“I can hear it in your voice,” Phillip said. “Sorry I’m selfish, wanting you back.”
“It feels good to be wanted, but this is my home.”
“I understand.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
He’s waiting for me to say I officially quit.
She couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“Mike should be there this afternoon,” Phillip said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to review the case with him. It can’t hurt for him to pick your brain a bit.”
“I assume he’ll interview Jeff Lamb in prison at some point?”
“Only if we think this is related to his case.”
Cate had no doubts. A brief shiver went up her spine as she recalled sitting across from Jeff Lamb. He had cold eyes and a sneer that turned her stomach. He could turn on the charm when he chose, looking nothing like the killer she knew him to be.
Did he kill more than the six women we found eight years ago?
Her senses silently screamed that he had.
“Here you go, Doc.” Inside Black Tail Bakery, Jane set Henry’s giant lavender iced tea on the counter as he checked his phone for the tenth time. Cate had texted him that she was minutes away, but he kept checking anyway.
Henry grabbed the cup, thanked Cate’s grandmother, and took a sip. Heaven. Somehow Jane had changed the iced tea recipe when Cate had bought the business, and she had made his favorite summer drink more addicting than ever.
Jane had smoothly stepped into her role as the bakery manager. It’d been a perfect fit. She’d been baking all her life and was the ultimate hostess. Business was brisk. The bakery’s much-needed face-lift had created one of the most welcoming spaces on the island, but Henry’s back might never forgive him for the amount of work he had done on the landmark shop. He and Cate had logged too many hours whipping the aging bakery into shape. Refinished floors, new paint, new decor, new tables, two big overstuffed couches, and several recliners had refreshed the tired store.
Since the weather had warmed, the uptick in tourists on the island had provided a constant stream of customers, and Henry was proud to see the results of his and Cate’s work. Jane’s cheerful, grandmotherly attitude kept people coming back. And returning for her pastries, of course.
In the back of the shop, Samantha opened an oven. The bakery had also been good for her. The job got Cate’s traumatized childhood friend out of the house. Held prisoner for twenty years by a madman on the mainland, she wasn’t comfortable interacting with the public, but Henry had seen her grow more confident every week. Cate had originally thought Samantha would enjoy working at Cheater’s Bookstore, her quiet business next door to the bakery, but even the small number of shoppers had been too stressful. Working as a baker was a much better fit for the nervous woman. Sam also made stunning jewelry for her mother’s store, Shiny Objects.
“Everything okay? Your drink right?” Jane asked him, her hands on her hips, her eyes studying him sharply from behind the counter.
He nodded. “I was watching Samantha,” he said quietly.
Jane’s face lit up. “I see more of her old self every day. I don’t think she’ll ever be the same, but she’s got lots of support. The island looks out for its own.”
It was true. The Widow’s Island locals were protective. They were polite to the tourists—their income relied on good tourism—but there was an invisible barrier between the islanders and the tourists. It took a lot of time and vetting before a newcomer was accepted into the inner circles of the island’s full-time residents. Henry had battled their suspicion when he’d bought the medical practice. If Jane hadn’t quickly put her stamp of approval on him, he’d probably have still been on the outside. It also helped that he and Cate had become a couple. The locals had been pleased when Cate had returned to the island last fall after being gone for a decade.
On Widow’s everyone knew everybody else’s business. The gossip train ran hot and fast.
Most of it was well intentioned.
Most.
“Her mother, Marsha, is doing better too,” Jane said in a low voice. “I think having Samantha and Mickey move in with her made a huge difference. People need other people to care about.”
“Having a daughter missing for that long would affect anyone’s mental health. I’m glad she’s embraced her role as a grandmother.”
“Mickey’s a great kid,” Jane said. “Having that sort of energy at home will put a spring in anyone’s step.”
“It’d exhaust me.” Henry waved at Jane and headed out of the shop. He’d spotted an open Adirondack chair on the bakery’s porch. A rarity during tourist season. He dropped into it, waiting for Cate. She and Tessa had gone to the ferry to pick up the FBI agent assigned to investigate the graves on the island.
The mild warmth of the day was rapidly evaporating. Henry loved how it stayed lighter into the early evening hours, and apparently the tourists did too. Families and couples filled the sidewalks of North Sound. Most wore shorts and flip-flops—an optimistic mindset in the unpredictability of the Pacific Northwest weather.
Henry loved the island. It was far off the western coast of Washington, set in blue waters among smaller forested islands. On a sunny day, there was no place more beautiful on earth. He wasn’t sure what had guided him to the remote island last year. Jane claimed the island had called him all the way from Southern California. He didn’t believe in some of her mystical theories, but when he’d stepped on the island, he’d known he was meant to stay.
“Hi, Henry.” Emma Dean and her daughter, Abby, approached. Emma was newer to the island than he was and had also been embraced by the locals. Last fall Abby had briefly been kidnapped by Emma’s former boss as he’d tried to avoid arrest. Emma had bounced back from that traumatic experience, shown the gumption that locals appreciated, and carved out a life for the two of them.
“Hey, you two,” Henry said. He winked at Abby, who gave him a gappy smile.
“Abby, why don’t you go tell Jane what we want?” Emma gave her eight-year-old daughter some cash, and the girl darted indoors. Emma watched to make certain she was out of earshot and then turned to Henry. “What’s this I hear about a body in Bishop State Park?”
Yes, Emma had truly become a resident of Widow’s. She hadn’t flinched as she flat-out asked for gossip.
“Better talk to Tessa about that.” Henry knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Disappointment flashed in her face.
“Come on. Tell me something. I don’t want to ask Jerry Hooper. I can’t trust anything he says.”
“It’s an investigation,” Henry said. “And I’m not starting gossip.” His gaze went past her. “Here come Tessa and Cate. You can ask the deputy now.”
“That’s okay,” Emma quickly said. “I need to check on Abby.” She gave him a small wave and went in the bakery.
Henry grinned. He’d figured she wouldn’t ask Tessa. They both knew the county deputy wouldn’t part with information. He stood as the two women approached. A tall dark-haired man in a suit was on their heels. The suit gave Henry a start. He hadn’t seen anyone wear one in months. Island life was too casual.