Chapter Seven

A soft knock at the door startled me. I glanced at my watch, surprised at how time had flown. It was already nearly one o’clock. No wonder my stomach was growling. Remembering where I was yesterday at this time—or more importantly…with whom—filled me with a sudden longing that I had to force into submission. I had work to do, and wayward thoughts like those wouldn’t help any.

“Come in.”

There was a moment of shuffling and fumbling outside the door, then Emory stuck his head in and smiled. “When you didn’t show up for lunch, I had Cook make you a tray. May I…?”

I set a stack of files on the corner of the desk and stretched. I was surprised that he seemed in such a good mood after I’d turned down his offer at breakfast. “You read my mind. I didn’t realize what time it was. I’m starved.”

He shouldered the door open, stepped through and closed it with his foot. “Good thing I asked her to make plenty then.” He set the tray on a coffee table that faced a leather sofa. “It’ll be more comfortable over here. You need a break from all that paperwork anyway.”

To be truthful, I was glad for the excuse to stand and get some blood circulating to certain parts of my anatomy, flattened from sitting so long. “Whew! I’ve got a bad case of FFS.”

“FFS?”

From the look on his face, he must’ve thought the letters stood for some terrible disease. I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud, giving him a rueful smile, instead. “Don’t worry, Emory. It stands for ‘fanny fatigue syndrome.’ It’s a term Pat made up.”

His laugh boomed, disproportionately loud when compared to my little joke, but the room was cavernous, with high ceilings and hardwood floors. Not a lot to absorb sound, so it tended to echo a bit. I stared at him curiously for a moment before giving him the benefit of the doubt and joining in.

“Oh, Katelyn, you always were such a cut-up. I wish you could know how much I’ve missed you these past fifteen years. We have a lot of lost time to make up for. Here…eat.” He handed me a plate loaded with chicken salad and fresh fruit.

“Mmmm,” I groaned after taking a bite. “That’s delicious. I can taste the rosemary…one of my all-time favorite herbs. I think you could probably put it on just about anything and it would taste great. I love to add it to the recipe when I use my bread machine. The last fifteen minutes or so before it gets done, I almost drool myself to death.” I pointed to the salad with my fork. “Are there smoked almonds in this too?”

He shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m pretty ignorant when it comes to recipes. I can’t tell one ingredient from another, so I’m clueless as to what Cook uses.” He gave me a warm smile. “I’m glad you like it though.”

I returned the smile, studying him. As Pat would say, he was very nicely put together. Technically, he was more handsome than Levi, but there was something—I couldn’t really put my finger on it—but something about him put me slightly on edge. Maybe it was because he looked so much like his mother…that must be it. I was probably transferring Jessa’s creepiness to him. He was being the perfect gentleman.

I ate quietly for a few moments, missing the camaraderie of yesterday’s lunch with Levi. Emory wasn’t eating, and he stared at me so intently that it made me self-conscious and uncomfortable. As I sipped my glass of tea, my mind raced, grasping desperately at the first thing that popped into my head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it out to Biltmore with you and Jessa today.”

There was a flicker of some emotion in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly I didn’t have time to analyze it. Then he flashed me a smile so dazzling, I started questioning whether I’d seen it in the first place. Had I imagined it? I couldn’t tell.

“I completely understand, Katelyn. Patrick didn’t have a secretary, and his filing system leaves much to be desired. Just between us, I think the reason he didn’t hire a secretary is that he didn’t trust anyone. I know it will take you quite a while to get things into any semblance of order.”

I forked another bite of chicken salad into my mouth, chewing slowly as I thought about what he’d said. The little voice inside of me—the one that acted as a sort of warning system—was starting to mutter a little. How did he know about my father’s filing system? Had he gone through his papers? Had he been looking for something? And if so, what?

Stop being so suspicious, my inner-Kate snapped. Ever since you arrived at Half-Moon Lake, your phobias have taken on a life of their own. You’re paranoid about everything and it’s not a very attractive quality, so stop, already!

Even while my subconscious berated me, I couldn’t help thinking of the keys tucked in my pocket and fought the urge to check to see if they were still there.

Emory’s question interrupted my musings. “So, what did you do with yourself for the most of the day yesterday?”

“Oh, I wanted to explore the town before the crowds descended. I found the most amazing little shop—Kudzu’s—have you been there? Oh, what am I saying? You live here…of course you’ve been there. And you know that the lady who owns it also owns the restaurant beside it. That’s where I had lunch…and dinner, for that matter. I’m sure you know her son. I just found out we all grew up together, and that he was a close friend to me and Kenna.”

There was no mistaking his displeasure this time. His dark-brown eyes hardened, intensifying until they were almost black.

“You mean, Levi.” He sneered the name, as if it were an obscenity.

Hmmm. There was obviously some bad blood between them. Wonder what caused it? “You don’t like him?”

It was as if a switch had been flipped. The severe expression was instantly erased, replaced by a brilliant smile, like it had never existed. “What makes you say that?”

Huh? Trying to keep up with his see-saw mood swings was giving me a headache. “Never mind.” I took a final swallow of tea, used the cloth napkin to wipe my mouth, and took a deep breath. “That was delicious! Thank you for bringing me a tray, Emory. It was very thoughtful of you. Now I’ll have the fuel to delve through the remainder of this mess.” I stood, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

It worked.

“Yes…well, I’ll let you get back to it. The sooner you slog through all this, the sooner we can spend some time together.” He stood and retrieved the tray. “I’ll take this back to the kitchen and tell Cook you said thanks.”

“Yes, please do.” I watched him leave, still reeling from his mood swings. “And thanks again.”

****

When the phone rang, I jumped. I didn’t know if I was supposed to answer it or not, but after it rang for the fourth time, I reached for it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Katie.”

Levi’s deep voice rumbled through the receiver into my ear. A shiver of excitement vibrated up my spine.

“Hi, yourself.”

“I was wondering if I could tear you away from whatever it is you’re doing.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I played along. “Wading through mountains of papers is such an exciting venture. And the paper cuts…” I gave a loud, dramatic sigh and continued, sarcasm dripping from each word, “…how can I possibly leave all this and give up the paper cuts?”

He laughed. “Isn’t there anything that could convince you?”

An answering smile spread across my face. “Hmm…maybe. What do you have in mind?”

“How’d you like to ride up to Asheville? There are a couple of stores up there that carry my furniture. If you’re interested, we could swing by so you can see another piece or two, then we could grab a bite to eat at this restaurant I’ve discovered on the west side. They’ve got pizza that’ll permanently spoil you for any other…ever. You still like Italian, don’t you?”

“Yes. I still like Italian a lot. Hmm…I’ll have to think about this a while.” I let about half a second pass and blurted, “Ow! Okay, okay!”

“What? What happened?”

“You’re pretty rough with your arm-twisting, aren’t you?” I giggled. “And I’d love to see some more of your work, too.”

It was better…smarter that we’d be in a public place rather than his home this time, but just the same, I couldn’t help feeling a little pang of disappointment. I told myself to stop being ridiculous, but unfortunately, I wasn’t listening.

“Great!” He sounded exultant.

“What time?”

He countered, “How soon can you be ready?”

I glanced at what I was wearing and made a face. “Fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

I hung up and started to straighten the piles on the desk, but shook my head and decided to leave the mess. I’d tackle it again tomorrow. I felt a brief twinge of guilt that I was agreeing to go to Asheville with Levi, when it was only this morning that I had refused Emory, but I shrugged it away. There wasn’t time for that. I had a date to get ready for!

Grinning at that thought, I hurried for the doors.

****

The waitress had just deposited our drinks and bread knots on the table, and was heading to the kitchen with our order. I’d opted for sweet tea, again, figuring that I’d better stay away from anything alcoholic. Judging by my previous reactions to Levi Wolfe, I did not need to have fuzzy senses around him. And the way he was staring at me…well, my decision was a wise one. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I didn’t seem to mind it when Levi looked at me like that, whereas with Emory, it made me a little uneasy. Why was that? No! It was better that I not delve into the reason at the moment.

To tell the truth, his attention made me feel good. It boosted my lagging confidence a little and I desperately needed a boost in that arena. Mentally, I was suspended somewhere between feeling very insignificant in my own artistic skin, voice, self…whatever one wanted to call it, and being totally “wowed!” by his. My card line and Jammy-Pie products seemed to pale in comparison to his magnificent furniture. No, it went beyond that…my dinky cards and collectibles were totally eclipsed. Add in the phone conversation I’d had with my boss where he’d urged me to take my time and work on card ideas at my leisure; that there was no rush; that I could even take an extended sabbatical if I thought I needed it…well, it made me feel more than a little unimportant. Never mind that having an agreeable boss was much more preferable than him giving some sort of ultimatum or threat of job-loss. Yes, his congenial attitude to my year-long leave of absence was for the best; better than I could’ve hoped, actually. I didn’t need card-deadlines hanging over my head, along with everything else that was going on in my life, but in spite of all that, I felt very unnecessary.

Squelching a self-pitying sigh, I reminded myself that there were different forms of art. One is not any better or more important than another…just different.

Repeat as needed, Kate.

My inner-Kate snorted. Malarkey! You’re not buying that, are you? It doesn’t matter how many times you repeat it, it’s not going to change the fact that your little porcupine can’t compete with Levi’s “art.” Accept it and move on.

I had to bite my lip to keep from telling her what she could do with her opinion.

“Did you make much head-way today?”

It took me a second to realize what he was asking. “Not as much as I’d hoped.” I made a split-second decision to tell him what happened with the pipes, and hoped it wasn’t a mistake. “Something…uh…came up and it took up a pretty good chunk of time. More than I realized, I guess.”

“So, Katie…tell me what ‘came up’?”

Since I tended to get a little distracted whenever we made eye contact, I stared at the piece of bread I was demolishing. I could keep my train of thought on track better that way. “Well, I’ve been wondering why my father would cut my stepmom and Emory out of his will like he did. He must’ve had a good reason and I thought—no, I hoped—that perhaps he’d left a clue as to his reason, and that I’d find it in his papers somewhere. Before I could get started going through them, though, something pretty weird happened.”

I snuck a glance at him before dropping my gaze back to the pile of crumbs. I had his attention.

“Weird? How?”

“Well…I was looking at all his meerschaum pipes and one of them…um, I guess you could say it caught my eye and wouldn’t let it go.”

“What happened?”

I took a deep breath, remembering how that skull pipe had made me feel and was amazed that I still felt a bit shaken by it. “I picked one of the pipes up and ended up dropping it, breaking it into two pieces. I was mortified.”

“Aww, don’t worry about it, Katie-bug. It’s not that big of a deal. Accidents happen…even with one-of-a-kind things like that. Believe me; I’ve had some doozies while building a piece of furniture. Luckily no one has been hurt in any of them yet. You just have to get over it and go on.”

“Are you done, now?”

He nodded with a smile.

“Good. Now will you please be quiet so I can tell you what happened?”

The words were out before I realized it. I was horrified at myself, unable to believe I’d basically ordered him to “shut up.” Afraid to look at him, I kept my head ducked down and forged ahead, picking up speed as I went. “The two pieces wouldn’t snap back together because a small slip of paper was in the way. The paper had a message written on it—‘the key is elementary’—with the word elementary in quotation marks.” I paused to take another deep breath, half-expecting him to make another comment, but he didn’t say a word. “I thought it might be talking about the Sherlock Holmes pipe my father has. You know that famous line he says that everyone recognizes—‘elementary, my dear Watson’? Of course you do. Did you know that that pipe is one of three in my father’s collection that is a pipe smoking a pipe? Not that that has anything to do with anything. I just thought it was funny; you know…a pipe smoking a pipe. Get it?” A nervous laugh started to bubble out and I clamped my lips so it wouldn’t escape. I needed to slow down and get a grip.

There. That was better.

“Anyway,” I continued after my brief time-out. “There was a sort of little drawer hidden behind the carving of Sherlock’s pipe. And in that little drawer was a key!”

I was practically out of breath at the end of my ridiculous explanation and wondering whether he’d even understood my speed-talking. Was it okay to look at him, yet? Was he mad at me for telling him to shut up?

He wasn’t. His dark eyes sparkled with curiosity and amusement. No anger. “Am I permitted to speak now?” he asked.

I bit my lip again and nodded.

“Very good detective work, Katie. Do you know what the key fits?”

Tossing the remains of my mangled bread on the plate, I sighed in disgust. “No. I don’t even know where to start! I haven’t found anything in the office that has a lock like that. It’s one of those old-fashioned skeleton keys. There’s nothing that old in his office. I don’t know if there are some antique file cabinets in another room, or if this is something no one but my father knew about. If that’s the case, how am I ever going to find it? I can’t ask anyone, because I don’t want them to know about the key. I’m afraid something bad happened…bad enough to cause my father to change his will; so who can I trust with the information?”

His eyes sharpened. “What do you mean? How do you know there was another will?”

I shrugged. “It’s a feeling I have. You’d understand if you’d seen the way Emory acted when he heard what that attorney read. It was…well, it was like he was expecting something totally different…like he already knew what it was supposed to say and was surprised when this one didn’t. Does that make sense?”

The waitress showed up with our calzone. My eyes widened at the size of it. “Wow! This thing is huge!”

“Told you. But don’t worry. It won’t go to waste. This stuff microwaves amazingly well. We can take the leftovers home with us.” He placed a large wedge on each of our plates, set the little dish with dipping sauce in the center of the table and then motioned with his hand. “Go on, you think something bad happened to make your dad change his will?”

“Yes…now, you can’t laugh at this part…promise?”

He was busy chewing, but nodded his head—not without rolling his eyes a little first, though. I waited. I wanted to hear him say it.

When he swallowed, he gave me a questioning look. I crossed my arms, raised one eyebrow and stared at him. He knew darn well what I wanted.

“Okay!” he blurted. “I promise. Satisfied?”

“Yep,” I chirped, steeling myself against his uncanny ability to scatter my thoughts whenever I looked at him. I wanted to watch his reaction, to get a “read” on him. “I believe the reason my father wrote his will the way he did—with the stipulation that I had to live here a year if I wanted my inheritance—is because he wanted me to discover the reason why. He knew it would take me some time to hunt for clues, especially since I don’t have any idea what I’m looking for, so he had to give me a reason to stay.” I held up my hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “This is hard enough for me to say out loud, so please, let me finish.”

He shrugged, then took another bite, motioning for me to continue.

“I know it probably sounds crazy to you, especially since I don’t know him and can’t even remember him due to my stupid memory loss, but I’m right. I’m sure of it…well, mostly sure.”

I finally picked up my wedge of calzone and took a bite, indicating that I’d had my say and was done for now.

Oh, my! The flavors that melded together in my mouth made my eyes close and I couldn’t hold back a groan of pure delight. My taste buds were in ecstasy.

It was at least a minute and a half before I became aware of the taut silence stretching between us. My eyes popped open and met his smoldering gaze. His features were rigid and his voice was rough when he finally spoke. “If you don’t mind, can you try not enjoying your food quite so much?”

I opened my mouth to ask what he was talking about, but snapped it shut when I thought about how I must’ve looked and sounded. Biting my lip, I winced and my cheeks heated.

“Oops, sorry.”

He sat very still for another long minute, his eyes never leaving mine, looking at me as if I were his favorite dessert. The air between us practically pulsed with an invisible, potent energy. Finally, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed and then he cleared his throat. When he spoke again, he sounded almost back to normal. “I think you’re right, Katie.” He reached across the table for my hand that was already tingling in anticipation of his touch. “But please, do me a favor and be careful. Okay?”

I shivered, uncertain what caused it. Was it Levi or the fact that I had no idea what my dead father was getting me into, the repercussions that could result?

My inner-Kate rolled her eyes. Who are you trying to kid? That shiver had Levi’s name written all over it, girl!

I knew she was right, and tried my best to squash the feeling. It was ridiculous anyway. He made me feel like a fourteen-year-old with a bad crush. I needed to get myself under control—a task that was proving to be more and more difficult with every passing moment. I tried pushing my feelings away, stomping them down into a more manageable form. The effort was in vain, especially with his dark eyes never leaving mine, his warm fingers stroking the back of my hand, gently squeezing.

His last sentence finally sank in, and I narrowed my eyes. “Wait…what do you mean, be careful? You know something you’re not telling me.”

He let go of my hand and motioned toward my plate. “You eat; I’ll talk.” He waited until I was chewing before beginning. “It’s Emory.”

I winced. “He doesn’t like you at all, you know.”

“The feeling is mutual, believe me.”

“Why?”

He ignored my question. “Cass never trusted Jessa, but in my eyes, Emory was the one folks needed to watch out for.”

“Why doesn’t Cass trust Jessa?”

“She’s never told me. Said we should let sleeping dogs lie.”

I snorted. “That’s exactly what Pat always told me whenever I asked questions about my past.”

He nodded. “I think she got that saying from my mom. They used to spend a good deal of time together. Anyway, I’m sure Cass has her reasons. She isn’t one to hold something against someone unless there’s good cause. I may not agree with her reasons, but I guess I don’t have to.”

“What are her reasons?”

His lips tightened into a straight line, and he stared at me as though deciding whether or not to tell me. Finally, he nodded once. I guessed I’d passed some sort of internal litmus test. “She’s convinced Jessa is responsible—either directly or indirectly—for burning down her house.”

I gasped. Not a good idea when taking a swallow of tea. It sent me into a coughing fit that had Levi patting me on the back and nearby patrons staring, probably wondering whether someone should perform the Heimlich maneuver or at least call 911. Finally able to catch my breath, I used a napkin to dab my watery eyes. “Whew! Note to self…you are not a fish. You do not have gills, and tea is for drinking, not breathing. Now…where were we before I so rudely interrupted us? Oh, yes…” I cast a surreptitious look around us and leaned forward, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Cass believes Jessa burned her house down. Does she have any proof? I guess they did an investigation. Did they classify it as arson?”

He shook his head. “To answer your first question, no, nothing definite. She says it’s more a feeling than anything else. As for your second question…well, Jerry—that is Jeremiah Capps, the fire marshal who investigated—in his report he used terms like ‘inconclusive’ and ‘suspicious.’ He didn’t come out and say it was arson, but he couldn’t rule it out either.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s possible, I guess, but if it was arson, I’m more inclined to believe that Cass succeeded in rubbing a big cat’s fur the wrong way, if you know what I mean, and they responded in a manner that was sure to get her attention.”

“Uh…you’ll have to explain that. You sort of lost me.”

He eyed my forgotten slice of calzone and I took the hint, hurriedly cutting another bite and forking it into my mouth. Apparently appeased, he continued, “Well, my mother is pretty vocal and isn’t known for her tact. Her motto is, ‘silence isn’t golden; it’s yellow.’ She’s even got a bumper sticker on her car that says that. In other words, if you see something that’s wrong and don’t speak up against it, then what good are you? You’re basically a chicken and a waste of good oxygen, just taking up space in this world.”

“What does that have to do with her house getting burned down?” I asked, taking another bite so he wouldn’t remind me again.

“Good girl,” he acknowledged the bite with a smile. “A few years ago, she raised some rather strong objections against a certain multi-million dollar golf community guru. It seems he somehow succeeded in buying a pretty large chunk of local watershed property to add to one of his mountain-top developments.”

“I didn’t think they could sell watershed property. That’s kind of the whole reason behind it being a watershed, right?”

It was his turn to snort. “You’re just like my mother. That’s exactly Cass’ argument.”

“But—”

His hand went up to ward off my questions. “You’ve heard the phrase, money talks, right? Well, evidently this is one of those times when a pile of money changed the rules. Believe me, my mother did everything but script it across the heavens with a sky-writer. She even waved the news under the nose of a local television station hoping to entice them enough that they’d put one of their investigative reporters on Mr. Big-bucks’ trail. She felt like the citizens of the county needed to know that their elected officials were selling off everyone’s clean water for the future. Normally, TV would be the best route to take, but not in this case. She ran smack-dab into a brick wall.”

“Brick wall?”

“Yeah, by that I mean the ‘higher-ups’ ordered the station to leave it alone. I believe their exact words were ‘keep it on the down-low.’ ”

“That should be illegal.”

“Legalities don’t seem to matter when there’s this much money involved, but that didn’t stop Cass. She turned to a more grass-roots effort to get the word out. She’s written letters to the editor of our local paper until they’re probably sick of her, and when she figured out they weren’t going to publish them, she started writing ‘anonymous’ articles for some pretty in-your-face type publications. When that didn’t work, she tried ‘fiction.’ Her argument is that sometimes the only way to tell the truth is to call it a novel.”

“Did that work?”

He shook his head. “Hardly. None of the bookstores she contacted would carry her books. Not even on consignment. Cass puts blame in the lap of the bad guys. She believes she was black-listed.”

“Can they do that?”

His expression gave me my answer. “Anyway…after that, she joined forces with our local land conservancy group in hopes that a larger voice would have more of an impact against these land-hungry developers who see dollar signs when they look at our beautiful mountains.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like you’re pretty passionate about the cause too.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. At first, I thought Cass should just leave it alone. After all, it was a little embarrassing. It wasn’t really her business and besides, nothing she could do would change anything, so why bother? But then I thought…having that kind of attitude was one of the reasons why we were dealing with the issue in the first place. The longer I watched what they were doing to my mother and our mountains, the madder I got. Maybe Cass’ energy and passion about the issue has rubbed off on me. After all, we have the same Native American blood running through our veins. In any case, what bothers me even more than the ‘clean-water-for-the-future’ issue is that when the county officials originally decided to create that watershed, they basically forced the original landowners to sell. You know…the eminent domain argument? They didn’t even have the decency to give them a fair market price for the property. Sound familiar? It’s the same song and dance that seems to be a trademark of our government, especially in its dealings with Native Americans, not just the Cherokee, but all tribes of Indians.”

I had to agree. Throughout our history, Native Americans have gotten shafted time and time again, but in this case, if what Levi was telling me was true, the white man had gotten the bad end of the deal. I took another bite, but Levi didn’t notice. He was too wrapped up in his story.

“This time,” he continued, “it was settlers who happened to choose the wrong plot of land to farm. After using, probably illegal, strong-arm tactics to force those farmers from their land—citing the need for clean water, of course—they have the audacity to sell part of that land to a developer so some rich guy can have his mountain-top mega-home, complete with incredible long range views and ready access to a golf course? In case you can’t tell, it really rubs me the wrong way.”

I stared at him with wide eyes. “Wow, Levi! Don’t hold back; tell me how you really feel, and by all means, don’t sugar-coat it.”

He took a sip of tea before shrugging and giving me a rueful smile. “Sorry, I can’t help thinking that maybe Mom’s house fire was their way of telling her to keep her mouth shut and since we could never prove anything, they got away with it.” He shrugged. “I have to admit, it makes me a little nervous about my house since I’m sure they know she’s living with me until hers gets re-built.”

“How would they know that?”

He snorted. “Half-Moon Lake is a small town, Katie. Everybody knows everybody else’s business. I know I can’t change my mother. Cass is Cass. As far as she’s concerned, she believes Jessa started the fire, so there’s no reason for her to give up on her cause.”

“Why does she think Jessa did it?”

“That’s just it…she won’t tell me. Says she’s protecting me by keeping it to herself; that if I don’t know the details, I won’t be in any danger, but her logic doesn’t make any sense with her living in my house! If she’s in danger, I’m in danger.”

I mulled the information over as I chewed another bite of calzone. A chat with Cass was a must. If I hadn’t been sure of that before, I was now, and the sooner, the better. Swallowing, I reached for my glass of tea and took a sip. Okay, time to get back to our former topic. “So, what’s up with you and Emory?”

His smile turned grim. “Right…well, there’s always been a certain degree of competition between us…you know the alpha male thing between guys. But with Emory, it was always something more. He tended to go beyond friendly competition, escalating into the cruel zone.”

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. “What do you mean, cruel?”

“It would be easier if you actually remembered this stuff rather than having to take my word for it. I’m afraid it’s going to sound like I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. Or that I’m just trying to paint him as the bad guy so that I’ll look extra good.”

Believe me…you don’t need any help with that. “Oh, stop stalling and just tell me!”

He sighed. “Okay, okay. You were always Emory’s favorite.” He held up his hand to ward off my question. “I know, I know. You and Kenna were identical twins. Most people couldn’t even tell you apart, but the fact remains that he didn’t like Kenna. He never tried to hide it, so everyone was very aware of it. He also made it clear that he didn’t want any competition for your affection, not even from your twin sister. He was always doing little things to hurt Kenna. At first it was just verbal abuse, but then it became physical. I specifically remember the time when he gave Kenna an Indian burn on her arm so bad, it brought the blood to the surface and stayed purple for over a week.” His eyes narrowed for a moment; then he smirked. “I gave him a black eye for that one. Got grounded for a month, but it was worth it.”

I gasped. “Why would he do such a thing?”

His dark eyes never left mine. “Katie, he knew that you were closer to Kenna than anyone else, that you loved her more than you loved anybody. He tried to use that knowledge as a bargaining tool. I wish you could remember. He wanted you to kiss him and threatened to hurt Kenna if you didn’t.”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

His expression looked tortured. “His plan backfired. You were furious with him and didn’t speak to him for nearly a month.”

A wisp of a memory floated through my mind, but when I tried to grasp it, it disappeared. It was like trying to hold smoke.

“Then there was the incident with your doll.”

“My doll?”

He nodded. “He waited until he thought you’d gotten over the Kenna incident. It was your favorite doll and he knew it. He thought it would give him the leverage he wanted.” He laughed without humor and shook his head. “You still wouldn’t give him that kiss. And when you found your doll in a pile of dismembered arms and legs, you were heartbroken. Cass bought you another doll, but it wasn’t the same.”

I pushed my plate away. I’d lost my appetite. The calzone—as delicious as it was—had no appeal. “What else?”

“I think I’ll skip the cat story. It doesn’t make for appropriate dinner conversation.”

I started to argue, but thought the better of it. “Good idea.” I tried to stay calm, but his stories had left me shaken, and I was having a hard time keeping my face arranged normally.

He reached for my hand again and when he felt how ice-cold it was, gathered both of them, tucking them between his large, warm ones, lightly rubbing them. “He never seemed to get in trouble for what he did. According to Cass, Jessa took care of smoothing things over for him. She thinks Jessa is the one who’s dangerous.” He shrugged. “We don’t always see eye-to-eye.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say so I just stared at him, sure that my eyes were about as big as the bread plate.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Katie, but I know how you are. You’ve always tended to jump into things, with both feet, never bothering to think them through, and more often than not, ending up in trouble. I was usually nearby and able to come to your rescue, but now… Katie, you need this warning. You might be right about your dad wanting you to solve this mystery; you probably are. I don’t know what happened fifteen years ago that made Patty take you away from here, but I know your dad loved you and he’d want you to know why he did what he did. Just remember…I’m not out there at Swan Song, so I can’t leap to your rescue like I used to. It’s up to you to pay attention and be careful. You think you can do that for me?”

My mind was racing. What had I done? Pat had traded in her own identity and future when she’d taken me and run away from Half-Moon Lake. My sister’s only goal had been to get me out of the proverbial frying pan. By returning to Half-Moon Lake, had I forfeited all of Pat’s efforts? Had I placed myself right back in the middle of the very fire we’d escaped?

I was sure my voice would crack with fear if I tried speaking, so I just nodded.

My inner-Kate couldn’t leave this alone. She loved to play the devil’s advocate, to stir things up. Perhaps there’s more to this rivalry than Levi is telling you. Maybe the whole scenario is nothing more than a case of left-over childhood jealousy between him and Emory. It just looks warped and exaggerated now, being viewed through the lens of time. That has to be it. Anything else is too unthinkable.

On a different level of consciousness, that argument was a life preserver. I could picture myself swimming frantically through a churning sea of doubt and fear toward that small Styrofoam ring. Upon reaching it, I clung desperately, fingers digging into the words, U.S.S. Swan Song, that were stamped in an arc on its surface. All I had to do now was hold on and I’d be safe, but would I…?