He’s not dead. I’d know.
Right?
Bile rose in the back of her throat again. She lurched for the bathroom and vomited. Moments later she flushed the toilet and sat on the floor, leaned against a wall, and willed the worst to be over. She wiped the sweat from her forehead.
I can’t let the stress get to me. I will be involved in this investigation.
She exhaled and closed her eyes, trying to settle the turmoil in her stomach.
No.
Her eyes flew open as she concentrated, counting.
Shit.
She crawled to the bathroom vanity, opened the bottom drawer, and dug out a small open box. She stared at it, her mind racing. She’d bought the two-pack pregnancy test a few months ago for what had turned out to be a false alarm.
Please be another false alarm.
She fought back tears as she used the test and then started a timer on her phone. She set the test on the bathroom counter and went to brew coffee. She poured grinds in the coffeepot, hit the start button, and stared until coffee streamed into the carafe.
Shouldn’t I avoid caffeine if I’m pregnant?
Cate turned off the coffee maker and rooted through a cupboard until she found a glass jar of decaf coffee crystals. She opened it and tentatively sniffed, expecting her stomach to complain, but instead it made her mouth water. She studied the jar and spotted a date printed on the label. It’d expired two years ago.
Dammit!
Tears and anger and hopelessness flooded her. She slid down the cabinets until her rear hit the floor, laid her head on her knees, and bawled.
The fucking expired coffee had broken the camel’s back.
Her phone’s alarm trilled. Cate wiped her eyes and nose. She turned off the alarm but stayed on the floor. She couldn’t face what waited for her in the bathroom. Tears drained down the back of her throat, making her cough.
I can’t be pregnant.
What if I am?
Henry should be here. We should be doing this together.
Her cheeks grew wet again. Henry had been excited during the false-alarm pregnancy test, his expression one of controlled eagerness. While they’d waited the few minutes for the test, they’d discussed the what-ifs. They’d agreed it’d be wonderful if she was pregnant but no big deal if she wasn’t. When they’d seen the test was negative, disappointment had flashed in his eyes.
Cate had also been disappointed.
What do I want now?
She wanted Henry to hold her hand.
I don’t want to do this without him.
Go check the test.
Cate cleared her mind, climbed to her feet, slowly walked to the bathroom, and stared at the test. Her world started to spin.
She was pregnant.
It’s what we wanted, but you’re not here. I can’t do this alone.
Find Henry.
Cate exhaled noisily and wiped her eyes. The test changed nothing about her morning. She still needed to locate Henry. That was priority number one. Everything else could wait.
I’ll still be pregnant next week. I’ll think about it then.
She fought back an urge to call Tessa and their other friend, Samantha. After her false alarm, she’d told her two closest friends about her disappointment. They’d been sympathetic. Sam was the only mother among the three of them, although Tessa was practically a mother to her much younger sister, Patience. She knew they’d be happy for her, but Cate wasn’t ready to talk about it.
I need to tell Jane about Henry.
When Cate was ten, her mother had left for Arizona, leaving her two children behind, so Cate’s grandmother, Jane, had raised her and her brother, Logan. They’d never lacked for love and affection. In addition to being the best grandparent, Jane was an icon on the island. She was the head of the Widow’s Island Knitting and Activist group, which unofficially managed the social needs of the island. If you needed help with a difficult neighbor, you asked the group. If you needed money to keep your electricity from being shut off, you asked the group. They didn’t give handouts; they helped people help themselves.
And they knew every scrap of gossip on the island.
Cate’s phone rang. It was Jane.
She shook her head, unsurprised. Jane often knew what Cate needed before she knew it herself. Her grandmother had an uncanny ability to read people—even when they weren’t standing in front of her.
“Good morning, Jane,” Cate said. Jane refused to be called Grandma.
“I just heard about Henry,” Jane said. “Why didn’t you call me last night?”
Cate was a tiny bit surprised that the gossip chain hadn’t reached Jane until that morning. “I was going nonstop last night . . . I still am. The FBI will have a team here this morning to help the search.”
“Are you all right?” the woman asked sharply.
A dozen answers filtered through Cate’s mind. Most of them a version of I’m a fucking mess.
“I’m exactly as you’d expect,” Cate said. “Worried out of my head and trying to focus on ways to find him.” She glanced out the window. The sky wouldn’t start to lighten for at least another hour.
“I’ll send out a group text and get the knitters organized.”
Cate half smiled, knowing no knitting would be done. It meant the women would call or meet with everyone they knew to ask if someone had seen anything strange yesterday. The group had a much greater reach on the island than the sheriff or the FBI. And could do it much faster.
“Thank you,” Cate said. “That means a lot.”
Jane was silent a long moment. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I’m pregnant.
“The men who took him are very dangerous, Jane. No one should approach them. No one. Please emphasize that.”
Jane inhaled sharply. “I’m so sorry, Cate.”
“I know.” Her voice cracked, and she hoped Jane didn’t notice.
“What else can I do?”
I need a shoulder to cry on.
“The store and bakery need—”
“I’m on top of both,” Jane said. “Don’t give them another thought.” She paused. “I’m getting an odd energy from you.”
“Through your cell phone?” Cate tried to make light of it, but tiny soft sparks of energy had been simmering in her spine since Jane had called. The two of them were descendants resulting from an illicit love affair between the island’s most historical figure, Elias Bishop, and his mistress, Ruby. Cate had seen Ruby’s ghost several times, and each time she had experienced the same sensations in her spine. She’d often wondered if Jane felt the same phenomenon . . . which possibly explained how Jane knew things.
A small gasp sounded through the phone. “You’re pregnant,” Jane stated in wonder.
Tears burned. “I am.” The words burst out of Cate. “What will I do if I don’t get Henry back? He doesn’t know I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, honey. Everything will be all right. I can feel it.”
A thin layer of calm swept over Cate. An absolute truth in Jane’s words. She shuddered. “I know, but—”
“No buts. Not now. We need to focus all our energy on bringing him home. Then we’ll talk about the baby.”
Baby.
Cate had only thought of it as the pregnancy.
“Do Tessa and Sam know?” asked Jane.