“I would. My mother wouldn’t hear of it though, and everything is booked now. Luke and I will just have to wait it out. It’s only a few more weeks. You’re still going to sing, right? You need to quit hiding that amazing voice of yours. You’re as good as Adele.”
Kate’s cheeks warmed. “Not hardly. But yes, I’m not backing out on you.” She lifted the binoculars to her eyes again and trained them up the jagged cliff of pink and gray to the ledge jutting out over the rocky shore about forty feet up. She greedily stared at the nesting burrows. Such an exciting sight was rare.
Something other than birds filled her field of vision, and it took a moment for her to register what she was seeing. Frowning, she adjusted the binoculars. It could not be what it seemed.
The figure sharpened into focus, and she made out long blonde hair fanning out on the rocks at the base of the burrows. Wait, was that another person beside the woman? She moved her field of sight and saw short dark hair and muscular arms.
She leaped into action. “Two people are hurt. I think they might have fallen off the cliff, maybe while looking at the puffins. We have to get up there!”
Claire caught at her arm. “We don’t have climbing equipment.”
Kate pulled free and headed for the water. She had to try to get to the base of the cliffs and climb up. She kicked off her shoes and waded into the pounding waves. The frigid water took her breath away, and a huge wave tossed her back onto the sand. Gasping, she turned for another try, but Claire grabbed her arm again.
Claire held her in a tight grip. “You can’t! The waves are treacherous here. We need help. I’ll call the Coast Guard. Kevin too.” She dug out her phone and placed the call.
Kate paced the wet sand. There had to be something she could do. She peered back up at the rock face. A movement drew her attention, and she saw a plume of dirt from the back end of a pickup truck. Mud caked every inch of its body, and she couldn’t make out the color or model as it drove along the high road. It likely had nothing to do with the accident, but at least the guy could have stopped to help.
Claire ended the call. “Luke’s Coast Guard cutter is less than five minutes away.”
Was it too late already? Kate looked at the figures at the puffin burrows. They weren’t moving. She eyed the rugged and weathered sea cliff that soared straight up into the air. Claire was right—there was no way they’d be able to climb up.
Two hours later the Coast Guard told her the couple was dead. Kate couldn’t have saved them even if she’d tried.
TWO
The small clapboard cottage where Kate grew up sat squarely in the middle of their blueberry barrens just off Highway 1, about fifteen miles northeast of Summer Harbor. The placement of its windows and shutters made the house, painted two shades of blue, seem to smile a welcome that she badly needed after the morning’s events. She got out of her yellow Volkswagen and shut the door.
Her best friend, Shelley McDonald, came down off the porch as Kate pulled into the driveway. Her long red hair gleamed in the sunlight. Her pale skin never tanned, so she usually covered her bare legs with jeans. “I brought lunch, homemade lobster bisque. It’s in the kitchen. And chocolate for dessert. You need a little TLC.”
Kate hugged her. “I’m still a little shaky. And to top it all off, I had a flat tire on the way home.” She followed her friend up the porch steps to the house. The aroma of bisque wafting out the screen door made her mouth water. She and Claire had spent hours going over what they’d seen and heard at the cliffside, and lunch should have been eaten two hours ago.
She led the way to the kitchen and washed her hands, filthy from changing the tire, then got down two Fiesta bowls in bright orange, Christmas gifts from Claire last December. “The news is all over Downeast Maine, huh?”
Shelley took the bowls from Kate. “You have no idea. I stopped in to buy the bisque at Ruth & Wimpy’s, and everyone stopped me to ask about it. I couldn’t tell them much, not even the names. Does the sheriff know what happened?”
“They’re investigating. He thinks it might have been a murder/suicide. The husband might have killed his wife, tossed her over, then jumped himself.” Kate shuddered, remembering the bodies. She pushed the thought away and focused on Shelley. “About ready to go?” Kate hated to ask. Her friend’s looming move didn’t make her happy, but Shelley seemed thrilled. She had taken a teaching position in Rock Harbor, Michigan, half a continent away.
Shelley nodded. “Tomorrow’s the big day. Pray for me. I’m dreading that drive across country by myself. At least I’m not pulling a trailer full of furniture. Everything is packed up, and the movers come in the morning. I’ll leave right after they do. I’m going to take my time and stop when I feel like it. I want to see Niagara Falls on the way, and I might stop off in Ohio Amish country and have a big plate of homemade noodles and pie.”
“It’s all about food with you.” The hot bisque, rich with lobster and butter, hit Kate’s taste buds. “Oh man, this is so good. I could eat it every meal.”
“Me too.” Shelley surveyed her on the other side of the table. “How’s Claire holding up? She’s got a lot going on with the wedding approaching.”
“She’s okay. Luke arrived on scene right away.” She rubbed her forehead. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? The reason we were even there was because there’s a new puffin nesting site!”
“No way!”
“I saw it with my own eyes. I’m going to let Kevin know.” Kate lifted the spoon to her mouth and froze at the purplish mark on her arm. She set her spoon back in the bowl and examined the skin. “I’ve got a bruise. A big one.”
Shelley studied her extended arm. “Looks like a thumbprint. Did anyone manhandle you today?”
Kate started to deny it, then remembered her plunge into the water to try to reach the cliffs. “Claire hauled me out of the sea and wouldn’t let me go back in. The riptide was bad. Think I should see the doctor?”
“Your color looks good. Are you feeling okay? Any weakness, heart palpitations, nosebleeds?”
“No, nothing. I feel great.” But staring at the bruise made her feel a little light-headed.
“Then put it out of your mind. You’re cured, Kate. That aplastic anemia is never coming back.”
Kate reached for her huge blue-and-white bag and pulled out a small amber bottle of lemon oil. She dripped a couple of drops of it into her water. “Can’t hurt.”
“No, it can’t hurt.” Shelley sat back in her chair. “You have to quit worrying though. You seem to be stuck in yesterday. I want to see you move on and make a new life. Are you going to stay in Folly Shoals forever? You don’t even like working the blueberry barrens. You only quit school and came back because your mother insisted. You don’t have to do that anymore.”
“With her in jail, there’s no one else to take care of the fields.” She knew her duty even if she didn’t love it.
“And would that be so bad? The neighbors can harvest any of the berries they want. The rest can rot. It’s not your concern.” Shelley shook her head. “I see you wincing. The entire world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. It’s your turn to find out what you really want out of life. What makes you happy and fulfilled. God gave you specific gifts, and you’re not using them at all.”
“I’m running the children’s department at church. That’s using my gifts.”
Shelley rolled her eyes, then smiled. “I’ll give you that. I see your joy in working with kids. But you love color and texture. You’ve got an artist’s heart for creativity, and you never get to use it. You’re great with people, but you rarely see more than Claire and me except on Sunday. You’re stuck in a loop here. Maybe you’re the one who should be looking for a new job somewhere else.” Shelley’s eyes widened, and a grin spread across her face. “I know! Come with me to Rock Harbor. The place I rented has three bedrooms. You can live in one and look for a job. It would be a fresh start.”
Kate shook her head. “Claire is here. I’ve just
found her again and I can’t leave her.” But Shelley’s words resonated more than she wanted them to. Was she really stuck in this place, unable to move forward with her life?
* * *
Drake Newham rolled over in his big bed and looked at the clock. Two in the morning. In the distance he could hear the hum of cars and trucks on I-93. Traffic in Boston was a constant, even in the middle of the night. The moonlight filtered through the curtains and illuminated the faces of his two nieces who’d crawled into bed with him an hour ago. It was nearly an every-night occurrence since his half brother and sister-in-law had died a month ago, and his chest felt heavy from trying to conceal his grief.
He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his older brother was dead. Heath had so much to live for—a thriving law practice and a beautiful family that was the envy of everyone, including Drake.
He tucked the covers around his nieces, then swung his legs out of bed. He’d taken to sleeping in sweats since he was up with the girls so much. They’d get through this somehow, though right now it looked as hard as climbing Mount Everest.
Over the past couple of weeks he’d reached for the phone to call his brother until the stab in his gut reminded him he’d never hear Heath’s voice again. How was it even possible to bear this much pain? Drake couldn’t imagine how the girls felt. They cried a lot and clung to him even as he’d clung to them as all he had left of his brother.
He peered out the window. For the past week he’d had the uncanny sensation of being watched, and yesterday he’d taken a quick turn down an alley to escape a black pickup he’d been certain was tailing him. Unsure of what had awakened him, he slid his feet into slippers and padded down the steps to the kitchen. A snack of peanut butter and crackers sounded enticing. Maybe he’d pull up his computer and see if he could find out anything new about Heath’s death.
The sheriff in Maine was certain Heath had killed Melissa, then himself. Drake didn’t buy it. Such behavior was so unlike Heath, who was outgoing, upbeat, and the eternal optimist. Nothing Melissa could do would ever drive him to do something like that. He loved his kids way too much to leave them orphaned. And they’d been so happy. Melissa was the type of wife Drake would have picked for himself—faithful, loving, a good mother.
Then what had happened? An old client out for revenge? Someone who’d gone to prison because of Heath? If that were the case, the list of suspects would be long and complex. Heath had practiced law as a defense attorney for ten years, and it would take time to go through every single case.
The moonlight gleamed off the stainless-steel appliances in his huge kitchen. He’d cooked more in here in the past month than he had in the entire two years previously. His life had changed dramatically since the girls had come to live with him. He would do anything he could to make them smile again.
His slippers crunched on something, and he looked down. Glass glimmered back at him, and a warm breeze touched the back of his neck. He whirled toward the window and saw the curtains flutter. Someone from the outside had broken the window, and the glass had fallen on the floor. Was the intruder still inside?
He grabbed a butcher knife from the block on the granite countertop and ran for the stairs to check on the girls. His phone was upstairs too. His breath sounded harsh in his ears as he took the stairs two at a time and stepped into his bedroom.
The girls were still sleeping, so he grabbed his phone and dialed 911. With the police on their way, he left the call connected, then pulled out the flashlight from the bedside table and shone it around the room and into the walk-in closet.
No one appeared to be hiding in the bedroom. He wanted to investigate the rest of the house, but he didn’t dare leave the girls alone, so he locked the door and forced himself to wait by the window. Once he saw the flashing light of the police car pull into the driveway, he unlocked the door and eased back out, then shut it behind him.
He stood at the top of the stairs and shone the light up and down the hall. The thought of going downstairs without the girls felt unsafe, so he retraced his steps. He laid down the knife and scooped up one little girl in each arm. Five-year-old Phoebe never budged, but eight-year-old Emma’s eyes fluttered before she settled back against his chest. Huffing from their weight, he descended the stairs as fast as he dared to the house’s entrance.
As he reached the living room, a fist pounded on the door. “Police!”
He laid the girls on the sofa, then went to answer the door. Two police officers charged inside.
The woman looked around. “You reported an intruder, Mr. Newham?” In her thirties, she was about five-five but muscular.
He nodded. “My kitchen window was busted out. I haven’t probed through the house because I didn’t want to leave the girls alone.”
“Smart decision,” the male officer said. About forty, he was slightly overweight with thick graying hair. “That way?” He pointed past the living room.
“Yes.” Drake glanced at the girls who were still sleeping, then followed the officers as they began to walk through the house.
After they looked in the kitchen, they swept through the dining room, living room, laundry room, then stopped outside his office door. It stood ajar. “I keep this door locked.” He reached to the wall and flipped on the hallway light. The illumination revealed the doorjamb was splintered.
He swallowed, then peered past the officers as they pushed open the door and flipped on the light. Papers, pens, file folders, and upended file drawers lay strewn on the floor. It would take forever to pick through everything and determine what had been taken. What had the intruder been after? His blueprints were spread out on top of the desk.
He bent over and examined the drawings. “These were in a drawer, but at least they’re still here.”
The female officer turned to look at him. “What are they?”
“Drawings of a new drone. I’ve already got several million dollars’ worth of orders for it.” Drake’s start-up of ten years ago had taken off in a big way in the past couple of years thanks to his innovative designs. “Could the intruder have taken pictures of the plans?”
“It’s possible.” She eyed the damaged door. “Is there anywhere you can take the girls and stay for a few days while we investigate this? You definitely shouldn’t stay here unless you get some good security.”
“I have an alarm system, but it didn’t trigger when he broke the window.”
“Probably disarmed.”
Which meant a professional. Drake’s thoughts veered again to his dead brother and sister-in-law. “I think I’ll take the girls on a vacation and get out of here.” Downeast Maine might hold the answers he craved. But just in case, he shot off a text to his attorney to check out any competitors who might be sniffing around.
THREE
The crimson leaves of the blueberry barrens merged into the gorgeous gold and magenta of a Maine sunset. The rich color looked bountiful, but Kate fought the sting of tears as she looked at the fields. The red leaves held few marketable blueberries. She’d counted on the area’s bees to pollinate her fields, but her gamble hadn’t paid off.
Claire shaded her blue eyes with one hand. “Let’s check the other field. It can’t be as bad as this one.”
“It’s worse. I checked there first. I should have rented honeybee hives. It’s my own fault.” Kate held up her hand as her sister started to speak again. “And no, I won’t take any money from you. I’ve been thinking about getting a job anyway. Maybe it’s time I looked for a life apart from the barrens. Shelley mentioned it when she left a couple of weeks ago.”
Shelley’s words about leaving this area came back to haunt her, too, but Kate pushed them away. Nothing could induce her to leave Downeast Maine. It was home and always would be. If she’d been sharper and more aware of things right after her stem-cell transplant eighteen months ago, maybe she would have made a different choice about the bees. But it was no use crying over it now. She had to figure out a way to survive until next ye
ar.
A frown formed between Claire’s eyes. “But you love growing blueberries. It’s been your life. We’ll figure this out together.”
“I’ve just tried to make the best of it. It’s not my first choice of a career, and it’s not all I can do either. There are other jobs out there, ones I might really like. I’ll give it some thought.”
Claire pressed her lips together and looked away. Kate knew what she was thinking. There weren’t many jobs in this depressed area other than fishing, lobstering, and serving tables—all careers Kate wasn’t qualified for. She’d tried serving tables once, and she was fired after a day for dropping three trays and being brusque to customers who were too fresh.
God always provided a way out of her difficulties. He wasn’t going to fail her now. And the thought of leaving these blueberry barrens behind felt a little like a fresh start—something she desperately needed. But that didn’t mean she’d have to leave Claire to find a new profession.
Claire tucked a blonde lock that had escaped her updo back into place. “You could let me pay you to take over planning my wedding. I’m about to pull out my hair.”
“You’re quite competent to plan your own wedding, and you know perfectly well that everything has been done. I don’t want your money.” Kate turned to stare back over the fields.
The two had been separated for most of their growing-up years. Claire had been raised with the best of everything in Boston while Kate had stayed here on the blueberry barrens. She’d never thought to leave this place of rocky shores, but maybe she would have to.
The thought brought a lump to her throat. She would do anything she could to stay near Claire, even if it meant waiting tables. Her sister was the most important thing in her life.
Kate gazed at the empty cottage across the road from the one she occupied. It had potential with its steep gabled roof and dormers. “What if I fixed up the cottage and rented it out? Is that a stupid idea?” The thought filled her with energy. If there was one thing she loved, it was decorating and home-improvement projects.