Cate thought about it. She could have Tessa request the assignment, but she had a strong feeling Ellen and George would open up more if only Cate was present.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
Ice touched her spine as the words hung in the air, and she remembered knocking on a door in the past. She hadn’t been fine after that; she still wasn’t. Cate shoved the violent memory away.
I know these people. I have nothing to fear.
She ended the call with Phillip and dialed the Astons’ phone number before she could think about it.
Kori’s father answered and didn’t sound surprised when Cate identified herself.
Phillip told the Astons they’d hear from me before he even asked me.
Her ex-boss knew her too well.
George Aston was quite gruff but told Cate she could come tomorrow morning at ten. Cate agreed, and he said goodbye.
Not one for small talk.
She remembered Ellen as being the talker of the two and then wondered if her grandmother had met Ellen.
Of course she has.
She glanced at the time, and her stomach growled. She and Henry had plans in ten minutes for dinner on the Harbor View Inn’s deck.
She rattled the paper one last time for Ghost, enjoying the sight of the black cat’s happy thrashing, and then left, ready to tell Henry of the latest development.
This case will haunt me until I find out what happened to Jade.
3
Cate was late.
Henry sipped his wine and enjoyed the sights from the Harbor View Inn’s large deck. He was surrounded by tables of tourists and the occasional group of locals. He nodded across the room at Rex Conan, the famous mystery novelist who lived in the mansion on the tiny island in the center of Widow’s Bay. The older author lifted his cocktail in acknowledgment of Henry and continued his conversation with a woman Henry didn’t recognize. The way the two of them leaned toward each other made Henry smile. It was good to see the reclusive writer with a love interest.
The air was warm, and the sun was still high. Sunlight lasted late into the evenings in July on the island. As Henry relaxed and watched the boats sail around the blue bay, he recognized for the umpteenth time that he’d moved to paradise.
A movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Cate crossing the deck.
God, she’s beautiful.
Tall with dark hair and blue eyes, she moved with a confidence that turned several heads. She stopped a few times to greet people she knew, and he enjoyed watching her interact. She gave genuine wide smiles and would casually touch a neighbor’s arm. Faces lit up as she spoke with people.
Henry had moved over a thousand miles, something pulling him to this remote corner of the Pacific Northwest. Cate’s grandmother, Jane, had told him it was the island. It drew people from around the world.
Henry suspected it had been Cate.
Cate is connected to the island.
Her ancestors were an integral part of the island’s notorious history. A history of betrayal, lust, and possibly murder. Widow’s Island capitalized on its colorful past, using it to attract and tempt the tourists, who were its lifeblood.
But the gorgeous setting is the primary attraction.
Rural farming areas. Forests. And the ocean. All with a small-town atmosphere. A bit of everything packed into a small space.
He stood as Cate reached their table, and they kissed. She smelled of brownies, books, and fresh air. Her skin was warm to his touch on the small of her back. She slid into the chair next to him and picked up the glass of wine he’d ordered for her. Her eyes glowed as she clinked his glass. “To blue skies and blue water.”