Luke’s dad looked a little brighter on Monday morning. His mouth didn’t sag much at all, and his pale-blue eyes were clear and alert. Color bloomed in his face, and he didn’t list to the side in his chair.
Claire sat on the sofa beside Luke. She’d said she was tired, but she didn’t look it. Her hair was up in its usual French twist, and her blue silk top made her eyes sparkle. “You look well, Mr. Rocco. Thanks for seeing me today.” A small painting leaned at her feet against the sofa.
“That physical therapist won’t let me be, but her torture appears to be helping.” Pop’s hand shook a little as he lifted a cup of coffee to his lips. “I’m planning on ditching this wheelchair as soon as possible. She let me use a walker around the house today.”
Luke leaned forward. “I didn’t know that. Be careful you’re not moving too fast, Pop.”
“I’ve got to get well before you take it into your head to go back to your post. When’s your leave over?”
Luke saw the calculating glint in his dad’s eye. He’d dodged that manipulation too many times over his life to fall for it now. “I’m due back in another three weeks.” His dad didn’t need to know he was considering his options or he’d push even more. “Claire, tell my dad what’s happened to you so far.” He leaned against the back of the old plaid sofa, smelling of years of pipe smoke and cranberry candles.
He didn’t want to eye his father with suspicion, but he’d agreed to Claire’s request because he wondered if his dad might know this guy. What if he’d hired the hunter to kill Mom all those years ago? It felt wrong to worry about something so horrific, but Luke couldn’t get it out of his head.
“Someone has attacked me twice.” Claire leaned forward. “You’ve lived in this area all your life. I wondered if you might recognize this man.” Reaching down, she seized the canvas and turned the painting around so his father could study it. “This man is a frequent visitor in my nightmares.” She pointed out the bright-red figure in the corner. “And I sleepwalk and paint this dead fox into every painting. It’s very bizarre.”
He reached out a shaky hand. “Hand it here, missy.” When she put it in his hands, he held it up to the light streaming through the window behind him. “Never seen him before, but he looks like a hunter.”
“He’s been in hunting clothes every time I’ve seen him.”
“This isn’t trapping season for fox, though. That’s not until fall. He had a fox when you saw him? There’re a lot of fox down the road apiece just outside Summer Harbor.”
“He didn’t have a fox when I saw him. But I think I might have seen him when I was four. My birthday is October 30, so that would make sense.”
Pop handed the painting back to her. “There’s a place in Bar Harbor that buys pelts. You might show the painting there. Trappers can make a decent living. This here fellow looks like a serious trapper or hunter. He’s even got a knife attached to his belt.”
Luke hadn’t noticed that detail, but he looked closer when Claire sat back down with the painting in her hands. “It looks like his vest is fur lined too. And those boots look like Rocky Max. See the design of the camo mixed with tan? So this is a serious hunter.”
“I remembered details about the incident at the top of the cliff in the woods,” Claire said. “The boots looked like these, and the sole was loose.”
Claire put the painting back down by her feet. “We could check outfitters in the area.”
“Good idea. And gun sellers.” Relief settled over him like a warm blanket. Pop hadn’t seemed taken aback by the picture in any way, and he hadn’t tried to evade the questions.
Maybe Luke had it all wrong. He rose, and Claire took his cue that it was time to leave. She grabbed her purse and thanked his father. Her heels clattered on the wood floor as she followed him onto the porch.
She slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Are you okay? You seemed tense and worried in there.”
He hadn’t told her his fears. “I have to admit I was wondering if my dad might have been responsible for everything that happened twenty-five years ago, even your disappearance. I’d hoped having you in there talking to him might tell me for sure about his guilt.”
She followed him to his truck. “And what did you decide?”
“I don’t think he’s guilty.” His heart felt lighter with the words. “Now we just have to figure out who did have a hand in all this.” He opened the truck door for her. “Now where to?”
She glanced at her watch. “I have to meet the Castillos for merger discussions at seven, but I think we have time to run to the mainland. It’s only one.”
“Who are the Castillos?”
“Business friends.” She slid onto the cracked and worn seat, then pressed her lips together. “We both own small aviation firms. A merger would make us one of the bigger players. Ric’s father is opposed to losing autonomy, and I think he’s not too sure a woman at the helm of Cramer Aviation is a smart idea.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
The warmth in her eyes ratcheted up a notch at his words. “It will take some work to convince him.”
He leaned against the open door. “So no boyfriend in the wings?”
Her lips tipped up, and she shook her head. “I don’t trust men easily. You never know what they’re after.”
Those direct blue eyes seemed to see his thoughts, and it was all he could do to keep from blurting out that he hadn’t thought of her money even once in the few days he’d known her. If other men saw her bank account first, they were blind.
Claire blinked in the brilliant sunshine bouncing off the harbor dotted with white boats. The strong scent of the sea mingled with the stench of car exhaust and the perfume of passersby on the crowded sidewalk. “Now what?”
They’d struck out in the outfitters they’d hit in Ellsworth. No one recognized the man in her painting.
He pointed out a Victorian building across the street. “Let’s get a coffee. I need to think. There are half a dozen outfitters sprinkled around the area.”
She followed him across to the Rooster Brother coffee shop. Luke opened the door for her. The rich aroma of espresso teased her nose and made her mouth water. The wood floors gleamed with welcome, and the cheery turquoise color lifted her spirits. She ordered a mocha with whip, and Luke got straight black coffee from the dispenser by the door.
She closed her eyes at the first rich sip. “Coffee solves every problem.”
He grinned and took a sip of his coffee. “We have enough of them at the moment, so we’d better have seconds.”
She followed him to the stoop outside looking onto the busy Ellsworth Street. They leaned against the railing and sipped their coffee. When she turned her head, she found him staring at her. “What?” It was impossible for her to look away from those dark, dark eyes and that devil-may-care grin.
Smiling, he leaned over and ran his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “Whipped cream.”
He licked it off his thumb, and something stirred in her chest, a wanting for more of that intimacy. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” The moment wiped away his smile and left an expression of tenderness on his face.
She looked down at her coffee, twirling it in her hands. “I don’t think I have the time to stop at any other outfitters.”
“I’ll run you to the ferry, then check the rest of them out myself. We’ll get a copy made of your painting and I can show it around.” He took a gulp of his coffee. “I took a picture with my phone, but it’s not big enough to see well.”
The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if they’d known one another forever and were content to just stand and look at each other.
She broke the silence first. “You told your dad your leave is over in three weeks. It sounded like he was hoping you’d say you weren’t going back.”
“He wants me to stay here and work the cranberry farm. I don’t want to see it pass from our family. It’s been part of our heritage for generations. I love the history of that, but it would mean giving up my job in the Coast Guard. I think I’m going to have to, though. My sister has a job opportunity she wants to take, and it’s her turn to get out into the world. I can’t deny her that.”
“You’re one of a kind, Luke. I don’t know many men who would sacrifice their careers for their sister.”
“Meg has given up a lot to stay here. She wouldn’t brag, but she has a Vassar degree. She’s overqualified for running a cranberry farm.”
She took a sip of the deliciously strong coffee. “I don’t know much about the Coast Guard. Tell me what you love about it.”
“Everything. The open sea, the camaraderie with other Coasties. I’ve investigated countless drug runs and other maritime crimes. Every night when I go home, I know I’ve done something that mattered.”
The passion in his voice stirred her. “I wish my job was that glamorous.”
“You’re a bigwig in a huge corporation. A dream come true for so many.”
Then why did she still feel like she was drifting? She shrugged and stirred her coffee. “It’s because of my name and family. I never would have gotten there by sheer work alone. Those kinds of openings don’t just happen. They are manipulated.”
“You sound pensive and sad. If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be?”
She stirred the whipped cream into her coffee to avoid looking at him. “You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t.”
The humor in his voice caused her to look up. “I’d work for a nonprofit out on a research boat. Maybe studying orcas or whales. Or maybe I’d fish for a living. I love the sea.” She looked out the window at the boats bobbing in the waves, then turned back to him.
“That sounds doable. You wouldn’t make much money, but some things are more important than money.”
She smiled back at him. Fudge! He had no idea how attractive he was with those killer dark eyes that looked into her soul. A straight black lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and her fingers itched to reach over and touch its soft texture, to smooth it back into place. “My dad would have a fit. If only I had a brother or sister to follow in his footsteps. That would take the pressure off me.”
“So you never had any siblings?”
“I used to dream about having a sister. We could share clothes and makeup, and I could run into her room when I was scared at night.”
“Do you get scared in the night often?”
“I have nightmares sometimes. I think it’s all related to what happened here.” She moved restlessly. “I don’t like to think about it.”
“Maybe there is truth in your nightmares somewhere.” He took her hand and turned it over to run his thumb over her palm.
She shivered at his touch. “They’re just nightmares with no sense to them. I’m running in a forest and there’s always a red fox chasing me. Its tongue is hanging out, and it keeps making little sounds like barking noises. I know if I can find my way through the trees that I’ll be safe. My mother’s arms are waiting in the shadows, but I can’t find her. I open my mouth to scream for her. I know if I start screaming I won’t stop, but I can’t help it. That’s when I wake up.”
His thumb was still tracing circles on her palm. “Maybe someone really was chasing you. You said you wondered if you’d been kidnapped. Maybe that’s what happened.”
“Maybe.” She pulled her hand away while she still could.