Folly Shoals was a fishing village straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Shingle and clapboard cottages in pastels of blue, yellow, and white stair-stepped the hillside, and lobster traps lay heaped in the yards. Boats of all sizes and conditions, from pleasure boats to fishing boats, bobbed in the waves at their moorings in Sunset Cove. Bigger, nicer homes with manicured lawns sandwiched the older homes occupied by fishermen. People with coolers awaited the fishing and lobster boats chugging toward the pier.
Claire clung to the armrest in Luke’s old truck as he drove the narrow and winding streets to the library. She was only too glad to get out of the cab, rank with the odor of fish and bait. She stood on the brick sidewalk and looked up and down the street. The aroma of fudge mingled with the scents rolling out of the candle shop next door. She would have to stroll through the shops when she had time.
She’d tried to find out about her missing year online, but Folly Shoals was still stuck in the last century and only the last few years of articles were online. She hoped Luke was right and they’d find stashes of microfilm or even the physical papers themselves in some dusty room inside. Though, surveying the small, sea-weathered building, she had her doubts. And what if she found something that rocked her world even more?
“Wait here first. I’ll check and see if they have any old papers.” Luke touched her shoulder, then bounced up the steps to the library.
While he was gone, Claire observed the town. Had she lived in one of those houses when she was four? Doubtful. Not with so many people searching for her. Whoever had kept her likely lived out in the forest somewhere, miles from here. How did she go about finding out the truth when it happened twenty-five years ago? Could her nightmare about the man with the fox be something she actually experienced during that missing year?
Luke came back down the steps shaking his head. “No papers, but the librarian was sure the newspaper would have them.” He pointed to a building two doors down.
The acrid odor of ink assaulted her when she stepped inside, but the young man named Victor was pleasant enough, and minutes later she and Luke were in the archive room. Wooden tables nearly groaned under the weight of stacks of newspapers.
The old floorboards creaked under him as Luke approached a stack in the back-left corner. “He suggested we start here.”
She joined him, leaning in close enough to feel the warmth emanating off his skin. Moving away a few inches, she took a stack of newspapers from his hands and carried them to the old wooden table in the center of the room. Half an hour later, black ink covered her hands, but they were getting close. The last paper she’d looked at was only a week away from her disappearance.
Luke held up a paper. “Got it! Front page news.” He moved beside her and smoothed open the newspaper.
TINY HEIRESS LOST IN THE NORTH WOODS
Searchers fanned out Saturday over the island of Folly Shoals and into all of Hancock and Washington Counties in a quest to find the only child of millionaire Harry Dellamare and his wife, Lisa. Claire Dellamare, four years old, wandered off during a birthday party at Hotel Tourmaline. The blond, blue-eyed girl was last seen wearing a pink lace party dress, white tights, and patent leather shoes.
A K-9 search-and-rescue team showed up to assist in the search, but so far, no trace of the child has been found. The child’s mother, Lisa Dellamare, has been hospitalized for hysteria and remains under sedation. Anyone with information leading to the child’s whereabouts is instructed to call the sheriff’s office. A reward of a hundred thousand dollars has been offered for information leading to the child’s discovery.
Claire’s chest felt tight, and her eyes prickled. She would not cry. All this happened years ago. It had no power to affect her life now. She only wanted to know what happened. Sniffling, she reached for a wet wipe and washed her hands, then handed him one. She didn’t look at him as they cleaned off the ink in silence.
Luke’s hand, warm and strong, came to rest on her left shoulder. The press of his fingers conveyed reassurance, support, and comfort. “You okay?”
“Fine.” Her voice came out hoarse and choked. “It’s just all so shocking to find out something this dramatic happened to me and I don’t remember anything about it.” Her gaze fell farther down the front page. “There’s no mention of your mother’s disappearance.”
He leaned down, his breath stirring her hair. “My father couldn’t do anything for twenty-four hours since she was an adult. It should be in the next week’s paper. Let me see if I can find it.” He shuffled through the papers and retrieved one. “Here it is.”
SEARCH CALLED OFF FOR CLAIRE DELLAMARE
After a week of unseasonably cool night temperatures, four-year-old Claire Dellamare remains missing. Searchers from the island and all of Hancock and Washington Counties have been unable to locate the child. Her shoes were found in a small islet north of Sunset Cove, and the sheriff’s department has surmised she went swimming and drowned. Her father, millionaire Harry Dellamare, checked his grieving wife out of the hospital and took her back to Boston yesterday, where she was admitted to a local psychiatric hospital. The community offers its prayers and condolences to the Dellamares.
And underneath that article, she saw the one about his mother. Judging from her picture, she’d been very beautiful, with long dark hair and eyes that seemed to take in the world with a hint of humor. Megan looked a lot like her.
CO-OWNER OF ROCCO CRANBERRIES MISSING
Victoria Rocco went on her customary evening walk and never returned. Available searchers were thin because of Claire Dellamare’s disappearance, but friends and neighbors fanned out over her known path. Victoria’s husband, Walker Rocco, asks anyone with information to call him personally.
Claire glanced up to find his gaze on her. “That’s all? It almost sounds like no one expected to find her.”
“I don’t think the town did. Most folks thought she left of her own accord, but we never believed she’d do that.” His lips flattened, and so did his voice. “And now it appears we were right.”
“There isn’t much to go on for either of us.”
His brow furrowed. “I was a kid myself, so I don’t have any clear memories of it other than searching for her and crying myself to sleep every night.”
She winced. “Whom can we talk to about it? Your dad?”
“He had a stroke and isn’t making a whole lot of sense these days. Let’s start with Mom’s sister, my aunt Nancy. She runs a day care here in town.” A dimple appeared in his right cheek, then he reached over and rubbed his thumb, still damp from the hand wipe, over her cheek.
He was a man who worked hard with his hands. His thumb was rough against her skin. “Got it. I should probably wash my face too.”
Her face heated when she rose and followed him after such a curiously intimate exchange. She never let people close this fast. Never.
It took five minutes for Luke to drive Claire to where his mother’s sister lived. Nancy Prescott kept an immaculate yard around her shingled house. Her roses were impressive. She’d already cut the shoots back and had prepped the beds lining the front of her gingerbread house. He eyed Claire to see what she thought of the blue house with its crisp white shutters.
Claire’s eyes widened. “How cute.”
He parked at the curb. “When we were kids, Megan thought Snow White’s dwarves used to live here. It looked like the picture in her book. The house has all these great nooks and crannies too. Perfect for hide-and-seek.”
“Will she mind us dropping by without calling first?”
He shook his head. “I’ll get what-for since this is the first I’ve stopped by since I got back to town, but it’ll be worth it for her peanut butter cookies and coffee.” He got out and shut his door.
They strolled up the brick walk lined with freshly upturned dirt. His aunt would be dying to get her annuals planted along the sidewalk. She took pride in trying new varieties every year. He mounted the steps and pressed the doorbell. The windows along the front of the house stood open, and he caught the faint scent of lemon polish.
The door opened, and she beamed up at him. “I wondered when you’d find time for your old aunt.” In bare feet and cropped pants, she grabbed him in a fierce hug, then stepped back to survey him. “You’re too thin.”
“I haven’t had your cookies in six months.” He followed her into the sunny living room with its warm wood floors and bright rug. “Aunt Nan, this is Claire—”
Claire interrupted him, holding out her hand. “So nice to meet you.”
He shot a glance her way, and she smiled back blandly. Maybe she didn’t want his aunt to know her last name yet.
The dimple in his aunt’s cheek was like his and his mother’s. About fifty-five, she had bright-pink polish on her toenails and her dark hair up in a ponytail. “I do believe this is the first time Luke has ever brought a girl to meet me, Claire. You must be very special to him. Have a seat, you two.”
Pink ran up Claire’s face. “Actually, we just met yesterday.” She settled on the overstuffed beige sofa.
“Oh well, that doesn’t mean you’re not special. I have fresh coffee, and I made cookies last night. I’ll be right back.” She vanished through the kitchen door.
“Whew, she’s a whirlwind,” Claire whispered. “Where does she get all her energy? I like her already.”
“She’s always been that way. She’s been more like a mom than an aunt to me and Meg.”
Nancy returned, a Nemo tray topped with cups and cookies in her hands. “The coffee is strong so I brought lots of cream and sugar.”
Claire accepted a cup. “I like it strong. Are you a Disney fan?”
Nancy laughed. “Sorry, the only tray I have is one I use for the day care kids. They’re crazy about Nemo.”
“Are there kids here now? I don’t hear anything.”
Nancy shook her head. “My helper took them to the library for story hour. Believe me, you’d know if they were here. I’m ready for the weekend to start after they all leave tonight. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up with them.”
Luke took a cup of coffee and cookie, then settled on the sofa beside Claire. It did his heart good to see her warming up to his aunt so quickly. What would Aunt Nan think when she found out Claire’s last name?
His aunt took a cup of coffee and dropped into the upholstered rocker by the stone fireplace. “I have a feeling you’re here for more than a casual visit. What’s up, nephew?”
He realized he hadn’t even told her about finding the bones. “I have some news, Aunt Nan. Um, you know that field Pop bought last year? I had Jimmy burning it off to get it ready to excavate and plant cranberries. He found some bones buried in a ditch. The heavy spring rains uncovered them enough that the fire exposed them.”
The color drained from his aunt’s face, and coffee sloshed over the side of her cup onto her white pants. “Vicky.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I think it might be. My fire engine was there too.” Nancy’s coffee cup wobbled, and he reached over to take it from her. “We won’t know for a while. Danny said it’ll take awhile to get a positive ID.”
His aunt’s throat made a clicking sound. “Finally, after all these years. I knew she didn’t just run off. Oh, Luke, what happened to her?”
“We don’t know, not yet. The place was crawling with forensics people last night, so I’m praying we have some answers soon.”
“Oh my.” She fanned herself and inhaled a gasp of air. “I never expected to hear this.” She looked hard at Claire. “And are you a forensics investigator? Is that why you’re here too?”
Claire bit her lip. “Maybe now is not the time to discuss my questions.”
His aunt’s lips trembled, but she tipped up her chin. “I’m fine. It was just a bit of a shock, after all these years. Vicky was my baby sister, a year younger than I am. I always blamed myself, you know.”
Luke frowned. “Why would you blame yourself? That makes no sense.”
She wrung her hands. “I tried to tell them, but no one would listen to me. I know her disappearance had something to do with that little girl who went missing at the same time.”
Claire made a tiny gasp, but he kept his eyes on his aunt. “Why are you so sure of that?”
“She called me, Vicky did. Before she disappeared. She said she’d heard a child crying out in the woods. She told Walker, but he insisted it was an owl.”
“Did he hear it too?” Claire’s voice was strangled.
His aunt nodded. “He told her he’d check it out, but when she looked, she found him sleeping on the porch. I know my sister. She couldn’t ignore a crying child.”
“Pop never said anything about it.”
Aunt Nan looked down at her lap. “What does this all mean?”
“We don’t know yet. The victim hasn’t been identified.” If his aunt went any paler, she was apt to keel over right here on the floor.
Her slim fingers pleated the paper napkin on her lap. “I told the sheriff.” Her voice was stronger now, more confident. “But your dad and the sheriff were good friends, so who do you think he listened to?” She looked over at Claire as a tear rolled down her cheek. “My dear, why are you crying?”
Luke glanced at Claire. “Aunt Nan, I didn’t mention Claire’s last name. It’s Dellamare.”
His aunt’s eyes widened, and she looked from him to Claire. “You’re the Dellamare child?”
Claire nodded. “I’m sorry if I was the cause of your sister’s death.”
“Oh, honey, it wasn’t your fault! No, no, I didn’t mean that.” Aunt Nan leaned forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “But this has to be God’s providence that you’re here now when Vicky has finally been found. You can tell us what happened. Did she help you in some way?”
Claire’s hand went to her mouth, and she smothered a sob. “I don’t remember. Oh, dear Lord, why can’t I remember?”
He reached over to take her hand, but she wrenched it away and bolted for the door.