Introduction

Claire’s visit to a luxury hotel in Maine awakens repressed memories, threatening all she holds dear.

In 1989, Claire Dellamare disappeared from her own fourth birthday party at the Hotel Tourmaline on the island of Folly Shoals, Maine. She showed up a year later at the same hotel, with a note pinned to her dress but no explanation. Nobody knows where Claire spent that year—and until now, Claire didn’t even know she had ever been missing.

But when Claire returns to the Hotel Tourmaline for a business meeting with her CEO father, disturbing memories begin to surface . . . despite her parents’ best efforts to keep them forgotten.

Luke Rocco lost his mother under equally mysterious circumstances—at the same time Claire disappeared. After a chance encounter reveals the unlikely link between them, Claire and Luke set out together to uncover the truth about what happened that fateful year.

With flashbacks swimming just beneath her consciousness and a murderer threatening her safety, Claire’s very life depends on unscrambling her past . . . even if her family refuses to acknowledge it. Someone—maybe everyone—is hiding something from Claire Dellamare, and it will cost her everything to drag the truth out into the light.

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Excerpt

Prologue

July 4, 1989

The sea was near. Though she couldn’t see it, she smelled the salt air and heard its roar as it hit the rocks close by.

The branches around her held scary shadows. The forest was thick here, and she put her hand on the rough bark of a tree that smelled like Christmas. Mommy had told her to stay far away from the rocks.

But which way are they?

It was too dark to tell. She was afraid to move for fear she’d tumble off a cliff. All she’d wanted to do was go fishing.

She strained to hear her mother’s voice, but only noises like screeches and rustling little things in the grass came to her ears. Tears hovered in her eyes and closed her throat. She swiped the back of her hand across her face. Daddy always said crying wouldn’t fix anything. It would just make her head hurt.

Mommy would be so upset when she saw her torn dress. Daddy had bought it for her, and he would be angry when he saw her mud-splattered tights and patent leather shoes. Somewhere

she’d lost the bow in her hair, and stringy locks hung in her eyes.

There was something on the ground, and she stopped and picked it up. A lady’s scarf that smelled of flowers. She bunched it in her hand and stepped over an umbrella in her path.

She stopped and cocked her head. Voices? Even though the angry words were just a mumble, she shivered at how mad he sounded. Then she heard a woman’s voice, and she moved toward it. The woman would help her. It might even be Mommy.

Tree needles slapped her in the face and made her want to cry even more. But she was a big girl now. Daddy said only babies cried. She pressed her lips together and planted a muddy shoe atop a small shrub to move closer to the voices.

As she peered through the leaves, she saw two figures struggling in the forest. She couldn’t see their faces, but the smaller figure fell to the ground, and the man leaped on top of her with his hands at her throat.

“Stop hurting her!” Her eyes widened as soon as the cry left her mouth.

The man turned, and she saw a red pelt tied to his belt. The pointy nose hung at his knees, and she felt dizzy when she saw the red fur. She whirled around and ran as fast as she could, but the steps behind her grew closer. Her climbing tree was just ahead. She grabbed for the limb, and her hand went into the hiding place. She wished it was big enough for her to crawl into herself. She left the scarf in the hole, then reached up for the lowest branch. Her fingers missed and she staggered forward.

Then a hand smacked the middle of her back, and she went tumbling into the pine needles.

One

Like the masthead of a great ship, the stone walls and mullioned windows of Hotel Tourmaline surveyed its island location of wind-tossed waves and rocks. Off the shore and to the southeast of the Schoodic Peninsula, the hotel dominated the island of Folly Shoals atop its pink-granite cliffs.

It had not been easy getting to this remote location. It had taken Claire five and a half hours plus an hour ferry ride from Summer Harbor to reach this rocky shore. She lifted her foot from the accelerator and let her car slow as she took in the imposing hotel, then pulled into the big circle driveway.

A valet, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt, stepped for- ward to open Claire’s car door after she parked her convertible in front of the grand entrance decked out in gleaming brass and glass. She’d kept the top up since the mid-May wind was cool with the temperatures hovering around fifty-five.

Smiling her thanks at the young man, Claire emerged from her white Mercedes and looked up at the five-story structure. Though she’d never been here before, an uneasy shiver went down her spine. She couldn’t take her gaze from the parapets with their insets of watermelon tourmaline in the stone around

the entry door.

It was like the sea king’s castle in The Little Mermaid, only on land instead of at the sea bottom. Which was a weird thought to hit her out of the blue. She hadn’t seen that old Disney movie since she was a kid.

She recovered her composure and handed the car keys to the valet. “Claire Dellamare, checking in.” Reaching over the door of the Mercedes, she grabbed her oiled leather satchel.

“Of course, Ms. Dellamare. Do you have bags?”

The man’s voice faded into the distance. Pressure built in her chest as she continued to stare at the hotel. A flagstone walk wound through manicured lawns and disappeared into the shadow of thick forest. She suppressed a shiver at the gloom there. Through the big glass windows, she saw her father standing at the front desk. Seeing him grounded her, and she exhaled.

He would probably not be happy at her unexpected arrival, but she intended to make sure the merger landed them a bigger piece of the aviation pie.

Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to smile again at the young man awaiting instructions. “There are three bags in the trunk.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried past the doorman holding open the entry.

The pink-granite tile floor was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Black veins ran through various shades of pink granite and gave the floor both depth and light. She homed in on her father standing with his back to her and headed his direction, her heels clacking against the stone tiles as she approached the front desk.

The wood surfaces gleamed with polish, and a gilt ceiling

arched over the entry area. She’d been in fine hotels all her life, but

this one had something special. Just beyond the registration desk, several overstuffed sofas gathered near the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the forest behind the hotel. She stopped and peered out the window at the trees arching into the sky.

At the sight of the thick pines, Claire thought she might vomit right there on the granite floor. Her breath hitched in her chest, and she tried to ignore the rising panic.

She managed to whisper, “Dad,” before her throat totally closed.

It’s just the woods. Breathe, breathe.

Her father turned at the sound of her voice. A scowl gathered between his eyes. “Claire, what are you doing here?” His voice bounced off the granite floors.

Her mother had always said he had the voice to charm hummingbirds to his hand, and at the sound of his deep voice, a bit of calmness descended. She forced a smile and brushed her lips across his smooth-shaven cheek, inhaling the scent of his cologne, Giorgio Armani. Her fingers sank into the arm of his expensive suit, and she leaned her face against his chest.

He held her a minute, then released her. “Are you ill, Claire?” He looked at the woman standing to one side of the desk. “Please get my key at once.”

“Yes, Mr. Dellamare. I have them ready. Yours and your daughter’s.” The clerk, an attractive blonde in her thirties, handed over two key card sleeves. “You’re in a penthouse suite, next to the one by your parents.” She smiled at Claire. “I’m Jenny Bennett, Ms. Dellamare. If there’s anything you need, please contact me person- ally. I’m about to get off work, but my cell number is on my card.” She pressed a business card into Claire’s hand.

Claire managed a brief nod. “You’ve been very helpful, Jenny.” The woman had quickly arranged a suite this morning when Claire had made the decision to come here.

“You’re staying?” Her father’s gaze went to the satchel in her hand.

“I came to help you with the merger.” The door behind them swooshed open, bringing the scent of pine to her nose. Her chest tightened again.

“I’m perfectly competent to handle it.” Her father took Claire’s arm and turned her toward the brass doors of the elevator.

As he led her away from the entryway, her lungs compressed and there was no air. She had to get oxygen. She jerked away from him and yanked her blouse away from her neck. Her purse dropped to the floor, scattering pens, art pencils, lipstick, and a compact across the floor. Her face and neck felt on fire as she bent to pick up her things and stuff them back in her purse.

When she stood, the panic swept over her again. “Can’t breathe!”

“Claire, lower your voice.” Her father glanced around at the interested guests staring their way.

Her hands and arms tingled, and she couldn’t feel her feet. Her father reached toward her, and she batted his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” Her scream bounced off the ceiling.

A gray-haired gentleman in a navy suit approached. “Might

I offer assistance, miss?”

She backed away, then whirled and rushed toward the entrance. Her feet seemed to be moving in slow motion, and her vision narrowed to a pinpoint centered on the door. Escape. She had to get out of here. Dimly aware of voices calling after her, the door grew closer and closer until she pushed it open and drew in a lungful of salt-laden air.

She leaned her face against the cool stone and prayed for the panic to go away. What was going on? Her left arm hurt.

Her father exited the hotel and hurried to her side. When he started to touch her, Claire flinched. “Don’t.”

“What is wrong with you? It’s not like you to make a scene, to be out of control. This is something your mother would do, not you.”

She flinched at the condemnation in his voice. She was not like her mother. She inhaled and tried to force her hands not to shake. “My chest is tight and my left arm feels on fire. I’m having trouble breathing. My face is hot. Maybe it’s a heart attack.”

“You’re twenty-nine years old, Claire. It’s unlikely it’s a heart attack. I think you’re having a panic attack. Maybe because this merger is so important. Go for a walk along the beach, and come back inside when you’ve gotten control of yourself. People will think you’re having a nervous breakdown or something.”

Though he didn’t say it, she heard the implied comparison to her mother again. Control, I need control. “You’re right. I’ll be fine. It was a long drive up from Boston. I just need a walk.” The tightness in her chest eased a bit. “Is Ric here yet?”

“Not yet. He’s due to arrive tomorrow.” His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. “He does like you. Maybe it’s a good thing you’ve shown up.”

Her breathing grew easier. “I’m sure of it, Dad. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

The doorman pulled open the door, and her father disappeared into the bowels of the hotel. The salt-laden air cleared the panic, and she turned to walk down the cliff steps to the waiting

sand. The sea would calm her.

Seagulls squawked overhead in a blue sky dotted with puffs of clouds. The wind tugged Luke Rocco’s hair and threatened to rip the ball cap from his head as he guided his boat toward Sunset Cove on the south side of the island. He never tired of this view. Though Folly Shoals was just one of about three thou- sand islands off the coast of Maine, it was a place apart from any other. The grandeur of the sea cliffs, soaring to just under a hundred feet in all their pink-granite glory, always made him feel small and insignificant. Magnificent pines and slender aspen vied for purchase in the rich soil, and wildflowers bloomed in the thin soil.

The engine belched oil and gas fumes that mingled with the scent of the sea, and his boat rose and fell on the waves. His breath plumed out in the chilly air as the sun began its descent over the peninsula. He should have worn jeans instead of shorts today, but the jacket helped. He squinted at his sister. Dressed in white shorts covered with a red sweatshirt, Megan huddled under the Bimini top, which did little to protect her from the cold wind.

He grinned at her. “Smile. At least we got enough fish for supper.”

“It’s not that.” Her thoughtful gaze met his. “I have some- thing to tell you, and I don’t know how.”

“You’re getting married.”

She rolled her eyes. “Get real. You’ve been home three days and haven’t seen a boyfriend hanging around, have you?”

Her tone wiped the grin from his face. “You look scared, Meg.

You can tell me anything. I won’t bite your head off. Does the

farm need money? We’re about to go broke?” Part of him almost wanted it to happen. Maybe it would wake up the drunken old man back at the house. He’d never been the same since Mom disappeared.

She shook her head. “I think we’re turning a profit this year. The cranberry yield looks to be stellar.”

“Then what is it?”

The wind tore a strand of hair loose from her ponytail and whipped it into her face. She pushed it out of her eyes. “I got another job offer. It’s in Oregon.” She rushed on as if she had to spill it all before he interrupted her. “There’s a new research facility that’s just opened. They’re studying viruses and mutations.”

His gut tightened, but he managed to smile and nod. “You loved that in college.”

Her dark eyes studied him as if to gauge his reaction. “And

I’d finally be using that expensive Vassar education.” “It wasn’t expensive. You went on scholarship.”

She shrugged as she huddled in her red sweatshirt. “You know what I mean. The diploma is worth a lot, and I haven’t used it.”

“You’ve used your study of cranberry farming to help the cranberry bogs. That’s why we’re turning a profit this year.” Shut up, Luke. She wasn’t fishing for a compliment. She wanted to leave Folly Shoals. And how could he blame her for doing what he’d done three years ago? He’d gone to school in Ellsworth and helped with the cranberries, but when she’d come home from Vassar, he’d been only too ready to let her shoulder the full bur- den while he joined the Coast Guard.

She fell silent a moment, and he took the opportunity to

analyze the objections rising to his lips. Pop’s recent stroke

would prevent him from helping out much. If Megan left, someone would have to pick up the slack. That someone could only be Luke. The thought of dealing with his father soured his mood. Meg had done it, though. It wasn’t fair to expect her to do it forever.

“I see the wheels turning,” Megan said. “I know what this means if I leave. I should turn it down.”

Her woebegone face made him sit up straighter. “You’ve buried yourself on this island all your life, Meg. It’s your turn to fly. I’m not going to stand in your way. Maybe I can plead hardship to the Coast Guard and get a transfer up here. There’s a facility out on Southwest Harbor.”

Her brown eyes widened. “But could you do both the bogs and your job? At harvest, it’s downright crazy.”

“I can try, and maybe we can afford to hire some extra help.” He put more confidence into his voice than he felt, but he couldn’t let her sacrifice what she really wanted. “If I’d known you weren’t happy here, I would have pushed you out of the nest sooner. I thought you loved the bogs and wanted to stay here.”

She looked down at her hands, the knuckles reddened from the cold. “I used to. But Pop’s gotten even more . . . difficult.”

Something in her tone brought him up short. “He hasn’t hit you again, has he? I thought he stopped that after I threatened him when I was eighteen.”

He’d gotten in their father’s face and threatened to call the sheriff if he ever lifted a hand to Meg again. Their dad had taken one look at Luke’s face and stepped back. As far as Luke knew, he hadn’t dared to raise his hand to her since then.

“It’s just been since his stroke. He doesn’t mean anything by

it. The stroke has left him with a short fuse. He’s always sorry after. And he’s never even left a bruise.”

Luke’s fingers curled into his palms. If his dad were here, he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back. “I’ll talk with him.”

Pop had always been difficult, especially when he drank too much. Luke had many memories of nights when he and Megan hid in the closet while Pop raged around the house looking for them.

“There’s no need.” Meg’s eyes held an appeal for under- standing. “That’s not the real reason I want to go. I can handle a grumpy old man. It’s just I’m stagnating here. I’m twenty-eight, and I’ve never been anywhere except to college. If I stay here any longer, I’ll never leave.”

He nodded and steered the boat toward the slip. “When would you start?”

“In a month. You’ll really help me do this?”

“I want you to be happy. I’ll figure it out. That’s what big brothers are for.”

Her hand swept over the rocky coastline in the direction of their house. “You don’t even like cranberries. You were made for the Coast Guard. You thrive on the challenge. And I know perfectly well what’s going to happen. You won’t reenlist, will you? Even though it’s what you’ve wanted to do your whole life.” “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do whatever has to be done. I can’t

let the business just dissolve. It’s been in our family for seventy- five years.”

She rose on long, tanned legs and leaned against the side of the boat. “And what if he dies? He’s been so weak since the stroke. What if you give up your entire life for something that only matters to him?”

His pulse stuttered. “Are you saying you want us to sell the bogs?”

She raked her hand through her short hair, as thick, straight, and black as his. “I want both of us to think long and hard about what’s best. Maybe it’s time we quit catering to Pop and do what we really want to do.”

How had he missed her discontent? And the thought of selling the family cranberry farm didn’t settle well with him.

“Let me see what I can do about a transfer, then we’ll talk. But no matter what, let them know you’re taking the job.”

She thrust her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. “So now you want to get rid of me and I’m useless, is that it?”

Her voice held no rancor so he just grinned. “Something like that. Your son may love working the land. Or my daughter.” Not that he was likely to get married. But the thought of working the bogs unsettled him. He still believed their mom was buried some- where out there.

Megan reached for the thermos of coffee. “You’re thinking about Mom’s disappearance, aren’t you? Her body’s not out there, and believe me, I’ve looked.”

She always could read him. “She has to be somewhere, Meg.” “She’s been gone twenty-five years! We’ll never find her remains, not up here. It’s too remote. Whatever happened to

her will remain a mystery.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But I sure wish we knew what happened.” He took a swig of hot coffee. “Ready to head in?”

She nodded.

“Take the helm a minute. I’ll get the ropes ready.”

She moved to take his place, and he went toward the star- board side. Something floated in the water about eight feet away,

and he squinted, trying to make out the markings. “That’s a baby orca. Cut the engine.”

When Megan complied, he grabbed a paddle and maneuvered closer to the killer whale. The calf lolled listlessly in the water, turning an eye toward him as if asking for help. “It’s sick. Skinny too.” He scanned the water. “But where’s its mother?”

They both studied the horizon and saw nothing. No pod, no mother.

“What if its mother died?” Megan joined him. “We have to help it. We can’t just leave it out here to suffer.”

“We could put up a sea pen until we can contact an orca res- cue organization. I’ve got some extra netting in the hold.”

“But how will you get it to shore? Netting it might kill it.” He shucked off his jacket and shoes. “I’ll tow it in.”

She grabbed his arm. “Are you kidding? We’re five hundred yards from shore, and the water is freezing!”

“I’ve got this. Just take the boat to our dock. There’s already a partial pen along the north and east sides. We’ll just have to close the pen on the south.”

Megan nodded and went back to the helm. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” He stepped to the back of the boat and leaped overboard. The cold water took his breath away, and he gasped when his head broke the surface. He waved to show his sister he was fine, then struck off toward the distressed calf. The marine mammal rolled when he touched it, but it was still alive. The skin felt like a warm inner tube, and he caressed it reassuringly. “You’re going to be okay, buddy.” He hoped it was the truth. This animal was in serious need of attention.

He grasped the orca’s dorsal fin and began to tow it toward

the sea pen. The calf fluttered its fluke and tried to help, but it was so weak, their progress was slow. His muscles burned, and the cold water quickly fatigued him. By the time he reached the dock, his chest was tight, and he was eager to get out of the water.

Megan had already attached one end of the net and was swimming to meet him. He’d never been so glad to see anyone.

Tw o

Pink-granite stones led down a hundred-foot cliff to rocks below, and Claire took them. When she reached the sea,the brisk, fresh air cleared her head. The gulls squawking over- head soothed her. The tightness in her chest was nearly gone, and she felt almost normal. She grimaced as she tossed a pebble into the gentle waves rolling to shore.

It had been a momentary weakness there in the lobby, nothing like her mother’s constant histrionics. Claire had just been working too hard, and thoughts of this merger’s importance had kept her tossing and turning until after midnight last night. It was nothing.

She leaned down and slipped off her heels, then sank her toes into the sand mixed with small stones. With her shoes dangling from one hand, she wandered down the long strip of rocky coastline. A feeling of contentment surrounded her, like she’d somehow found a piece of herself here. All her life the sea had seemed to fulfill some missing part of her, some innate need she couldn’t name.

A shout caught her attention, and she squinted in the strong afternoon sunlight toward a small inlet. A man and a woman

seemed to be securing fishing line or rope on a metal ring

attached to a small pier where a fishing boat was docked. They were both wet.

Did they need help? Claire started toward them, but she saw a form in the water and stopped. She first thought it was a dolphin, then she recognized the distinctive black-and-white markings.

She pressed her lips together and rushed to intercept them before they could board the boat again, her bare feet slapping the cool, damp wooden pier. “You there! What do you think you’re doing with this orca? You can’t keep it penned up.”

When the man turned to stare at her, her first impression was of impossibly dark eyes that seemed to look right into her soul. He would have been right at home on the cover of a pirate romance. He looked Italian with his thick dark hair and eyes and was probably close to thirty. His white shorts contrasted with his tanned, muscular legs. Water pooled at his bare feet.

His gaze swept over her, and she flushed when she realized how she must look in her slim-fitting blue sheath dress and bare feet. The wind had seriously destroyed her controlled updo.

She pushed an errant lock out of her eyes and scowled at him. “Orcas should never be penned up. This one probably has a matriline and a bigger pod out there missing it.”

He raised a black brow. “Not many people have ever even heard the word matriline. You some kind of orca activist, or do you just like to show off your education?”

“I volunteer with an orca rescue organization.” She tipped her chin up at his derisive tone. “Locking up these beautiful creatures is like imprisoning a baby. I suppose you thought to make a lot of money by selling it to an aquarium.”

He tugged on the zipper of his blue sweatshirt. “You don’t

know me, lady. And this is none of your business.”

The woman with him stepped between them. She had the man’s dark good looks, but she wore a placating smile. “Hi, I’m Megan Rocco. And my brother, Luke, is not usually this hot- headed. We’re not harming the orca. He’s injured, and I’m not even sure we can save him. I think his mother must have died. He’s starving. We’re putting him here for his own good until we can contact an orca rescue organization.”

Claire went hot at her assumptions. What had gotten into her today? First experiencing a panic attack and then jumping to unwarranted conclusions. She gulped, then glanced past Megan to Luke as she tried to gather enough courage to apologize. She eyed him and his sister. His sweatshirt had a Coast Guard emblem. His sister’s bore a dive shop logo.

Claire looked down at her bare feet and bit her lip before staring back into those dark, dark eyes. “I think I owe you both an apology.”

“You think?” He lifted a brow, then turned toward the boat. A small wave slapped the edge of the pier and dampened

her feet. She edged closer to the center. “I’m sorry. Truly. I have a bit of a thing for dolphins and whales, always have. You’d be surprised how many people think there’s nothing wrong with captive orcas. They’re one of the few mammals who have an actual family unit like ours.”

He didn’t look at her. “You’re preaching to the choir, lady.” “Can I make it up to you and help you with him? You won’t

have to call anyone else. I know what to do.”

He finally looked her way and seemed to take her measure before he finally nodded. “I’m just going to fatten him up and then let him loose. But you can help before you go back to your froufrou coffee and high-powered dinners.”

Her face burned at his accurate assessment of her financial status. “Look, we got off to a bad start. I haven’t even introduced myself.” She held out her hand. “I’m Claire Dellamare.”

His gaze sharpened. “Harry Dellamare’s daughter?” “You know my dad?”

He exchanged a glance with his sister. “I know of him. Never met him, though. I was a kid when he was here last. And when you were found.”

She rubbed her forehead where it pulsed with pain. “Found? What do you mean?”

“You know, back in ’90. After you’d been missing a year out there in the forest.” He swept his hand up at the thick forest marching along the top of the cliff. Then a look passed between Luke and his sister before he returned his attention to Claire. “Did you ever remember where you were that year? Did you hap- pen to see a woman the night you wandered off?”

“Luke, enough,” Megan said.

The blood drained from Claire’s head, and her legs went weak.

“Claire, are you all right?”

She barely heard Megan’s anxious voice through the roaring in her ears. Something lingered on the edge of her memory, but she couldn’t grasp it. Her vision darkened, and she took a step back. She teetered on the edge of the pier.

“Look out!” Luke’s shadowy figure moved toward her.

She reached out for some kind of support but missed her footing. The rough wood cut the side of her foot as she went over the edge. The shock of the cold water cleared her head, and she shot to the surface sputtering. Something bumped into her side, and she saw the orca floating nearby as if to help her. She touched

its pectoral flipper, then grabbed hold. There was a splash to her left, then Luke told her to be calm, that he was coming.

But the baby orca was squeaking and nudging her, helping her forget the visions of trees leering at her, of rocks bruising her feet. She ducked her head into the cold water and let it scoop the strands of hair away from her face even as she emptied her mind of the terrifying images.

Luke grasped her arm. “Need some help to shore?” She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

“I’d say. You’re a dolphin yourself.”

He grinned as she released the calf and struck off toward the pier with a butterfly stroke. She wasn’t eager to get out of the water, but she had to talk to her father. No wonder he’d been upset when she arrived.

She’d been here before. Lost. And her parents had never told her.

Why hadn’t her parents ever talked about it? 1990. She’d been five when she was found. If she’d been missing a year, that meant she was four when she got lost. And she had no memory of any of it. How was that possible?

Though Luke had draped her with a dry jacket smelling of the sea, Claire shivered in the cool breeze blowing off the water. A gull hopped closer, tipping its head to one side and surveying her with curiosity. The questions hammered in her head, and she knew how Alice felt when she fell into the rabbit hole. Everything was different now, and she didn’t know how to process this sudden shift in reality.

Only Father could tell her.

She rose from her seat on the pier. “I have to get back to the hotel. Thanks for everything.”

Megan wore a worried expression. “You sure you’re okay to go back by yourself? You’re still awfully pale.”

“I’m fine.” Claire needed to hear from her father what had happened in this place. The orca wiggled a fin in the water. “You mind if I come down and check on the orca tomorrow?”

“Come anytime you like.” Luke glanced at his sister who gave a slight shake of her head.

Claire saw the questions in his eyes, but she wasn’t ready to deal with his curiosity. “Did you see the way the orca wanted to help me?”

He nodded. “They’re smart. I’m sure he sensed your dis- tress.” His well-shaped lips flattened, and he took a deep breath. “You seemed shocked by what I told you. You don’t remember anything about being here when you were a kid?”

Megan’s eyes flashed. “Luke, let her be.”

“She’s fine now. Do you? Remember anything, I mean?”

She thought about not answering at all, but his expression held intense need, not curiosity. “As far as I knew, this was my first visit here. I-I even f lipped out a little in the hotel because it felt eerily familiar.” She swallowed down a choking lump. “Believe me, I intend to ask a lot of questions.”

The glint in his eyes went out. “So you don’t remember a woman the night you went missing?”

Megan put her hand on his arm. “Enough, Luke.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just asking.”

“It’s okay. No, I don’t remember a woman. I don’t remember anything. Well, other than dark trees. I kind of remember that.”

She handed him back his jacket. “I’d better go now. Thanks for

your help. I’ll stop back tomorrow.” She gave a slight wave and set off along the beach toward the hotel.

The sun was low in the sky to the west, and the fading light sent shadows looming along the path. If she didn’t pick up her speed, she wouldn’t make it back to the hotel before dark. But the knowledge didn’t cause her to quicken her pace.

What was she even going to say to her father—how did she start that conversation? She’d been lied to her entire life. Keeping something like this from her felt like a betrayal of the worst kind. Her purse felt heavy on her arm, and she wished she hadn’t brought it. She’d been gone two hours, and her father was probably worried.

She reached a point where Sunset Cove began to curve back toward the hotel. A crab skittered across the sand by her feet, then darted into a hole when it saw her. Wrinkling her nose at the stench and f lies, she waded through a pile of crunchy kelp deposited by the tide and dried by the sun. A gull cried above her, and she looked up the rock face ten feet to her right.

Two figures struggled at the edge of the cliff, ninety feet in the air. The woman wore a pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse that nearly matched the darkening sky. Her silhouette obstructed Claire’s view of who struggled with her. Shading her eyes with her hand, Claire watched the woman’s slim figure as she tried to prevent the man from pushing her closer to the edge.

“Hey, you! Leave her alone!” Claire looked around for some way to ascend the cliff, but the sheer expanse of jagged pink granite looming above her offered no way to climb it without gear.

She peered up again, this time seeing the form of a man behind the woman. He wore a jacket over tan hunting pants.

She got an impression of dark hair and a straight nose, but she

was too far to make out his features. Neither of them seemed to notice her, and she gasped when he shoved the woman even closer to the edge.

“I’m calling the police!” She clawed her cell phone out of her purse and dialed 911. Before the dispatcher picked up, a shriek mingled with the wail of the loons, and Claire whirled to see the young woman plummeting to the ground. She hit the sand with a solid thump, then didn’t move.

“No, no!” Claire ran toward the woman who was spread- eagled facedown. She knelt beside her and touched her wrist. No pulse. What should she do? She knew CPR. Get help on the way first, though. She put the phone back to her ear. “Are you there?” “You need assistance, ma’am?” The dispatcher had a gravelly

male voice.

“There’s been a murder. Some man just threw a woman over the cliff. I saw the whole thing.” She choked out the words.

The woman had landed on her stomach, but her head was turned to one side, and now that she was closer, Claire recognized her as the front desk clerk. “It’s Jenny Bennett.”

“I’ll call the sheriff, and we’ll get someone there right away. What’s your location?”

“Down the steps from Hotel Tourmaline and about a quarter mile to the north along the beach.”

“It’s going to take a while for the sheriff to get out there. Be patient.”

Claire ended the call and rolled Jenny onto her back. She knelt and began CPR. It felt hopeless, but she had to try. The back of her neck prickled, but she didn’t dare stop CPR to look around. Lord, help me.

She leaned forward to administer two breaths, but an

explosion of movement from the shrubs in the maritime forest made her heart leap into her throat. Before she could turn to see what was coming at her, a hard blow struck the back of her head. As darkness claimed her, she saw the face of her attacker.

It was the hunter from her nightmares. Only this time there was no fox attached to his belt. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1. Reversing roles to care for a sick parent or grandparent can
be challenging. Have you ever had to do that? How did you
and your parent cope?

2. We live in such an age of consumerism, and it affects
children. Our inclination is to give them everything like
Claire’s parents did. How do you keep your children
grounded?

3. Working the land is almost a lost occupation. Do you ever
wish you could go back to a simpler life and farm or do you
shudder at the thought?

4. Why do you think Jenny implicated Claire in her letter?
Why didn’t she just go to the sheriff with what she knew?

5. Why do you think Sheriff Colton was so determined to
find Claire at fault? Do you ever make a snap decision and
refuse to look at facts?

6. Claire always wished for siblings. What are some of the
challenges of being an only child? Benefits?

7. Do you believe in love at first sight?

8. Do you have an unconventional family? My friend, Diann
Hunt, was my sister in every way but blood. How did friends
like that or an unusual family circumstance help shape you?

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