had been a godsend for those suffering from chronic pain and cancer. Then people began to die from its misuse.
People like Diane. His baby sister.
The familiar ache squeezed his heart, but he shoved it away, digging deep for the determination that had carried him this far.
Now that Rachel’s notes had apparently gone missing, Dan was even more convinced her death was no accident. She’d been the only person to listen to his theories. His gut told him she’d uncovered something someone hadn’t wanted her to find. The frantic message she’d left for him the day she disappeared confirmed as much.
And now she was dead.
He cast a glance toward the ocean, watching the September swells crash against the deserted beach, swirling against each other before they slid back out to sea. Riptide. Opposing currents. The story of his life.
His cell phone chirped to life, yanking him from his thoughts. “Yes.”
“Who the hell do you think you are now? The damned welcoming committee?” Detective Jake Arnold’s voice barked in his ear. Dan winced, the annoyance palpable in his old friend’s tone. “Meet me at your house. Ten minutes.”
The phone clicked dead.
Great. As if he needed any more complications today.
KELLY REPLACED the receiver and headed for the lower level of the house. Her call to the sheriff’s office had gotten her nowhere other than having to listen to Dan Steele’s upstanding citizen résumé. Apparently he’d settled here a few years ago, returning to his roots after a successful career up North.
She hadn’t been able to glean much more in the way of detail, but the tone of the woman she’d spoken to had made it clear he was one of Summer Shores’ favorite sons. What did Kelly expect? Small towns protected their own.
A light glowed from a spare bedroom as she rounded the bottom of the steps. Nothing seemed out of place as she peered inside, but then, she’d never set eyes on the house before today. Kelly opened each drawer and ran her hand over both shelves in the closet. Nothing. She sank onto the edge of the bed.
What had he been looking for?
Exhaustion washed over her, the earlier adrenaline fading from her system. She fingered the corner of a letter she’d tucked into her sweatshirt pocket as the numbing reality of Rachel’s death uncoiled from the pit of her stomach.
How many other letters and phone calls from Rachel had she ignored over the past year? Dozens? Yet, this one had been different. In it, Rachel had begged for forgiveness. Begged. But Kelly had ignored her plea, clinging instead to the grudge she’d carried instead of making amends. Now Rachel was dead. Drowned in the ocean she’d loved.
An inexplicable sense of dread sent a shudder down Kelly’s spine. Hoping she’d find some coffee to help erase the chill, she headed back toward the stairs, looking up just as she rounded the bottom step.
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
A large, gray tomcat loomed at the top of the steps, two yellow eyes lazily winking down at her.
“Who are you?” She was beginning to think that was the question of the day. Did everybody have a key?
The cat rose to his paws and stretched, leaning into the side of her leg as she passed.
“Edgar,” a female voice called from outside.
Kelly squinted at the cat, which still studied her curiously. “Edgar?” He rubbed against her calf, stretched then kicked out his back feet as he headed toward the door.
Opening the door to step onto the porch, Kelly let the cat saunter ahead. An elderly woman toting a large bakery box looked up from the bushes along the driveway.
“Are you looking for your cat?” Kelly asked.
The woman’s gaze narrowed as she spotted Edgar sitting at the screen door. “Oh, that bum. Was he bothering you?”
“Not at all.”
“You the friend from up North?” The woman walked to the bottom of the steps, the bakery box nestled in the crook of her arm, a lit cigarette dangling from the opposite hand. She paused to take a drag.
“Kelly Weir.”
“I’m Helen Carroll.” She waved the glowing butt over her shoulder. “Live across the street. Heard you were coming and thought you could use a welcome.” She waved the cigarette toward the cat. “Guess he thought the same thing.”
“No problem. Would you like to come up?”
“Thanks.” Helen dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the toe of a red high-top sneaker. A Surf Naked sweatshirt topped a pair of faded, black jeans. Wild spikes of snow-white hair framed her tanned, weathered face. She climbed the wooden steps with the nimbleness of a teenager, balancing the box in one arm and skimming the railing with the other. Her eyes remained lowered, focused on the steps. “I brought you some cinnamon buns. Figured you could use something sweet after your drive.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s a small town. We try to be neighborly.”
“So I’ve heard,” Kelly muttered under her breath.
As she reached the top of the steps, the woman raised her pale gaze to look at Kelly. “I’ll be darned.” Her features fell slack. “You look just like her.”
“Everyone always thought we were sisters.”
Helen slowly shook her head, staring intently at Kelly’s features.
“You’re the one who found her, aren’t you?” Sadness flickered through Kelly as she spoke the words.
Helen sighed, handing her the pastry box. “I’d like to forget that day. Haven’t walked on the beach since.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Actually—” Kelly took the box, doing her best to focus on the printed logo rather than the regret building inside her “—we hadn’t spoken in a long time.”
“She told me.” Helen ran a hand through the front of her hair, a kind smile spreading across her face. “We’d talk sometimes.”
“Did you know her well?”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t think anybody knew her well. She was always out looking for a story.”
Kelly warmed, remembering Rachel’s tenacity. “Her specialty.”
“Hadn’t seen her in a while. Figured she had a hot one cooking.” A shadow passed across Helen’s face. She glanced down at her feet then up at Kelly, her lips parting as if she were about to speak. After a moment, she shook her head, apparently dismissing whatever it had been that had crossed her mind.
She turned back toward the steps. “I’m
