The Inn At Ocean's Edge Part 12

"He wants me to stay here and work the cranberry farm. I don't want to see it pa.s.s from our family. It's been part of our heritage for generations. I love the history of that, but it would mean giving up my job in the Coast Guard. I think I'm going to have to, though. My sister has a job opportunity she wants to take, and it's her turn to get out into the world. I can't deny her that."

"You're one of a kind, Luke. I don't know many men who would sacrifice their careers for their sister."

"Meg has given up a lot to stay here. She wouldn't brag, but she has a Va.s.sar degree. She's overqualified for running a cranberry farm."

She took a sip of the deliciously strong coffee. "I don't know much about the Coast Guard. Tell me what you love about it."

"Everything. The open sea, the camaraderie with other Coasties. I've investigated countless drug runs and other maritime crimes. Every night when I go home, I know I've done something that mattered."

The pa.s.sion in his voice stirred her. "I wish my job was that glamorous."

"You're a bigwig in a huge corporation. A dream come true for so many."

Then why did she still feel like she was drifting? She shrugged and stirred her coffee. "It's because of my name and family. I never would have gotten there by sheer work alone. Those kinds of openings don't just happen. They are manipulated."

"You sound pensive and sad. If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be?"

She stirred the whipped cream into her coffee to avoid looking at him. "You'll laugh."

"I won't."

The humor in his voice caused her to look up. "I'd work for a nonprofit out on a research boat. Maybe studying orcas or whales. Or maybe I'd fish for a living. I love the sea." She looked out the window at the boats bobbing in the waves, then turned back to him.

"That sounds doable. You wouldn't make much money, but some things are more important than money."

She smiled back at him. Fudge! He had no idea how attractive he was with those killer dark eyes that looked into her soul. A straight black lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and her fingers itched to reach over and touch its soft texture, to smooth it back into place. "My dad would have a fit. If only I had a brother or sister to follow in his footsteps. That would take the pressure off me."

"So you never had any siblings?"

"I used to dream about having a sister. We could share clothes and makeup, and I could run into her room when I was scared at night."

"Do you get scared in the night often?"

"I have nightmares sometimes. I think it's all related to what happened here." She moved restlessly. "I don't like to think about it."

"Maybe there is truth in your nightmares somewhere." He took her hand and turned it over to run his thumb over her palm.

She s.h.i.+vered at his touch. "They're just nightmares with no sense to them. I'm running in a forest and there's always a red fox chasing me. Its tongue is hanging out, and it keeps making little sounds like barking noises. I know if I can find my way through the trees that I'll be safe. My mother's arms are waiting in the shadows, but I can't find her. I open my mouth to scream for her. I know if I start screaming I won't stop, but I can't help it. That's when I wake up."

His thumb was still tracing circles on her palm. "Maybe someone really was chasing you. You said you wondered if you'd been kidnapped. Maybe that's what happened."

"Maybe." She pulled her hand away while she still could.

EIGHTEEN.

Luke had come back to the house too late for dinner after a fruitless search of the outfitters all day on Monday. The scent of coffee mingled with the aroma of the lasagna Luke had stuck in the oven to reheat. He heard tires crunch on gravel through the open window, and he turned to look. When he saw the sheriff's car in his dad's driveway, his gut did a somersault.

He exchanged a glance with Meg. "It's Danny." He opened the screened back door and waited for the sheriff to enter.

Danny Colton's expression was somber as he hiked up his pants and lumbered toward the back porch. Luke had no doubt the body was that of his mother, but now that the moment of truth had arrived, he wasn't all that eager to hear it.

Danny nodded at him and his sister. "Luke, Megan. Your daddy around?"

"He's in his chair in the living room." Luke let the screen door slam behind the sheriff and turned to lead the way. "I take it you have news?"

"I do. I'd rather tell you all together."

His tone told Luke the story. Would the sheriff know more than just the fact that the bones were Victoria Rocco's? Luke watched Colton approach his father.

The sheriff stopped at the foot of the recliner. "Walker?"

Pop's eyes blinked, then popped open. He struggled into a straighter position. "Danny," he slurred. His gaze sharpened and went past the sheriff to focus on Luke. "What's this all about?"

Megan motioned to the chair. "Have a seat, Sheriff. Want some apple pie? It's warm out of the oven."

"Don't mind if I do." Danny folded his long legs to sit on the old brown sofa.

Luke glanced at his sister. "Need help?"

She shook her head. "I'll get it in a minute. Say what you came to tell us, Danny."

The sheriff's lips twitched and he nodded. "Sure thing, honey." He looked at their dad. "You probably were already pretty sure the bones were Victoria's, Walker. We got a match on the dental records. No doubt it's Victoria." Danny cleared his throat. "I also have a cause of death. Her neck was broken."

Luke's fingers twitched against his sister, and he felt her flinch too. A broken neck sounded deliberate, but then, hadn't they suspected murder?

Luke's dad plucked at his flannel s.h.i.+rt. "An accident?"

"I don't see how. The body was concealed pretty well. If she'd fallen in a hole or something, the body would have been exposed and easy to find. She was partially covered with rocks, and it appeared she likely had been fully buried with stones until that last storm washed so many away. Someone murdered her, Walker."

Luke watched his father to gauge his reaction. It felt terrible to be so suspicious of his own father, but he knew Meg was paying attention too. They had to know the truth.

Pop's mouth went slack, and his gaze went to his hands. He said nothing for a long moment, then he exhaled. "I always knew she'd never leave me."

Was that all he cared about-his ego? The sadness Luke had been trying to keep at bay washed over him. His thoughts went to Claire. She'd want to know this news, and he found he wanted to be with her. He shoved his hands in his pockets. As soon as Danny left, he'd call her.

"Any clues to her murderer?" Meg's voice was low.

Danny hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing I can talk about yet. There are a couple of leads we are tracking down. Peculiar thing was how her neck was broken. Cleanly, like a man used to killing. Or dressing out game." He didn't look at Luke's dad.

Luke suppressed a shudder. He'd seen his dad break a deer's neck with one precise blow. Barely daring to breathe in case he betrayed his suspicion to Danny, he turned his back and went to stand by the window. His eyes burned, and he imagined what it would look like if Danny showed up to haul his dad off to jail. Pop would never survive in prison, not in his current condition.

He turned back around. "What's next?"

"We'll release her remains sometime next week."

Luke glanced at his sister who was as pale as the light-gray walls. "We can plan a memorial service."

"No service," their dad barked. "Let's just get her in the ground. Her burial is long overdue. And it's pointless this long after her death." His agitation made the slurred words harder to make out.

Meg fixed her dad with a fierce glare. "We're having a memorial service, Pop. You will not deprive us of paying our last respects. Aunt Nancy will want to do the same, and Mom had plenty of friends in town."

Their father glowered back. "I said no."

Luke clenched his hands into fists. "And we're both saying yes. You don't have to come if you don't want to, but we will have a service, Pop." He sent his father a challenging look.

Pop's face twisted in a snarl, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed a wedding picture off the table next to him and flung it to the floor. He froze when the frame broke, his face flus.h.i.+ng. Then he leaned down and grabbed the picture off the wood planks. He smoothed the old picture, exposed through the broken gla.s.s, and wheeled himself out of the room.

Luke turned to Danny, who wore a furrowed brow. Did he find Pop's reaction odd? "Thanks for all you've done. After all this time, I didn't think this moment would ever come."

"I didn't either." The sheriff held Luke's gaze. "I intend to find her killer next."

Was there an undercurrent to Danny's words? Did he suspect his longtime friend too?

She'd expected fewer people in the hotel lobby on a Tuesday afternoon. Kate could hardly hear over the pounding of her blood in her ears as she tried to look like any other guest. The polyester gray skirt felt alien against legs used to the cool brush of denim, and her jacket constricted her movements, but she'd wanted to fit in with the hotel's elite clientele. A night in this place was easily five hundred dollars.

The two-story windows filled the s.p.a.ce with light that gleamed off the oak floors. Guests spoke in hushed tones except for a toddler who giggled as she ran from her mother. Kate glanced at the cream leather furniture by the fireplace. It might be a good place to park herself and watch who came and went.

"May I help you?" a perky female voice asked.

Kate looked to her left into the inquisitive face of a woman about her own age. Dressed in a navy pencil skirt and a white blouse, the woman's stylish ballet flats probably cost more than Kate's last paycheck.

Kate gulped and shook her head. "I-I was looking for the ladies' room." She wanted to slap her hand to her forehead. What a stupid thing to say.

The woman's face cleared. "It's past the elevators in the hallway to the left. You can't miss it. Is there anything else I can a.s.sist you with?"

"No, you've been very helpful." Kate fled the woman's questioning eyes and rushed into the bathroom, tiled in travertine and filled with gleaming granite counters. The gold-and-black light fixtures added even more elegance.

She stepped into a stall and leaned her hot forehead against the door's cool metal. What had given her away? She'd dressed in her nicest clothes and had even put her hair up. She bit her lip, then flushed the toilet so being in here didn't appear odd. Holding her head high, she unlocked the door and stepped toward the bank of sinks with confidence.

But the woman standing at one of the sinks held Kate transfixed. Her light-brown hair, in a stylish updo, was a shade lighter than Kate's natural color, but her blue eyes were like looking into a mirror. They had similar noses and mouths, full with a defined bow in the upper lip. The woman wore designer jeans with rhinestones on the pockets and heels high enough to cause a nosebleed. The glittering rocks in her ears had to be real diamonds, at least two carats each. She oozed money and confidence.

Their gazes met in the mirror, and the young woman turned around. "Is something wrong?" Her voice was a little husky, and her smile seemed genuine. Those blue eyes held concern and caring.

Kate wetted her lips. "You remind me of someone, and I was trying to place you."

"What's your name?" she wanted to scream, but people like this elegant lady didn't usually have to field questions from strangers. Kate tried a tremulous smile, and the woman smiled back.

"You look a little familiar too. Have we met? I'm Claire Dellamare."

Dellamare. The name pierced Kate's heart. Her sister. What would Claire say if Kate told her they shared the same father? That Harry Dellamare had once bounced Kate on his knee and brought her expensive dolls? She licked her lips again and searched for the right words, but they weren't to be found.

It was no wonder Claire didn't see the resemblance with this crazy red hair Kate now sported. "I'm Kate Mason. I have never been out of the state of Maine, so unless you've been here before, I guess we've never met."

Kate turned, and the unfamiliarity of the heels made her stumble. She reached out to catch herself on the counter but missed. Her ankle turned, and the sharp pain radiated up her leg as she went down. The tile bit into her knee, and as she struggled to her feet, she realized the warmth trickling down her leg was blood.

Claire sprang to her side. "You're hurt. Here, let me help you."

Kate leaned against Claire and hobbled to the wall. "I think I sprained my ankle."

"Is there someone I can call to take you to the clinic? Or I can take you if you tell me where to go."

"I'm sure it will be fine if I can rest it." Kate glanced around. "Where's a chair when you need it?" She attempted a smile, but it turned into more of a grimace.

Claire reached for a paper towel and wet it under the water, then handed it to Kate. "Press hard to stop the blood. I don't think this needs st.i.tches, but your ankle is really swelling."

"I don't have insurance, so I'd rather just rest it and see how it does. Could you help me to the dining room? I don't think I can make it to my car just yet."

"Of course. I wouldn't mind coffee and a snack. It's a couple of hours until dinner." Claire handed her a dry paper towel. "I'm here with my family, but most of them are out on a whale-watching charter so I'd love some company."

"Thank you for reaching out to a-a stranger." Kate tossed the soiled paper towel in the trash, then followed her out of the bathroom and toward the delicious aroma of lobster bisque.

Should she tell Claire? She desperately wanted to. Even if their father had rejected her, maybe Claire would welcome the thought of a sister. Everything in Kate longed for a sister like Claire, one who seemed to care about other people. It felt as though they were two lonely people looking for some kind of connection. Or was it Kate's wishful thinking?

Claire asked for outside seating, and the hostess led them across the dining room and out the French doors to a pink-granite-paved terrace. The scent of potted honeysuckle and roses curled around them as they settled at a gla.s.s-topped table. Kate took a seat where she could watch the door. If their father came to find Claire, she had no idea how she would explain being with her half sister.

But surely he wouldn't be back for hours. She'd have time to get to know this new sibling. At least she prayed nothing would derail it, not now that she'd finally found Claire.

NINETEEN.

Luke drove the sleepy streets of Summer Harbor on Tuesday afternoon. The ferry to Folly Shoals launched from here. Like his own hometown, charming cottages stair-stepped up the hills overlooking the crescent-shaped harbor, and with his window down, he could smell the lobster roll stands out on the wharf.

There was an outfitter on the outskirts of town he'd forgotten about yesterday, and it wouldn't hurt to stop and show the picture folded up in his pocket. He parked on the side of the clapboard structure and got out. A sea breeze lifted his hair and carried the tang of sea salt as he went around to the storefront. He pushed open the wooden screen door and went inside.

A few tourists carrying cameras around their necks browsed the aisles of tents and propane grills. The peninsula was part of Acadia National Park, and rusticators would be descending all summer. A baby sleeping in his father's arms made Luke smile. An unfamiliar longing struck him as he watched the little one sucking his thumb. He'd likely never have a child to hold, not with caring for his father. He turned away and went to the desk.

Approaching the clerk, he pulled out the picture of Claire's attacker and pa.s.sed it over the scarred wooden counter. "This fellow look familiar at all?"

The clerk, a young woman with a harried expression, reeked of tobacco. She barely glanced at it before shaking her head. "Never saw him before."

"Look again. He's local, I'm sure."

She redid her ponytail with brusqueness. "Look, don't be a dubber. Unless you're a cop, you need to leave me alone to take care of my customers. I don't want to get fired." Looking past him, she gestured to the person behind him. "Next."