A Baby Between Them. C.J. Carmichael
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around her knees and leaned forward. “So what do you like to do?”
“Volleyball. Swim. Hang out,” Jennifer said. “How about you?”
“I like those things, too.” She paused a moment. “Do any of you sing?”
“Around the campfire, you mean?” Aidan’s voice dripped with scorn. He’d known he wouldn’t like this girl. “Not since I was a Boy Scout, when I was ten.”
“But then you’re tone-deaf, Aidan.” Harrison offered the insult with the casual air of a lifelong friend. “My mother makes me and my sister, Nessa, take piano lessons. How about you, Simone? Do you sing?”
She nodded and faked a shy look. She didn’t fool Aidan, though. He knew she was dying for the chance to show off. Sure enough, less than a minute later, Gabe and Harrison had convinced her to sing for them.
She surprised Aidan by picking an old-fashioned jazz tune. And then she surprised them all by how impossibly wonderful she sounded.
When she stopped, Aidan couldn’t think of even one cutting thing to say. In fact, no one spoke at all for several seconds. And then, suddenly, everyone was gushing.
“You’re unbelievable….”
“Are you sure you’re not a professional…?”
“I’ve never heard anyone…”
Simone sat back on the log and soaked it all up. For a moment her eyes settled on his and he saw the self-satisfaction in them.
You witch, he thought. She was going to mess up everything this summer. He just knew it.
CHAPTER ONE
Summer Island, twenty-three years later
AIDAN WYTHE NOTICED the rental car parked in front of the house where he’d be staying for the next three weeks, but at first he didn’t think anything of it.
Twenty minutes ago he’d driven off the ferry, officially starting his first real vacation in several years. Now he pulled his convertible into the driveway, cut the engine and just sat for a moment.
Here he was, back in Canada, on Summer Island.
He closed his eyes and focused on the scent of the ocean and the feel of the gulf breeze in his hair. Memories, both good and bad, teased his mind like the wind. No matter how many times he returned as an adult, it was always his childhood that came back to him first.
Most of his recollections were of happy hours spent beachcombing, swimming and picnicking with his friends. The five of them had had their disagreements, but they were always minor and had been patched quickly and with little resentment.
All that had changed, however, the summer they turned sixteen—when Simone DeRosier joined their circle. It was that summer that innocence had been lost and the seeds of obsession and evil that would tear the group apart were planted.
Aidan rubbed his forehead, opened his eyes. Just thinking of the famous jazz singer—dead now, murdered by one of their own—stirred up his old resentments. He didn’t want to hang on to them, but still…
Everything had been so easy before Simone arrived on the scene. Unfortunately, Aidan had been the only one to see that she was trouble. He wasn’t sure what had tipped him off. Her uncommon beauty, a certain look in her eyes, the stunning power in her voice when she’d first sung for the five of them.
She’d instantly captivated Harrison, Gabe, Emerson and Jennifer, and for years after that she’d played them off against each other, all the while pretending that they were the best friends in the world.
She’d even immortalized their friendship with a song: “Forget Me Not, Old Friend” had been a big hit and had won her a Grammy. From that moment on, the press—and eventually even the five of them—had referred to themselves as the Forget-Me-Not gang.
Personally, Aidan hated the label.
Not that it mattered anymore. There was no gang left to speak of. Not with Simone and Emerson dead, and Harrison and Gabe not speaking to each other. Gabe hated Harrison because he was the one Simone had married. Harrison hated Gabe for seducing and marrying his baby sister, Nessa, then making her so miserable that she’d finally divorced him.
With friends like those, who needed enemies?
Aidan sighed, then slipped off his sunglasses and tossed them on the dash. From the driver’s seat of his Mustang convertible, he contemplated the gracious home that had belonged to the Kincaid family for three generations. Through decades of upheaval this house was the one thing that hadn’t really changed.
The old Victorian was a stalwart structure, built with its back to the sea, the broad front verandah providing an open welcome to family and guests alike. A Gothic-style second-story turret, where Simone had once composed her music, overlooked an ancient cedar forest that formed the heart of the island.
Much as Aidan wanted to remember the place as it had seemed to him in his childhood—warm, inviting, almost magical—he couldn’t help recalling that this was where Simone DeRosier had been murdered.
And now he was supposed to vacation here. To relax. Just because his office staff thought he was overstressed from too much work.
He jumped out of the convertible without opening the door, then went round to the back and removed his luggage from the trunk. He paused and glanced farther down the road to Pebble Beach. Wooden stairs led from a modest parking lot to a naturally protected cove. He remembered summer nights sitting by a bonfire on the beach, then later strolling along the boardwalk that led all the way back to town. He, Harrison, Emerson, Gabe and Jennifer had had a lot of fun in those pre-Simone days.
Aidan hefted an expansive duffel bag over his shoulder, then had another cursory glance at the rental car parked next to the driveway. Must be someone visiting the yoga studio across the road. He dug Harrison’s key out of his jeans pocket and headed for the front door.
Last time he’d been on the island—about a year ago— Harrison had been in residence. He’d been investigating the circumstances of Simone’s death, and then, along the way, he’d fallen in love with his real estate agent, Justine Melbourne. No one had been more surprised than Aidan when Harrison and Justine succeeded in proving Simone’s death had not been suicide, but murder.
Harrison could be fiercely tenacious when he wanted something. Like this stupid holiday idea. Harrison had all but packed Aidan’s bags and filled his car with gas, he’d been that anxious to get his friend out of the office in Seattle. Just because Aidan had called Harrison while he was sleeping with a great idea for a merger target.
“It’s three o’clock in the morning, Aidan. You need to get a life.”
But it had been a great idea….
Never mind, maybe he had been guilty of overworking this last little while. But he had to, didn’t he? Otherwise, if he weren’t careful, he’d be thinking about things that were better forgotten.
Aidan dropped his bag to the porch floor. The wooden boards looked freshly stained. The entire property was well-maintained. He glanced back at his car, wondering if he should put up the roof. But the clear sky held no hint of a summer storm.
What had brought him back to this place for his holiday? Sure Harrison had offered the use of his house, but money wasn’t an object—Aidan could have traveled anywhere in the world. It was almost as if he couldn’t stay away, as if the island had laid a claim on him, a claim that had to be settled.
Gloomy thoughts, man. You’re supposed to be on holiday, remember?
He inserted his key into the lock, then pushed the door open. Immediately, he was accosted by an acrid smell. A second later, a loud crash sounded from the back of the house where the kitchen was.
What the hell? Harrison had told him a cleaning crew would have the place stocked and ready for his arrival, but this couldn’t be them, could it?