Claire's fingers closed around the pencil. The familiar feel of it gave her comfort. "I told you I didn't see him clearly."

"No, but you saw his feet and his pants leg as he was kicking you. You heard something. Write it all down."

The pain in Claire's chest was easing with the medication. She flipped open the cover of the pad and ran her hand over the thick, heavy paper. The touch of her favorite medium opened her imagination. Images began to flood her mind. "You're right. His boots were heavy and just over the ankle. His pants were khaki, and he had them tucked into his boots."

The pencil scratched over the thick paper almost of its own volition as the images flowed from her fingertips. By the time she was finished, she knew the sole was loose on the man's boots, and he probably wore about a size twelve. There was a tear on the left hem of the hunting pants too. It wasn't much, but it was more than she'd had this morning.

Ankles crossed, Kate sat with Sh.e.l.ley on a bench along the green belt between the hotel and the golf course. A fog mull had moved in from the ocean during the night and hovered about three feet above the ground in a chilling mist that abruptly gave way to clear blue skies overhead. A few flags on the greens flapped in the brisk wind at the top of the hill.

Weariness dogged her as she jiggled her foot and watched the path. Her fatigue wasn't a good sign. "You'd think they'd be done by now." Glancing down at her attire, she hoped she'd dressed up enough with the skirt and pumps. She'd nearly pulled on her usual jeans, then decided to take it up a notch. He wasn't apt to welcome her with open arms if she dressed like a yard keeper. She picked at a piece of lint that didn't want to come off.

"It's Sunday, so the course is packed." Sh.e.l.ley tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. "It should be soon. My cousin said the new group teed off at ten so they'll have to be done and out of the way soon. Do you know what you're going to say?"

"I thought I'd wing it, maybe strike up a conversation about the weather. I want to see if he recognizes me."

Sh.e.l.ley frowned. "Kate, you shouldn't get your hopes up."

Kate opened her mouth, then closed it again. What reb.u.t.tal could she have? Sh.e.l.ley was right. What would she gain from this exchange today? He wasn't suddenly going to welcome her into his life with open arms. Though he'd done just that once upon a time when she was small.

The realization made her sag against the park bench until Sh.e.l.ley tugged her arm and hissed, "There he is! His father-in-law is with him."

Her pulse hammered as she watched him stroll along the path beside the older man. Neither of them had their clubs, so she a.s.sumed they were being handled by an employee. Her father wore khaki slacks and a red shirt that made his graying hair gleam. He had an easy stride that proclaimed his status and confidence. He no longer looked like a surfer as he had in the old picture she'd found in her mother's closet.

When the men were five feet away, she casually rose and stepped toward the edge of the green s.p.a.ce. Her gaze met her father's and she smiled. "Hi, you must be Harry Dellamare. I recognized you from a-a newspaper article."

The relaxed smile moved to an alert one. "That's right. And you are?"

She reached for some kind of answer that wouldn't get his guard up. "Um, Katherine, my name's Katherine." She waved vaguely. "I live in the village, and I'm a big fan of airplanes. I've always wanted to learn to fly, and your planes are beautiful. I've read everything I can about how you make them. I don't suppose you flew here in one, did you?"

"I brought the jet. Glad you're such a fan. The local newspaper will have pictures in next week's edition."

"I'll check it out."

She recognized the telltale way he glanced past her at the hotel. He was about to walk away. A confession hovered on the tip of her tongue. She couldn't let him go. This was her one opportunity to speak to him without his wife. Would his father-in-law have heard about her?

He started to step past her, but she put her hand on his arm. "I can't lie to you anymore. My name is Kate. Kate Mason." She watched for the flicker of his lids as he recognized her, and she felt a tingle when it came.

His polite smile didn't reach his eyes. "Ah yes, you e-mailed me about an interview. I'll answer your questions later. I really must go now."

Her mouth dangled open and she closed it. Of course. He didn't want his father-in-law to know. His manipulation took her breath away.

Sh.e.l.ley sprang to her feet and stood in his path. "Um, I'm Sh.e.l.ley. I teach school, and I was wondering if I could talk you into speaking to my kids about setting goals to achieve their dreams. I'm sure there had to be some goal setting in your life."

He frowned. "I'm here on vacation, and I'm afraid I can't take the time."

So like Sh.e.l.ley to try to help her, but this time Kate needed to step up, to make him acknowledge her existence. To stop his pretense. "I'm Kate. Your daughter Kate." Her voice got smaller with each word.

He looked at his watch again. "I know you young people like to pull pranks, and I admit it's funny." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "But we need to be going."

He tried to shake her hand off, but she tightened her fingers, bolstered by his bald-faced denial. "Yes, let's call the sheriff, and he can fetch my mom. Will you look past her too? How about we do a DNA test if you're of a mind to reject me? That would be easy enough to prove, wouldn't it?"

The color drained from his face, and he looked away from her.

The other man smiled at her with a thoughtful line on his forehead. "I think she's got your eyes, Harry. It's not going to take a DNA test to prove." He put his hand on Kate's shoulder. "There's a coffee shop down the street. Why don't we all go there and talk this out a bit?"

Her father's lips flattened. "This isn't the time or place for any discussion. How about you give me your number, Kate, and I'll call you later?"

His lids flickered, and she knew he was lying. He planned to brush her off, then dodge any discussion. "Let's do that, and I'll be sure to call the newspapers and magazines. I'm sure they'll be interested in how you maintained a secret family for years. I can tell them all about how I wasn't supposed to acknowledge you if I saw you around town. And they'd be very interested in the property you bought Mom." She pulled out her phone. "Who do you want me to call first?"

His smile seemed fixed. "Honey, this isn't the time or place."

The glib endearment rattled her. Of course, that was his intention too. He was used to getting his own way with his charm. She marshaled her determination and tipped up her chin. "I simply want to know why you abandoned me, your own daughter. What happened that made you leave and never come back? I thought you loved me. You used to be so glad to see me when you'd come. Then it all changed. You may have fallen out of love with Mom, but did you have to turn your back on me too?" She choked back a humiliating sob. "And I've been sick, and you never even called to see how I was doing."

His eyes widened, and his gaze swept over her. "You don't look sick. I'm sorry you were hurt, honey. Like I said, I'll call you later."

The second endearment made her s.n.a.t.c.h her hand away. Through blurry eyes, she watched him hurry off with his father-in-law. Even if he was a good match for her, she didn't want his bone marrow. But he wasn't getting rid of her that easily.

FIFTEEN.

The small church had drawn Claire from the moment she first laid eyes on it. Atop a small knoll, the white chapel seemed to exude welcome and acceptance. She had hurried to make the nine o'clock service with her grandmother by her side.

They entered the large oak entry and slipped into the back pew. The pain in her chest was some better today. Stained gla.s.s windows reflected colored light around the room, and the scent of decades of worshipping history hung in the air. She hadn't seen a hymnal at the back of a pew in her life, and she lifted it from its slot and turned the yellowed pages. Her church threw the worship song lyrics onto a large overhead screen.

"I like this church," her grandmother whispered. "It's been a long time since I was in a church this old and quaint."

The choir leader directed the worshippers to turn to page 432, and she joined the chorus of "How Great Thou Art" with some awkwardness. The tune sounded vaguely familiar, but even though the song wasn't one she knew, the sense of holiness in the place reached her where she needed it. Her grandma sang with gusto as though the words resided deep inside her in some half-forgotten place.

A rich baritone voice joined in the chorus beside her, and she turned her head to see Luke and Megan had slipped into the pew with her. Luke's shoulder brushed hers, and she resisted the urge to lean into his warmth. She drank in the pastor's message about the importance of family bonds.

Maybe she'd been a little harsh judging the way her parents had kept the incident from her. Their motives had been to save her heartache.

At the final prayer, she rose with Luke and Megan. "This must be your church. It was nice."

Luke's red shirt flattered his dark hair and eyes. "We've come here since we were babies." His gaze went past her to her grandmother. "I'm Claire's friend, Luke Rocco. This is my sister, Megan."

Her grandmother extended her hand. "Emily Cramer, Claire's grandmother. You're a handsome fellow, Luke Rocco."

Megan snickered and picked up her Bible. "Luke has never figured out that he's a chick magnet, Mrs. Cramer. He's not the heartbreaker he appears."

"I'm glad to hear it." Claire's grandmother adjusted her spring-green jacket and picked up her cream purse. "Claire, I'm going back to the hotel to rest a bit. I'll call for room service for lunch. Have fun with your friends." She pointed a pink-tipped nail at Luke. "Don't keep her long."

Claire bit her lip as her grandmother walked toward the door. Why was Grandma evading her? Did she fear Claire's questions that much?

"You look troubled," Luke said.

"Grandma knows more about my missing year than she's telling."

Megan grabbed her hand and nodded over Claire's shoulder. "There's Jenny's best friend. Let's see if she has any idea why Jenny sent that letter."

Claire turned to see a woman in her thirties heading down the church aisle. She wore jeans and heels with a white ruffled top. Her brown hair was cut in a short, sleek bob.

Luke moved to block her path. "Isabelle, you got a minute?"

"Sure, Luke. I have tuna salad waiting for me at home and an impatient cat." Her eyes flooded. "I was supposed to be in the Outer Banks with Jenny this weekend."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry about Jenny."

Isabelle looked down. "Thank you."

Megan touched her arm. "Let's move to the corner so we have some privacy."

Claire glanced at the time on her iPhone. She'd need to leave in the next half hour. The group moved to the west corner under a stained gla.s.s mirror depicting a shepherd holding a lamb.

"This is about Jenny," Luke said. "We heard she sent a letter to the sheriff's office anonymously. Did you know about that?"

Isabelle's mouth gaped, and she swiped at her cheeks. "How did you know about that? She didn't sign it."

"Fingerprints. Do you know what she heard or why she felt compelled to warn the sheriff?"

Isabelle's blue-eyed gaze fell on Claire. "You're Claire Dellamare, aren't you? I recognized you from your picture in the newspaper."

Claire's chest tightened at the condemnation in Isabelle's voice. "Yes."

Isabelle turned away from Claire as if to shut her out. "I'm not sure she should be here."

"I don't believe Claire has done anything wrong. Whatever Jenny heard probably led to her death. If you want to help us, you'll tell us what she was talking about and who told her."

"I tried to get her to tell me the man's name and she wouldn't."

"Who was this man she was talking about? Did you tell Andy anything about this? I know he's devastated."

Isabelle shrugged. "I didn't want to break Andy's heart. He doesn't know it, but he dodged a bullet."

Luke frowned. "What kind of bullet?"

"She was cheating on Andy with this older guy. She was really into him, at least at first. I found out about it and got so mad at her. She was going to break it off with Andy, but then something happened and she ended it with the other guy. She seemed afraid of him and said he had to be stopped."

"She gave you no clue as to who he was?"

"All I know is that he lives near Summer Harbor."

"Maybe he killed her," Claire put in.

Isabelle hit her with a sharp glance. "Or you did."

"I liked Jenny. I wouldn't have hurt her. I wouldn't hurt anyone." She should stop her prattling. Isabelle wasn't buying any of it.

Kate sat on the porch of her small bungalow looking out at the sun blazing over the blueberry barrens. The stiff breeze in her face carried the sweet scent of blueberry blossoms. Her father's rejection had reverberated through her heart, and she felt numb. Alone and unloved. Why had she ever gone to see him? She should have listened to her mother's warnings. She knew just how powerless the young bird struggling to fly in the breeze felt.

How did she tell her mother what she'd done? She thought he wouldn't go through with his threat, but what if an attorney showed up tomorrow and pulled everything away from her mother?

She stiffened and exhaled. If he dared to do that, she'd follow through on her threat to call the newspaper. What did she have to lose by exposing him at this point? He was not a nice man. That was the hardest thing she had to admit to herself. She'd had him on a pedestal and had been sure if she could talk to him, he'd welcome her with open arms. How foolish and naive she'd been.

Tires crunched on gravel, and her uncle's old Jeep grumbled to a halt in the drive. The door slammed, and his rangy form loped toward the porch. "Hey, sweet pea, what are you doing sitting out here by yourself?" Uncle Paul mounted the steps and dropped into a chair beside her.

"Just licking my wounds."

He frowned. "Wounds? What's happened?"

"I talked to Harry Dellamare today." She would stop calling him Dad. The sooner she realized there was no real fatherly love there, the better. She'd been living in a dream, but not anymore. It was time to wake up to reality.

He sat forward in his chair. "Claire, you didn't."

"Yep. And it didn't go well." The boulder in her throat grew as she relived the humiliation and rejection. "He made it sound like I was playing a joke on him, but his father-in-law realized who I was. Harry said he'd call." Her laugh was hollow. "He won't, though. He couldn't get away from me fast enough."

Paul pulled out his pipe and lit it. The pungent aroma of pipe tobacco curled along the porch. "What about Mary? Did he threaten to take her settlement?"

"No." Kate glanced at her uncle, haloed in a white fog of smoke. "He was scared. I don't think his wife has any idea that he had another family hidden away."

"Did you expect he had told her? I knew he never would. His wife was the one with all the money. If she left him, she'd take his cushy life with her. I've always suspected his in-laws heard about Mary and insisted he break it off."

"Have you ever seen his wife?" Kate couldn't explain her hunger to know more of her father's life. His other world had no relevance to hers, so where did this insatiable curiosity come from?

Uncle Paul puffed on his pipe. "I saw her with him at a restaurant once. Pretty woman, fragile, with chin-length blond hair and green eyes. A real looker. She seemed to hang on his every word." His tone held derision. "I wanted to march in there and tell her what her precious husband had been up to on his business trips here."

"But you didn't."

"Mary wouldn't let me. She still loved him back then."

"Do you know what changed? I mean, I remember how he was when I was small. He seemed to, well, to care about Mom and me. Then one day he just quit coming. I think I was about ten the last time he came here. Then I saw him that last time at the festival when I was twelve."

Uncle Paul rose and tapped the remnants of the pipe tobacco out over the side of the porch into the shrubs. "It was the near exposure at the blueberry festival over in Bar Harbor that did it. I think it shook him up when he saw you both. He realized if he kept it up, sooner or later his wife would find out."

"How did he ever meet Mom? I mean, how did their relationship happen?" She'd daydreamed about it a thousand times. The course of true love often didn't run smoothly, but when she was younger, she'd believed her parents would eventually be together.

"I think you'd better talk to her about that."

"What did he do when she told him she was pregnant?" Kate had asked her mother these same questions several times, but Mom had stonewalled her and changed the subject. There was so much she didn't know.

"Again, talk to your mom."