Birds chirped and splashed in the copper bath that led into the green, secluded garden, and Claire smelled the sweet aroma of blooming lilac bushes. She caught a glimpse of Luke sitting alone on a black iron bench and ran along the stone path toward him.
His eyes wide, he rose as she cried out his name. His arms opened, and she rushed into them. Her arms circled his waist and she buried her face in his shirt, smelling of fabric softener and laundry soap. His embrace was a haven she never wanted to leave. How did she deal with this? Where did she start looking for her family?
He kissed her head. “Your heart is fluttering like a bird. What’s happened, honey?”
She forced herself to be still, to soak in his strength a moment, then raised her head. “My dad s-stole me, Luke. He found me in the woods and just . . . took me.” She told him what her fa—no, Harry—had said. It was going to take awhile to get used to not thinking of them as her parents.
His dark eyes grew somber as he spoke. “The first thing we should do is check the records of any missing children from that time. It should be easy enough to find out who you are since you were kidnapped.”
“You’re right!” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “I was so upset that I didn’t stop to think. Your friend Beau should be able to track down my family easily enough.”
He nodded. “Here comes Priscilla. I’ll make a call to Beau while you talk with her a minute. It may not really be necessary to question her now we know you were kidnapped.”
She released her grip on his T-shirt and turned to wave at Priscilla Loughenberry. The food and beverage manager wore her turquoise uniform and a perky smile. A sparrow hopped closer, its bright eyes on a crumb by Claire’s feet. She was just like that bird, hoping to scoop up some small bit of information.
As Priscilla drew nearer, Claire’s smile faded. Wait a minute. Priscilla had told her she had found her in the hotel’s garden. Yet Harry had told her he’d found her in the woods and had taken her home. And Priscilla had given her other kinds of details like her father crying. She’d never told him she’d spoken with Priscilla. Who was telling the truth? She’d been so upset by her father’s admission that she hadn’t compared the stories.
Claire motioned for Priscilla to have a seat beside her on the bench and struggled to maintain a friendly expression. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me again. I won’t keep you long. I’m sure you’re exhausted from working.”
The wind tossed Priscilla’s short salt-and-pepper hair, and she tucked it behind her ears. “It’s no problem, Ms. Dellamare, though I don’t know anything I can add to what I already told you.”
“I apologize. I was upset when we spoke, so I’m a little murky on the details.” She saw the other woman relax against the back of the bench. “I’d just like to go over it again. You said you were the one who found me in the garden, correct?”
Priscilla nodded and launched into the identical story she’d told the first time, right down to the note on her top. Claire watched her face as she spoke and saw no sign of deceit. The food manager held her gaze and spoke as if she’d told the story a thousand times. Could Harry have been lying? And if so, for what purpose?
Claire reached down and picked up the bread crumb the sparrow was still eying, then tossed it to him. “How quickly did my father arrive?”
“He flew in on his plane about three hours later. I kept you in the kitchen decorating cupcakes.” Priscilla smiled at the memory. “You mentioned another name, but for the life of me, I can’t remember it. We never did figure out who you were asking for. You had a bit of a lisp.”
Another discrepancy that should have warned her mother. “My mother didn’t come with my dad?”
Priscilla shook her head. “He told me she was ill, but seeing you would be enough to get her back on her feet. He was very appreciative of our help and tried to give me five thousand dollars. I turned it down, of course. I’d done what anyone else would have.”
Claire could picture the scene. She’d often seen Harry throw money around like that. Though he demanded good service, he paid well to ensure it. If only she could remember. She closed her eyes and tried to summon up the taste of cupcake icing and sprinkles, but there was no sweet taste on her tongue.
Only the bitterness of betrayal.
The birds chirped overhead, and the wind rustled through the trees as Luke stood waiting on the phone to talk to Beau. He’d walked far enough away from the two women that he wouldn’t disturb them, but he was getting tired of the elevator music. The hold time had already been five minutes, and he looked back at Claire to make sure she was doing all right. Her face turned away from him, she still sat on the bench with Priscilla.
Beau finally came on the line. “Sorry for the wait, Luke. What’s up?”
Luke told him what Harry had said. “So could you check and see who reported a little girl missing about the same time?”
“What?” Beau’s voice sharpened. “I’m sure no child was reported missing. I’ve been over and over those old files in the past week.”
“You might not have noticed it since it wasn’t really connected to Claire’s safe return.”
“Hold on.”
There was a click, then classical music came back on. Great. He leaned against the rough bark of an oak tree and watched a porcupine lumber out from under a shrub. The animal meandered across the path and disappeared into the woods again. Luke eyed Claire again and saw the tension in her outline. What was Priscilla telling her?
The music in his ear cut off, and Beau’s voice came back on. “Luke, the sheriff wants to talk to you. Hang on.”
Several clicks jittered across the line, then the sheriff spoke. “Beau tells me you think there’s a little girl who went missing about the same time Claire was found. Well, whoever that woman is.”
Luke tensed at the hostility in Danny’s voice. “That’s right.”
“Bunch of baloney is what it is. Claire Dellamare is the only missing child we’ve had in these parts during my lifetime. Where’d you hear such a crazy story?”
“Harry told her he found her in the woods and just took her. If that’s what happened, wouldn’t her real parents have reported her missing?”
“I’d sure think so. Tell me exactly what Dellamare said.”
“He told Claire as soon as he saw her, he knew she was his and that he just snatched her up and took her to Lisa, who had been committed to a mental hospital after a suicide attempt. Of course, now we know she never really was his daughter, so where is the outcry from the parents of a child literally kidnapped by him?”
“Luke, I’m telling you, I think there’s way more to this story than we know and that the pretty woman masquerading as Claire is playing you for a fool. All these stories coming out.” His voice was thick with disgust.
“Someone attacked her last night. What did you find when you got to the hotel?”
“Well, yes, something happened last night. I found no sign of a break-in, though. So if there had been an intruder, he had a passkey to the door.”
“Claire was clearly traumatized. I saw her this morning, and she was still very upset.”
“The hotel room had been torn up some.” Danny’s admission held reluctance. “But for all I know, Claire might have torn it up herself.”
“The painting of her attacker was missing.”
“So she said. Again, you seem to believe every word out of her pretty mouth.”
“You’ve been listening to Andy, haven’t you? He’s got it in his head Claire had something to do with Jenny’s death. Open your eyes, Danny, and investigate this for yourself. Don’t let a grief-stricken deputy with an agenda keep you from having an open mind.”
There was a long pause on the line. For a moment Luke thought Danny might have hung up on him. “Danny?”
“I’m here, Luke. I’ll try to lower my suspicions of her if you’ll raise them. Don’t take everything she says at face value. Test it against what you know. You’re a smart guy.”
“Why are you so defensive about this? I expected you to be more open-minded.”
Danny didn’t answer at first. “Maybe I am defensive. It was my first big case all those years ago. I feel like maybe I missed something.”
Luke pressed his lips together and bent to dislodge a burr from his shoelace. “And you’re sure there’s no child reported missing? You’ve checked neighboring counties?”
“Yep.”
“What if someone had taken her from somewhere else and she got away? Could you run a check on the entire country?”
“Yeah, I can do that. It will take awhile to get results back, and I’m not sure what they will tell us. You’re saying someone is taking little girls and turning them loose in our woods?”
Put like that, it was a stupid thought. “Okay, okay, sounds dumb, I know. But Claire had to have come from somewhere. I just don’t understand why her parents didn’t report her missing. It’s like she was born at age five and just suddenly appeared.”
“Maybe she was born under a cabbage plant.” Danny guffawed at his joke.
Luke rolled his eyes but couldn’t muster a laugh. “Thanks for checking, Danny. Let me know if you find anything. I’m going to post copies around town of Claire’s painting and over in Bar Harbor. I put your office’s number on the poster.”
“Great. Now I have to deal with every slug that crawls out of the woodwork. Nice job.” But the sheriff’s voice held an interested edge.
“According to you, we shouldn’t get a single call. I thought you’d want to field anything that came in yourself. Just in case you could pin it to Claire.”
Danny laughed again. “You’re wicked sharp, boy. I’ll let you know if we get any leads. Not that I’m expecting to, mind you. Oh, and we’re releasing your mom’s remains. Where do you want them sent?”
Pressure built in Luke’s chest at the thought of another argument with their dad. “Send them over to the funeral home. I’ll make arrangements for a memorial and burial.”
“Will do.”
Luke ended the call and turned to look at Claire again. She sat on the bench alone, her shoulders slumped and her face in her hands. He started that way with his gut churning. Things hadn’t gone well.