging around the chief of police’s office. As soon as they’ve exhausted their efforts there, they’ll come here.” Her focus shifted from Melinda to Lacy and back. “I don’t think Chief Summers will be able to stop them. This story has too many possible ramifications with Charles, Senior, having just been asked to run for vice president.”

Damn. Lacy hadn’t even considered the media circus that would no doubt descend as soon as the news reached the right ears.

“God, I hadn’t thought of that.” Melinda stared at the back of the chair she clutched. “It’ll be a nightmare—even worse than before.”

Lacy moved to her friend’s side. The damned chair was probably the only thing keeping her fully vertical at the moment.

“Then you see that I’m right,” Gloria offered, her eyes shining with self-satisfaction. “With the security we have at home there’s no way a reporter is going to get near Chelsea if she’s with us.”

Melinda nodded her surrender.

“Why don’t we go up and pack those bags?” Lacy suggested softly. Even she could see the justification in the move. Melinda nodded again, and with her leaning heavily on Lacy, the two walked slowly toward the hall.

“Chelsea’s going to be fine,” Lacy assured her. “You know Gloria will take good care of her.” She laughed drily. “She’ll probably spoil her outrageously.”

Melinda paused at the bottom of the stairs. “What if they won’t give up, Lace? What if they keep digging until—”

Lacy shook her head firmly, hoping to convey the certainty of her words. “They won’t.”

Rick studied the mass of paperwork before him. He had cleared his desk and then spread the Ashland file so that he could review it all at once.

“I’m gone, boss.”

Rick scrubbed a hand over his stubbled chin as he glanced up at his deputy. Brad Brewer, his right-hand man, leaned through the open door. He looked like hell. Rick knew, without the aid of a mirror, that he looked just as beat. Neither of them had bothered to go home last night and the lack of sleep was catching up on them.

“Yeah, Brewer, thanks for hanging in here with me.” It was nearing midnight. Everyone had left hours ago, except the two of them.

“In the morning I’ll stay on the Birmingham office until I get that preliminary forensics report for you.”

Rick nodded though he imagined that the senator had already pressed for a speedy turnaround. “Thanks, Brewer. See you in the morning.”

The deputy’s steps echoed down the empty hall, then faded as he exited the Law Enforcement Center. Rick blew out a breath of frustration and exhaustion and turned his attention back to the puzzle before him.

Dozens of interviews had been conducted with friends, work associates and family members when Ashland first went missing ten years ago. Rick scowled at the stack of neatly typed reports. Preston Taylor, the chief of police in Ashland for as long as Rick could remember until retiring six years ago, had personally performed each interview. The guy wouldn’t let anyone else work on the case, not even a deputy as eager and ambitious as Rick. Taylor had insisted that he was the only man with the finesse to do right by the town’s most prominent family.

Rick had to admit that Taylor had been thorough if nothing else. Bank records, phone records, appointment book—it was all there. Every step Ashland had taken for a month before his disappearance was recreated in the neat stacks of investigative reports. There had been no evidence of foul play. No indication that Ashland had felt any pressure or unusual stress prior to his disappearance. His finances were in excellent condition and the future only looked brighter for the lucky jerk. He had more friends than you could stir with a stick. And, apparently, plenty of female company besides the little wife.

Any of the women with whom he’d been involved could have put those bullets in him out of sheer jealousy, but only one woman had anything to gain by his death.

Melinda Ashland.

Rick picked up the most damning report and reviewed Taylor’s notes. About a year before his death, Charles and Melinda had taken out multimillion dollar life-insurance policies. It wasn’t as if they weren’t already heavily insured, but the additional policy had left Melinda Ashland a very, very rich woman by anyone’s standards. The required wait hadn’t been a problem, either, since there were plenty of assets without the insurance money. All that added up to serious motivation.

The interviews with Nigel Canton, Ashland’s business partner, garnered Rick’s attention next. The co-owned investment firm had made both men wealthy in their own rights. Ashland and Canton had signed an agreement giving the surviving partner first dibs on the business over any heirs of the deceased. The price was a meager ten percent of the firm’s worth. Friends of the two men—and clients of the firm—had attested to the growing animosity between the men in the final months of Charles’s life. Especially where Canton’s wife was concerned.

The fact of the matter was, Rick mused, both Nigel Canton and Melinda Ashland had a great deal to gain from Charles’s death. But staring that undeniable fact right back in the face was the indisputable reality that there wasn’t a shred of evidence that either of them was involved. To seal that fate, both had alibis. Not necessarily airtight alibis, but alibis all the same. Hell, Melinda had been a patient in the hospital at the time. He supposed there was always the slim chance she had slipped out when no one was looking.

Yeah, right. That’s not slim, Summers, that’s frigging anorexic. Even though one nurse’s statement indicated she’d found her room empty at some point that afternoon, Taylor hadn’t put much stock in that idea since mobile patients often walked the floors of the hospital.

There was Melinda’s brother Kyle Tidwell. He’d hated Charles, for what he’d done to his sister but, according to the reports, his alibi had also been airtight. Then there was the senator. Though he loved his son, Charles, Junior had been a major embarrassment to him.

Another frown inched its way across Rick’s forehead. There was that other little nagging detail of the one-hundred-thousand-dollar withdrawal Charles made the day he disappeared. He’d liquidated a couple of CDs and withdrew the money in cash. A suitcase and some of his clothes had been missing. Every indication at the time, Rick had to admit, was that Ashland had simply skipped town. But now they knew differently. Rick rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. What the hell had happened to that money? Ashland hadn’t been a gambler, and he didn’t have a drug problem.

He was a drinker and a womanizer. And somehow he’d pissed off somebody badly enough to get himself killed.

The forensics boys from Birmingham had arrived today to go over the Mercedes. But Rick wasn’t expecting them to find anything. He’d already had a look himself. No murder weapon, no nothing. Except a couple of slugs and the bare skeletal remains of a man wrapped in a nondescript beige shower curtain in the trunk. Any fingerprints or trace evidence would have been damaged if not completely washed away by the years in the water.

Rick wondered if a man like Ashland, one who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, had suffered any regrets in his final moments before violence stole his existence. Rick studied the glossy photograph of Charles Ashland, Junior, taken ten years ago with his young family. Judging by the cocky grin on the man’s face, he probably hadn’t known the meaning of the word remorse, much less felt the emotion.

Rick tossed the photo aside and pushed away from his desk. He needed sleep. He turned off the light to his office and strode down the long corridor that led to the exit. As far as Rick was concerned there was nothing in Ashland’s file that was going to give him any answers. If there had been, Taylor would have solved this case ten years ago. Rick knew where the hidden secrets lay.

The image of Lacy Oliver zoomed into high-definition focus in his exhausted mind. Lacy and her friends knew something. Whether they were protecting someone or merely hiding some seemingly insignificant detail—they knew something.

Rick had every intention of finding out what it was.

And he knew just the route to take to get what he wanted.

Lacy jerked awake at the sound of a knock at the front door. She straightened, and the book she’d been reading fell to the floor. She blinked and struggled to get her bearings. She was at her parents’ house. After leaving Melinda’s, she’d come home and forced herself to read in hopes of falling asleep. Another knock echoed down the entry hall. Lacy got to her feet and started in that direction.

Had her parents cut their two weeks in Bermuda short? She shook her head. That didn’t make sense. They wouldn’t knock, they’d use their key. Lacy combed her fingers through her hair and then tightened the sash of her robe. She licked her dry lips and drew in a deep breath.

Maybe it was Kira. She might be feeling in need of some company.

A third knock rattled the hinges, startling Lacy although she’d known the sound would come again before she could reach the door. Whoever was out there was certainly impatient, she thought irritably. Tiptoeing, she checked the peephole. Lacy stumbled back at what she saw.

Rick Summers.

Damn.

What the hell was he doing here at this time of night? She glanced at the old grandfather clock and grimaced. A quarter past midnight. Boy, did he have some nerve showing up at her door in the middle of the night.

A chill raced up her spine and spread across her scalp. What if something had happened to Melinda?

Lacy unlocked the door and jerked it open. Her heart slammed mercilessly against her rib cage. God, please let Melinda be okay. Surely Cassidy would have called…

Her parents! The Bermuda authorities would have contacted the authorities here in the event of an emergency.

“I wouldn’t have stopped at this hour if I hadn’t seen the light.” Rick angled his head in the direction of the living room. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Is something wrong? Has something happened?” she demanded, unable to bear the crushing pressure of not knowing.

Understanding dawned in Rick’s silvery eyes. “No…no, it’s nothing like that. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Lacy sagged with relief. Nothing had happened. Thank God. His words suddenly penetrated her haze of euphoria. “Why do you want to talk to me?” Wariness slid over her, making her heart beat fast again. “It’s late.” And she was alone, she didn’t add.

“Do you suppose I could come in?”

Lacy couldn’t speak for a moment. Uncertainty suddenly warred with the almost overwhelming urge to lean into his arms. She remembered all too well how strong they were. He could hold her…make her forget for just a little while.

But he was the chief of police. It was his job to investigate the case of Charles’s murder. This wasn’t a social call.

Lacy hugged herself, suddenly aware of the cool night air against the silk of her robe and her skin. “Can’t it wait till morning?” she asked hesitantly.

His smile was subdued but all charm and persuasion nonetheless. “It could. If you’d rather wait and come into the office around eight, that’d be fine. I just thought we might handle this on a more informal basis.”

Lacy stared up into those steady gray eyes and silently admitted defeat. The same tension and throbbing lust that had plagued them back in high school was there still. She could feel his pull as surely as she could feel her own pulse racing. Steeling herself for whatever was to come, Lacy stepped back and allowed him to enter. Better on her turf than his. Cassidy wouldn’t approve.

“Your folks are away?”

“Yes,” she replied as she closed the door and turned back to him. For one charged moment she allowed herself to take in the complete picture of Rick Summers ten years older. Taller than most men, he was lean and hard. He filled out the pair of faded jeans he wore very nicely. The white, button-up shirt and the loosened tie hanging at his throat set him apart from the average good-looking, small-town guy one might run into in Ashland. But Rick wasn’t just any old average guy. He was the man who had taken her virginity all those years ago in the back seat of his daddy’s Pontiac. And now he was the chief of police investigating Charles’s murder.

“They’re in Bermuda for a couple of weeks,” she answered belatedly, trying her level best not to sound breathless with her heart thundering beneath her sternum.

His gaze slowly washed over her, heating her skin and making her feel restless. “You look good, Lacy.”

The sound of his voice, soft, warm, a little rough from lack of sleep and probably too much coffee and barking orders, curled around her, made her tingle inside. The beard shadowing his jaw only made him look sexier. “We can have a seat in here,” she offered. Her hand shook when she indicated the living room. She tightened her fingers into a fist and led the way.

Rick followed Lacy into her parents’ living room as he had longed to do a million times back in high school. He squashed that line of thinking. They weren’t kids anymore. He had to keep his head on straight here, had to focus.

Dammit. He should not have stopped. She’d been asleep in spite of the light being on. Few people prowled all hours of the night as he did. But it came with the territory. Not all aspects of law enforcement could be accomplished during daylight hours.

He almost groaned at the gentle sway of her hips. When she’d opened the door, she’d looked a little tousled, and a whole lot sexy. Rick had decided a long time ago that Lacy Jane Oliver had been put on this earth to drive him mad with the want of something he could never have. Not completely anyway. And now she was back, reminding him of all he’d lost—not that he’d ever really had her the way he’d wanted her. But that didn’t stop the immediate ache in his loins the instant he’d laid eyes on her at O’Malleys.

Hell, he’d had to banish her from his thoughts to get any work at all done tonight. Even then, she’d lingered just beyond conscious thought. Heating his blood, increasing his ache for her on a level over which he had no control.

He was a fool.

And she was a suspect.

Halfway across the living room, she stopped and turned to face him, the gossamer robe outlining her slender body. All that rich, mahogany hair draped her shoulders, whispering against the silk fabric when she moved.

“Would you like coffee?”

Rick swore silently. It irritated the hell out of him that he hadn’t been alone in the room with her for three minutes and already he was falling victim to her beauty, to the need he could never quite vanquish.

“No, thanks. I’ve had too much already.”

Her dark brown eyes registered satisfaction, as if she’d known his answer before he spoke. “Would you like to sit?” she inquired politely, too politely.

There hadn’t been anything polite at all about the way she’d urged him on that night…all those years ago when she’d been his for just one unforgettable moment.

“No, I think I’ll stand,” he said tightly. After all this time, the notion of touching her was still almost more than he could bear. Yet she stood there, watching him, seemingly unaffected, and he couldn’t even pull his thoughts together.

Wariness crept into her watchful eyes at his hesitation. God, he hoped she couldn’t read him that well. “All right then,” she said. “What can I do for you, Chief Summers?”

Chief, not Rick. So that was the way it would be. He almost laughed out loud at his own stupidity for hoping it would be otherwise. Hell, it had always been that way. She waited, perfectly still, her spine rigid, the wall of windows and expensive draperies an elegant backdrop to the sensual picture she made. The filmy white fabric looked stark against her olive skin, displaying a great deal more than it concealed.

“Is this about the investigation?”

He noted the movement of her lips as she spoke. They were full, ripe with color without the aid of cosmetics. He wanted to taste them, to see if the woman was as hot and sweet as the girl had been. Rick licked his lips. “Yeah,” he finally managed to grind out. “I want to run a couple of possibilities past you. Get your take on the scenarios.”

She was nervous now. He could see it in her eyes, her posture. “I’m listening.”

Rick surveyed the room, right then left, taking his time so that her tension would escalate. How often had he imagined how her home looked on the inside? Hell, he’d driven by every single day until she moved away. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” She tunneled the fingers of her right hand through her hair, pushing the silky stuff away from the face that still haunted his dreams.

Drawing out the wait, he moved to the mantel and studied the photographs of the girl he’d known back in high school. Being an only child, there were plenty to look at. He tried to remember a time when he hadn’t been crazy about Lacy, but as far back as he could recall he had been.

But she hadn’t noticed…except that once.

“You and your friends were visiting when Charles disappeared,” he asked, his voice sounding too harsh after the long moments of silence.

Lacy ordered her heart to slow. She had to stay calm. “You already know the answer to that—you came by the hospital when we were with Melinda.” That’s right, she told herself, think rationally. Don’t let him trick you into saying anything you’ll regret. “You know we’re always there for each other. Not one of us has ever let the others down.”

He shifted from his intent study of the barrage of family photographs, and his penetrating gray gaze collided with hers. “He beat her pretty badly, didn’t he?”

Panic broadsided Lacy. She clenched her jaw to hold back the shudder that followed. “What are you talking about? It was an accident. Melinda fell down the stairs.” That was the story Melinda had told. She’d always covered up her husband’s abuse. Just another aspect of the past that haunted Lacy.

Rick moved toward her, one step, then another. “We both know that’s not the way it happened. He’s dead, why pretend now? I can just imagine how angry it made you—all of you—to find out he’d hurt her that way. Who knows how many other times she’d suffered at his hand.”

Lacy shook her head and held his regard, as difficult as that proved. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

An insanely sexy half smile tilted his full mouth. Dammit, she didn’t want to notice that. Another step disappeared between then. Lacy stiffened in an effort to lock down her responses, but her defenses were no match for the chemistry still volatile between them.

“You can’t fool me, Lacy. Charles Ashland, Junior, was a bastard. Admit it.”

He was too close, and coming closer. “Melinda loved him,” Lacy insisted in a firm voice. A tremble vibrated through her, threatening her shaky bravado. “He was a good father.”

“But he was a lousy husband.”

Rick stood toe to toe with her now, his broad chest close enough to lay her cheek there. Lacy lifted her head and unwanted heat roared through her. “I wouldn’t know,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t married to him.”

Another wicked tilt of his lips. “You won’t win, Lace. I’m not that easygoing good old boy I used to be. I’ve got your number. You and your friends are in this up to your pretty necks. Tell me what you know and I’ll find a way to protect you.”

Fury swept through her, banishing her fear. Lacy crossed her arms over her chest and glared back at him. Protect her. What about the others? “Go to hell, Rick.”

“Now, now, there’s no need to get nasty.” He massaged his beard-darkened chin, the sound rasping over her nerve endings, making her shiver with new awareness despite the anger rising inside her.

“I’m only giving you the opportunity to come clean with me. What are you so afraid of? Charles is dead—he sure as hell can’t hurt you. In my opinion he got what he deserved.”

Something snapped inside Lacy then. “You’re right,” she said, her voice too calm, and so low that she barely recognized it as her own. “He’s dead. And I’m glad he’s dead. I only wish he’d died sooner.” A new surge of fury streaked through her. For the first time in ten years, she felt liberated. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Chief?”

The scant inch of space between them sizzled with heat and visceral desire. Lacy refused to visibly acknowledge it. Instead she stared directly at him, her own eyes purposely void of the emotions whirling inside her. Let him take his best shot. She was tired, physically and mentally. She’d had enough.

He looked away first. “Dammit, Lacy, you can’t go around telling people you wanted him to die.” He swore again then glowered at her, his expression dark with anger and something else she couldn’t readily identify. “That single statement is motive.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she pressed. “Didn’t you come here tonight to finagle a confession from me?”

He plowed a hand through his short dark hair. “Hell no.” A muscle started to tic in his square jaw. “I came here to get you to come clean with me about what you know. You’re hiding something from me, Lacy, I know it. The four of you have a secret, and I’m damned well going to find out what it is and how it plays into Ashland’s murder.”

He was angry now, almost as angry as she was. “We all signed statements ten years ago as to our whereabouts that day. Check your records, I’m sure you’ll find them.” She spun away. This conversation was over. “It’s late. You should—”

Long fingers curled around her arm and swung her back to face him before she took her second step. His expression was savage, intimidating. A new kind of fear shimmered through her. “I will get the answers I need, Lacy, one way or another.” He yanked her a few inches nearer, his full mouth close. “I won’t stop until I do.”

“Is that a threat?” Hard as she tried not to, she trembled.

He released her abruptly, but that fierce gaze held her a moment longer. “It’s a promise.”

Without looking back, Rick stormed out. She heard the front door close behind him. Lacy brought one shaky hand to her mouth and choked back the sob that swelled in her throat. Oh, God. She had to call Cassidy. He might not have any evidence, but his instincts had hit right on the money. Forcing herself to breathe, breathe deeply, Lacy made her way to the telephone. Before she could pick up the receiver, it rang. She frowned. Her parents? Cassidy?

Fear snaking around her chest once more, she snatched up the receiver. “Hello.” She had to calm down. She closed her eyes and cursed her loss of control.

“Lacy Jane Oliver?”

The slow, barely audible whisper tightened the strong hold of fear clutching at her, paralyzing her. Lacy opened her eyes, then blinked. Her mind raced to identify the strangely terrifying voice, but it was no use. She didn’t recognize it. Couldn’t even tell if it was male or female. “Yes,” she breathed the simple response.

“You should be very, very afraid.”

Adrenaline fired through her veins. “Who is this?”

“I know your secret.”

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