The Sometime Sister by Katherine Nichols (e novels for free .TXT) 📗

“There are ten photos, all from different angles. You can see them all if you like, but I’m going to suggest you only look at these two.” He laid them on the coffee table, face down.

My hands were shaking when I turned one over. At first, I couldn’t separate Stella from the surface beneath her. She was halfway on her side, her pale body sunk into the frothy sand, fossil-like. Seaweed threaded through long, blonde hair that covered half her face. From the exposed side, one milky, sightless eye stared up at the camera. The straps of her sundress had fallen low on her forearms, and her skirt had ridden up, exposing bare hips and splayed legs. I dropped it onto the table.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked.

I nodded and turned over the second photo. It was a close-up of the marks on her body, a body mottled with dark purple splotches. I picked it up and focused on my sister’s neck. The bruises formed a cruel necklace of blurred fingerprints around her throat.

“It’s her,” I said. There would be no surprise happy ending for me and my family.

The force of pure grief, unadulterated by anger and bitterness, crushed me. I’d been running on the power of my fury for years. Without it, the weight of my sorrow was paralyzing.

Justin touched my cheek. “Are you all right?”

The earth skewed, but I nodded and assured him I was fine.

“Of course, you’re not fine,” he whispered. “Just let me take care of you for a little while.”

One of the many terrible things about grieving is the fear of getting lost in that grief. It’s as if naming your pain gives it power over you, defines you. The only way to survive is to refuse to admit how lonely and afraid you are. You pretend you are in control. For the first time since I learned of Stella’s death, I didn’t care about being in control. I wanted someone to take care of me. Not forever but for a little while.

“It’s just seeing her like that,” I leaned back on the sofa pillow.

Harry handed me a glass of water. “Honey, nobody can look at pictures like that without—”

“It’s okay. We have to talk about them and what they mean.” I held out my glass. “I know it’s early, but do you think I might have something a little stronger?”

“Hell. It’s five o’clock somewhere.” He headed for the kitchen while Justin sat holding my hand.

He returned with a snifter with less than an inch of amber liquid. “It’s brandy. Sip it slowly.”

The last time I had brandy was at one of Ben’s fancy parties. I didn’t like it any better, but after the second sip, it had a steadying effect.

“Your sister’s injuries didn’t happen from falling off a boat,” Harry began. “Luis put me in contact with one of his friends, the kind of guy who knows people from both sides of the law. He’s going to check into Ben’s troubles with Balsuto and find out why the authorities ruled the death accidental in the face of contradictory evidence.”

I continued to reject the possibility Adelmo had something to do with Stella’s murder. No one could fake the kind of misery he was in. But wouldn’t a man in his line of work have to be a convincing liar?

“We contacted Mike to let him know we’ll be here longer than we expected. He said your mother’s better but still not talking much.”

Other than sending a few quick emails, I hadn’t communicated with Mom since she sent me on her revenge mission. But I would only disappoint her with anything other than news of Ben’s death.

“We can’t just sit around waiting to hear from Luis’s friend.” I swirled the contents of my glass.

“Harry and I are going to give the local authorities another shot after we make copies of the pictures and put them in a safe place. We don’t want them disappearing again. And Mike got in touch with a friend who runs an independent security group that does business with both local and US governments. He’s going to present the photos in Guayaquil and pressure the authorities to reopen the investigation.”

“I guess it’s just me who’ll be sitting around doing nothing.”

“That’s what I’d like for you to do, but I know you aren’t going to listen to me, so we thought you might try to get back in touch with Eva.”

I did need to talk more with Stella’s housekeeper and friend. Since Prez was the key to finding her, we had lunch at the hotel bar. But a pretty, dark-haired woman was working in Prez’s place. She scowled when I asked if she knew how to get in touch with him. When Harry slipped her a ten-dollar bill, her smile returned, and she agreed to let Prez know we were looking for him.

Back at the villa, Harry touched base with some of his employees, leaving Justin and me standing awkwardly outside my bedroom door.

My judgment in matters of the heart had been unreliable even when I wasn’t dealing with the complications of grief and danger in a foreign country. Should I reach out to him or leave things as they were? He made the decision for me, by patting me on the shoulder and suggesting I rest.

I liked the idea of a power nap but fell into a deep sleep instead and dreamed of my lost sister.

We were in a church filled with pink and coral tea roses. An instrumental version of “This Will Be an Everlasting Love” played in the background as a little girl with curly, black hair skipped up the aisle, scattering petals. I followed her. Every time I stepped on a blossom, it smoldered into ash. Two men in cream-colored tuxedos waited at the front, a smoky haze obscuring their faces. I joined them, and the traditional wedding march began.

A young woman in a white dress with a bright red veil came toward