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  Conrad Hollister had remained single for over twenty years, she quickly calculated. Did that mean Ryan would mourn Jessica for that long?

  “You’re wondering if my father can have sex, aren’t you?”

  She wasn’t, but she couldn’t discuss what was really on her mind. It was far too early in their relationship to seem so…so possessive. “Umm,” she mumbled.

  Both hands on her shoulders, he gazed directly into her eyes. “Marriage isn’t just about sex. Companionship has a lot to do with it. They already spend a lot of time together. Maybe they’d like to wake up in each other’s arms or go to sleep talking about things.”

  Hayley had never stopped to consider Aunt Meg being lonely. She despised the “all about me” syndrome. Had she fallen into that trap? “You’re right. They deserve to be happy.”

  “You have no idea how lonely you can be living alone when you’ve been accustomed to having someone you love next to you in bed. How lonely it gets wandering around an empty house that once buzzed with activity.” Gathering her close, he held her snugly. “My father has a balance problem. I doubt it interferes with his ability to—”

  “I get it! This is none of our business. Anyway, there’s always Viagra.”

  Ryan laughed, a deep masculine sound that vibrated in her chest. “Somehow I doubt Dad will need it.”

  The apple didn’t fall very far from the tree, she decided. Just the thought of making love to Ryan sent a ripple of anticipation through her.

  “Son of a bitch! It’s my cell phone again.” Ryan reached in his pocket, pulled out the cell phone, and checked Caller ID. “John Holmes. I’ve gotta take this.”

  He pulled away, saying, “Hollister.”

  Hayley watched as Ryan listened. He frowned and pursed his lips. Whatever John Holmes was telling him was not good news. She leaned away so she could see through the stockroom door. Cynthia Fordham and her client had left the store, but Chad Bennett was standing at the entrance talking to Trent.

  Why wasn’t he at work? she wondered. It was the middle of the afternoon. A coating of ice formed inside her. How could she have ever believed herself in love with that man?

  A debilitating wave of bitterness assailed her. She was angry with Chad, but she blamed herself even more. Something about Chad should have tripped an alarm. But it hadn’t. Go slowly, she reminded herself with a sideways glance at Ryan, who was still on the telephone. Don’t rush into anything.

  He pocketed the cell phone, saying, “You’re not going to believe this. Sylvia Morrow didn’t die of a heart attack. A comprehensive toxicology screen showed selenium poisoning killed her. It mimics a heart attack.”

  “Oh, my God,” she said, her voice barely perceptible over the voices coming from the store. Someone had ruthlessly murdered the woman. She would be foolish to believe she was safe. The knowledge twisted and burned inside her. The world seemed to be closing in and she was powerless to prevent it. She tried weighing the whole structure of events for connections, but nothing made sense.

  “Do you know what selenium is?” he asked. When she shook her head, Ryan said, “It’s a trace element in our food from the soil. Too much of it is toxic.”

  “How did she get too much?”

  Ryan shrugged. “They’re still checking. Selenium can be purchased over the counter in pill form at health food stores and places like that. It’s easily disguised in food and drinks.”

  “Do you think her death had something to do with the trust?”

  A tense silence enveloped the small room. After a few seconds, Ryan said, “I’m sure someone wanted to silence her.”

  “How did the police get the info so fast?” she wondered out loud. “Doesn’t it usually take days or weeks to get back a tox screen?”

  “Usually, but Tustin isn’t a high crime area. They don’t have a lab, so they outsource it. Since the lab rarely hears from Tustin PD, they put a priority on it to show how it pays to use them.”

  “I’ll bet the killer never counted on anyone doing a screen.”

  His unexpected bark of laughter lacked humor. “I wouldn’t count on anything with this maniac. He’s used a bomb, which is unusual, and selenium, which is difficult to trace. Expect anything. This guy is tricky.”

  “Almost finished?” Trent asked from the doorway. By the expression on his face, Hayley doubted he’d overheard them.

  “Just about,” she replied, forcing a smile. She believed Trent wasn’t involved in this mess, but now she wasn’t sure she could trust her instincts.

  “Chad’s here,” Trent said gently. “He wants to talk to you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HAYLEY LEANED BACK against a table of folded men’s swim trunks near the entrance of the store. “You wanted to talk to me?” she asked Chad.

  “Could we go somewhere more private?” Chad asked with the smile she’d once considered charming. Now she saw too much whitener had made his teeth look like piano keys in his tanned face.

  “We have to talk here. I’ve got work to do.” Hayley didn’t add that Ryan refused to allow her out of his sight. He was keeping an eye on them from the storeroom. Ryan didn’t trust anyone, and at this point, neither did she.

  “I just wanted to say how happy I am the car bomb didn’t kill you,” he said with what might have been mistaken for sincerity.

  “It was a mistake,” she replied as glibly as possible. The GPS tracker on her car had convinced her that the bombing hadn’t been a mistake. She’d been deliberately targeted, but they hadn’t told anyone about the tracker yet.

  And no one knew about their discovery of the trust. Chad had to have been involved. He knew her parents had signed the document. His signature as well as that of the now-dead witness, Sylvia Morrow, was on the trust.

  It was possible he’d given his former secretary the fatal dose of selenium. It could have been disguised in food or a tablet or injected. The medical examiner hadn’t seen any signs of needle marks, but Ryan believed it was possible a pediatric syringe had been used. In that case the puncture hole would be too tiny to detect.

  “Mistaken identity. That makes sense,” Chad told her. “No one would want you dead.”

  She wasn’t buying that line—not from him—but replied, “One of my closest friends was killed.” Lindsey’s death and her husband’s odd behavior caused a painful blockage in her chest. Hayley couldn’t shake the feeling that she was responsible for her friend’s death. She kept telling herself she wasn’t to blame, but she still couldn’t get the thought out of her mind.

  “I’m sorry about your friend.” Chad reached out and touched her arm.

  She resisted the urge to snatch her arm away. He gazed at her with a loving expression that sent her temper soaring. The man always counted on his charm to manipulate her. Well, not this time. “If there’s nothing else, I have work to do.”

  Without hesitating, he said, “I think it would be a good idea for us to start over. We were a great couple once. We could be again.”

  Cripes! The man had an endless supply of self-confidence. Did he seriously expect her to forgive him? Fool me once—not twice. Even if Ryan hadn’t been in her life, she was finished with Chad.

  “Tell me something, Chad.”

  “Anything, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart? She almost slugged him. Instead, she lowered her eyes as if flattered. Then she raised her head, looked directly at him, and asked, “Why didn’t my parents complete their trust?”

  A swift changing of gears registered for a second on his face, then vanished as if she’d imagined it. “They meant to, I’m sure, but they didn’t get around to it.”

  If she hadn’t known the truth, Hayley would have believed him. He was that good. Why was she surprised? When she’d first caught him cheating, he’d denied it and she’d foolishly believed him. The second time Chad hadn’t been able to weasel out of it. Maybe she wasn’t as good at reading people as she liked to think.

  “What about it?” he asked, unfazed. “D
inner tonight?”

  “Not tonight. Not any night. I’ve found someone.” She walked away without a backward glance.

  THERE WAS CHAOS at the booth when Hayley arrived with the Grim Reaper clothes she planned to sell. Clerks from Surf’s Up as well as Trent and a local group of surfers were there.

  “Do you know all these people?” asked Ryan.

  “Most of them.” She opened the door and let Andy out of the back of the SUV where the retriever was crammed in with the boxes of clothes. “It’s always like this. People chip in to help. When it’s set up, which is usually around sunset, we order pizza to reward all the workers.”

  Ryan didn’t say anything, but he appeared worried. He believed a lot of strangers represented a threat to her. They pulled boxes out of the car and trudged across the sand to the booth. Andy romped ahead of them, his tail held high like a golden plume.

  “Let me help,” called Courtney, coming toward them wearing a white bikini that emphasized her deep tan.

  “You’ve met Ryan,” Hayley said, recalling what Ryan had told her about the reception following the memorial service.

  Courtney gave him one of her deer-in-the-headlights looks, then nodded as she took two boxes from Hayley. She couldn’t tell if Trent’s wife was high or simply didn’t remember Ryan. As soon as the thought hit her, Hayley discounted it. Ryan wasn’t the type of man a woman would forget.

  “Aunt Hayley, Aunt Hayley!” Timmy rushed up to her and flung out his arms.

  Hayley put down the box she was carrying and scooped him into her embrace. He was too heavy to pick up as she once had but he returned her hug with surprising strength. Andy hovered at her side, wagging his tail at the little boy who often played ball with him.

  “I thought you’d died,” Timmy said. “Then you came back. I’m so happy!”

  “So am I, sweetie.” She gazed into his tear-glazed eyes and thought how precious Trent’s son was. “I’m back now and I’m not going away again.”

  Timmy refused to let go of her hand as they tromped through the sand with Andy to the white canvas booth facing the ocean. Across the top was the Surf’s Up sign with the signature triple-wave logo and two flags signaling dangerous swimming conditions. The sight brought the sting of tears. This was the first Board Wars since her parents’ deaths.

  Hayley thought of the initial competition. She had been a little girl when Russell Fordham and his friends organized the event. Their first booth had been nothing more than a canvas-covered tent held up by plastic pipe. Everyone had pitched in to sell the T-shirts, shorts and swimsuits her mother had designed.

  Hayley had planned to bring Lindsey to this year’s exhibition to show her how the family business had grown. She’d told her friend about designing clothes for Surf’s Up, but Lindsey hadn’t seen the flagship store or the Board Wars. Now she never would.

  How could a life be so cruelly cut short? Knowing Lindsey had been killed by accident and that she was the intended victim didn’t diminish Hayley’s sorrow. If anything, it made her more upset. Lindsey had been killed just as she was getting her life back together.

  Or had she?

  Steve Fulton seemed so believable. Ryan certainly bought his story and wondered if Lindsey had made up the abuse for some reason. Once, Hayley would have been totally certain Lindsey had not deceived her, but she no longer trusted her judgment. Chad had fooled her. It was possible Trent had as well. Her stepbrother might not have been as broken up about her “death” as he’d seemed.

  She resolutely put this from her mind and concentrated on what she’d come to do—see how MMA gear sold. Other booths lined the sand, but theirs had the best spot near the pier and bleachers.

  “My father was one of the guys who organized the first Board Wars,” she told Ryan. “We’ve been a sponsor ever since.”

  “Great,” Ryan said, but he didn’t sound very impressed. His attention was focused on the long pier, then shifted to the workers setting up the temporary bleachers.

  Several surfers came up to congratulate Hayley on her narrow escape. She put down the box and began chatting with old friends. They weren’t family or close friends but acquaintances who were thrilled to see her. Over and over Hayley explained the short version of her trip to Costa Rica that had caused the misunderstanding.

  Ryan left to bring more boxes and signaled her to stay in the booth with Andy. Trent showed her where to place the Grim Reaper products. The Wrath’s logo had already been attached to that corner of the booth.

  Hayley directed Timmy and several others as they helped her set up her goods. She was so busy that she didn’t notice Farah at first. Trent walked up with his sister; both were smiling.

  “Hello,” said Farah, “it’s great to have you back.”

  “I didn’t know I was missing,” Hayley said with more sarcasm than she’d intended.

  “What a mess. Your aunt was so worried.” Farah glanced around. “This your new line?”

  “Yes. The Wrath will be here tomorrow with posters and he’ll autograph them for fans who buy any of the Grim Reaper products.”

  “Good idea.” Farah honestly sounded as if she meant it. “I’m down here with Kyle. He’s been surfing. Now he’s hanging out with some of the guys. I thought I’d see if I could help. Tell me what to do.”

  Hayley almost fell over. When had Farah ever offered to help? Come to think of it, when had Farah ever been to the Board Wars? Never.

  “I could use the help,” Hayley replied as brightly as possible, considering this woman might very well have been behind the plot to kill her. “I need to hang up these dog leashes and collars so people will know they’re available.” She bent down and put one on Andy but didn’t take off his own leash since it had ID tags.

  “How about using big safety pins and putting them here?” Farah pointed to the side wall of the tent just above the bank of onesies and bibs with the Grim Reaper logo on them.

  “Good spot. See if you can find a few pins. We just have to put up a couple of samples. We’ll keep the others under the table.”

  Farah trotted off. Hayley took a deep breath, relieved to see her go. She trusted Trent but she didn’t quite trust Farah. If she had to make a bet, Hayley would say Farah and her mother had been behind the car bombing.

  “Aunt Hayley,” Timmy said, tugging at her arm. “Why doesn’t Aunt Farah like me?”

  It took a second to realize that Farah had greeted Hayley warmly but she hadn’t even acknowledged Timmy’s presence. She quickly thought back to all the family get-togethers over the years. Hayley had always spent time with her nephew, but Farah never had. Hayley assumed Farah didn’t really know how to relate to young children because Timmy was the only one in the family. Hayley hadn’t considered how Timmy must feel.

  “Your aunt loves you, but she has a lot on her mind.” It was a lame response and Timmy seemed to realize it, because he merely shrugged.

  Before Hayley could come up with something more reassuring, Kyle appeared. His usual boyish smile reminded Hayley of the day she’d first met him on the beach not far from there. He’d been several years older—about fifteen—and Hayley had been a gawky twelve-year-old whose breasts were just beginning to appear. She’d been so “charged” that Kyle noticed her that she’d floated through the rest of the day.

  Over the years, Hayley had come to see Kyle as one of a limitless number of surfers who hung out at the beach. She knew he’d joined a group of guys who were developing real estate locally. They’d been successful when the economy had been going gangbusters, but the slowdown had hit them hard. She wasn’t sure how he was earning a living these days.

  “Where’s Farah?” Kyle asked with a goofy grin.

  “She’s hunting for pins,” Timmy said as he petted Andy.

  “Pins?” Kyle directed his question to Hayley. He, too, ignored Timmy.

  Hayley put her hand on Timmy’s shoulder. “He’s right. Farah is looking for pins to use to put up the collars and leashes.”

  �
�Tell her I’m looking for her.” Kyle left.

  Hayley wondered if Kyle had helped Farah with the bomb. They’d assumed it was a professional job but there were instructions available on the Internet. Hayley always thought of Kyle as a dumb surfer but perhaps she’d underestimated him.

  “Aunt Hayley, what can I do now?”

  Hayley thought a moment. “We’re almost done here. Help me put away the stuff Ryan is bringing then you can take Andy down to the water. Tomorrow I’m going to ask your father if you can help me sell T-shirts.” She reached for a child’s medium T-shirt. “I’ll need you to wear this.” She shook it out.

  “Way cool!” Timmy cried with a grin. “The Wrath’s the best.”

  “Do you know who The Wrath is?” she asked, more than a little surprised.

  “Of course, everybody knows. I’ve seen him on TV.”

  “Your father watches?” Trent hadn’t seemed to know who The Wrath was when they’d been approached to sponsor him.

  “Nah,” Timmy said. “Kevin’s father watches with us.”

  “The Wrath will be here in the booth tomorrow. You’ll meet him.”

  Timmy stared at her blankly for a moment, then cried, “Wow!! Wait ’til I tell Kevin.”

  “Tell Kevin what?” Courtney reappeared, now wearing an oversize T-shirt with the Surf’s Up logo.

  Hayley sensed Timmy’s hesitation. “I need Timmy to help me in the booth tomorrow. The Wrath will be here signing posters. Timmy thinks his friend Kevin will be envious.”

  Now Courtney hesitated. “I don’t know. Trent expects him to watch the competition.”

  Hayley knew how much Trent wanted to have his son follow in his footsteps. She also knew Courtney had different ideas. What did Timmy want?

  “I can make do on my own,” Hayley said. “You can stop by and meet The Wrath and he’ll sign a poster for you. Or you can help me. It’s your choice.”

  “I wanna help you.”

  “Great,” Hayley said with a smile for Timmy. She looked at Courtney. “Then it’s settled. I’ll explain to Trent.”