but there’s no reason a child would carry around something like that.” She met his dubious stare. “I’m right about this. I can feel it.”
“You’re the boss,” Dillon said with a sigh. “What time tomorrow?”
“At 7:00 a.m.”
He groaned. “Just because you’re an insomniac doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”
“At 7:00 a.m.,” she repeated. “Not a minute later.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “Now, go call the team. I want to get this briefing underway before everyone starts trying to claim overtime.”
By the time the briefing was over and everyone had returned to their rooms for the night, Kara felt an all-over body fatigue and actually welcomed the thought of sinking into the motel bed.
She rose on legs stiff from sitting in one position too long. After washing her face and throwing on some pajamas, she climbed into the bed and gratefully closed her eyes. Perhaps tonight she’d be able to sleep without the details of the case she was working scrolling across her brain in rapid succession, screaming for closure, demanding everything she had and then some.
But even as she started to drift into slumber, a memory, buried deep, surfaced and she rolled onto her side as if to escape it.
Summer, 1990. She, Neal and Matthew were driving to the beach … the smell of her coconut suntan lotion filled the truck’s cabin … the sound of their laughter mingled with the music of Aerosmith … she felt safe, flanked by the two boys.
Then, as dreams often do, the scene changed without warning to the night before she left. The fight. The words that were said that couldn’t be taken back. The heavy weight of regret and guilt that she carried each time she looked into her daughter’s eyes.
Matthew’s eyes.
Kara tossed. The dream faded but the feeling that she’d lost something precious remained. Just as it always did.
Her eyes cracked open a slit but slid closed again. For once sheer exhaustion overruled everything else. And she was grateful.
The next morning was much like the day Hannah’s body was found, only bleaker as dark storm clouds gathered on the horizon and headed straight for Lantern Cove. Angry waves crashed against the inland rocky shores as the wind picked up and howled through the trees.
If Kara were the superstitious sort, she’d say there was an uneasy energy coursing through the air. But she certainly didn’t believe in that crap, nor would she admit to the shiver that ricocheted down her spine as she waited for Dillon.
“Picked a cherry of a day to go hiking,” he said, locking his door and pocketing his key. “If it rains, we’ll lose whatever trace you’re hoping to find.”
Kara looked to the sky and nodded grimly. “I know. We should get a move on. Maybe we can beat the rain.”
Dillon shook his head. “I don’t know, but we can try. Oh, by the way, I left a voice mail for Beauchamp to let him know we were going out there,” he said as they climbed into Kara’s Range Rover.
She looked at him sharply. “Why’d you do that? We don’t need his permission.”
“No, but it’s a professional courtesy and you know it. Why are you so set on making an enemy of this guy?”
Too late for that. Kara opened her mouth but snapped it shut, knowing that if she let fly what had popped into her head it would only open the door for more discussion about her past. She wasn’t interested in doing that. “You’re right. Sorry. I need coffee.”
“No problem. There’s a coffee shop along the way.”
“Good.” She looked to Dillon. “I didn’t mean to snap. This place combined with the case … it’s got me on edge.”
He accepted her answer but then said with a cheerfulness that was unnatural that early in the morning, “Well, since you’re already grouchy, I should let you know that Beauchamp called me back after I left a voice mail. Seems he keeps the same late hours as you, fancy that. He said he’d meet us out there.”
She jerked to face Dillon. “What?”
Dillon shrugged. “Figured another pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he knows the area.”
“I know the area,” Kara said, trying not to grit her teeth. “We don’t need Beauchamp.”
“You used to know the area. You’ve been gone a long time. A lot can change. Honestly, Thistle, what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve never gotten so bent about working with the locals before. Besides, it only makes sense to add him to the task force. What’s wrong?”
Kara shoved the gearshift into Drive. “Nothing.”
“There you go lying again. You have the most entertaining tic in your eye—minute, really—when you lie through your teeth. Good fun to watch under most circumstances but this morning I’m not really in the mood—so just get on with it and spill already.”
“We just don’t get along.” That much was obvious. “Why would I want him tagging along?” Kara snapped, then hearing her own shrewish tone, she tried again. “I mean, I don’t want anything to distract me from the job and if I have a surly police chief to deal with, I might miss something crucial.”
“Be that way. There’s more to it. But you’re obviously determined to be a horse’s ass about the whole thing. So piss off with you, then.”
Thank goodness for small favors. The ensuing silence allowed her to shake loose the tight feeling in her chest that constricted her lungs the minute Dillon mentioned Matthew. She worried her bottom lip until she realized she was doing it and quickly stopped. She glanced at Dillon. “I was engaged to his best friend, Neal,” she said, breaking the silence reluctantly.
“You, engaged? Pardon me for a minute while I suspend my disbelief.” He paused a minute as if mentally switching gears and just as she was tempted to throw him out of her car while driving at a high rate of speed, he continued. “So what happened?”
“He died.”
“Before or after you broke off the engagement?”
She startled. “How’d you know it was me that broke it off?”
Dillon’s smile was slow and just smug enough to ride the edge of annoying. “I know you. You’re a heartbreaker, not the heartbroken.”
That’s where Dillon was wrong. Her heart had been broken, she was just adept at shoving the shattered pieces into a dusty corner. “He died after.”
“How’d he die?”
Kara pursed her lips, not quite sure she wanted to share the rest. She worked very hard to keep those details from crowding her on a daily basis. Dillon was prodding her relentlessly, so she relented but kept to the barest of facts, as if she were relating details of a case instead of pieces of her past.
“He wanted me to stay in Lantern Cove. I’d just been accepted into the bureau. I had to go. He didn’t agree. We parted ways and unfortunately, a month later he died in a
