She had put Flint and Courage Bay behind her. Until Max had called with the job offer and she’d realized there was nothing she wanted more than to come back home. Courage Bay had been her home all but five of her twenty-nine years.
Now she wondered why she hadn’t asked Max about Flint when he’d offered her the job. Max had known them both well. He’d known how devastated she’d been when she’d had to break off the engagement and leave.
She guessed the reason she hadn’t asked Max was that she didn’t want him thinking she was still hung up on Flint Mauro. Because she wasn’t. Flint had nothing to do with her life anymore. Nor she with his.
As she turned, she realized she still had his T-shirt in her hands. She walked over to her new wastebasket and dropped the shirt into it. Tomorrow she started her new life in Courage Bay. No regrets. No looking back. She wasn’t the same young woman who’d left here, and she was bound and determined to prove it.
10:15 p.m.
FLINT MAURO stood on the stern of the boat he called home and stared out at the Pacific. A cool breeze stirred his thick black hair, lifting it gently from his forehead. He frowned as he took in the familiar horizon.
Do Whatever It Takes. That was his motto, wasn’t it? Do Whatever It Takes. And that’s what he did every day. Focusing on his job, his boat, his workouts. Not thinking about the past. The past was too painful. And yet it was there. A splinter just under his skin. On nights like tonight he could feel it pricking him, making him itch for something he’d once had—and had lost.
The flag on the bow flapped restlessly in the breeze coming off the sea. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the familiar scents of the ocean and the night. He’d bought the boat and moved aboard five years ago, the only place that he found any peace.
And yet sometimes he thought he smelled her perfume on the sea breeze. On those nights, he would swear that he heard her soft chuckle next to his ear, felt her pass by so close that her skin brushed against his, making him ache with a need that only she could fill. Unfortunately tonight was one of those nights.
Why was he thinking about Anna now? After all this time? He’d jumped right back into dating after she’d broken off their engagement.
“Get back on the horse before you forget how to ride,” his friends had advised.
So he’d dated. A lot. But none of the women, no matter how pretty or sweet or capable, was Anna Carson.
“You can’t replace cream with water,” his boss, Police Chief Max Zirinsky, had said.
“If you’re suggesting I was the one who threw out the cream, the cream being Anna, you’re wrong. She’s the one who broke up with me,” Flint had told him. “And don’t give me that look. It wasn’t my fault.”
Max had just shaken his head. “Someday you’ll figure it out. I hope.”
Max. Flint had a meeting with him first thing in the morning. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep—not knowing what was waiting for him tomorrow morning at the office. There’d been a rumor going around at work that the chief was going to be making some changes. And just before Flint had left work today, Max had called him into his office.
He and Max had always been close. Not that they didn’t disagree at times. Nor did Flint ever forget who was boss.
But when he’d followed Max into his office, Flint had been surprised that the chief had gone behind his desk and immediately begun to busy himself with some papers.
Max didn’t look up. Nor did his voice convey any warmth, as if he’d been expecting an argument out of Flint.
“I’d like you at a meeting tomorrow morning. Seven a.m.” Max continued sorting the paperwork on his desk.
“Seven a.m.?” Flint asked in surprise.
“Is that a problem?” Max finally looked up.
“No,” Flint said quickly, wondering what he’d done that had put Max on edge. “Can’t you tell me what this is about?”
“Seven a.m.,” Max repeated. “We’ll discuss it then.”
Flint had wisely left without another word. He knew Max well enough not to argue. At least not all the time. Flint had learned to pick his battles.
Was he looking at a battle in the morning? He had a bad feeling he was. He stared out at the sea, surprised again that his thoughts drifted back to Anna. What was it about tonight? Whatever it was, he’d play hell getting a decent sleep this night.
10:30 p.m.
LORNA SINKE opened a can of cat food and set it on the counter. As soon as she did, the cat jumped up and began eating with enthusiasm. A cat eating on the kitchen counter. Her mother must be rolling over in her grave, Lorna thought with a smile. There’d never been pets in this house. Not while Lorna’s parents had been alive, and they’d both lived to their eighties.
“Pets are filthy and messy,” her mother used to say. “Who needs them?”
Lorna needed them. She’d spent her whole life in this house with its spotless, lifeless furnishings. It had taken some time after her parents had died, but she’d finally gotten rid of the smell of pine cleaner.
She looked around the kitchen, pleased. The first thing she’d done was strip the curtains from all the windows and discard them. Then she’d painted over the flowered wallpaper. The furniture had had to go, as well. Her father’s recliner. Her mother’s rocker. She hadn’t been able to bear looking at them, thinking she could see her parents’ impressions in them, if not their ghosts come back to haunt her.
Lorna opened several more cans of cat food for the other cats and set them on the floor. How odd that her neighbors and some old family friends would think she was lonely in this big old house without her parents.
All those years spent taking care of the two of them. When other women were getting married, having children, making homes for themselves, Lorna Sinke had been nursing her aging parents. The good daughter.
And to think that her sister was shocked that their parents had left Lorna the house. Hadn’t she earned it? Her younger sister had gotten out as quickly as she could, purposely getting pregnant to escape, Lorna had always suspected.
Well, it was her house now, she thought as she made herself some toast, standing at the kitchen window to butter it and smear a thick layer of jam on it. Her mother would have thought so much jam wasteful. Lorna could feel her mother’s disapproval as she ate the toast and stared out into the darkness. She realized that she’d been waiting all those years for her life to begin. Too bad it had taken the deaths of her parents. Not that Lorna hadn’t felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders when they were finally gone.
She shuddered, remembering finding the two of them at the foot of the basement stairs. Her mother must have gone down to the basement for something, fallen and cried out. It would be just like her father to go down there instead of calling 911.
Two nasty falls. Both fatal. It hadn’t surprised Lorna, given her father’s condition. Couldn’t remember anything, even what had happened just moments before. And her mother, always nagging him to do one thing or another.
Lorna had warned them both about those
