Henry couldn’t speak. “In public?”
“Not really. His kayak shop isn’t that far from the creamery if you take the alley behind the buildings. No one else was around.”
“That’s creepy,” added Cate.
“He’s harmless,” said Tessa. “Other than being rather odd, he’s never done a thing.”
“Will he spread the word about what’s going on up here?” Henry asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Tessa. “He’s not a gossip.”
“Unlike everyone else on the island,” said Cate. She was studying the ground, walking away from the current grave.
Henry agreed. There were few secrets on Widow’s.
Cate halted. “I think we’ve got another depression. And it makes an almost perfect line if the first depression is another body.” She paused. “That’s how we found them before. Six graves in a line. This is looking more and more like Jeff Lamb’s work.”
Tessa sighed and pulled out her phone. “Anyone got a signal?”
No one did.
“Radio works,” said Bruce.
“I need to make a call, so we’re done for now. Bruce, I’d like you to stay here to keep an eye on things. Hopefully no one else will come by,” Tessa told him. “I need to talk to the FBI before we dig any more.”
Henry squatted to see the depression Cate had spotted. She was right. He looked up and met her gaze, then caught her mix of emotions. Dread. Sorrow. And interest.
She wants back in the game.
3
“What do you think, Cate?”
Cate paused, her phone against her ear. She had called Phillip, her former supervisor at the FBI, after she’d returned home from the excavation. Phillip had held a different position in the Seattle office when she’d worked on the case of the murdered women.
“I think it’s too big of a coincidence,” she said slowly. “I’m positive there are two other graves nearby. All three line up neatly. The locket. The photo. That’s too many similarities.”
“I’ve been reviewing the case since your county sheriff’s office called. There’s no hint in the notes that Jeff Lamb buried victims on an island . . . or killed more women than we found.”
“I know. But he wasn’t one to volunteer information. He was incredibly cocky even after we arrested him. During our interviews I always had to fight off the feeling that he was the teacher and I was an inept student. He always asserted that it was pure luck that we’d caught him.”
“So it’s possible these bodies are more of his.”
“It’s possible.”
“What about a copycat?”
“That’s possible too,” she admitted. “It has to be one or the other. We kept tabs on everything that was said by the media. The lockets were never mentioned, but that doesn’t mean the word didn’t get out another way.”
“You know Les Mallin passed away a year ago, right?” Phillip asked.
“Yes.” Les had been the lead investigator on the Lamb murders. A quiet and hardworking agent, he’d taught Cate many things during the case, and she had wept bitterly at the loss of her friend.
“That makes you the person with the most experience on Jeff Lamb.”
“It’s a moot point. I’m not with the FBI—and anyone can read the files to catch up.” Her pulse quickened. The thought of delving back into the Lamb murder case nauseated her.
And excited her. “I’m a business owner and baker now.”
“Bullshit. You bored out of your mind yet?”
“I appreciate the lack of stress.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Before finding the burial location, Cate would have staunchly defended her statement. But she couldn’t deny the appeal of the mental stimulation surrounding the mysterious grave. Something inside her had woken that morning. Something she’d suppressed.
“I’m sending Mike Scarn to the island to handle the investigation,” Phillip told her.
Cate was silent.
Phillip continued. “He knows the Lamb case pretty well, and he’s available.”
Mike did know the case. And he knew Cate very well. They’d dated for six months until it had simply fizzled out. There was no one to blame, but it had made working in the same building a bit awkward. Cate wasn’t sure if Phillip was aware of the relationship; she and Mike had kept it quiet.
“He does know the investigation,” she agreed. Mike hadn’t been as involved in the Lamb murders as she had been, but he was the logical choice since she and Les weren’t available. Besides, she and Mike had ended their relationship five years ago.
It’s no big deal.
Last year he’d visited her in the hospital when she’d been shot. She’d been too drugged to interact, but she remembered his concerned face. They hadn’t crossed paths since.
“Officially you’re still on sabbatical,” Phillip said. “Say the word, and I’ll get you back to work.”
“Phillip.” Exasperation filled her voice. “I’m done. I’m no longer an effective agent. You know this.”
“What I know is that you were—are—a damn good agent. Yes, there are situations that trigger panic attacks for you, but we can work around those.” He paused. “We miss you here.”
Cate was touched.
Then Henry’s face entered her mind.
Henry knew her official status was that she was on sabbatical. If he disliked that she’d left a back door open to return to the FBI, he didn’t mention it. But Cate knew it had to bother him on some level. Returning to the FBI would mean leaving the island.
Their relationship was strong; they’d just moved in together. The last six months had been some of the toughest but the best in Cate’s life, and that was primarily because of Henry.
She knew she belonged on Widow’s Island, and she felt it in her bones. She’d been born on the island, and her roots were deep, going back to the prominent Bishop family. A person couldn’t go anywhere on Widow’s without running into a business or park named in reference to the Bishops, who had left a murky legacy.
Some of the references were unkind, reflecting the scandalous relationship of Elias Bishop and his mistress, Ruby.
Cate’s ancestor.
Whenever Cate left the island, something physical inside of her remained off balance until she returned, making her worry that going back to the FBI on the mainland was out of the question.
Why don’t I officially quit?
The job had been a part of her identity for a long time. She had struggled to accept her new identity of baker and bookstore owner, so it was difficult to say goodbye and close the FBI door for good.
“I miss you guys too,” Cate told him. “It’ll be good to see Mike again.”
I hope.
“How’s the doctor?” Phillip asked.
“Henry is great.”
“He put a ring on it yet?”
Cate snorted in amusement. “It’s only been six months.”
“When you know, you know.”
I do know.
“We’re progressing at a good pace. We’re very happy.” Her cheeks warmed as she remembered an amorous Henry waking her that morning. She had smiled all morning from the contentment and closeness. Until they’d arrived at the grave.