The guard’s hooded eyes said he’d been up all night, but his movements were quick and precise as he pulled out his key card.
“Open it,” Luke said.
The gray-suited security guard slipped in his card and pushed open the door. “Ms. Dellamare?”
Luke pushed past him. “Claire?”
Kate and Harry followed, though they didn’t look at one another. He’d sensed the tension between them the second he’d gotten back, but that was the least of his worries. They could work it out for themselves.
He glanced at the bed, still turned down for the night with the chocolate on the pillow, and he fisted his hands. “Her bed hasn’t been slept in.” Fear choked him. “I left her here at ten last night, and she locked the door behind me.”
Arms hanging limply at his sides, Harry stood in the middle of the carpeted room. “She went out later. I found her sitting on the steps looking out at the water. We went for a walk along the shore, and she told me she’d found out she was Kate’s twin. W-We had words, and I came back to the hotel.”
“You left her there alone? Where?”
“Near the sandbar.”
He knew the tombolo area. “You knew she’d been attacked. How could you just walk away and leave her unprotected?”
The guard stepped between them with his hands up. “Everyone, calm down.” He turned to Harry. “Do you want me to call the sheriff, Mr. Dellamare? It’s clear she never came back last night.”
“Yes, yes, call the sheriff. Tell him to spare no expense. I’m going to call in a private investigator too.” He turned on his heel and rushed out of the room. “I must tell Lisa.”
Good riddance to him and his expensive brown loafers and his hundred-dollar haircut. He seemed to think money and power were the answers to everything. He glanced around. “Do you see her cell phone anywhere?”
“I’ll check the bathroom.” Kate hurried through the door and returned a few moments later. “Not in there.”
“Not anywhere in here either,” the guard said.
She’d been missing close to twelve hours. And he knew in his gut that she wouldn’t just walk away from the problems here. And she wouldn’t leave what was developing between them without a word. The tenderness between them last night had kept him tossing and turning in his bed. This was the forever kind of thing.
“Do you have any security footage?” he asked the guard.
The guard turned toward the door. “This way.” He led them to a service elevator that opened into the bowels of the hotel basement with fluorescent lighting that buzzed. A ten-by-ten room in the far corner held banks of equipment. The guard fiddled with the computer for a few moments, then the screen lit up.
They watched people coming and going outside. “There she is,” Kate said. “She left with Harry.”
“Let’s check the outside camera.” The guard maneuvered the mouse and pulled up the other footage. “There they are again.”
They watched father and daughter walk toward the cliff steps and out of the camera’s view.
Luke turned toward the door. “I’m going down to the water’s edge.” He and Kate ran for the elevator.
When they reached the ocean rocks, he saw only several male tourists dressed in loud shirts and sporting white legs beneath their shorts. He took off running for the tombolo. His legs pumped hard in the uneven sand, kicking up gritty particles that stung the back of his legs. The surf was high today, washing kelp and seaweed onto the sandy rocks before ebbing out to rage back with fresh fury. Had she been carried off by a rogue wave? No, she was ocean savvy. She’d know better than to turn her back to the sea.
He shaded his eyes and looked up and down the coastline. Was that a drag mark off the rocks and into the bushes? He pointed it out to Kate, and she ran ahead of him to push aside the brambles and dig through the thin soil.
When she turned with a pink-covered iPhone in her hand, his gut clenched. “That’s Claire’s.”
“I know.” Kate bit her lip and looked down. “And look here. I think she lay here awhile. The cell phone was in the deepest part of it. There are big footprints here too.”
Luke knelt and examined the indentation in the sand. It could have been the depression where Claire lay for a while. Drag marks continued on for six feet, then the footprints went deeper as if someone had carried her out of here. He prayed that meant she wasn’t dead, but there was no guarantee of that. Someone had killed Jenny very near here, then disposed of her body.
He stood and looked down the coastline to where the land curved into the Sunset Cove harbor. Sailboats and motorboats bobbed in their moorings. “I think I need to check the cave where we found Jenny’s body.”
Kate, her blue eyes wide and shadowed, clutched his arm. “You don’t think . . .?”
“Pray,” he told her.
“I have been. Can I go with you?”
“I’d like you to check in with the sheriff and show him what we found. Give him the cell phone and let him check it for prints. I think it fell out of her pocket when she was dragged over here, but we can’t be sure.”
She nodded and pulled out her own phone. “What’s your number?” When he rattled it off to her, she punched it into her phone. “I’ll call you after I talk to the sheriff. If you get to the cave first, call me and let me know what you find.”
He nodded and headed for his boat. A sick feeling lodged in the pit of his stomach, and he prayed God would keep Claire safe until he could find her. Lightning flickered in the dark sky. The promised storm was here.
Dribbles of water in her face made Claire gasp and crack her eyes open a slit. Her head pounded, especially a spot in the back. Nausea roiled when she touched the goose egg. She became aware of a rocking sensation that made her dizzy, too dizzy to want to open her eyes all the way. Gulls squawked and more raindrops hit her cheeks. The stench of gasoline added to her upset stomach.
She was in a boat.
She forced her eyes open, wincing as the daggers of light jabbed at her. Where was she? Her left hand touched what felt like a tarp, and a dull rumble under the boards indicated an engine powered the craft toward its destination. Her memory flooded back. She’d been down at the beach at night, and someone hit her on the head from behind. It was daylight now so she must have been unconscious for some hours.
Her hands and feet were free and unbound, but she’d been attacked. The sharp taste of fear lingered on her tongue along with a sickeningly sweet chemical taste. Ether? The bump on her head wouldn’t have kept her unconscious so long.
Fighting dizziness, she struggled to a seated position, then got on her hands and knees before managing to stagger to her feet. She grasped the side of the boat to keep from falling back down to the deck. She searched her pocket for her cell phone, but it was missing. She had to get help somehow, but she couldn’t think past the panic welling in her chest.
The vessel was a lobster trawler, with about a forty-foot beam. She was on the top deck, and the Bimini top wasn’t up, which was why the cold rain continued to ping down on her. Looking out on the horizon, she saw no sign of land. Only the heaving sea.
Her gut clenched, and she grabbed the metal rail in a white-knuckled grip as she struggled not to vomit. They were heading due east. Toward Canada or open water? Was he meeting up with another boat out here, or did he intend to dispose of her body far from shore?
He is going to kill me. She had to find a weapon. No one could help her.
Clinging tightly to the rail, she descended the steps. She entered the back of the bridge. The man seated at the helm didn’t turn, but she didn’t have to see his face to recognize the neat ears and rough, dark hair.
It was the man she’d painted, the one she saw over and over in her nightmares.
Her tongue didn’t want to work at first so she tried again and managed to choke out a few words, though she wanted to turn and run. “Who are you?”
He turned then, revealing a rather handsome face. His salt-and-pepper hair and his tanned, leathery skin made her guess his age at about fifty. His arms were ropy with muscles, so she’d have a hard time overpowering him and getting the boat turned around.
“You’re awake.” He rose and stretched. “I thought I had more time.” His feet were bare, and he wore navy shorts and a white T-shirt.
She glanced around for a weapon but saw nothing. “Where are we?”
“About ten miles off from Folly Shoals.” His face betrayed no emotion as he looked her over.
Something clicked in her head as she looked at him. The family resemblance was obvious in his eyes and the tilt of his mouth. “You’re my mother’s brother, Paul. The one who buried Claire.”
He reached over to cut the engine. The sudden cessation of the throb under her feet was as loud as a bomb. “Very good. You were smart even at four.” He took a step toward her.
Was that regret in his eyes? She backed up. “If you kill me, there’s one more murder added to your list. I already redid the painting, and there are posters of it up all over the area. Someone will recognize you.”
He balled his hands into fists. “I kept hoping you’d shut up and go away, but you kept poking and poking. I have no choice. My sister will give me an alibi for your disappearance, and I can talk my way out of just about anything.”
“Jenny was going to turn you in, wasn’t she? That’s what the letter she sent the sheriff was about. She couldn’t bring herself to report you directly but hoped implicating me would bring out the truth. So you killed her.”
“There’s no evidence tying me to Jenny. Especially with you gone.”
Dizziness hit her hard, and she reached out a hand to steady herself. Images flashed through her consciousness, assaulting her like bricks. Horsey rides on his back, a sandbox he’d built for her and Kate, candy he’d bring to them.
And in an instant, she remembered it all.
The trees reached knobby hands for her. Rachel rubbed her eyes and tried not to cry. Her daddy said only babies cried. But Uncle Paul promised to take her fishing. She loved going out on the boat with him. She’d gotten all ready, and then he’d said no, he was going to check his traps. When he walked off and left her and Kate with the babysitter, she’d followed, determined not to be left behind.
Now she wished she’d stayed with Kate. She wanted to be back home in her bedroom with the covers over her head, not here in these dark woods.
She heard someone cry out, a woman’s voice. Maybe Mommy was looking for her. The twigs and leaves crunched under her feet as she headed in that direction. Something fluttered in the moonlight, and she stopped in a patch of white flowers her uncle called spurge to pick a scarf off a bush before continuing on toward the voice.
She stopped at the edge of a small clearing and watched a man struggle with a woman. In the moonlight, she saw a small girl about her own size lying on the ground with her eyes closed. Her gaze went to the adults. The man had his hands around the woman’s neck, and he bent her backward until she fell to the ground.
Then he put his knee on her chest and continued to push his hands against her neck. The woman clawed at his hands, but his hands went to her head, and he gave it a funny jerk. Then she didn’t fight him anymore.
He rose and turned so she saw his face and the dead fox hanging on his belt. “Uncle Paul!”
Her first inclination was to run to him. Until she saw the rage and confusion on his face. She turned and plunged back into the forest, running faster and faster. Her ribs hurt, and she wanted to stop, but she had to find Mommy.
“Rachel, come back!”
Something in his voice made her run harder. She reached her tree with its secret hiding spot and stuck the scarf in it so she could climb the tree. Her foot slipped about halfway up, and she screamed as she tumbled toward the ground. Her head struck something hard, and everything went dark.
Claire blinked and realized he was only two feet from her. The anger on his face was just like that night. Not only had he killed Jenny, but he’d murdered Luke’s mother. And Rachel had seen it all.
She turned and ran for the steps to the upper deck. Maybe she could find something to defend herself up there. Her foot hit the rung of the ladder and she began to climb, but she was slow, too slow, and his strong fingers closed around her ankle.
“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way, Rachel.”
She kicked out and his hand fell away. She continued to scramble up the ladder, but she had little hope of evading him.