Chapter 32

His smile dimmed. “That’s the deed to Shelter Island.”

“I don’t understand. Shelter Island wasn’t part of our deal.” The craving for a drink howled through her like a ravenous beast, and all she could think of was a big glass of red wine. She licked her dry lips. That clear ruby color, the aroma of black currants and alcohol, the smooth, fruity tartness sliding over her tongue, the warm buzz… She gripped her mug and sipped the now-lukewarm coffee, grimacing at the bittersweet taste.

He pushed to his feet, stepped over Otis’s stretched-out body, and crossed to the couch. Bending down, he picked up the deed. “Take it, Athena.” He laid the paper on her lap and sat beside her and clasped her hand. “You may not be interested in returning to the island now, but that’ll change once the shock of everything you’ve learned this past month wears off. Shelter Island is part of your heritage.”

Her hand tingled with tiny needles of awareness where her skin brushed his. She tried not to breathe, tried not to inhale his scent—a tantalizing mix of fresh spring air and spicy cologne. She stared at the legal document as if it were a killer bees’ nest. “I told you. I don’t want the island, not now, not a year from now.” Shelter Island represented sadness and inexplicable loss. She’d never return to its rugged windswept shores, never witness the sad desolation of her old home, never again encounter the ghosts of the past.

“I came here today because I wanted to give you that deed and thank you. But there’s another reason.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Part of our deal was that I’d help you find what happened to your parents.”

She tugged her hand free and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I know in my heart that Angus Crawford murdered my parents. What difference does it make if I find proof? They’re…they’re dead.” Tears burned her eyes, but she persevered. “He’s dead. The law can’t touch him. Nothing will change that.”

His brow furrowed. “I thought you wanted answers.”

Unable to sit still a second longer, she exploded off the couch. “You don’t get it, do you? Your father did something to my parents. I know it.” She thumped her fist over her heart. “I know it in here. I don’t have to prove his guilt to anyone. Not anymore.” She huffed out a breath. “I’m done. Do you hear me? I’m done.”

Otis raised his shaggy head, and a soft whine escaped his mouth.

Russ rested his elbows on his thighs. “I understand. You’re afraid of what you’ll find. Anyone in the same situation would be.”

“I’m not afraid.” She held his gaze, hoping he didn’t detect her lie. “It’s time to move on. I can’t live in the past. I’ve wasted too much of my life doing that already.” Maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe for once she was telling the truth, a truth she needed to hear. It was long past the time she should let the tragedy go and get on with her life.

Russ rose in a single, fluid motion, a determined look in his hazel eyes. “Bullshit.” He moved toward her, each slow step bringing him closer.

“What?” She backed up a foot, and another, until her hips bumped the wall and there was no escape.

“You heard me. I call bullshit.”

Her gaze bounced around the room, seeking escape. “I…I don’t understand.”

“Finding answers is all you’ve thought of for the past twenty-three years.” He halted a hairsbreadth away. “Think about it, Athena. Ask yourself why you’ve waited all these years to seek out the answers. You didn’t need me for that. You could have asked any number of people to help you.”

She raised her hands as if to ward him off, but they fluttered helplessly in front of her. Words died in her throat.

“Do you want to know what I think? You’re afraid to find out the truth.” His mouth thinned. “You’re terrified you’ll discover Angus is innocent, and your parents abandoned you. They sailed away and left poor, sweet Maggie all alone.”

Her legs threatened to give out, and she braced against the wall. “No. That’s not true. They wouldn’t have done that.” Her shoulders shook with a gut-wrenching sob. “They never would have left me.”

“Then let’s find out what really happened. Together.” The light of earnestness shone deep in his eyes.

Was he right? Was she afraid to learn the truth? She shuddered. What if her worst fear was true, and her parents had chosen to abandon her? Could she live with the knowledge she’d been cast aside like an old pair of shoes? She licked her dry lips, wishing she were sipping on a glass of wine, beer, vodka…anything to slake her thirst and help her forget.

“Asking for help isn’t a weakness, Athena. Sometimes, it’s the strongest thing you can do.”

His husky voice washed over her like melted chocolate.

The air between them pulsed. Her body swayed toward him like a plant seeking the sun.

Grasping her chin with two fingers, he turned her to meet his intense gaze. “Let me help you.” He caressed her cheek, his warm, callused thumb eliciting another shiver. “Please let me help.”

Her heart thundered against her ribs. “I…I don’t know.”

His warm breath gusted against her cheeks. “Together we’ll find the answers.”

“I…” She shook her head in frustration. Why was this so difficult? She’d spent her life wondering what happened that fateful day on Shelter Island. He was offering to help her find those answers. “Okay.”

He nodded. “Before we start, there’s something you should know. After you ran away from me at the marina, I—”

“I didn’t run away.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “After you left the Minerva, I sailed back to Shelter Island and searched Angus’s cottage.”

Her irritation faded, and curiosity took over. “Did you find anything?”

He smiled, and the creases at the outer corners of his hazel eyes deepened. “I discovered a box of papers in the attic.” He tugged at his shirt collar. “The box was filled with notes concerning your parents’ disappearance.”

“Angus confessed?” Her breath hitched in her throat. Her knees turned to rubber, and she swayed. She grabbed Russ’s arm to hold steady.

“Hey, take it easy. Maybe you should sit down.” He gripped her elbow and steered her to the couch.

Her legs gave out, and she plopped on the cushions.

“Do you want me to get you a glass of water?” He hovered over her.

“Please. Tell me what Angus wrote.”

“The papers aren’t what you think.” He stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “They’re reports from a private investigator Angus hired to find out what happened to your parents.” He strode across the room and retrieved the leather briefcase from the floor. Unsnapping the metal clasps, he flipped open the flap, revealing several thick file folders.

She ached to rip the briefcase from his grasp, but she kept her hands clasped on her lap. “That doesn’t make sense. Angus already knew what happened.”

Russ held out the case. “Read the files. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I don’t need to read them. I know what he did.”

He settled on the couch beside her. “Think with your brain and not your heart. You’ve said it yourself. Why would Angus pay someone to investigate if he already knew what happened to your parents?” He patted the briefcase. “The private investigator didn’t work cheap, and over the years, Angus paid him a lot of money. He hired him right after the incident and kept him on the payroll until a few years before Angus’s death.” He huffed out a breath. “Angus was careful with his money. He wouldn’t throw cash away on a whim.”

A thousand snarky responses trembled on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. Maybe Angus was innocent, and she’d blamed the wrong person all these years. Was that possible? Tears burned her eyes.

“Hey. It’s okay.” His arm curled around her waist, tugging her closer. “This isn’t easy. None of what’s going down is.”

A sob hiccupped in her throat, and she burrowed deeper into his comforting embrace. Tears streamed down her cheeks and soaked the soft flannel of his shirt.

The light had faded, and the room darkened before she raised her head. The compassion shining in his eyes caused a fresh sting of tears, but she swallowed, refusing to cry anymore. “I’ve always been certain Angus was responsible for what happened. All these years, I’ve hated him. I’ve—” Her voice broke.

He rubbed his palm over her back, kneading the tense muscles with the pads of his strong fingers. “You were a child when your parents left. How could you know who was responsible?”

“You don’t understand. It had to be him.” She blinked back tears. “He was the only other person on the island that day.”

“He was the only one you saw. There are lots of bays and inlets on that island. Someone could have landed a boat in any one of them and rowed ashore, and you wouldn’t have known.”

She shook her head, refusing to accept his calm reasoning. “I would have seen a boat. I would have…” Her voice trailed off as doubt clouded her thoughts. Could she be wrong? Was it possible that for all these years she’d blamed the wrong person? Had someone else been on the island that day? Someone who wanted to destroy her family? Unease trickled down her spine, and she shivered.