The Inn at Ocean's Edge

by Colleen Coble

  One of the deputies called out from ten feet away, “I found some clothing scraps.” The man carried a paper bag to the coroner, and she took it with eagerness and reached inside. She brought out a scrap of pink fabric. “Looks like a bit of a dress with some lace.”

  Pink with lace. Where had he heard of a little girl wearing a lacy pink dress? Then it hit him. When Claire went missing, she’d been wearing a pink dress, but that had been twenty-five years ago. These remains were newer than that, weren’t they?

  He looked at the coroner. “What’s the oldest they could be?”

  She shrugged. “Could be decades. It’s hard to say. Do you have an idea who it might be?”

  Luke glanced from her to Danny. An awful suspicion began to take hold. “Anything else in there?”

  “This was lying near the body.” Genevieve held out a small locket in her latex-covered palm.

  “Did you open it?”

  “Not yet.” She scowled over it. “I’ll need to pry it open back in the lab, but there are initials engraved on the back: CD.”

  Claire Dellamare. What had happened the night Claire went missing? Had there been some other little girl who disappeared too? And if so, how had she gotten Claire’s locket? Maybe the two little girls had been together.

  Danny’s brow furrowed, then his expression finally cleared. “I think we shouldn’t say anything about this until we find out more about what happened, Luke. Agreed?”

  Luke’s chest squeezed. “Agreed.”

  If Claire had been upset about her missing year before, how was she going to feel when she found out another little girl had been missing that night too? And she hadn’t made it home like Claire. Was there a monster preying on children in these peaceful fields?

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Friday afternoon Claire hurried across the pink-granite rocks toward where Luke waited for her. The puffs of clouds floating lazily across the blue sky eased the tension from her as she waded into the cold water of the orca’s pen with a pail of fish in her hand. She slapped the water to call him, and he zipped quickly over to nudge her hand before doing flips in the water as if to coax Claire to feed him. She laughed and tossed him his lunch.

  Luke moved her way down the pier, then sat on the side and dangled his legs over the edge. “How’d the talk go with Francisca?”

  “She is in favor of the merger, and she’s going to talk to her family. I’m not sure she can convince them, though.”

  “You don’t sound upset about it.”

  The cold water numbed her legs. “I’m not. We’ll manage one way or the other.”

  The fish were gone in minutes, and she rinsed her hands in the cold salt water. “I’m all out of food, little man.”

  Luke jumped over the side of the pier into the water and smacked his hand in the water, then shot a splash her way. “I don’t think he believes you.”

  The shock of cold water made her laugh harder. She splashed him back, then tried to run as he approached threateningly. She was giggling so hard that her right foot slipped on a wet rock and her head went under. The next thing she knew, a wave grabbed her and tossed her to the bottom. A hand grabbed the back of her blouse and yanked her up. She came up gasping for air and found herself clasped tightly against Luke’s broad chest. He made no sudden move to release her.

  She looked at her fists, tightly bunched in his wet shirt. She really should let him go, but she couldn’t seem to force her fingers to release their grip. His hands, the fingers splayed to cover the most area possible, spanned her waist and held her securely. The scent of his skin mingled with that of the sea, a very enticing aroma. Her gaze went to his mouth, and she wished she dared to run her finger along the outline of those firm lips. Her pulse had never raced like this in her life, had it?

  His brown eyes darkened to nearly black, and his grip on her waist tightened as he drew her just a bit closer. His head started down, and her eyes drifted shut as she turned her face up to welcome the kiss she knew was coming.

  His lips brushed hers, and she inhaled the masculine scent of his skin. The kiss deepened, and she curled her fists into his shirt.

  “Uh, Luke,” a male voice said behind her.

  His hands released her so quickly she nearly fell back into the waves foaming around her knees. She whipped around to see the sheriff and Luke’s deputy friend standing just out of reach of the waves rolling onto the sand. The sheriff’s eyes narrowed as he looked her over, and her face flamed. He’d seen them kissing.

  His gaze was cold, and she could have sworn she saw deep suspicion and distrust. She’d liked the sheriff until now, so his manner made her stumble as she exited the water and reached for the towel she’d left on the sand.

  “We’d like to speak with you, Ms. Dellamare.” A steel undertone layered his formal request.

  She wiped off her face and hair. “Of course. Is it about Jenny?” The cool breeze touched her chilled skin, and she shivered, then draped the towel around her shoulders.

  Luke’s warm fingers pressed into the flesh at her elbow, and she took comfort from his touch of courage. Something was very wrong, and she gripped her hands together as she waited for Sheriff Colton to tell her why his hazel eyes were so cold and why his manner was so stiff.

  She sidled a step closer to Luke. “What’s wrong, Sheriff?”

  He glanced at Luke. “Did you tell her what we found yesterday?”

  Luke knew about this? Claire slanted a glance up at Luke who was shaking his head. “Luke? What’s he talking about?”

  “I didn’t know much, Danny, so of course I didn’t say anything. I assume you’re here because you know more.” Luke heaved a sigh and ran his hand through his damp hair. His fingers tightened on her arm, and his eyes held compassion. “There was another body found on my land yesterday.”

  Another body? She took a step back. “Oh no. Do you know who it is?”

  “I’ll have to let Danny explain himself because I’m not sure,” Luke said.

  The sheriff shuffled closer, his black shoes just inches from the water. “I thought I’d have to wait on DNA results for the body, but we got an immediate match on dental records. I couldn’t believe it, so I rechecked it myself and spoke to the dentist where we obtained the records. There’s no doubt on the child’s identity. The locket helped too. I’m going to run DNA, just because it involves Dellamare, but I’m sure.”

  “Child?” Claire leaned against Luke, and his hand left her elbow and went to her waist as he pulled her closer into his side. “Locket?”

  The sheriff nodded. “A four-year-old child, to be precise, Ms. Dellamare. We also found scraps of a lacy pink dress. The little girl had blond hair.”

  A child the same age she’d been when she wandered off. Was there some kind of serial killer out there? And even if there was, why were the sheriff and his deputy staring at her like she might change into an alien at any moment? Nothing about this situation seemed to concern her, and certainly it shouldn’t have lodged such suspicion in their eyes. Surely they didn’t think she’d killed the child?

  Her mind raced in a thousand directions and landed nowhere that made sense. “Who is the child?”

  “The locket held a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Dellamare. It was engraved on the back with the letters CD. The little girl has been identified as Claire Dellamare. She just had a dental appointment before her birthday when she chipped a tooth.”

  Claire held up her hand. “Wait, that can’t be true. I’m Claire Dellamare. There can’t be two of us.” What did this mean? She couldn’t process it.

  “Precisely, Ms. Whoever-You-Are. I can’t call you Claire Dellamare because we have no idea who you are or who told the Dellamares that you were Claire.” The sheriff leaned closer, and his minty breath washed over her face. “I’ll tell you what I think. I believe Jenny figured this out, and you killed her to stop her from spilling the beans.”

  Luke’s fingers tightened around her waist. “Come on, Danny! Whatever happened, Claire had nothing
to do with it. Can’t you see how shocked she is at this news? Heck, I’m shocked. I mean, I knew you’d found a child, but I assumed some other little girl was missing at the same time.”

  “She’s a good actress.” The sheriff clenched his fists. “I’m going to be digging into this, and I’ll find out who she’s been in contact with from here. Because this didn’t happen by itself with no intervention.”

  The roaring in her ears increased to a deafening sound that blocked out all reason and thought. Not Claire Dellamare.

  Luke touched her arm. “Claire?”

  Leaning into Luke’s strength, she managed to hold up her head and face the sheriff’s derision. “I think we’d better talk to my parents.”

  The familiar smell of doctor’s office antiseptic and new carpet enveloped Kate like a forgotten memory. She flipped through a Cosmopolitan but didn’t really see the words fluttering by. Her mother was engrossed in a conversation with a bald little boy of about two who had brought his tractor to show off.

  Kate watched them a moment. Had her mother ever shown her that much attention as a child? If so, she didn’t remember it. Her childhood had been spent in the blueberry barrens, and her uncle Paul had been more of a parent than her mother. But since she’d gotten sick, her mom had changed.

  Kate shot to her feet when the nurse called her name and hurried across the brown carpet to follow the white-clad uniform to the first door on the right. Her mother followed them and went to her spot in an upholstered chair in the corner. Kate settled on the examination table. The white paper crinkled as she shifted to submit to a blood pressure check.

  The nurse raised her brow. “Up a little, Kate. One fifty over ninety.”

  Kate managed a smile. “White-coat syndrome.”

  Seascapes decorated the brown tweed walls, and she concentrated on the impossibly white sails of a large ship. From the rocks and landscape, she recognized the location as Acadia, one of her favorite places. She avoided looking at her mother. They both feared what the doctor would say. The lurid bruises on Kate’s arms and shins told a grim story.

  The door opened, and Dr. Bain stepped inside. A tall, handsome man in his fifties, he wore a kind manner like a favorite shirt. “Ah, my favorite patient. How are you doing today, Kate?” His voice was a pleasant rumble.

  “Okay.”

  He stepped to her side and tilted her chin up, looking her in the eyes. “Lots of fatigue?”

  She nodded. “And bruises.” She showed him her legs and arms. “The news is bad, isn’t it?”

  He settled on the stainless steel stool at his small desk and flipped open her chart. “Hmm.” Flipping through several pages, he read each one, then closed the chart. “This latest drug isn’t working.”

  Kate’s stomach clenched, though she’d been expecting it. The telltale fatigue. “I could have told you that without all the tests. Now what?”

  He glanced at her mother. “How are you holding up, Mary?”

  Kate’s mother looked down at the floor. “It’s hard watching your daughter struggle. But she’s going to be all right. We just have to change drugs.”

  The doctor sighed, a heavy sound that tightened Kate’s gut and made her sit up straighter. “What is it? Worse than we expected?”

  He rolled his pen between his fingers. “I just don’t know what to do next, Kate. We’ve been through all the normal treatments. I’ve never seen aplastic anemia so resistant to treatment right out of the gate. I’d like to try a stem-cell transplant, but we haven’t found a good donor.”

  She already knew a transplant offered the hope of an actual cure, but her antigens were rare or something. She didn’t totally understand it. “What about my uncle? Mom wasn’t a match, but we never did test Uncle Paul.”

  “Have him come in and we can check him, but your mom is so far off I think it’s unlikely your uncle would work.”

  Her mother gripped her hands together in her lap. “Can’t we just try my cells? Maybe they would work.”

  “No, Mary, I’m sorry. We can’t put Kate through that when success is so doubtful. I think for now we’ll have to rely on blood transfusion. And pray for the right donor.”

  I am going to die. Kate struggled to draw in a breath. She had to stay positive and keep the fear at bay. “The more transfusions I have, the less likely it is that a transplant will work, right?”

  “Yes.” His large hand dropped onto her shoulder, and he squeezed.

  She accepted the reassuring touch. “What if I don’t find a donor? How long will the transfusions last? How many can I have before we have to give up the idea of a stem-cell transplant?”

  “We can put the first one off a few days, but you’ll need one very soon. Then you may not need another for weeks, and with any luck, we can find a donor before you have too many transfusions.” He looked down at the floor. “But let’s check you again in a couple of days, and if the levels drop even a little more, we’ll do a transfusion.”

  The pressure in her chest intensified. “You don’t think this is going to work, do you?”

  The doctor held her gaze. “I’m going to fight right alongside you, Kate. I want you to hold on to your faith and fight with everything in you. Will you promise me that?”

  She nodded, too choked up to answer him verbally. Her gaze sought out her mom’s face, and she found resignation there.

  Her mother gave a slight nod. “I think we’d better talk to Harry again.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Not Claire Dellamare.

  “I’m not Claire.” The constriction grew in her chest as the sheriff and his deputy stared at her. “Who am I, Luke?”

  His fingers pressed her arm. “We don’t know much yet, honey. Let’s wait for the results of the DNA tests to come back. Maybe the sheriff is wrong about the dental records. After all, you were a child, so there might have been very similar X-rays for another child.”

  The sheriff loomed over her. “You’re grasping at straws.” Perspiration dotted his forehead, and he swiped at it, his hand shaking.

  Why was he so upset when he’d basically told her that her entire life was a lie? Then she saw the reason for his agitation. Her father’s raised voice was enough to scare the little orca right back out to sea. His pants were covered in sand, and his hair stood up on end as though he’d raked his hand through it.

  He pointed his finger at the sheriff. “I got your ridiculous message. You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t know my own daughter! And you think my wife was in on the collusion? Next I suppose you’ll say we murdered the real Claire and put someone else in her place. I’m calling my lawyer. I won’t stand for this!”

  Claire hadn’t thought through the implications. Her father was right. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that her mother would defend her to the death. She might have her own ideas about how Claire’s life ought to go, but it was only because she loved her so much. If someone had brought another child to her and insisted she was Claire, her mother would have seen through that in a heartbeat.

  The sheriff had to be wrong. The dental records were wrong.

  Luke still held her, and she wished she could put her face against his chest and ignore the world. Unfortunately, she would have to bring calm to this chaos.

  She brushed the sand from her legs, then pushed her hair out of her face, realizing her hair was nearly dry. Over Luke’s shoulder, she saw Francisca was here too. Mom sat on a large rock off to one side of the melee. Her hands covered her face, and her shoulders shook with the ferocity of her sobs. Francisca stood beside her with her hand on Mom’s shoulder. Claire caught Francisca’s worried gaze and smiled to let her know things would be all right.

  “I need to reassure my mom.”

  Luke glanced toward the two women. “I’ll try to calm your dad. He’s about to strangle the sheriff.”

  “I just might join him.” She pressed her lips together and walked across the rocks.

  Francisca’s hair was still damp as if she’d been call
ed while in the shower, and she wore black workout shorts and a tank. Her anxious gaze lingered on Claire’s face. “You’re very pale, Claire. I think you’d better sit down.”

  “Claire?” Her mother dropped her hands and wobbled to her feet. She grasped Claire by the shoulders and pulled her tight against her chest. “Oh, Claire, it’s awful what they’re saying! Just terrible. The sheriff seems to think we might have killed that poor little girl in the field and had you take her place. Where could he get such an insane idea?”

  Claire closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma of her mother’s Hermès perfume and coconut body wash. The scent made her wish she could be a little girl and climb into her mother’s lap for a good cry. Her back stiffened and she pulled back gently. Nothing could be gained by avoiding this.

  “I need to ask you about the day I was returned to you, Mom. I want to be sure in my own head what happened. How did you know it was me? I’d been gone a year. Children change so fast.”

  Her mother’s fingers tightened on Claire’s shoulders as though she was going to clutch at her again, then her shoulders sagged and her arms dropped back to the sides of her slim-fitting black sundress. “You’d changed, of course. Grown a bit taller, and you had a Maine accent.” Her smile broke out. “It was quite cute, to tell you the truth, but I had to hire a speech therapist to get your accent back to normal.”

  Claire’s mom was a master at changing the subject to avoid a topic that made her uncomfortable, but Claire couldn’t afford to let her get off on a tangent. “About my appearance. Was there anything at all that gave you pause? Anything that suggested I might not be your daughter?”

  Her mother picked at a nail and didn’t look at her. The wind teased wisps of blond hair loose from her French twist. “Nothing important. I knew as soon as I saw your big blue eyes.”

  Claire glanced at Francisca, who had straightened and widened her eyes. “What did you see that you thought was unimportant?”

  Her mother finally looked up with an almost guilty expression. She swiped the hair from her eyes and bit her lip. “It was so minor that it’s ludicrous to bring it up now, Claire.” She eased back onto the rock and clasped her hands together on her knee. “I really should calm your father down so we can get back to the hotel for dinner.”