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  Praise for Carlene Thompson

  You Can Run…

  “A compelling writer who keeps the pace moving, the clues coming, and the outcome hidden until the unexpected conclusion.”

  —Night Owl Romance Reviews

  If You Ever Tell

  “A tense…engaging, romantic suspense thriller.”

  —Harriet Klausner, BookReview.com

  Last Seen Alive

  “This story has plenty of suspense and an excellent mystery.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “Gripping suspense.”

  —Judith Kelman, bestselling author of Hush Little Darlings

  Last Whisper

  “The characters are so well drawn that the reader will feel like she knows them personally. Thompson offers suspense and an intriguing mystery.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  Share No Secrets

  “Intriguing…brims with madness and creepy thrills.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “Turns and twists make you change your mind about who the killer is and the ending is a real shocker. Get this one quick.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Thompson knows how to write gripping suspense and keep readers enthralled throughout. A great mystery with thrilling intrigue.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “A chilling murder mystery with lots of twists, turns, and unexpected curves…one of the best romantic mysteries I have read…a great book that you don’t want to miss.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “A page-turner that will leave you on the edge of your seat…another wonderful thriller from Carlene Thompson…a must-read.”

  —A Romance Review

  “An intriguing tale told in a wonderfully fresh voice. Thompson has a truly unique style that blends beautiful prose with compelling plots…this novel reads like lightning—and has the same effect on the reader…Thompson has created sharp, smart characters with motives that drive the story along. They are enough to keep the story moving at a quick pace. Her voice has a sense of rhythm and a rustic beauty that lingers in the reader’s memory.”

  —Romance Divas

  “An action-filled read with plenty of twists and turns that will keep you guessing until the very end! This story is highly detailed with an array of in-depth characters that are smart, funny, and engaging.”

  —Fallen Angel Reviews

  If She Should Die

  “A gripping suspense filled with romance. Ms. Thompson has the reader solving the mystery early in the novel, then changing that opinion every few chapters. [An] excellent novel.”

  —Rendezvous Review

  “With engaging characters and intriguing motives, Thompson has created a smart, gripping tale of revenge, anger, and obsession.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  “If She Should Die is a riveting whodunit!”

  —Road to Romance

  “In the tradition of Tami Hoag or Mary Higgins Clark, Thompson has created a gripping page-turner. The storyline is engaging and the characters’ lives are multi-dimensional. This is literally a book the reader will be unable to put down.”

  —Old Book Barn Gazette

  Black for Remembrance

  “Loaded with mystery and suspense…Mary Higgins Clark fans, take note.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Bizarre, terrifying…an inventive and forceful psychological thriller.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Gripped me from the first page and held on through its completely unexpected climax. Lock your doors, make sure there’s no one behind you, and pick up Black for Remembrance.”

  —William Katz, author of Double Wedding

  “Thompson’s style is richly bleak, her sense of morality complex…Thompson is a mistress of the thriller parvenu.”

  —Fear

  Since You’ve Been Gone

  “This story will keep readers up well into the night.”

  —Huntress Reviews

  Don’t Close Your Eyes

  “Don’t Close Your Eyes has all the gothic sensibilities of a Victoria Holt novel, combined with the riveting modern suspense of Sharyn McCrumb’s The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter. Don’t close your eyes—and don’t miss this one.”

  —Meagan McKinney, author of In the Dark

  “An exciting romantic suspense novel that will thrill readers with the subplots of a who-done-it and a legendary resident ghost seen only by children. These themes cleverly tie back to the main story line centering on the relationships between Natalie and Nick, and Natalie and the killer…Thompson fools the audience into thinking they know the murderer early on in the book. The reviewer suggests finishing this terrific tale in one sitting to ascertain how accurate are the reader’s deductive skills in pinpointing the true villain.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  In the Event of My Death

  “[A] blood-chilling…tale of vengeance, madness, and murder.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

  The Way You Look Tonight

  “Thompson…has crafted a lively, entertaining read…skillfully ratchet[ing] up the tension with each successive chapter.”

  —Charleston Daily Mail

  To my mother

  Thanks to Anne Bensson, Keith Biggs,

  Hilary Rubin, and Jennifer Weis

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  “You think we should go back to the boat now?” Marissa Gray said as they leaned against the trunk of a large tulip poplar, its vibrant yellow-green flowers visible even in the dark.

  Eric Montgomery traced a line of tiny kisses from behind her earlobe down her neck. “I don’t want to go back to the boat. I’d rather we just set up housekeeping here on the island. After all, it’s Gray’s Island. Your great-grandfather bought it.”

  “My great-great-great-grandfather Lucian, the most antisocial leaf on the family tree. His business was in town, but every evening he came back to his domain.”

  “His big house and his own little church and—let’s see—how many slaves?”

  Marissa groaned. “Too many. Lucian liked using a whip on them. One died from a beating. They got their revenge by burning down his house and their quarters at the end of the Civil War. They spared the family and the church.” Marissa frowned. “Why are you so curious about Gray’s Island tonight? You’ve heard all about it before.”

  “Not from the horse’s mouth.”

  Marissa’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Are you comparing me to a horse?” she spluttered. “Why, I never…”

  “You never what?” Eric asked innocently before they broke into laughter, staggering a bit and clutching each other in the warm summer darkness. Eric’s arms tightened around her slim midriff covered by a thin T-shirt as her hands slid up his strong arms and clasped behind his neck. They kissed deeply before Eric slowly pulled away.

  “I love your kisses, but I’m supposed to be in charge tonight. Instead, I let you seduce me away from my duties.”

  Marissa rolled her blue eyes. “Your duties? I think you really mean your charges. You
’re the cop from Philadelphia home on a summer vacation, and at twenty-five you think we’re a bunch of kids and you are the man.”

  Eric looked at her solemnly, frowned, and then said, “You’re absolutely right. I am the Man—with a capital M, please.”

  “Oh my! Delusions of grandeur.”

  “Recognition of responsibility.”

  “You’re no fun,” Marissa pouted.

  Eric kissed her ear and whispered, “I can be tons of fun, and you of all people know it.”

  “If you mean what I think you mean, I’d better be the only person who knows it,” Marissa whispered lazily in return, tilting her head so the ends of her dark blond hair touched Eric’s hands on her waist, half-closing her eyes, and pressing her lips against his. The kiss was slow and passionate. Marissa felt as if they were all alone in the world and incredibly lucky—both young, healthy, in love, committed.

  Then Eric pulled away slightly, looked in her eyes, and groaned. “Oh hell. Sometimes I wish I were still a teenager who never heard of the word dependable.” He removed his hands from her waist and placed them on her shoulders, gently pushing her back a step. “We should have joined the others at least twenty minutes ago, sweetheart, not lolled around by ourselves. We’re being rude.”

  Marissa’s smile disappeared. “Rude? I hate when people hide behind excuses, especially you with me, Eric. Just say you’re worried about Gretchen.”

  “She is my little sister.”

  “And she’s twenty-one, just like me, your fiancée.”

  “Except that she’s not worldly-wise like you,” Eric said patiently. “She’s shy and fragile and not great at taking care of herself. She’s a musical prodigy, but in every other way…well, she’s Gretchen.”

  Marissa wanted to say something to make Eric stop acting like the father of a little girl. She could think of nothing, though, probably because Gretchen had been her closest friend most of her life and to a certain degree Marissa understood how Eric felt. Gretchen had always reminded Marissa of spun sugar—sweet, delicate, and almost ephemeral. Marissa felt protective of Gretchen, too, but she thought Eric’s concern for his adult sister bordered on preoccupation.

  Eric picked up the one empty beer can lying near them. “Alcoholic,” he teased. Still annoyed, Marissa ignored him. “Is your head spinning? Can you remember your name?”

  Oh, all right, Marissa thought. She didn’t want to concede, but she also didn’t want to start a fight after their romantic evening. “I know my name, but I’m not sure I can recall where I live,” Marissa said lightly. “Meanwhile, you are disgustingly sober.”

  “I am the pilot of your father’s very expensive cabin cruiser tonight. By law the pilot cannot drink, my dear. Also, if I had a couple of beers, I might completely lose my sense of direction and we’d end up in Jamaica two months early for our honeymoon.”

  “Our vacation to Jamaica last year was the best trip of my life,” Marissa sighed. “I would love to end up there two months early, whether we’re married yet or not.”

  Eric threw an arm over her shoulders. “You’re so busy with wedding preparations, two months will be gone before you know it. Now, walk fast, girl. It’s time for everyone to be back at the boat.”

  Marissa stood still and said reluctantly, “Uh, Mr. In Charge, I don’t think anyone is at the boat. They said they’d meet us at what’s left of Lucian Gray’s estate.”

  “What? Why?”

  “They wanted to explore it because it’s weird and interesting and they’re curious.”

  “It could be dangerous. No one said anything to me about stumbling around those ruins at night.”

  “We’re keeping secrets from you. It’s a conspiracy,” Marissa said dramatically. Eric didn’t smile. “Okay. Gretchen knew you’d object. And obviously, you do.”

  “I don’t like being lied to, Marissa.” Eric sounded quietly angry.

  “We didn’t lie to you. We just didn’t tell you.” Marissa had expected him to be annoyed. She hadn’t expected him to be angry. “I didn’t even know the others planned to explore the ruins until we were getting off the boat. Gretchen wanted to see where the pipe organ sat before my grandfather donated it. She begged me not to tell you, and from the look on your face I can see why.” Eric continued to stare at her. “Okay, blow up at me if you want. I don’t see the harm—”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that. I guess that gives you the right to hover over her like she’s a child,” Marissa huffed. “This is absurd. The island is only a quarter mile long and the buildings are smack-dab in the middle of it. I think we can find our group with no trouble and then you can yell at Gretchen.”

  “I don’t yell at my sister.”

  “You just embarrass the hell out of her.”

  “My parents didn’t want her to come tonight. I assured them if she could, I’d take care of her!”

  “Does that mean holding her hand all night so she doesn’t wander off? Your parents have brainwashed you into thinking you are your sister’s keeper and you’ve become more like her jailor!”

  Marissa slipped her feet into sandals and began flapping away, mad at Eric for acting so foolish about his sister and mad at Gretchen for asking Marissa to do something she knew would make Eric angry. What an end to a wonderful evening, Marissa fumed inwardly.

  In a moment, Eric caught up to her, carrying the soft blanket on which they’d sat, talked, and cuddled less than half an hour ago. A silvery crescent moon shone in the warm night as they followed a path toward the church in silence.

  Suddenly Eric said, “I shouldn’t have blamed you. It’s my fault for leaving Gretchen alone.”

  “You didn’t. She’s with Tonya, Andrew, and Dillon. And before you tear into Dillon, I know you think your sister likes him too much and you don’t trust him.” Eric remained silent. “We couldn’t invite Andrew and not invite his brother, Dillon. Also, if Gretchen has the hots for Dillon, she’s never told me, and I’m her best friend.”

  “Marissa, I am not the only person in town who thinks Dillon Archer is trouble, and she’s been with him a lot lately.”

  “You’ve been in Philadelphia, Eric. Who’s your news source?”

  “She dated Will Addison for months. What happened? Did he dump her?”

  “No, Eric, Will did not dump her. In fact, I think she broke off things with him. Don’t ask me why, because she didn’t tell me. She’s not as open with me as she used to be. All I know is that lately she’s spent some time with Dillon Archer.”

  “So she is in a relationship with Archer!”

  Marissa stopped. “Oh, for God’s sake, Eric, you act like she’s twelve! You might not think she’s as worldly-wise as I am—and I’m not sure that was a compliment—but she’s certainly not a fool.”

  “But she’s—”

  “Gretchen. I know.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” Eric looked at Marissa in frustration. “I was going to say she’s been acting different lately.” He paused. “She’s remote. Edgy. Sad.”

  Marissa had her mouth open, ready to snap back that Gretchen seemed different because she was becoming a woman, not just Eric’s adoring little sister. His last three words drew her up short, though. Remote. Edgy. Sad. Marissa had to admit that she’d noticed Gretchen’s behavior seemed unusual the last few months. She hadn’t been eager to go places with Marissa and had let a couple of other friendships completely lapse. She no longer played the piano upon request, usually making an unconvincing excuse, and she’d often seemed distant, almost secretive.

  A few weeks earlier, Marissa had asked Gretchen if anything was bothering her. Gretchen had said she had a lot of pressure on her because of the coming year’s concert circuit and she was nervous. In addition, her mother had been pressuring Gretchen to practice six hours a day and they’d been arguing over the impossible schedule. Marissa had easily accepted the explanations—she’d been too excited about her upcoming wedding for Gretchen�
�s distraction and occasional irritability to dampen her happiness.

  “Well?” Eric asked. “Haven’t you noticed a difference in her?”

  Marissa didn’t want to discuss Gretchen with Eric. She loved Eric, but Gretchen was her best friend and repeating their conversations to Gretchen’s brother seemed like a betrayal. What Gretchen wanted Eric to know Gretchen should be the one to tell him.

  “What I’ve noticed is that our romantic evening has become all about your sister,” Marissa answered shortly.

  They walked in silence until Eric finally grudgingly said, “I’m sorry.”

  Marissa let a few seconds pass before she said, “Me, too. I’m sorry that we argued, not that I didn’t tell you about Gretchen seeing Dillon Archer. She’s old enough to make decisions without asking you.”

  “I guess she is,” Eric said flatly.

  As they entered what Marissa had always thought of as Lucian’s enclave, she felt as if a damp veil of misery lowered over her. She closed her eyes and could almost smell smoke lingering after the conflagration that had destroyed the house and slave quarters.

  After a few seconds, Eric said, “I like the rest of the island, but not this place.”

  “I don’t, either. Neither does Dad.”

  “Then why doesn’t he sell the island?”

  “He says no one has ever expressed an interest in buying it. Besides, the island is eroding. In a hundred years, it will be underwater.”

  “I suppose the local historians consider that a loss,” Eric said.

  “They do. I’m not certain how I feel.” Marissa took his hand, forgetting that she’d been exasperated with him five minutes ago. “Not much is left of Lucian’s house.”

  They looked at the foundation stones of what had once supported a beautiful Greek Revival house. Grass and weeds now grew where exquisite rugs had once lain on gleaming wood floors. The foliage would have taken over the whole island if Marissa’s father had not hired a landscape team to keep the flora under control.

  Marissa said, “I gave the key to the church to Andrew. I see light in there.”

  They quickly crossed the ground to the tall white church with its steeple and spire pointing to the star-filled night. Marissa’s father kept the church maintained and always locked against vandals. Three steps led to the well-preserved interior with beautiful stained-glass windows depicting the Easter Cross, the Descending Dove, the Cross and Crown, and the Five-Pointed Star. An aisle separated eight rows of pews. The pulpit stood on a raised platform, and above the pulpit was a balcony.