Siren's Secret

Shelly was startled. Lily sounded as if she had experience in doing just that. Long ago, there were a few pockets of mermaids known for violent protection of their sea territory, but the decrease in the mermaid population coupled with human advances in science and sea travel had forced mermaids to abandon such bold, public tactics. No, Shelly shook her head slightly, she was wound up tonight and reading too much into Lily’s words.

“Guess it’s going to take all three of us,” Jet reluctantly agreed. “Drive the car to Murrell’s Point and park around the bend. This time of night, teenagers will be making out in parked cars, too busy to notice us. By morning at least, a fisherman will discover the body. When we poke our head out of the water, blink the headlights once if the coast is clear, twice if not. We’ll put it on shore with the knife and hat.”

“Okay. I’ll tell you exactly where to find the body. It’s secured undersea between two large rocks in that huge limestone outcropping three miles southwest from our house. The dead human smell will lead you right to the victim.” Shelly hesitantly picked up the weapon by its handle. “Maybe we should keep the knife.”

Her cousins stared at her in surprise.

“Why would we want to do that?” Jet asked.

“Say the police are suspicious of our guy, but there’s no physical evidence to tie him to the murders. We could plant this on him.”

Jet shook her head. “But I told you, there’s nothing special about this knife. Even if they found it on him it doesn’t prove anything.”

Shelly smiled—they were buying into her plan to frame the killer instead of tracking him down on their own and meting out their own form of mermaid justice. “Not yet it doesn’t,” she said softly. “But if we learn his identity we could carve his name and the victim’s initials on the blade and plant it for the police to find. They’ll think it’s some kind of sick trophy.”

Jet blew out a whistle. “That would be some damning evidence.”

Lily ran a long, manicured fingernail across Shelly’s cheek. “Now you’re thinking like a true, full-blooded mermaid.”

A tiny prickle of chill ran down Shelly’s spine at the words. She suspected her cousins could be quite ruthless when it came to preserving their secrets. Just how far would they go to protect their hidden mermaid heritage?

As far as necessary, whispered a tiny voice in her mind.

Chapter 2

Close your eyes, all is well

Seal your mouth, don’t ever tell

For if you do, shame will come

Mama’s Boy falls all undone.

Shelly rolled her shoulders back with determination. Even with no sleep last night, she couldn’t allow fatigue to interfere with her clients’ therapy. And staying focused on her job helped keep the terror at bay when she pictured the killer she’d encountered the previous evening.

Eddie made a beeline for the water, eyes focused straight ahead to their objective, ignoring his mother three steps behind him, stumbling in designer sandals.

Shelly moved between Eddie and the pool steps, holding up a vest. “First, we put on our vest, then we get in the water,” she reminded him.

Eddie reluctantly let Shelly strap it on.

“He’s too fast for me,” his mom panted as she caught up to them. Mrs. Angier wore black pants and a frilly high-necked white shirt accented with a striking coral necklace. While the rest of the locals sported shorts and T-shirts, Eddie’s mom stood out with her inappropriately elegant attire. The blood-sucking Alabama humidity that had everyone else sweaty and defeated never seemed to affect Portia Angier. “I can’t keep up with Eddie,” she whined, rubbing her temples with a slight wince.

“No problem,” Shelly assured her.

It had taken a whole month of once-weekly sessions to get Eddie to accept the water jacket without it being a major ordeal. He was extremely sensitive to the texture of anything against his skin. And it had taken about the same amount of time to stop Eddie from stripping off his bathing trunks the minute he stepped out of the pool.

Suitably strapped in, Eddie walked down the pool steps and waded around the shallow end, splashing and laughing.

“Too bad we don’t have an indoor pool at home,” Mrs. Angier said, still rubbing her temples, Donna Karan sunglasses dangling in one hand.

“Headache?” Shelly asked, getting into the pool with Eddie.

“The worst. If it’s okay, I’ll head on home and have his brother pick him up.”

Shelly’s heart did a little flutter. Tillman Angier had a way of making her feel like a lust-crazed teenager. Get a grip.

“Fine.” She turned to Eddie. “Ready to get started?”

He was already a step ahead of her. He picked up the kickboard from the side of the pool and began kicking his long legs. Water shot up around him but for all the exertion and noise, he only swam a few feet. “Good job,” Shelly said anyway, and they high-fived.

Eddie jumped up and down, laughing and spraying water over the side of the pool. Shelly held his hands and they jumped together in mutual delight. The buoyancy and feeling of weightlessness in the water was good for the soul. Besides improving coordination, flexibility and muscle, the warm water provided healing benefits. Shelly speculated that people with a special affinity for water were long-removed descendants of mermaid blood—so far removed they knew nothing of their heritage but were inexplicably drawn to water, especially the ocean.

She was rewarded with two seconds of eye contact before Eddie looked back down to the clear aqua depths swirling around his body.

“Time for the ball toss,” she said. She took a twelve-inch beach ball and tossed it to Eddie. Without aiming, Eddie threw it back, the ball landing a good six feet behind her.

Shelly swam after it and returned to Eddie. “Let’s try again. Throw it to me this time.”

Eddie slam-dunked the ball in the middle of her face.

Ouch. Well, she wasn’t specific enough.

Shelly threw it back and waved her hands in front of her. “Throw it at my hands, Eddie.”

He did. But after less than half a dozen throws he started humming. A sure sign he was growing impatient. Shelly quickly moved on to another exercise. During the next hour, she alternated coordination tasks with social play. Afterward, she’d return to her office and make notes on his progress. Few things gave her more satisfaction than celebrating clients’ progress.

“Shoes,” Eddie suddenly called out.

Shoes was one of Eddie’s code words—it meant someone was here to take him home and he needed to put on his shoes, get dressed and go. She searched the room with more eagerness than necessary.

Sheriff Angier, in his neatly pressed brown uniform, headed toward them in long strides. His presence filled the room and she was acutely aware of every detail of his strong face...the prominent jaw, the sharp planes of his cheeks and broad forehead. He was as unlike his sibling as much as Jet and Lily were polar opposites. The only common feature of the brothers was the same light brown, slightly wavy hair. She knew Eddie’s age was twenty-eight and that Tillman was several years older than him. Where Eddie was shorter and more compact, and prone to softness in his stomach, Tillman was tall with a well-defined musculature. Unlike Eddie’s vague, unfocused blue eyes and dreamy expression, Tillman’s slate-gray eyes were sharp and penetrating—as if he could see down to the hidden depths she didn’t allow anyone to know about.

Shelly took a deep breath and hurried after Eddie, who could be pretty darn quick when properly motivated. She reached him just in time. At the last step out of the pool, his hands were already at the top of his bathing trunks.

“Wait,” she said. “Put on your robe.”

No sooner had he fastened the robe than the trunks came off.

Shelly bent to pick up the wet trunks at the same time as the sheriff. His large tanned arm brushed against her smaller, paler arm. Prickles of heat spread from the point of contact to all parts of her body.

“I’ve got it,” he said in a deep husky voice that warmed her insides.

They rose together and Shelly fought to control her rapid heartbeat. Here she stood dripping wet with him so polished and sharp in his uniform. She judged him to be in his early thirties, only a few years older than herself, and yet he exuded a natural authority and confidence that befitted his position.

Shelly sighed inwardly. He had not caught her on her most flattering day. Her huge green eyes, what she considered her most striking feature, were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and her honey-colored hair was nothing but a sodden heap of tangles at the moment.

“I’ll be right there,” he called to Eddie, who was already halfway to the locker room.