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 shirt. “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 snatched a wedding picture off the table next to him and flung it to the floor. He froze when the frame broke, his face flushing. Then he leaned down and grabbed the picture off the wood planks. He smoothed the old picture, exposed through the broken glass, 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 space 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 assist 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 stitches, 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 glass-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 passed 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.”
He stepped out of the way and glanced through the window. Isabelle worked across the street. She hadn’t given them much of a description of Jenny’s secret boyfriend, but maybe this picture would jog her memory. He dodged tourists and exited the shop to hurry across the street to a clapboard building painted blue and white. Through the window, he saw Isabelle pecking away at a keyboard.
He stepped inside and approached her desk. “Isabelle, you have a minute?”
Jenny’s best friend looked a little less upset today than she did on Sunday. Dressed in a yellow dress, her brown hair was a riot of curls around her face. Luke passed the picture over, and as she studied it, a frown began to form between her eyes.
She handed it back. “I think this is the guy Jenny was seeing. Like I said, I don’t know his name, but she showed me a selfie of the two of them on her phone. I’d swear it’s the same guy.”
His pulse sped up. Finally, some kind of lead. “You have any idea where he lived? He can’t be local to Folly Shoals or someone there would know who he is, and I’ve been hitting dead ends.”
“They often met at Bar Harbor so maybe he lived on the other side and it was the central place. Jenny never said. She didn’t want to meet him in town in case Andy caught them.”
“Was it only that she didn’t want Andy to know about this guy, or could he have been married too?”
Isabelle chewed her lower lip. “I think that’s what started the trouble between the two of them. He always took her to some little hole-in-the-wall where they wouldn’t be noticed. You know, like a dimly lit bar or something. She began to push him a little and ask if he was ashamed of her or something.” She held out her hand. “Let me see that picture again.”
Luke pulled it back out. “Would you say it’s him for sure? Do you see any differences at all?”
She carried it over to the big plate-glass window and studied it. “This looks like a painting.”
“It is. Claire painted it. It’s the man who attacked her.”
Her mouth twisted. “You’re still helping that woman.”
Luke tapped the picture. “I think this guy killed Jenny, and Claire is his next target.”
Isabelle’s eyes narrowed before she shrugged and looked back at the picture. “Jenny’s boyfriend looks older than the guy in this painting. There’s more gray in his eyebrows and hair. And his skin is more weathered.” She handed it back. “But the resemblance is there.”
“Thanks. Now I just need to put a name with the face. Thanks. I’ll leave you to your work.”
Back in the bright sunlight, he squinted and pulled out his sunglasses. Maybe he should head down toward Bar Harbor and beyond. Maybe he’d find some information in Blue Hill. It was worth a try.
He rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks when he saw his truck sitting on its rims. Even from here he could see the slashes in the tires. Coincidence or a warning?
Kate savored the comforting taste of buttery lobster bisque on her tongue and smiled across the table at Claire. Her half sister. She had a sister. It was almost too much to take in. And they were out of the sight of prying eyes. Even if their father came in, he wouldn’t look out here. She peeked at the door just to make sure. All clear. They had the entire patio to themselves.
Kate took a sip of her iced tea, then put it back on the table. “So tell me about yourself, Claire. Do you have any siblings?”
Claire shook her head. “I’m an only child, unfortunately. I used to pretend I had a sister, but Mom and Dad never obliged by providing me with one. How about you?”
Oh how Kate wanted to let the truth just spill off her tongue. She swallowed and shook her head. “Just Mom and me.”
“Your father’s dead?”
Kate twirled a long red strand of hair. Why on earth had she ever dyed her hair this color? It looked atrocious. “He never married my mom, and after a while, he just quit coming around.”
Claire winced. “I’m sorry. That had to have been hard.”
“I got used to it. My mom and I have blueberry barrens about fifteen miles out of town.” Kate dropped the linen napkin and bent to retrieve it. “Where did you grow up?”
“North Carolina. But we moved to the Boston area when I was in my teens. I love the ener
gy of the city, and I bought my own place on the Atlantic five years ago when I got out of college.”
Claire said it so nonchalantly, as if it were such a common thing to have your own multimillion-dollar house in your late twenties. Kate couldn’t imagine such complacence. “Wow, you must have gotten some kind of high-powered job right out of school to afford a house out there.”
Claire’s face went pink, and she reached for her iced tea. “Well, I guess it’s more accurate to say Dad bought it and deeded it over to me. I work for the family company, Cramer Aviation. I’m CFO now, but I’ll take it over when my father retires. Mom wants him to retire next year, but I can’t see him sitting around doing nothing.”
A stab of envy lodged in Kate’s chest. Claire’s life was all planned out while Kate had no idea what she even wanted out of life. With her health, she’d been afraid to dream. “It’s safe to say your parents doted on you.”
“It’s not as appealing as it might sound. They have a lot of expectations. I’ve gone along with it most of my life, but I’m not sure it’s what I want to do anymore.”
“What would you do if there were no expectations?”
“That’s funny. A new friend just asked me the same thing.” Claire’s eyes went dreamy. “I don’t know. Anything except be cooped up in a high-rise office where every day is planned around meetings and making sure the company exceeds its financial goals.”
Kate tried to imagine Claire’s regimented days and shuddered. Though she didn’t make that much money on the blueberries, she was out in the sunshine and fresh air, and every day was different from the one before it. She glanced toward the door when a shadow fell into the courtyard. Her next breath froze in her chest when she saw their father standing there. A slight widening of his eyes was the only reaction he gave to seeing her there with Claire.
Claire waved and called to her father. “Dad, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
His face went white, then a forced smile crept into his face and he came toward them. “I expected to find you in your suite, Claire. You begged off going with Ric on the boat until tomorrow because you said you were tired.”
The Inn at Ocean's Edge Page 13
