"Step in here." He helped her don the harness. "Okay, now sit on the edge of the ledge and dangle your feet over. I'll start lowering you."

As she slipped into place, he wrapped the rope around his waist and planted his feet. She looked back up at him. "I'm a little scared."

"I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know." She inhaled and scooted closer to the edge. "I'm ready."

The rope grew taut as he lowered her over the edge. The rough hemp bit into his torso as he took her weight. The rope rasped against his hands as he fed it through. He moved quickly to make sure the tree root held. When the length had played out, he leaned over the edge and gazed down. Her feet still looked about six feet above the sand.

"That's all I got," he called down.

She looked up, her face a pale moon in the fading light. "I'm still pretty high. Can you get me a little closer?"

He checked the length at the tree root. If he untied it, he might get her a little lower, but he ran the risk of not being able to hang on to the rope. If she fell when she wasn't expecting it, she might get hurt. It would be safer to instruct her how to fall.

He peered back over the edge. "I want you to let out the harness, then fold into a ball and roll as you hit the sand. It's not as far as it seems."

Would she do it? She seemed to be a.s.sessing the distance, then she gave him a thumbs-up and reached for the harness. Pulling her knees to her chest, she tugged the harness, and the knot came loose. She plummeted to the ground, then rolled onto the sand. He held his breath until she got up, brushing herself off.

"I'm okay! Come on down." She went to the bottom of the rope.

"Coming over now." Before he grabbed the rope, he stepped into the cave and snapped a picture of Jenny's body on his phone. Then he went to the edge of the ledge and grabbed the rope. It was short work to rappel down, something he often had to do in his job.

He dropped the last couple of feet and rolled when he hit the sand. She was at his side in an instant. "You made it."

Gesturing at the sky, he smiled at her. "I think I have some beef jerky onboard. It's not quite what I had it mind, but at least we can look at the moon coming up."

TWENTY-THREE.

The hotel bustled with late dinner guests as Claire and Luke crossed the lobby to the elevator. By the time she reached her suite, every muscle in her body ached from the exertion of the day. She glanced at the door to her parents' suite. "I should let them know I'm back and everything is all right." She'd rea.s.sured her mother on the phone, but knowing Mom, she'd want to see her with her own two eyes. Yawning, she inserted her key card into its slot. "I'll do it later, though. I need chocolate."

"I thought coffee cured everything." Luke grinned and pushed open the door after the green light came on. "Let me check out your room."

She reached past him and flipped on the light. "Just don't touch my chocolate or I'll have to hurt you."

"If it doesn't have peanut b.u.t.ter in it, I'm not interested."

"It's dark chocolate mint."

"Even worse." He went through the suite, checking under the bed and in the closet and bathroom before examining the balcony. "All clear."

The bed had been turned back, and she s.n.a.t.c.hed up the Andes mint with glee. "Ah, my savior." She unwrapped the green foil and popped the sweet delight into her mouth. She closed her eyes. "Ah, blessed energy. Jerky just doesn't do it."

He stepped to her side and put his arm around her shoulders. "You mock my homemade jerky? It even had cranberries in it."

She gave him a cheeky grin. "I admit it was the best jerky I've ever had, but nothing beats chocolate."

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy." His lips were smiling, but his gaze searched hers.

The smile died on her lips. "Don't look at me like that. I'm fine."

"A jerk just left you to rot on an abandoned beach. That's got to take its toll."

Her eyes burned. "Well, when you put it like that . . ."

"Sorry. It just burns me that someone would treat you like that. Would treat anyone like that. Castillo should be shot. Drawn and quartered. Boiled in oil."

"Spoken like a true pirate." The chocolate was gone, melted into the last of a sweet coating on her tongue. And she was so tired. "I have a feeling he's long gone. Otherwise I'd get the oil ready."

He dropped his arm from her shoulders. "Ah, that's my wench."

She'd like to be his wench. The warmth of his embrace seeped into her cold skin. All she wanted to do was pull on pajamas and fall into bed, but they both turned at a knock on the door. Her grandmother called her name, and Claire rushed to open it.

"Claire, I've been so worried."

She bent to hug her grandmother. "I'm okay, Grandma." Her perfume was a comforting scent.

"No thanks to that ruffian."

"Luke and I were discussing boiling him in oil." Claire straightened and managed a smile. Her grandmother would be on her side no matter what.

Grandma pulled a hanky from the pocket of her skirt and rubbed her eyes. "Thank you for rescuing her, young man. Maybe you're not the ladies' man I thought you were. You have backbone."

"More than you know, Grandma. He scaled a cliff and then lowered me down it with brute strength."

She hesitated and decided not to tell her grandmother about finding Jenny's body. Luke had texted the picture to the sheriff, and they had stopped to give a statement on the way back to the hotel. No sense in worrying Grandma more.

Her grandmother reached over and squeezed Luke's upper arm. "My Claire needs a strong man to look out for her. I think you'll do."

Claire's face went hot. "Grandma!"

Luke chuckled. "I like a woman who speaks her mind." He brushed a kiss over her grandmother's powdered cheek. "I'll do my best to take good care of Claire." Turning toward the door, he touched Claire's shoulder as he pa.s.sed. "See you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Luke. Rest well." Her tongue felt like it was tripping over itself. The door shut behind him.

"I take back everything I said about that young man. I think he's a good guy, Claire." Her grandmother wagged her finger in Claire's face. "I see the way you look at him, young lady. You've got stars in your eyes like I did when I met your grandpa. Don't rush things, though. You have all the time in the world."

Claire gestured to the sofa. "Have a seat, Grandma, and I'll get you some tea." With her grandmother in this good of a mood, maybe she could get her to talk.

"I can't stay long. Timothy won't go to bed until I get back, and he had a yawn as big as the Grand Canyon when I left." She moved to the white sofa and settled on the overstuffed cushion. "I don't like the things that have been happening to you. I think you should go home now that the merger talk is over. Hire a bodyguard. Keep your head down until they find that man."

"I'm not certain the merger is dead. I want to talk to Francisca." Claire wasn't about to give up that easily.

Luke hadn't often been in the sheriff's office. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever been in this fifteen-foot-square room that smelled of the sheriff's ever-present Altoids. The room was painted an unremarkable beige. A few pictures of Sheriff Colton's boys hung on the wall by the equally beige file cabinets. His hands in his pockets, Luke studied the picture of the smiling Little League team the year they won the state pennant t.i.tle. Colton's wife was gone now, carried off by emphysema ten years ago, and the pictures were a sad reminder of a happier time. Those little boys were Luke's age and gone, too, from the fishing village where they grew up.

The Colton boys were living out their dreams. Jack was a high-powered lawyer in Seattle, and Ben owned a Cadillac dealership in Dallas. And here Luke was, back in the remote community he'd been all too eager to escape. He'd sworn never to come back here and live close to the father he always feared. All he'd ever wanted was to be a Coastie. He loved his job in the law enforcement division. Could he give that up to run Rocco Cranberries and deal with his father every day? The thought choked off his oxygen, and he went to the open window and took a few deep breaths of gra.s.s-scented air.

The door opened behind him, and the sheriff entered. A crumb of bread was stuck to his mustache, and it took all Luke's concentration not to reach over and flick it away.

He glanced at Luke and nodded. "Thanks for coming down right away, Luke. I didn't want to talk about this in front of your dad. He's already so frail." He pointed to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. "Have a seat. This won't take long."

Luke perched on the edge of the chair. Was that suspicion on Danny's face? Ever since Luke had first begun to worry that Pop might be guilty of . . . something, he'd been looking for confirmation in the sheriff, who knew Pop better than just about anyone else.

He made himself rest his hands on his knees and forced a calm but interested expression. "Is something wrong, Danny?"

He steepled his hands together. "What's your take on Claire Dellamare?"

So this wasn't about his father. "I like her, and I respect her, which is even more important. Why? What's this all about?"

"I find it odd that she claimed Jenny was shoved off a cliff, then days later just happens to be the one to find her out at Dead Man's Cove. And we have that letter from Jenny. I'd like you to see if she will tell you about her relationship with Jenny. I'm not getting anything from Deputy Waters. He claims he never heard Jenny mention Ms. Dellamare, but there has to be some connection we're not seeing."

"Come on, Danny. She just got to town a few minutes before she saw Jenny's murder. She hardly had time to kill Jenny and then get the body off to the cove. You talked to her right there on the beach yourself. It would have taken hours to haul Jenny's body out to the cove, then lift it to the cave and hide it-if she were even strong enough."

Danny swiped at his mustache, dislodging the crumb. "I'm not saying she killed Jenny, but I think she might know who did and is protecting him. I wouldn't be surprised if she drew that painting to throw us off. I want you to draw her out and see if you can get anything out of her."

The man was as rigid as a post. Luke would have to tell him what Isabelle had said. "There's something you're unaware of." He launched into what they'd found out.

Danny popped three Altoid mints in succession, and his mouth grew more pinched. "So this should be right up your alley, Mr. Detective. I think your precious Claire is in this up to her pretty eyes. You can find out if you've got the guts to look."

"I'm not going to spy for you, Danny. Especially not when I don't believe Claire knows anything. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And she's somehow involved in your mother's death, Luke. Doesn't that matter to you?"

Luke stiffened at the derision in the sheriff's voice. "She was four years old when my mother died. Even if her crying was what lured my mother to her death, Claire was a child. She can hardly be blamed for what happened to Mom. Where is this coming from, Danny? I don't get it."

His fingers convulsed on the Altoid tin he held. "She seems my most likely suspect."

"What about Andy Waters? He was living with Jenny. Shouldn't you be looking at him pretty hard? The person closest to the victim is often involved. Maybe he found out she was cheating on him."

The sheriff exhaled so hard his mustache quivered. "Andy has an airtight alibi. He's devastated at Jenny's death. So it makes sense to look at Ms. Dellamare and anyone else close to the scene that day."

Luke stood and crossed his arms over his chest. "Want to look at me too? Meg and I were just around the curl of sand. Claire had been with us just before she was attacked. She'd only been gone fifteen minutes when Jenny was killed. So we were in the vicinity too. And there were hundreds of guests up at the inn. You checking them out?"

Danny rose too. "You should watch yourself, boy. Better men than you have been fooled by a pretty face. I think there's more to that woman than we know. And I aim to find out what part she plays in this."

Luke pressed his lips together and headed for the door. "You'll do it without my help, then, Danny. I want no part of persecuting Claire Dellamare." Danny's phone rang as Luke slammed the door behind him and stalked down the hall.

He'd just reached the door when Danny came running after him. "Luke, another body's been found on your property. We've got to get out there."

TWENTY-FOUR.

Morning sunlight slanted through the kitchen window and illuminated dust motes dancing in the air. The aroma of coffee filled the air as Kate slathered her mother's blueberry jam onto her toast as she kept an eye on the driveway. Mom had asked her over for breakfast, and Kate braced herself for a scolding. So far her mother hadn't mentioned anything as she stood at the stove fixing omelets.

The growl of an engine erupted with the crunch of tires on gravel. A big black Cadillac rolled to a stop in the drive. She'd seen the rage in her father's eyes when he saw her sitting with his precious Claire, so she wasn't surprised by the sight of his long legs sliding out of the car.

Spatula in hand, her mother turned. Only now did Kate notice the pressed slacks and form-fitting top that revealed her mother's curvaceous figure. Her hair was usually up in a ponytail, but today it curled around her shoulders. The high-heeled espadrilles were the finishing touch. A girlish flush on her cheeks showed her excitement. And she wore makeup, something Kate hadn't seen her do in years.

Kate's stomach plunged. "He called, and you planned an ambush. Nice."

Her mother fluffed her short brown hair. "You have no one but yourself to blame, Kate. I told you to leave it alone." Her lips curved in a welcoming smile as his shoulders blocked out the sunshine streaming through the back door. She stepped to the door and threw it open. "Harry, it's been a long time. Join us for breakfast?"

His smile seemed forced to Kate, but her mother preened when he put his hand on her shoulder, then brushed past her into the house.

His presence dominated the room even more than his Giorgio Armani cologne overpowered the coffee aroma. Kate's hands shook as she rose to face him. "h.e.l.lo, Harry."

"So it's Harry now? What about Dad?"

She eyed the smile that seemed to say all the right things. "I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me."

"You caught me off guard, honey. And I don't know how to break all this to my wife." He shot an uneasy glance at Kate's mother before looking back at Kate. "That doesn't mean you and I can't have a relationship. I'd like to get to know you better, get caught up. What's this about being sick?"

She managed to loosen her tight grip on the coffee handle and set it on the kitchen table. "I have aplastic anemia."

He reached out and ran one finger over the bruises on her arm. "Your disease caused these?"

She flinched and pulled her long sleeve down over them. "Yes, just a slight b.u.mp bruises me when it's acting up. I got it after a viral infection when I was eighteen."

"You need money? I can give you what you need, Kate."

"I need a stem-cell transplant. Mom isn't a good match. You might be, but Claire would have an even better chance."

His eyelids flickered. "I'll take some of that coffee, Mary."

"Of course." In her haste to get it, she nearly spilled her own cup.

Harry leaned forward. "Here's the thing, Kate. If you and I are going to have a relationship, it needs to be kept quiet. My wife would never understand. Claire wouldn't understand. Surely among all the people in this country, we can find a donor for you. I can be tested too. But let's leave Claire out of it, okay?"

He seemed so logical, so earnest. She should have known better than to expect him to be the dad she needed. All he cared about was hiding her away. His smiles and kind words were only meant to get her to stay quiet.

She ducked her head. "That's not why I wanted to meet her. She's my sister. How would you feel if you had a brother you never got to see? Claire deserves to know she has a half sister."

He licked his lips. "Give me some time, honey. When the time is right, I'll tell Claire."