It really wasn’t that short. Tessa had had a crush on Logan ever since they were kids.
“What about late December for us?” asked Henry, pulling her into his arms. “A Christmas wedding? Maybe we’ll even have snow.”
Cate pictured the island with a light dusting of snow, its hills and trees gently frosted in white. She lived in one of the most beautiful places in the world. A cluster of hilly evergreen islands far off the Washington coast. A piece of the Pacific Northwest completely surrounded by blue ocean.
The image of Widow’s covered in a rare snowfall made Cate’s heart skip a beat, and she felt the perfection of Henry’s suggestion down to her toes.
“I love that idea,” she said, surprised by her acceptance.
Talking with Tessa gave me freedom to decide.
“Good,” said Henry. “I was starting to worry that you were having second thoughts about getting married.”
She looked quickly at him but saw only teasing in his eyes. “How about if I tattoo our names on my arm? Would that reassure you?”
“That doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”
She laughed. “You’re absolutely right.”
A woman spoke behind her. “Hey, Cate. I’ve got something for you.”
Cate reluctantly pulled away from Henry’s embrace, recognizing the voice of Marsha Bishop, owner of the Shiny Objects store and mother of her other close friend, Samantha.
“Morning, Marsha,” she said, visually evaluating the woman. Samantha’s mom had been a wreck for years after her daughter had been kidnapped, but Sam’s return last winter had turned Marsha into a new woman. For too many years Marsha had been a wisp, floating around the island, never quite mentally present.
Now she held a small flat cardboard box.
“This was addressed to you at the bakery,” Marsha said. “I don’t know why they delivered it here.”
“Because in the end, it would get where it needed to be,” Cate said absently. It was true. Widow’s Island was a very small community. They looked out for each other, and nothing was ever misplaced for very long.
She noted the box didn’t have a return address or a postmark. “Did UPS deliver this?” She scanned each side of the box. It was addressed to Cate Wilde c/o Black Tail Bakery.
Marsha frowned. “Well, I’m not sure. The delivery people leave mail or packages on my counter if I’m busy when they come in. Didn’t see who left it.”
Henry offered the Leatherman tool he always carried. Cate slit the packing tape, opened the small box, and pulled out crumpled old newspaper and tipped the box, sliding the contents onto her palm.
The small delicate arch of bone made her catch her breath.
It has teeth. Baby teeth.
Someone had sent her the mandible of a small child.
Henry, Cate, and Deputy Bruce Taylor stood in the back room of Cate’s bookstore, staring at the mandible on top of the thin box. Henry watched Cate closely, noting her intent expression as she ran a search on her phone. She had flattened out the old newspaper packing on a table, and Henry had already read the circled article twice.
It was about a kidnapping seven years ago. The case had been Cate’s.
Her face showed she had directed all her attention to the matter at hand. Her bakery owner persona had been replaced by that of an FBI agent two seconds after she’d seen the mandible. He’d felt a thin wall insert itself between them as she shifted into work mode, but it didn’t bother him. He’d met her when she was still with the FBI and knew that this was how she operated.
Absolute focus.