Forgotten (Shattered Sisters Book 2) (3 page)

"This is yours?" He seemed skeptical. "What are you, independently wealthy?"

"It's no mansion." She swung her leg up in front of her and over the seat, landing with a little hop on the sizzling blacktop. The air smelled of the river out back, and there might’ve been a hint of rain mixed in.

He got off, as well, following her around the side of the house, over the well-worn path and to the back door. "Your backyard's as big as a football field...and it's riverfront." He shaded his eyes with one hand and looked over the smooth green lawn to the narrow brown river at its edge, some sixty yards away.

"Half a football field at best." She unlocked the back door and swung it wide, preceding him in.

"You don't want to tell me, is that it?"

She faced him and saw his suspicious eyes, and the stubborness suggested by his set jaw. Uneasiness crept up her spine. But he was asking about the house, the property. Not her lies.

Necessary lies. Necessary to keep him alive. And Caroline.

"Ash, there's nothing I won't tell you. Just ask."

"Okay, I will. How does a woman your age afford a prime hunk of real estate like this?"

She wasn't ready to tell him about her business. If she told him a little, he was liable to go snooping around and find out more. He was just the type who'd write her off as a lunatic and count himself lucky to escape with his hide intact. So she answered a different part of his question.

"My age?” She added a smile, and said, “Thanks for that, Ash, but I'm thirty. Not exactly fresh from the cradle. But to answer your question, I grew up in this house. When Mom and Dad decided to move to a retirement village in Florida, I didn't want to see it go. Parents make very understanding mortgage holders." She slipped out of her jacket and hung it on a hook near the door. “They didn’t even check my credit score.” She tried to send him a grin, get him to relax a little with humor.

It didn’t work. "What do you do for a living, Joey?" His tone said he wouldn't give it up.

"I'm an independent consultant."

"To whom?"

She wished he would drop it. "Businesses, mostly." To change the subject, she waved a hand to indicate the room they were in, a sparse area with cement floors, lots of padded mats, white walls, and several pieces of exercise equipment. "This is my torture chamber, as you can see. There's a bathroom through here, and that other door leads to the basement."

His gaze lingered on the weight bench and narrowed. "You pump iron?"

"You disapprove?"

"It's not very feminine."

"The results are."

He looked her over thoroughly, his gaze traveling a deliberately slow path over her. For the first time in her life, Joey felt uncomfortable in skintight pants and a skimpy bustier. "I'll let you know," he quipped.

He was being obnoxious, and it was deliberate. She knew it was. The pig. So why did a small, hot shiver zip up her spine like an electric charge?

"Why'd we come in this way, instead of through the sliding doors at the front?" He was glancing around with something more intense than curiosity.

"Mom was vigilant about her carpeting. It wouldn't have mattered if the president had come to the door, she'd have told him to go around back."

He finally laughed, just a little, and the sound was so comfortable she relaxed her tensed up muscles. "Come on, I'll show you the rest." He followed her up a set of shallow stairs, into her cozy kitchen. A doorway at each end led into the L-shaped living-dining room. He moved around, eyes seeming to take in everything at once.

It occurred to her that maybe he was looking for something familiar, something that would jog his elusive memory, and she felt a twinge of conscience. "Ash, you really didn't spend much time here. Your own apartment will probably seem more familiar to you, though. We'll spend some time there later on, if you want. See if it stirs up the past for you."

He frowned at her. "Why would you want to do that?"

She frowned right back. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Now there’s an interesting question." Before she could form a reply, he was walking away from her. She swallowed. He must suspect that she wasn't being honest about their...relationship. She'd have to watch herself. He'd stepped into the living room and was looking up another set of stairs.

"Three bedrooms and a bath up there. Go ahead, look around. I want you to feel at home here." She meant it, she realized. She wanted this to be as easy on him as possible. The man was going through what was probably one of the worst things any human could experience. Loss of his own identity. And to make things worse, she was giving him a false one to latch onto.

He started up the stairs, but the sound of a horn blasting out front stopped him. He joined her in looking through the sliding-glass door with the broom handle in its tracks to prevent it being opened. He gave that a closer look, and shot her a puzzled glance.

"Same broom handle has been there since I was a kid. I told you, nobody comes in the front door."

His smile was real, and for a moment it distracted her. Then she returned her gaze to the car outside. In the driveway, Caroline and her girls spilled from their minivan and trooped over the path, waving gaily.

Joey felt the bottom fall out of her stomach as she realized the implications of her sister's untimely visit. She hadn't been prepared to begin this thing so soon. She'd expected to have time to figure out a way to talk to Caroline.

"What's the matter?" He said it as if he already knew and was poking fun at her. "You're so pale all of a sudden. Who is that?"

"My...sister, Caroline." She closed her eyes. Think! "Ash, I...I haven't told her about you...about us." She felt sick.

"You didn't tell your own sister you ran off and got married?" His dark brows made surprised arches over his brown eyes and he shook his head, tsking repeatedly. "Shame on you, Joey."

There was no time to beg him to keep his mouth shut. There was no knocking among family...not in this house. Never had been. In a fraction of a second, two blond, giggling girls were racing up the stairs and hurling themselves into Joey's arms.

"Aunt Joey, we came for a picnic!"

"Can we go fishing?"

"We'll throw them back, we promise."

"Please? Please?"

"Slow down, you two. Easy." Joey hugged her nieces, feeling the surge of affection they always inspired in her. She adored them, and she knew part of the reason was probably the unlikelihood of her ever having children of her own. She was not mommy material. "Go on to the kitchen. There's candy in the lazy Susan. Go on now."

They peeled themselves from her and raced back into the kitchen. Their mother, dressed as always in baggy sweats and an oversize T-shirt, which she thought hid the fact that her figure had suffered a bit from carrying the two girls, stood behind them. Her hair, so like Joey's in length, texture and coloring, was pulled into a bouncy ponytail, and her smile was bright, but curious.

"Hi, Joey." She glanced uneasily between her and Ash, questions all over her face. "Sorry we didn't call first. I never guessed you'd have company. We can go if—"

"Oh, I'm not company." Ash stepped forward, extending a hand. "My name's Ashville Coye. You must be Caroline. You're more beautiful than your sister told me you were."

Oh, his amnesia hadn't made him forget how to ooze charm. Stunned, Caroline shook his hand weakly. Her gaze still jumping from Joey to Ash and back again, she blinked, and said, "Ashville Coye—the reporter who's doing the series on the Slasher murders?”

He shot Joey a quick glance. "I guess that would be me.”

"Well, what a coincidence! It's nice to meet you." She seemed a bit confused. "I heard about your accident. I hope you're...better now."

"Your sister is helping me through."

Caroline smiled brightly, then glanced apologetically at Joey again. "Look, the girls and I will go to the park instead. I'm really sorry I—''

"I think you'd better stay," Ash said in a deep, steady voice. "Joey and I have some news."

Joey swallowed hard, feeling as if a fist had just punched her in the solar plexus.

"News? Joey, what does he mean?" Caroline's voice went a shade higher. "Is anything wrong, honey? You're not sick are you?" A hand immediately went to her sister's forehead, then her cheek. Why was that always the pattern with mothers? Any mother, anywhere in the world, would do it in exactly the same manner. Palm to forehead, then to cheek. And not just to her own brood, but to anyone, friend or foe, who showed signs of having a fever.

Joey shook her head. "Nothing's wrong. I'm not sick, Caro."

“Is it Toni? She’s not in trouble again, is she?”

At Ash’s curious look, she said, “Toni’s another sister,” Joey said.

“Half sister,” Caroline corrected. “Joey and I have the same mom. Joey and Toni have the same dad.”

“Toni’s fine,” Joey told her sister. “She and Nick have set a date, and they’ve narrowed their dream house search down to three Victorians. One of which is down this side of Ithaca, so that’s the one I’m obviously pulling for.”

“So what’s wrong then?” Caroline asked. And then she frowned. “It's this Slasher thing, isn't it? You've gotten yourself into some kind of trouble and—"

"No, Caroline." Joey glanced up—because Ash was at least a foot taller than her—and knew there was no way out of this. Next she looked into her sister's blue eyes and felt her own sting. Caroline might never forgive her for this when she learned the truth, but it would be worth it to save her life. There was no one in this world closer to her than Caroline.

"I...that is, Ash and I..."

She couldn't go on. Her mouth felt as though she'd rinsed it with ashes. Caroline would never believe this. She knew her too well.

Ash's hand closed around hers and lifted it. "I think this says it all."

Frowning, Joey glanced down to see the simple gold band she'd bought and placed on her left hand. It was a prop. Nothing but a prop.

Caroline's eyes widened. Then she made a face. "This is a joke, right? It has to be a joke. Look, Mr. Coye, no one knows how much my sister detests the institution of marriage better than I. You can't seriously be standing here trying to tell me that she...that you... Oh, my God, you're not kidding. Are you?"

When he saw the tears pooling in Joey's eyes, Ash thought maybe he'd taken his challenge a bit too far. He didn't have a clue why she wanted him to believe she was his wife. He'd thought she would cut the act if forced. He'd been wrong. Whatever was going on in her head, she must be damned serious about it. Otherwise, she never would have continued the charade in front of her sister. It was pretty obvious how close they were.

It was also increasingly and uncomfortably obvious that Joey had some kind of involvement in the murders. He'd wondered about that from the beginning, and her sister's cryptic comment about the killings added credence to his suspicion. But, damn, it was tough to look at her and suspect her of being a serial killer.

A moment later he found himself enveloped in a hesitant but genuine hug. Then Caroline hugged Joey even harder. Fiercely, really. And she was crying, too. She sniffed and straightened. "I never thought it would happen." She sniffled some more. "Joey, honey, didn't you even have a wedding?"

"It was a...sort of a...spur-of-the-moment decision."

Caroline frowned, this time at both of them, finally settling her gaze on Ash. "Did you get my sister pregnant? Is that what this is—?"

"Caroline, please!" Joey diverted the woman's attention. "Look, you've been after me to settle down for years. You ought to be happy for me."

Her lips thinned as her gaze moved downward to Joey's admirably flat belly. "I'm sorry. It's just that it's so sudden. I'm in shock, that's all." She took Joey's hands in hers and stared into her sister's eyes. "Are you happy, honey? Because if you are, then that's all that matters."

Joey kept a remarkably straight face. The tears were a nice touch. "Yes, I'm very, very happy, Caro."

Caroline swallowed. Without releasing Joey's hands or even turning her head she called, "Girls, come in here. I want you to meet your new uncle."

The incessant stream of high-pitched chatter died abruptly. Two angelic blond faces peered into the room, quieter than they'd been since they'd arrived.

"Ashville, these are my daughters. Bethany is seven, and Brittany is six. Girls, this is your Uncle Ashville...Aunt Joey's new husband."

Two pairs of blue eyes rounded. "Husband?"

"Uncle?"

The older one came forward, and Ash, feeling more guilty by the minute, dropped down to one knee. He felt a new anger at his make-believe wife. Playing head games with him was bad enough, but to start in with a couple of helpless kids, and, in effect, to force him to play along, that was too much. Then again, he was the one who’d forced the issue. He just hadn’t expected her to take it this far.

One pair of eyes probed his. "Are you going to turn Aunt Joey into a boring-baby-machine?"

That question, coming from such a pint-size spokesperson, almost made him laugh out loud. "A what?"

The second one, Brittany, joined her sister. "That's what happens when you get married," she explained seriously. "You never get to have any fun anymore. You have to stay home and do laundry and have babies."