AVAILABLE FILE FORMATS: HTML for the standard computer, PDF for Adobe Reader, MS Reader for the PC and Pocket PC, Mobipocket for Palm Pilot

Chapter One

Bryce Johnson stood at the back of the church and searched through the pews for any sign of Evie St. Marie. When he didn't see her, he breathed a sigh of relief. Sliding into the last row on the far right side of the church, he nodded back to the other congregants who turned and smiled. Then he tried to relax. Being a state trooper kept him on hyper-alert all the time, but once a week in church he struggled to let his guard down. It used to help him let God in, though lately God seemed more distant than ever and focusing on faith became almost impossible. He blamed much of it on Evie St. Marie. One month ago, she claimed her husband Jack vanished after taking a walk on the beach at night--and Bryce didn't believe her.

He watched the colored rays of light streaming through the stained glass windows. The cool air inside felt like a blessing as the heat of the June day outside in the small bayside town of Shucker's Point, New Jersey, had become unbearable. Closing his eyes, he thought of offering up a brief prayer, but he knew it would do no good. He needed answers about the disappearance of Jack St. Marie and he knew he wouldn't get any from the Lord. The scientist could have drowned. He could have walked out into the bay and gone under, but that wasn't likely.

Bryce rubbed his forehead as a dull ache wove through it. Up until now, there had never been a murder in Shucker's Point, but he feared the small town's perfect record had come to an end. Two months before Jack St. Marie's disappearance, Bryce answered a call and found Evie holding a gun aimed at her husband.

The gun in her hands was registered to Jack St. Marie, but there had been no ammunition in it. Jack St. Marie had taken the whole episode lightly, refusing to press charges against his wife. Still, the incident stuck in Bryce's mind--especially since his natural impulse had been to draw his own gun. He could have shot Evie that day--the girl he had wanted to marry in high school. The pain in his head intensified.

Opening his eyes, he shrugged his shoulders and loosened up some of the tight nerves in his neck. That's when he saw Evie St. Marie slip in the side door and all his efforts to unwind vanished.

What was she doing here? Evie didn't belong in church. Back in high school her behavior had been wild--she seemed determined to break every rule just for the fun of it, but now he wondered how dark her soul had become.

A sudden spark of anger flared up when he remembered how he had tried to stop her from driving around the flagpole in front of the school in one of her friend's cars. She had nearly run him over.

Sure, she had apologized to him later and he had stared into her blue eyes and nearly melted on the spot. He drew his hands into fists and tried to control the emotions surging through him. Yes, once Evie St. Marie had him tied around her little finger. True, he had kept her secret all these years, but lately it weighed on his conscience. He held his jaw tightly clenched. He would never let his heart rule his head again. Especially since he had seen the blind fury in her eyes when she held the gun level with her husband's heart.

The hymn started and everyone stood up. Bryce fumbled with the hymnbook. Evie's presence had him so rattled he couldn't find the page, though he knew the hymn by heart. It was an old one--and he enjoyed those the most. The hymns sung in church stayed with him all week long. He would catch himself humming the melodies of the songs at odd moments--and though he didn't pray anymore, the hymns still comforted him.

...though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see...

Sinful! Evie could be the worst of sinners. The service continued but Bryce didn't hear a word of it. His thoughts kept circling around Evie. She sat seven rows ahead of him but all he could see of her was her brown hair. She had caught it up in a clasp that kept her curly tresses anchored at the base of her neck, though Bryce knew each strand would be fighting to break free of the control--just as Evie herself could never be restrained.

Maybe she thought showing up in church would help to remove any doubt from her, but she would be wrong on that account. The data that Bryce had already gathered should be enough to convince the grand jury that this case needed a trial despite the absence of a body.

The last hymn--one of the newer praise songs--jubilantly welcomed everyone in the church. Bryce disagreed with that idea. He could feel himself seething inside.

The service ended and Bryce opted to skip the doughnuts and coffee in the basement. He hurried out the side door, knowing that the majority of the parishioners would be rushing downstairs to see if they could grab the jelly doughnuts before they vanished.

The bright sunlight nearly blinded him as he stepped out of the church. He stopped and reached into his pocket for his sunglasses. Thanks to his job, he could count on getting cataracts before he hit forty. Even so, he had been very satisfied with his work--until Evie's husband had vanished.

"Bryce!"

He heard her coming up behind him and he stiffened. She was the last person he wanted to see, but he could hardly avoid her--especially since a few other church members had also decided to skip the calories in the basement and were strolling out to their cars.

He turned around, but he was not prepared for the shock of seeing her up close. It hit him like a blow to the gut. He barely caught himself before he sucked in his breath with surprise.

"I'm glad I caught up with you." Her voice still had the same warmth mingled with a touch of honey; that hadn't changed. However, by the looks of her, she just might have a conscience. He would have hardly believed it, but there was no denying that she had changed drastically within the span of a few months.

"I don't have time." He barked out the words.

"I won't take a minute. I just...I need some extra help at the lighthouse. I only have the two volunteers, but this is the beginning of the busiest time of the year and I know you have contacts with whoever is in charge of some of those kids who are required to do community service, so I was wondering if it would be okay for one of them to serve out their sentence at the lighthouse."

He scrutinized her from head to toe as she talked. He couldn't prevent a touch of concern mixing into his whirling emotions. From his estimation, she had lost maybe fifteen or twenty pounds. Her dress hung loosely about her shoulders. While she still appeared tan, the hollowed-out cheekbones and the dark smudges beneath her eyes gave her a sickly appearance. She barely looked like the same woman. She looked tortured.

A sudden wave of regret washed over him and for a moment he didn't see her as she was but as she used to be. The memory flashed through his mind, sparkling with more brilliance than the noontime sun over the waves on Delaware Bay. Irrepressible, she used to make him laugh until his sides ached. He thought about the way her hair had felt when he had touched it so many years ago. And how he wanted to touch it now.

Shocked at where his mind had wandered, he crossed his arms over his chest and shoved that wayward idea away. Narrowing his eyes, he told her, "There's one local teenager. Seventeen. The judge isn't going to give him a second chance and he knows it."

"That's good. He won't want to make any more mistakes." Her smile reminded him of a rainbow he had seen appearing in the sky after a shower and spanning the bay from one end to the other. It was awesome--and terrible, and the sight of it sent a fine steel blade twisting through his heart. Why did she still have that effect on him? It made him both furious and depressed at the same time.

"He has no respect for authority," he warned and caught a glint of neon in her blue eyes.

The seventeen-year-old boy stood as tall as her, and while he hadn't yet filled out, the wiry, gangly kid could easily overpower her--especially since Evie looked as if a small squall on the water could easily blow her away. "And he comes from a dysfunctional family."

Her smile faded as a wistful expression stole across her features. "We're all traumatized in one way or another." She cast her gaze downward.

Immediately, Bryce could feel his fury threatening to erupt. She put on such a perfect act, as if she was the one wronged by Jack's disappearance! Traumatized! He wanted to shout at her. How did you kill him?

Instead, he glowered at her, barely reining in his contempt. "I can't make any promises about getting him to work for you."

"I understand." She reached out to touch him but he dodged her outstretched hand and turned away quickly.

With a few long strides, he reached his car. Getting in, he turned on the air conditioning full-blast, but as he pulled out of the church lot, he saw her winding her way through the graveyard in the back of the church and again he felt that punch in his gut because he knew exactly which graves she would be seeking out. Her mother and father had died when she was only fourteen.

An ache wound its way to his heart and settled in like a solid lump of stone. He knew far too much about Evie St. Marie. In fact, he knew too much about everyone in Shucker's Point. Never live where you work, some cops said. Until now, that maxim hadn't mattered at all to Bryce, but lately he understood the reasoning behind it. In their small town, gossip flew about like the salty brine in the wind, but there were secrets--and most people would rather die than reveal them. He had kept Evie's secret all these years. How long could she hide the truth about her husband's death? Would he be able to uncover enough evidence to have a jury convict her?

Would he get over the pain after that?

* * *

Evie stood in the shade of the scrub oak in the graveyard next to her mother and father's headstone. From there, she watched Bryce's car pull out of the church's parking lot. With his crew cut, the dark sunglasses, the taut line of his mouth, and his powerful physique, he stood every inch the imposing trooper he had always wanted to be--rigid and inflexible. Even out of uniform, she could see the severity in him. He had always seen things as either good or bad. There could never be any shades of gray in between with him, but he still made her heart skip a beat every time she saw him.

However, seeing him today had been a mistake. It made her feel even more miserable because she knew exactly what he thought of her. She wished she could convince him that he was wrong, but she had seen the condemnation in his eyes and it chilled her.

Once, his soft brown eyes had looked at her with adoration, and now they had become as cold and hard as bronze.

She had been afraid to ask him for help, but she needed it desperately. Next weekend, Shucker's Point would host the Clam Festival and busloads of tourists would be arriving at Slater's Light, since the lighthouse was always a part of the festival activities. There was so much to do to get ready for that and she didn't know how she would ever accomplish all of it.

Despite her pleas, the commissioner of the park system never had enough funds available for a second employee. Evie had been forced to rely on her senior citizen volunteers who were unable to do much physical labor. Lately, she had heard rumors circulating that even the lighthouse itself might have to be closed due to budget cuts, but she suspected that wasn't completely true. She knew the disappearance of her husband made the commissioner uneasy. After all, the story about Jack's disappearance had been worthy of national media attention.

If the park system closed the lighthouse, what would become of her and Glynis? Evie had loved being a park ranger. It had been her first job out of college, the only one she really wanted. After Glynis had been born, it had become even more important for her to keep the job due to her rocky marriage situation. Besides, Glynis, at the age of four, still required a lot of mothering and being a park ranger gave Evie more flexible hours.

There was the house, too. As the ranger at Slater's Light, she got to live in the old keeper's cottage. Everything about the situation had been perfect--until Jack's disappearance had cast suspicion upon her. Sometimes, she wondered if her husband had devised this situation as simply a more inventive way to torture her.

"My goodness, why aren't you enjoying some of those doughnuts in the church?" Jessica Olsen stood in Evie's path. The retired schoolteacher volunteered at the lighthouse every weekend and had become Glynis's favorite babysitter.

"I don't have time for doughnuts," Evie sighed. "I have to pick up Glynis from her Sunday school class in a few minutes and then open up the lighthouse at eleven. There's a lighthouse challenge going on today so I should have plenty of visitors."

"Dear me. How could I forget about that?" Jessica clicked her tongue. "Must be one of those 'senior moments' I have now and then. Sure hope I don't lose my mind completely. It's tough getting old."

"You're not that old," Evie scolded. Jessica treated her more like a daughter. And she missed being someone's daughter since the death of her parents, but Jessica was special to Evie because she was also responsible for getting Evie to accept the Lord into her heart.

"I'm as old as the hills!" Jessica laughed. "And I've got the wrinkles to prove it."

"Those are laugh lines. You told me so yourself." She owed so much to Jessica. In addition to helping her find her faith, Jessica had helped her to be a better mother. The gray-haired woman had raised three children of her own. However, her children had moved out of state and she only saw them and her own grandchildren a few times a year, leaving her happy to become a sort of surrogate grandmother to Glynis.

"Some days they are laugh lines; today they are wrinkles. Now I'm going to take you inside and watch you eat a doughnut before you pick up Glynis. Take it from a wise old woman, a doughnut a day keeps the wrinkles away."

Jessica wound her arm through Evie's and they walked back to the church even though Evie didn't feel like eating.

"I saw you talking to Bryce Johnson," Jessica said.

"I asked him if he knew of any young teenagers assigned to community service. I'm hoping I can get someone strong enough to be pulled around by that old lawn mower on the lighthouse property."

A frown creased Jessica's forehead. "Those kids are usually tough to handle."

"I was one of those kids, so I understand them."

"Oh, you weren't like those kids. You were just a bit mixed up and angry because you were missing your parents and your relatives didn't help the situation.... Well, they weren't very Christian, were they?"

Evie shook her head. "They believed Sunday was a complete day of rest--made for sleeping in."

"Seems a lot of people feel that way today." Jessica let out a soft sigh.

"True." Evie shrugged. "Anyhow, I can't blame my relatives for the way they treated me. I was an extra mouth to feed in addition to being a handful of trouble." A cold stone settled in her stomach because the truth was that without Bryce's vow of silence she would certainly have gone to jail. Now due to that incident--and the one where Bryce found her aiming a gun at Jack--he believed the absolute worst of her.

The icy fear that had been with her since Jack's disappearance gripped her and despite the heat of the day, she found herself shivering.

Jessica drew her closer and patted her arm in comfort. "You were really hurting down deep inside. I knew you in the second grade and you were such a sweetheart--and smart as a whip. Do you know I always suspected that Bryce Johnson was in love with you? Goodness, he stared at you all the time--even as young as he was then."

Evie stopped walking as she felt her throat tighten with emotion. "That man is barely civil to me. He thinks I murdered Jack."

"Now, now dear. I'm sure he has to remain unbiased and investigate the situation from all angles."

"I think...." She shuddered. "I think Jack left me for some younger woman. But he wanted to make it look bad for me--as bad as possible."

Jessica gave her arm a squeeze. "No more of that kind of thinking. I've been praying for you and so have a lot of other people. You just concentrate on taking good care of yourself and your daughter. Let the Lord be in charge of your worries."

"I keep trying, but it has been eating me up. I had hoped that despite Jack's attitude, Glynis might have a good stable home life with me. She needs speech therapy and I keep thinking it's all my fault that she has the problem--"

"Don't blame yourself for that," Jessica interrupted. "Glynis had a series of ear infections when she was just learning to speak."

"But I didn't know what was the matter with her at first. Maybe I should have gotten her to the doctor sooner."

"Glynis will be fine unless you don't eat and get enough rest. Your daughter needs a healthy mother, so make that your goal."

Evie swallowed hard. "You're right--as always."

"Of course I am. I just can't help myself when it comes to giving advice. All teachers are a bit bossy."

"So I noticed." Evie gave Jessica a wan smile, ignoring the painful knot inside her. Without Jessica--without all her friends--she didn't think she would have survived the shock of Jack's disappearance. Everyone at church had helped her, showing her true compassion--except for Bryce. But she knew he could never trust her--not after what she had done in high school--not after he had seen her standing at the door of the cottage with a gun in her hand and hatred in her eyes.

Evie could barely swallow as she thought about that horrible day. Jack had been angry with her--as usual about some task she had failed to do for him. But Glynis had been sick that day with another ear infection and she had to take her to the doctor. None of that mattered to Jack. He taunted Evie and he knew exactly which button to push. He had told her that he would have her declared an unfit mother and Glynis would be taken away from her.

For the first time ever, he threatened that he would slap Glynis around, give her some bruises, and then blame the beating on Evie. He had laughed and boasted that the authorities would believe him because he was a well-respected scientist. He kept goading her until in desperation she grabbed his gun. She knew it wasn't loaded--she had no idea where he hid the ammunition and she didn't care. Jack also knew there weren't any bullets in the gun. However, Evie told him that if he had laid a finger on Glynis, she would hit him with the gun. That's how distraught she had been.

Jack had been lucky--that day. He had timed his call to 911 perfectly. Bryce arrived in time to see Evie hysterical with the gun in her hand--and Bryce had aimed his gun at her. The fear of that moment still chilled her.

Jack had laughed when she screamed and dropped the gun. Bryce believed every word of the story Jack made up.

* * *

Bryce needed to make only two phone calls to get permission for that seventeen-year-old kid to complete his community service project at the lighthouse. Three hours later, he glanced over at the sullen boy sitting in the passenger seat of his unmarked car. Tommy Lansdowne's jeans had more perforations than a target on the firing range. Though ripped and worn-looking jeans could be bought at high prices in trendy stores, Bryce doubted the kid had any intention of being in style. Tommy's family--mom, stepfather, and stepbrother--lived in a rundown four-room house on the edge of town--a place that deserved to be bulldozed.

Bryce had already met the stepfather two years ago. He had clocked him going ninety miles per hour late at night on the highway. The guy had thought he could get away with the ticket and plead not guilty. Bryce sure hoped Tommy was smarter than his stepfather.

"Do you know how to mow a lawn?" Bryce asked. The kid's home had weeds two-feet high covering the yard.

"Did the neighbor's lawn a few times."

"Know how to sweep and mop?"

"Yeah." The kid twisted his mouth up on one side. "I do it and I'm off the hook. Right?"

"You make any more mistakes and you'll be doing time--for real. With the big boys."

Tommy shoved the hair back from his forehead. "Yeah, well I ain't gonna make any more mistakes. I'm gonna finish school and get me a job--in Philadelphia."

"You could stay in the area and help out your family."

"My stepdad wants me to leave."

Bryce nodded. The kid's stepdad looked as mean as a green-headed fly. He figured the family situation contributed to the kid's attitude. "You could get a job clamming."

"I ain't crazy."

Okay. The kid was smarter than he appeared. Bryce's father had been a clammer, and had gone down with his ship in a nor'easter not long after Bryce had graduated from the State Police academy. As a child, he had gone out on his father's ship a few times and discovered he had a phobia about being below the deck. He loved the water, he was a strong swimmer, and he now owned his own motorboat. But being below the waterline in a steel-hulled ship caused him more anxiety than facing a gun-toting maniac high on drugs.

Tommy spat out, "I ain't staying in this town any longer than I have to."

Bryce wasn't surprised by Tommy's vehemence. The younger generation escaped Shucker's Point as fast as they could. The town didn't have a police force, which is why the troopers patrolled the area. There was no theater or any restaurants except for one pizzeria and the deli that Vance ran. One bank. One grocery store. The post office was housed in a trailer temporarily, but there were several churches. The majority of the people of the older generation appeared to have faith. It bothered Bryce that he seemed to have lost his.

"You ever go to church?" Bryce asked.

"I ain't got good clothes."

"The church I go to gives away clothes once a month. For free."

"I don't want some dead man's clothes." Tommy twisted his mouth up in a sneer.

Bryce doubted the kid had ever seen the inside of a church. Bryce's parents had seen to his religious education. He knew his Bible. He knew the Commandments. He knew what the Lord wanted. He just didn't believe that the Lord was really listening to anyone.

After all, why should the Lord bother with humans? They were hopeless--they always wanted to break the rules and get away with it. Like Evie.

Bryce turned off the main highway onto Lighthouse Road and felt a sudden lift in his spirits. It happened every time he visited this particular spot. The grandeur of the marsh stretched out on either side of the shell-strewn road offering vistas of lots of sea and sky interspersed with light green marsh grass and white sand. The lighthouse stood sentinel at the end of the peninsula and beyond that was the great expanse of the bay.

The words from the hymn in church that morning came back to him. He breathed in deeply and felt a touch of peace settle upon him. The Lord had made a beautiful world. Too bad people messed it up.

The car passed by one abandoned shack marring the landscape and Bryce's brief peace evaporated. He glared at the ugly ramshackle building. Dark gray, like an old haunted house, it sat low in the dunes and attracted every kind of vermin--animal and human. It sat just on the other side of the park's property. Why couldn't somebody get rid of that eyesore, he wondered?

Bryce pulled into a parking space as they reached the lighthouse. There seemed to be more tourists than usual at the spot, but he knew that was due to the lighthouse challenge scheduled for today. During the lighthouse challenge, held every year, people tried to visit as many lighthouses in the state over the weekend as they could. Bryce couldn't remember if they won a prize or not, but it didn't seem to matter. Plenty of lighthouse aficionados arrived in droves.

As he and Tommy walked along the path to the lighthouse, Evie's daughter Glynis rushed over to them carrying a small plastic jar of bubble liquid and a bubble wand.

"I'm bwowing bubbleth," she squealed. Bryce halted in surprise. The child appeared old enough to speak properly. A chill went up Bryce's back. Jack St. Marie had told him that Evie didn't know how to raise a child.

"Cool," Tommy said.

"Where's your mother?" Bryce asked the child.

Big blue eyes stared up at Bryce. Evie's little daughter had the same eyes as her mother and he had to fight his tendency to soften at the sight of them. "Mommy?"

"Yes, Mommy," Bryce corrected himself. "Where is she?"

"Kicking the wawn mower."

Tommy chuckled.

Bryce wasn't sure whether Tommy was laughing at the way the little girl spoke or what she had said.

They followed the running child to the shed at the side of the property. Evie stood there with a black smudge on her forehead, glaring at the lawnmower.

"Mommy! Doth the wawnmower wawk now?"

"No. Kicking it didn't help." A look of weary sadness flitted across her face and Bryce had to remind himself that she was undoubtedly a fantastic actress.

"This is Tommy Lansdowne. He has one hundred fifty hours of community service time to complete." Bryce thought he detected a momentary shock on Evie's face when he told her the number of hours but she recovered quickly and offered Tommy a welcoming smile.

"Lansdowne? Your mother is Vivian. Right?"

Tommy gave a sheepish nod. Bryce suppressed a groan. Evie knew everyone--or so it seemed. And somehow, everyone knew Evie. He had to admit that she had an amazing memory for names. He didn't doubt that Evie knew more about Tommy's genealogy than Tommy himself.

"Your mother and my cousin used to be best friends in high school. I used to envy your mother so much, she really knew how to dance!" Evie's eyes had that twinkle in them again--and it hurt for Bryce to look at them.

"Yeah. She still likes dancing," Tommy admitted.

"I'm surprised she didn't open up a dance studio here." Evie used an old rag to wipe the grease from her hand before she stuck it out toward the kid. "I'm really pleased to meet you, Tommy. I'd be very grateful to you if you could stay and help me out here."

Tommy reached out and took her hand. "Yeah. How 'bout I look at that lawnmower for you?"

"Go ahead." Evie stepped back.

Tommy bent down and whipped out a screwdriver from his pants pocket. Bryce ground his teeth together. He should have checked the kid or patted him down before he let him in the patrol car.

Tommy opened the casing and disconnected the spark plug.

Smart move. He liked his fingers, Bryce thought. Evidently, he knows something about lawn mowers.

Tommy took out the carburetor. "You got a clean carburetor?"

"There's a box of parts for the mower in the shed," Evie told him.

Bryce noticed the belt on Evie's park ranger uniform. Sure enough, it had been taken in a few notches. His suspicions about her grew. Tommy went off into the shed with Evie's daughter following along behind him.

"Keep him away from your daughter," Bryce stated in a low tone. "Tommy has a nasty temper. He broke another kid's nose, Greg, Captain Shellpicker's son."

Evie shrugged. "What did he say to him?"

"That does not justify it."

"Sometimes it explains it."

Bryce bristled at her arrogance, but he reminded himself that if anything, he expected a comment like that from her. She could probably justify her husband's disappearance as well--just as she felt within her rights while pointing a gun at her husband.

"Work out a schedule with Tommy. It will have to be approved," he told Evie.

Suddenly, they both heard the roar as the lawnmower engine started up. The boy started mowing the lawn.

"Mommy, it wawkth!" Glynis ran up and tugged on her mother's hand.

Evie gave Tommy a thumbs-up sign. "He's a misunderstood genius."

"He's a hothead with some mechanical skills," Bryce said.

"He bwew a big bubble for me!" Glynis said. "Ath big ath the moon."

"How big is the moon, lovey?" Evie asked.

"Ath big ath thith." Glynis put her hand into a fist and lifted it up into the air.

"Wow! That is big--for a bubble." Evie bent down and surrounded her daughter in a hug. The two of them looked so much alike that Bryce almost felt as if he had stepped back in time--like twenty-one years to the first day of second grade. Glynis had the same soft, curly hair as her mother, and it was unbound--the way Evie had always worn it when she was young. It framed her face like a tarnished halo. She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and then pranced away.

Bryce saw a cloud gather in Evie's expression as she watched her daughter.

"What is the matter with her?" he asked. "Her speech is mangled."

Immediately, Evie's face hardened as she turned toward him. "Glynis has had a lot of ear infections. It has affected her speech."

"Do something about it."

"I don't have the money for private speech therapy," she explained. "Jessica knows the speech therapist in the public school and she said she's good. As soon as Glynis gets to kindergarten, she should get the help she needs."

"Your husband must have the resources to pay for the therapy."

He caught the brief flash of panic in her face before she quickly disguised it. Then she surprised him with her breezy reply.

"Jack thinks the way she talks is rather cute."

It was a lie, and not even a good one. Jack was a world-renowned scientist, there was no reason he couldn't afford therapy for his own daughter. Undoubtedly, he had expected Evie to follow through and set up the appointments, but she hadn't done it. She was guilty--and she couldn't hide it.

Guilty. Just as she had been ten years ago. Just as she had been when she aimed the empty gun at her husband. She had wanted to kill him that day, but she had waited...

Without warning the memory of his and Evie's final argument seared through him and he had to clench his jaw tightly. How could the pain still be so fresh?

Glynis came running back to them. "I want to bwow a big bubbleth, too." The little girl dipped the wand into the bubble liquid and blew and blew, without any success.

"Why don't you go inside and have a snack?" Evie suggested. "Aunt Jessica has something special."

"Cookieth?" Glynis brightened.

"Yes, and milk. She must have it ready for you by now."

"Eat my duth!" Glynis raced off to the small keeper's house behind the lighthouse.

"What did she say?" Bryce asked.

"Eat my dust," Evie explained. "I think she got that from Jessica."

"Mrs. Olsen?"

"Yes. Your second grade teacher and mine. She got tired of me calling her Mrs. Olsen and insisted I call her Jessica."

It surprised Bryce that Jessica Olsen had developed such a fondness for Evie and her daughter. It didn't seem right to him. Mrs. Olsen was a very respectable widow.

He glanced at his watch. He had wasted enough time here. Turning to go, he reminded her, "Call me when Tommy acts up."

"Have some faith in him." Evie stopped him by putting her hand on his arm. He felt the heat of her touch singe him.

He fought to ignore the sensation. "He has to shape up."

"He will if you show a little kindness."

"He needs discipline."

She shook her head and gave a small sigh. Bryce steeled himself to remain unmoved by the ragged catch he had heard in that sigh. Glancing from her hand to her face, he felt a small piece of his heart shrivel up inside him as he saw her nervously bite her lip.

"Anyhow, thanks for going out of your way to get Tommy for me. Th-things haven't been going well here since Jack--"

It took all his strength to pull his arm away from her. "We will find Jack. The investigation is ongoing."

"For the record, I want to know if Jack is okay, even if he did leave me." The slight tremor in her voice almost undid him and he felt his conscience prick him, but he reminded himself that he couldn't allow himself to feel sorry for her. With anyone else, it would have been different but in this case he knew he had to remain completely objective.

"Evie! Evie! Glynis is choking, come here! Hurry!" Jessica Olsen stood at the door of the keeper's cottage waving frantically. Evie turned and ran, but Bryce sprinted faster and reached the house before her.

"She was eating a cookie and laughing," Jessica explained as he rushed into the kitchen. Glynis gripped the table with terror in her eyes. Bryce heard the shrill gasp as she fought to breathe. She had an ashen appearance and when he glanced at her fingernails, he could see the bluish-gray color.

He got behind her, and placed his fist against her abdomen. He gave one thrust upward, but nothing happened. He knew he had been too gentle. Quickly, he made another, more forceful thrust and the cookie popped out onto the table just as Evie entered the kitchen.

Glynis started wailing. Bryce awkwardly tried to comfort the little girl, but he felt shaken himself--even though he performed that maneuver at least twenty times in similar situations. However, it bothered him even more to see Evie run in looking almost as ashen as her daughter had.

Evie snatched her child away from him. Clutching Glynis in her arms, she muttered calming phrases as she stroked the child and rocked her back and forth, but he could see the tears rolling down Evie's cheeks. Bryce felt as if now he was the one who couldn't breathe.

Jessica Olsen didn't look well either. "Oh my. Oh my. Perhaps, we should all have a nice cup of tea." She fluttered around the kitchen putting a kettle of water on the stove. "What a scare that was. It was a good thing you were here, Bryce. Well, Evie knows how to do the Heimlich maneuver, too, but you certainly can run faster than her. Of course, she hasn't been eating right lately and I've told her she's got to keep her strength up. But I think we ought to put those cookies away." She chattered on while setting the box of cookies on the top of the refrigerator.

Bryce rubbed his hand across his face and fought to pull himself together. Clearing his throat, he said, "Tell her to chew her food slowly."

Evie wiped the moisture from her face with the back of her hand, and mouthed a thank-you.

He left the house and got back into his car. I got the kid breathing again. Everything's okay. However, driving back toward the town docks, he found his heart continued to race at full throttle. He took a deep breath. He knew why his heart was in high gear--and it hadn't a thing to do with using the Heimlich maneuver on the little girl. Simply the sight of Evie wreaked havoc on him.

It's a weakness--like a disease--I have for that woman. Why do I still feel so strongly toward her when I know what kind of woman she is? She's bad for me. She was probably deadly for her own husband! I can't let her get to me. I need to be levelheaded in this case.

He took another deep breath and tried to concentrate on his other tasks for the day. He had to patrol the area today, and on weekends in the summer there would be plenty to keep him distracted. Still, his thoughts kept returning to all he knew so far about Jack St. Marie's disappearance. During the month, he had compiled a long list of relevant data.

Evie admitted that she and her husband argued over a divorce and that is why Jack stormed off and went for a walk on the night of his disappearance. Evie also admitted that Jessica had taken Glynis to her home that night. Evie hadn't picked up the child until the following morning. Supposedly, Evie had spent the entire night in the keeper's cottage alone--so she had no alibi. For Bryce that was the part of the puzzle that didn't fit because Evie wasn't stupid. If she had planned to dispose of her husband, she would have every detail--including the alibi--carefully arranged. But if everything had happened in the heat of the moment why didn't Evie lie about her whereabouts that night? In high school she had been quite convincing when it came to lying.

Her formerly glib tongue had lost its touch.

That thought brought back some of the dark memories and Bryce wished he could erase them from his mind. He could picture her smiling with the very devil in her eyes and it made a chilling image. He shoved the remembrance to the back of his mind. He had to concentrate on here and now--not ten years ago.

The stiff collar of Bryce's uniform chafed his neck. He ran his finger along the inside of the collar, but it didn't help. He thought about Evie's little daughter choking. It was bad enough that the girl's father was missing, but she might not have a mother soon either if a murder charge stuck. His shoulders sagged with the weight of his responsibility.

Why couldn't he keep Evie out of his mind? This whole past month, she had haunted him--day and night. He wanted closure in this case for his own peace of mind.

Why had Evie married Jack St. Marie? He was twelve years older than her. What did they have in common? St. Marie went to scientific conferences all over the world. Evie had never booked a plane ride out of New Jersey--because she was afraid to fly.

Bryce had almost forgotten about that. Remembering it made him almost want to feel sorry for her, but he would not do it. Not any more.

Chapter Two

Evie didn't stop shaking for an hour. If anything happened to Glynis, she knew she would fall apart completely. Glynis was the only reason she kept going most days. Fortunately, the rest of the afternoon went smoothly at the lighthouse. Tommy mowed the lawn and did some raking as well. Some of the visitors remarked upon how pleasant the nice young man had been to them. As the last visitor left for the day, Evie began locking up the lighthouse. Tommy came up to her after he put away the rake.

"Ya going to the boat parade next week at the Clam Festival?"

"Yes. This is the first time Glynis will see it." Who knew if they would ever see it again, she thought miserably.

"Maybe the squirt would like a ride on my shoulders when the fireworks go off." The hint of a shy smile lit up his face.

Evie bit her lip. Bryce had warned her about the teenager's temper, but she didn't sense any violence in him. Instead, she saw in him a mirror of herself at his age. He probably pretended to much of the world that he didn't really care--but he did. The fact that he was willing to let his guard down with Glynis touched Evie's heart. "Glynis would enjoy that, I'm sure. Do you need a ride into town now?"

"Nah. I'm used to walking." He waved and started off down the shell-strewn road.

Evie watched him for a few minutes as his lanky figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. She had managed to keep her anxiety at bay during the day as the visitors had roamed through the lighthouse, but now she was alone. Jessica had taken Glynis in her car to pick up a take-out order of pizza. With everyone gone, a feeling of paranoia grew in Evie until even the cheerful chirp of a sparrow had her jumping in her skin.

She went to the pier to check the park's rowboat and make sure all the lines were fastened around the cleats. She tugged on the lines, which were fine, but when she looked at the boat she thought she saw a flash of something--the golden glint of precious metal in the sunshine--coming from the bow of the boat. She hadn't taken the boat out recently, but for all she knew some of the visitors to the lighthouse could have stepped inside it and then left something behind. They were not supposed to do that--there was a warning sign against it--but they often did, and she often got calls about their lost earrings, bracelets, or watches. She hopped into the small skiff and reached down under the bow where the anchor lay tucked in a neat coil of rope. She searched around until she felt the warm metal in her fingers and pulled it out.

She gasped with shock when she recognized the key ring. Her hand shook so badly she nearly dropped it. The gold key ring had a small round tag with the letter J elegantly engraved on it. She had given the key ring to Jack on their wedding day.

How did it get into the boat? She tried to remember if she had taken out the boat since Jack's disappearance. Had he used the boat that night? Had he dropped the keys then? If he had used the boat to leave, how did the boat return to the pier? Had someone else rowed him away and then returned the boat? But the oars were still safely locked up in the shed.

Feeling light-headed, she slid down on the seat, still staring at the keys in her hand. She realized that she didn't know what doors those keys opened--certainly not anything on the lighthouse grounds. Perhaps Jack had used them at work.

The memories slammed into her, gathering momentum like clouds heralding a thunderstorm. She thought of the day she had met Jack, here--at the park's beach--as he was counting horseshoe crabs. She thought of the wild whirlwind of a romance that had left her breathless and her joy the day she was married to Jack. Then the darkness gathered in her soul as she recalled how her happiness had drained away like a bleeding wound until there was no love left at all. She wrapped the key ring tightly in her hands and fought to keep the emptiness away, but the bleak truth squeezed at her heart.

An odd prickly sensation lingered along her neck and she wondered if someone was watching her. She shook her head. It had to be her imagination, but she glanced over her shoulder several times.

Should she hand the keys over to Bryce? He already looked at her with suspicion. Maybe she should just toss them into the water. She lifted her hand to throw them as far out as she could, but then something stopped her. A warning perhaps?

Feeling even shakier than she had after Glynis's choking incident, she pocketed the keys. Slowly, she headed back toward the keeper's cottage. Though it lay as quiet as a tomb, her nerves tensed as she entered it. With Jack's disappearance, her sense of safety had been destroyed and as dusk descended, she found herself dreading the night when she would lie awake and listen.

When she had first become the park ranger at Slater's Light, there were times when she fancied herself one of the long ago keepers of the light. Though the light was no longer a navigational aid, it was still historically important. Its light shone now into the past. At least, that's what she told herself.

Before she met Jack, she felt cozy in the cottage. She would often dream of the women in their long skirts swishing along the hall, tending to their husbands and the children--or manning the light when their husbands were ill. Sometimes, on windy nights, she imagined she heard laughter echoing in the little house. But Jack had changed all that. He stole away her dreams bit by bit, until all the happiness was gone and even the echoes of past laughter silenced.

She checked all the rooms before she felt safe enough to change out of her park ranger uniform. Unsure about what to do with the keys, she lifted up the mattress on her bed and tucked them underneath.

Donning a blue t-shirt and light blue shorts, she tried to relax. She took a moment to stare at her image in the mirror. What had Jack seen in her? Had he liked blue eyes? Did the girl he dated have blue eyes, too? She wound a loose strand of her hair around her finger. Should she have dyed it blond? Or red? Would that have made him happy?

A sad ache whirled through her as she admitted that nothing would have made Jack happy with her. He had tired of her quickly and though he hadn't wanted a child, she had believed that if they had one he would change. When he learned she was pregnant, he became furious. It was the death knell of their marriage. He found another flame--and Evie had simply become old baggage.

Sighing, she released her hair from the ribbon that had held it bound into a tight chignon all day. It felt good to set it free. Shaking her head, she let the strands tumble loosely about her face. Once upon a time, Bryce had told her she was beautiful. He had run his fingers through her hair and told her that she could win a beauty contest--and she had laughed at him, but she had seen the honesty in his deep brown eyes. Bryce couldn't lie.

Jack had told her she was gorgeous. But once she learned of his conniving ways she doubted everything he had ever said to her.

She ran a brush through her hair and allowed it to remain loose.

Jessica had promised to rent a movie when she picked up the pizza. Evie thought the diversion would be good. Despite all her worries, she realized she was hungry at that point--probably because she had neglected to eat lunch.

Obsessively, she made sure every window was locked tightly. When she heard a car door slam, she jumped.

Disgusted with her nervous reaction, she told herself it had to be Jessica and Glynis returning with the pizza and the movie. Trying to calm herself, she stepped outside. She saw the patrol car first--then she saw Bryce. She froze at the look on his face. The tight lines of his stern expression seemed to be chiseled into a mask. She saw one of his hands go to the small case that held the handcuffs--and she knew.

"I'm here to arrest you for the murder of Jack St. Marie. You have the right to remain silent..."

He turned her around and clapped the cold steel on her wrists.

* * *

With the snap of the lock on the handcuffs, Bryce felt as if he had turned a knife on himself and twisted it. He didn't know how he managed to recite the Miranda rights to her with the torment stabbing him in the chest. It might have been easier if she hadn't let her hair loose. He tried not to look at it. He tried to keep his eyes focused on his task, but the breeze tousled her hair and he could smell the soft scent from the tumbled curls teasing his nose.

It might have been easier if she hadn't worn that blue shirt. It seemed to deepen the blue of her eyes until he felt he was staring into the depths of the ocean and drowning.

"Why now? What has happened?" she asked in a plaintive tone that only made him feel more wretched and alone than he had ever felt in his life.

For a moment, he debated the wisdom of telling her. What good would it do? What procedural rule would he be breaking? Did it matter? At one time, she had been a friend--more than a friend.

"Jack's body has been found."

He heard her quick intake of breath. Was it an act?

"Where?"

Where you dumped it! His stomach roiled as he nudged her toward the patrol car.

She shrugged his hand off and stood her ground. Her frantic look cut at him. "Bryce? Where was Jack found?"

He clenched his jaw. "You are resisting arrest."

"No! No, please. Tell me." The desperation in her voice bordered on hysteria.

"Get in the car."

She cast one last imploring look at him with those huge blue eyes and he felt as if he was going under for the third time, about to take his last gulp of air. He pressed his lips tightly together, held his breath, and narrowed his eyes in his most intimidating manner. She lowered her head as her shoulders slumped in defeat.

He opened the door of the patrol car and placed his hand protectively over her head so she would not bump it on the frame. He did that for everyone he arrested, but this time his hand lingered there a moment longer than necessary as she stepped inside. When he drew his hand away, he clasped it together with his other hand as if he could save the warmth of her, the feel of her--forever. He hesitated as sorrow swirled through him and he knew he had to fight against it. Hardening his voice, he told her. "The crew of the Sally Mae was dredging offshore for clams today. The dredge brought up your luggage with Jack's body inside."

Her strangled cry seemed to echo over and over--or maybe the gulls wheeling overhead cried with her.

Bryce felt the gloom weigh upon his soul as he shut the door. He couldn't bring himself to say more to Evie. The most beautiful girl in the whole world had murdered her husband in the most ghastly way.

* * *

Evie's head hurt. It was as if someone had placed a vise on her skull and kept turning the screw. Prayer was impossible at this point because she knew she would cry if she tried to talk to the Lord. She had made her one phone call. She knew Jessica would do whatever she could, but in the meantime Evie struggled to endure sitting on a hard chair under blinding lights in a drab room, while across the table from her, Bryce plagued her with questions. She knew she must be careful in answering them.

He had freed her from the handcuffs, but he seemed determined to get her to crack--to confess to killing Jack. Evie gritted her teeth. She had to be strong--not just for herself but for Glynis, despite the pain in her head that had her feeling nauseous. She closed her eyes.

"Where were you on April twenty-third, the night your husband returned from Washington, D.C.?" His voice had lost some of its steely edge, but he continued to hammer away at her.

"I was home with Glynis."

"Did you pick your husband up at the airport?"

"No, he took a limousine home. He always took a limousine to and from the airport. He would voucher it. You can check his receipts. You can rip my little house apart looking for bloodstains but you won't find any. I didn't kill him." How many times must I say the same thing? Will he ever believe me? No, he already has me convicted. She struggled to keep the pain locked inside her where he couldn't see it.

"Did he always use your luggage when he went to a conference?"

"No. But it was solid black--not pink or lavender, so he didn't worry that it would make him look feminine." She didn't hide the asperity in her voice.

There was a brief pause. Evie massaged the back of her neck trying to ease the stiffness there. It didn't alleviate the headache.

"Why did he have it with him on that trip?" Bryce showed no signs of relenting and Evie wondered how long she would have to suffer through this torture.

"He bought the luggage for me as a birthday present...after..." she faltered.

After he put his fist right up against my nose and threatened to break it. Evie shook her head as an icy knot of fear twisted ever tighter in her chest. She couldn't bring herself to tell that to anyone--least of all Bryce who would only use it against her. He would believe she killed her husband because he abused her. She knew it happened in many cases. It would be a logical assumption for someone in law enforcement to make--especially since Bryce had seen her holding a gun pointed at Jack--never mind that she intended to throw it at her husband if he dared to so much as touch Glynis.

"After?"

She swallowed hard. "After Glynis was born." That sounded believable--and it was close to the truth, give or take a few months.

"Why did he use it on that trip?"

"His own luggage had been dented on the previous trip and he didn't have the time to go out and get a new set. So he took mine." I never go anyplace anyway, she wanted to add but didn't.

"Open your eyes."

"I feel marginally better keeping them closed. Being subject to the third degree here has given me a massive migraine." She tried massaging her temples. That didn't help either. "And the lights in here are making it worse."

"Tell me how and where it happened. Then I'll give you a pain reliever."

She clamped her jaw. The agony in her head intensified. She spat out through her teeth. "Keep your aspirin. I didn't do it."

"You had the time. There's nobody anywhere near the lighthouse. You could have killed him on the beach." A harsh note came into his voice. Or was his throat getting raw from too many questions. "Where is your husband's gun?"

She wanted to scream but she forced herself to speak in a normal tone of voice. "I don't know. Jack probably took it with him when he walked out the door."

She heard him cough.

"Your husband was going to divorce you. He had a one hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy."

How could it still hurt so badly? She sniffed. She had tried everything. Jack had refused to talk to Pastor Strauss. When she had signed up for outside counseling, Jack had gone to only one session.

"Did you want the life insurance policy?" Bryce asked.

Wearily, she shook her head. It was never about money. She had lived a lie. For a long, long time she had kept up the charade. Only Jessica had seen through it, and made her realize the futility of her efforts--and the danger. Jack saw no reason to change. She bit her lip and tried to hold back the ache.

"Then why did you do it?" he asked. "And who helped you?"

"I didn't kill Jack," she whispered. Slowly, she opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to stare at Bryce as she recognized the strain in his voice. She had heard that same tightness in his throat ten years ago. Evidently, if he became tired enough, the old Bryce--the one who could feel--the one who cared--the one who showed emotion was still there, buried underneath the golden badge.

Bryce had fixed his mouth in a grim, straight line, and he glared at the table while tapping it lightly with one hand and then the other in a rapid staccato, but he said nothing.

The absence of questions felt like a balm upon her soul. At last she had a chance for a quick prayer. She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head down upon them. Lord, you know the truth. Please, Lord, show Bryce that I am not a murderer--that I didn't kill my husband to collect the money from his insurance policy. There is someone else who did it, and that person is still roaming free...

Her shoulders shook as she fought to hold in the sob.

Suddenly, the tapping on the table ended and she felt the touch of Bryce's hand on her arm. She froze. Was he going to put her back in the handcuffs?

He gave her arm a squeeze. Tender and gentle, the soft pressure seemed to convey sympathy, but she couldn't help feeling suspicious of his action. Maybe it was a new tactic--the bad cop, good cop game. Maybe he believed that if he couldn't get a confession from her with his ceaseless interrogation, he could get the required result by pretending to be compassionate.

Warily, she opened her eyes to glance across the table at him. His head was lowered, and he looked as if he was praying, too. A small spark of hope grew in her chest. Lord, please guide Bryce in finding the true murderer.

Moved by his bowed head, she reached out to clasp his hand in hers.

His head shot up and she read the unmistakable grief in his eyes. She smothered a gasp. Does he still love me? She felt the old current race between them with an electric hum. She didn't know if she could let go of him--it was as if they were opposite poles of a magnet clinging to each other.

It was Bryce who broke the spell. He pulled away with his face set into such hard angles it could have been chiseled from stone. His narrowed eyes extinguished her tiny flicker of hope. The chill that went through her froze her heart. She knew he would do what he believed to be the right thing--no matter what feelings he had for her. To him, she was guilty.

* * *

Evie walked out of jail the next morning. Jessica had managed to locate a lawyer and put up the money for bail. When Jessica gave her a hug, the hot tears Evie had held in all night long poured out in a flood.

She sobbed, "Bryce thinks--"

"There, there dear," Jessica soothed. "Everyone knows you didn't kill your husband."

Haltingly, Evie told Jessica about the luggage.

"Nonsense. Your husband reported that luggage missing. It had to be stolen from the airport and you weren't anywhere near there." Jessica handed Evie a box of tissues. "I'm sure Bryce was only doing what procedures call for in this case."

The thought that Bryce could imagine her to be so deranged as to cut her husband to pieces turned Evie's stomach. However, what was worse were the other fears that had gone through her head all night as she paced back and forth in the jail cell. Who did murder Jack? Where was that murderer right now? The thought had her shivering despite the humid ninety-degree heat outside the jail.

Wiping her eyes, Evie asked, "How's Glynis?"

"She's doing fine. She's playing with Annette's daughter. But you are going to go home and rest. My goodness, you are a sight. You'd scare your daughter half to death if she saw you like that. We'll go pick Glynis up later after you've had a nap and a shower. I'll handle the lighthouse today."

Evie stifled another sob. "You've done more than enough. It might be too much for you."

"My dear, after handling second graders, shuffling around a bunch of tourists is a piece of cake."

Evie gave her a wavery smile. "Once a teacher, always a teacher."

"You got that right." Jessica hustled her into the car.

Evie leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes as the air conditioning vent sent cool jets of air toward her. "Who could have done it? Who could have committed such a monstrous crime? Do you think it was someone from Shucker's Point?" She struggled to keep her fear at bay.

"That just doesn't seem possible." Jessica's voice sounded deliberately controlled. "But you put your questions aside and remember to put your faith in the Lord. Being a Christian doesn't mean you won't have problems. You do have to accept the Lord's will--whatever it might be. But don't ever forget that the Lord loves you very much. He'll help you get through your troubles."

When Jessica said it, it sounded easy, but Evie wondered whether her own newfound faith would be able to withstand such a crushing ordeal. "I'm afraid, Jess. I really don't think I'll be able to deal with all this."

"Be patient and wait. If you trust in the Lord, He will not abandon you."

Evie knew she wanted an instant fix--like a headache pill. "Why can't the Lord make things better right away." She knew she sounded like a petulant child.

"He'll guide you. Believe it."

Evie tried to control the tremor in her lips. Then she remembered the keys. She was going to throw them into the bay. Were those keys important? If she handed them over to Bryce, would he toss her into jail again for withholding evidence--if that's what the keys were? Still, she couldn't be sure. Jack could have dropped the keys in the boat himself at some point. He had used the boat often. He would row around the lighthouse peninsula for exercise.

Had he used the boat that night and dropped the keys? Could someone have killed him after he returned from the boat? Or had they snatched him out on the water, killed him, and returned the boat?

Evie's body trembled.

"I-I guess I have to make funeral arrangements." She had thought about that, too, through the long night, and wondered how she would deal with it.

"I've already informed Pastor Strauss and the funeral home," Jessica said.

"Thanks." Evie felt some of the weight lift off her shoulders.

"Since I won't have time to cook, we're stopping at Vance's. I ordered some sandwiches to go."

"You've got all the bases covered."

"You are going to get through this nightmare."

Evie had her doubts about that, but the fact that Jessica said it gave her some hope. She stayed in the car while Jessica walked into Vance's deli to pick up the food. The place was packed anyhow and Evie was beginning to feel so weary she could hardly stand.

Jessica returned and handed the bag to Evie. It smelled so good, like everything Vance put together, and she suddenly remembered that she hadn't eaten a thing since yesterday. Maybe that's why she felt so dreadful. She asked if Jessica would mind if she started eating on the way.

"You go right ahead. Vance piled on extra turkey slices--a lot more than he usually puts on a sandwich."

"He counts them you know--all the time. He's obsessive about it. His father never let me make the sandwiches when I worked there. Only Vance could do it." Evie unwrapped the sandwich and bit into it. Bless Vance's heart. He had put on just the right amount of horseradish.

"Bryce was in there. Hiding in the corner as usual," Jessica reported.

Evie stopped chewing as the vivid recollection of Bryce's touch swept through her at the mention of his name. She sensed that the current between them had gone both ways. Could she still love him--after all these years--after all her foolishness, and all the bad times? Even though he thought the worst of her?

"I asked him about the questioning," Jessica continued. "He was just following procedure as I told you before. It was all strictly according to regulations."

Evie didn't believe a word of it. Jessica had a tendency to treat them as if they were both still in the second grade. Jessica would turn the conversation the way she wanted it to go so that they could shake hands and be friends.

"Everything will turn out fine," Jessica said.

Not without a miracle, Evie thought. Aside from pacing in her jail cell last night and praying, she had considered several scenarios--none of them good. She might not get the death penalty, but she could get life in prison and then she would be separated from her daughter. Forever. Thinking about it nearly sent a fresh torrent of tears streaming from her eyes, but she held them back. She must be strong. Thankfully, she had been released--for now. She had to pray that the true murderer would be found soon--before she was condemned to spend the rest of her life in jail for a crime she didn't commit.

An icy finger glided up her spine. If she got the blame for Jack's death, the real murderer would be free to kill again. Where would he strike next?

* * *

Bryce rubbed his forehead where the headache pulsed. He sat alone at the back table in Vance's deli, but he could still see Jessica Olsen's car pulling away from the curb with Evie sitting beside her. He knew exactly what Mrs. Olsen would tell Evie. She would tell her that he had only been following regulations and that he had done everything according to procedure. As soon as possible, Jessica would have them shaking hands and vowing to be friends again.

Bryce wished it was all as easy as it had been in second grade. He got up and went to the counter to ask Vance to wrap up the remainder of his sandwich. Bryce figured he could put it in the 'fridge at home and eat it later when his appetite returned--if it ever did.

"Ya know she didn't do it." Vance leaned over the counter, whispering harshly. "She was a bit wild in high school because she was angry--what with her relatives not caring about her--all of 'em feeling she was a burden on them. But she never hurt anyone."

Bryce kept his mouth clamped shut. She hurt me, he thought, and Vance knew it, too. They had all been friends in high school. Then Bryce chastised himself mentally. High school was a long time ago. He should be able to forgive Evie. And forget her, too.

His heart pounded in a dull rhythm. It still hurt. Why? He thought about how he had felt when he touched her last night. Swallowing hard, he decided he ought to forget about that error. He had to be objective. He couldn't base his decisions on how he felt.

Jack St. Marie had been murdered. His body had been found in Evie's luggage twenty miles out. Obviously, Evie had help in getting rid of the body. Bryce would have to question every captain in town as well as each crewmember.

His head throbbed.

Vance had never taken so long to wrap up one sandwich. "Back then, she was feeling trapped. She needed to get out of Shucker's Point for a while and expand her horizons. After she got her degree, she was a changed woman. I wish you would have talked with her then--when she first came back to work at the lighthouse before she met up with that--that--"

Bryce listened in stunned amazement as Vance swore. He had never heard Vance use such strong language--ever. And he had known Vance for a long time. The deli was a block away from Bryce's house. He and Vance had played basketball together in grade school. In fact, they had been best buddies until Vance started dating Patty in high school.

"Evie didn't do it," Vance continued. He glowered at Bryce as he handed him the sandwich. "I don't want to see her hurt anymore."

Bryce gave Vance a curt nod and hurried out of the deli. It seemed obvious that Vance now blamed him for Evie's dilemma.

He walked home deep in thought. He had the day off and had thought he would finally begin to tackle the job of painting the old clapboard siding on the house. However, he couldn't get his mind off Evie. She had the motive. She had the opportunity.

Bryce shook his head. Jack St. Marie was a stocky five feet eleven inches and Evie was five feet seven inches--and willowy. For her to move the body of her dead husband from one spot to another would take quite a bit of muscle. However, if she dismembered him, where was the blood? The lab guys had checked her house and it was spotless. Still, the grounds around the lighthouse stretched out for miles. And there was the beach where the tides could have washed everything away.

The small boat on the lighthouse grounds couldn't have taken the body twenty miles offshore, but it could have been used to carry the body to a larger vessel. He stopped for a moment and took out his pen and small notebook to jot down that thought. The boat needed to be thoroughly searched.

As more possibilities bombarded him, he didn't seem to be able to think straight. His synapses were not making any connections and he blamed all that on Evie. He should not have reached out and touched her last night when he was questioning her, but he couldn't stop himself. All the yearnings that had lain dormant for so long overwhelmed him.

Ten years ago, I wanted her to be my wife--and she would have been if she hadn't called in that bogus bomb scare. I couldn't marry someone who breaks the law. I hated her for it. But now I find myself caught up in these awful yearnings again. I need to think logically. I cannot be influenced by my emotions.

He needed to take a vacation--far away from Shucker's Point and Evie. He needed to forget about the death of Jack St. Marie, but it didn't look like he had a choice in the matter. He had never believed in ghosts until now. Clearly, Jack St. Marie had been haunting him for the past month.

Briefly, he wondered if he might lose his mind, but he discarded that idea in a moment. The only person capable of making him go insane was Evie. She's the one he had to watch out for.

* * *

The lighthouse was always closed on Wednesday, so that morning Evie took Glynis with her to sort through the donated clothing in the church basement. Glynis loved going along since the other mothers who came brought their children, too. Annette's daughter was the same age as Glynis and Lisa had a little boy a year younger than the girls. The kids always had a nice time playing with each other.

Evie didn't feel well--again. Listless and somewhat light-headed, she had tried to make an effort to eat properly, but it didn't seem to help. She had thought of staying home, but she knew she would be missed.

Evie mostly listened to the conversation of the other women, afraid that she might slip and reveal some small detail that would expose the truth about the abusive situation she had lived under for so long. Added to that, she felt slightly awkward with small talk in part because Jack had done his best to keep her cut off from everyone. He had refused to allow her to go out with friends--or even to visit the few relatives she had left in the area. In the beginning, she thought he did that because he loved her very much and was extremely jealous. Only now had she begun to realize how he had toyed with her head.

Evie had decided before she arrived that she was not going to tell anyone about the cookie-choking incident. However, Glynis had other ideas and entertained everyone with the story herself. Evie was forced to fill in on the parts Glynis left out. Then Evie figured it was a good time to teach the other mothers how to do the Heimlich maneuver. Maybe it was a part of the Lord's plan for her, she thought.

When the coffee cups were empty, they all got to work on the clothing. Evie started out by sorting through a bag containing towels and sheets. She put a bunch of them into the washing machine. The church had purchased a washer and dryer to launder the donated clothing when necessary. While the church didn't make any money from the clothing, in a depressed area like Shucker's Point, giving out free clothing helped a lot of people.

Evie pulled another black plastic bag out of the pile, opened it, and dumped the contents upside down on one of the tables. She gasped at what she saw.

"What's the matter?" Lisa asked.

"It's--it's my husband's---it's Jack's shirts and pants and--" Evie felt the blood drain from her face and sank into a chair.

"Are you sure?" Annette asked.

"The shirts are monogrammed." Evie pointed with a trembling finger to the initials emblazoned on one of the shirt pockets. "I packed his things for the last conference he attended. The luggage was lost and never found. Until the dredge brought up--" She thought she would gag if she said any more.

"Who would have dropped off the clothing here?" Annette asked.

"Maybe some of the stuff we get is stolen." Lisa concluded. "I think we should call the cops." She whipped out her cell phone and dialed 911.

Evie covered her face with her hands.

* * *

Bryce started most days at Vance's deli. Vance served only breakfast and lunch, but a lot of the local news came along with his cup of coffee and his bagel. Some people might call it gossip--and Bryce knew the Lord frowned on that--but Shucker's Point never had real news until now. A sour taste persisted in Bryce's mouth at that thought and it didn't come from his breakfast.

He sat at the table nearest the window and listened. He figured nobody talked about the serious stuff with him in the room, which was a good thing. The conversation at Vance's deli usually brightened up his day. Lately he craved those few moments of trivia more than ever before.

"My brother's mule, Cinderella, died last night. He doesn't know what to do." Bill Howland, who everyone knew as Captain Shellpicker, laughed. "I told him it wasn't any problem. We could bury it at sea."

Bryce saw Vance’s eyebrows lift as he shot him a questioning look. Bryce shook his head.

"That's illegal," Vance said.

"Figures." Shellpicker snorted. "Everything's against the law nowadays. They even want a moratorium on catching horseshoe crabs for bait. The government is going to starve us all."

Bryce shook his head. Shellpicker's favorite topics of conversation revolved around the government, which he hated. He hated the DEP most of all, but anyone involved in governing in any way rankled him--which, of course, included those in law enforcement.

"Which mule was that, anyway?" Vance asked in an obvious attempt to steer Shellpicker's monologue away from inflammatory topics.

"He only had two. Lulabelle's not much good at anything. It was Cinderella that had some brains. He taught her to pull a cart. She had a nice personality--for a mule. My brother's real broken up about it."

Bryce studied Shellpicker. He didn't look sorrowful. But then, he never did. Shellpicker had only two emotions that Bryce knew of--rage and laughter--and the laughter was usually at someone else's expense. The proudest captain of the biggest boat in Shucker's Point, he strutted through town as if he owned it.

Still, Bryce listened to the captain expound upon the intelligence of Cinderella and felt the warmth creeping back into him. This was why Bryce loved Shucker's Point, and why he had stayed here when many others had left. It was simple, quiet, and full of good people with few problems. Okay, maybe burying a mule might be a real chore but it didn't have the magnitude of a murdered scientist/father/husband.

He stared out the window at the pleasant tree-lined main street that ran north and south through town. He hadn't questioned Shellpicker yet. He had spent yesterday talking to three other captains along with their crewmembers. None of them could offer him any useful information. All of them had iron-clad alibis.

For a moment, the delicate pink flowers in the window boxes of the deli caught Bryce's attention, but only because they reminded him of Evie's lips. His mind recklessly continued to wander and he saw images of Evie's face as she was in second grade, third grade, fourth grade, and on up to high school. He had all the photos at home on the top shelf of his closet. He hadn't looked at them for years, but he could picture them in his mind's eye nonetheless.

He remembered how she had cried on the day her parents had died. She had been staying with her aunt and uncle, but he went over there and sat with her for a while. His own heart bled for her while he listened to her sobs.

Yes, he had loved her. He had loved just to look at her. She was the prettiest thing in all of Shucker's Point. After her parents' death, she got bounced around from one relative to the next. Maybe that's what made her so crazy. Maybe she should have gotten counseling, though he doubted any of her relatives had the funds to pay for that.

After they had broken up, she graduated, turned eighteen, and left town. He felt as if he had lost an arm or a leg. Not seeing her had been torture, but he had been the one to cast her off for his own good. He never doubted the wisdom in his decision.

When she returned to become the park ranger at the lighthouse, he had done his best to avoid her. The truth was that just seeing her smiling and happy made him furious.

She met Jack St. Marie and married him a few weeks afterward. From that point onward, Bryce rarely saw her. Still, he figured everything was going well--until he found Evie holding a gun on her husband that day.

Suddenly his daydream was scattered as he heard his radio start spitting out static. He left his half-eaten bagel and walked quickly out the door to the patrol car as the call came in.

* * *

Evie stared at the collar of the shirt she had bought Jack for Christmas last year from a catalog. It had a bold pink lipstick stain on it. Seeing it made her stomach queasy. She wondered if the other women in the basement had noticed it. She wished she hadn't come to the church today. She wished she had stayed home.

The other women left when Bryce arrived, but Glynis refused to leave Evie's side and holding herself together for her daughter's sake seemed to sap all of her strength.

"Let me see if I've got this straight." Bryce jotted notes down on paper. "He went to a conference in Washington, D.C. He left Dulles Airport at seven in the evening on April twenty-third and landed that same evening at the Atlantic City Airport--but never found his luggage."

"Yes, that's the way it happened. He was furious with the airline and called them repeatedly." Evie shuddered as she remembered Jack's rage. Sometimes, she wondered if he would have a heart attack when he got that way, but he never did. He had been livid the night he vanished. Maybe she should have gone after him, but she had been so afraid and then so relieved when he had walked out the door. "I think the airline may have sent him a check for the estimated value of the clothing, but I'm not sure. At any rate, he stopped calling them."

"Mommy, I'm hungwy," Glynis whined as she climbed into her mother's lap.

"We'll go home soon, lovey." She patted Glynis's back. In soothing her daughter, she often settled her own nerves, but it wasn't working today. Her heart pounded as if she had spent the day running a race. Praying didn't calm her either. She had found such hope and joy when she first committed her life to the Lord, but right now she felt abandoned. Would she lose the faith she so recently embraced?

She dared to glance up at Bryce. His mahogany eyes bored into her and she shivered. She could imagine him shooting that same inflexible glare at a terrorist. She wished she could explain everything to him. Sure, she had been horrible in high school, but everything back then had been the behavior of a kid who had lost her mooring and had gone adrift. She wasn't like that anymore. She had changed. But Bryce had seen her with the gun and believed everything Jack said. Bryce could never accept her side of the story. Her heart sank.

She watched him lower his head and scribble something else in his tight scrawl on the paper. It was as if he were signing her death warrant. The emotions warring inside her drained what little vitality she had left.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Lord, I don't know how much more of this I can take.

"You can go." His voice held a cold, stern note. She could almost feel the icy steel of the handcuffs on her wrists again.

She opened her eyes and watched as he continued to write on the pad. He held the pen tightly and pressed hard against the paper, each word condemning her, no doubt. When they were in grade school, he always walked home with her from the bus stop and he always gave her candy if he had any. Surely, somewhere inside him he knew that she wasn't a vicious killer, or a psychopath.

She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She would not cry. He would see it as a weakness--or worse, believe it to be an act designed to win his sympathy.

He clicked the pen to close it and placed it in his pocket, but he didn't look at her. "As I said, you can leave."

His brusque dismissal hurt more than she could have imagined. He didn't show her a single vestige of sympathy or compassion. Why did she even expect it?

"I'm hungwy, Mommy," Glynis whined again.

"Okay, lovey, we'll go home."

Glynis jumped off her lap and raced around the basement, instantly energized--no longer looking bored and exhausted. Evie got up slowly, feeling as woozy as a clammer on deck in rough seas.

Maybe it was the lack of answers that left her so unbalanced. Could someone in Shucker's Point have dumped Jack's clothes in the clothing bin outside the church? Was there a murderer in town? Or had the clothes come from another more distant clothing bin?

Each of her nerves felt as if they had been stretched to the limit. She turned to walk away, holding her head high in an attempt to retain her dignity. She didn't see the toy the children had neglected to put away and suddenly found her feet going out from under her. Giving a startled cry, she realized in a split second that when she landed, she was going to hurt some part of her body with a very big ouch.

Two very strong arms grabbed her and halted her rapid descent to the floor. Then, gently, he set her back on her feet, but his hands lingered on her arms and she felt the warmth of them. He had an intent look on his face as he stared at her with concern, or was it something else--something that made her heart skip a beat. Inside her, an old familiar feeling stirred and sent a shiver through her.

He dropped his hands and his gaze went to the floor, breaking the spell that had wound around her so tightly she almost felt as if she had stepped back in time.

She heard him clear his throat in a nervous manner.

"Watch where you put your feet."

She wanted to disguise her feelings with a touch of sarcasm, but she knew he would be able to see right through it. An awkward silence lay between them.

"Mommy! I can't open it!" Glynis called as she tried to turn the doorknob.

Evie knew she had to leave now or she would only make the situation unbearable. She took in a ragged breath, but before she could say anything Bryce gave a stiff nod and turned away from her.

Thoroughly shaken, she hurried away to take Glynis home, wondering how Bryce could deny what he felt when he held her.

Chapter Three

Two hours later, Bryce sat in his patrol car outside Dana Neville's house. She was the seventeen-year-old girl seen on a number of occasions with Jack St. Marie.

Bryce took several slow, deep breaths. He hadn't recovered from his meeting with Evie. His pulse continued to race as if he were in pursuit and doing one hundred miles an hour. Added to that, he felt as if Evie had ripped open the old wound on his heart and poured salt into it. Had she tripped on that toy purposely? Why did touching her have such a disconcerting effect on him?

He sighed as he admitted that after all these years, she felt the same--as if he had slid his callused palms against silk instead of skin--and the tingle was there, too. Nothing quite matched that sensation. Even a high-speed chase didn't give him that same kind of thrill, no doubt because Evie was forbidden fruit. She had been aptly named because she tempted him like no other, but while he was a fool for her once, he would never be a fool for her again. Especially now. He couldn't allow himself to be swayed by her.

The Lord didn't condone murder and from the moment Evie had reported her husband missing, Bryce had sensed that Jack St. Marie had been killed. When he saw Evie staring at that bright lipstick stain on the collar of her husband's shirt, he felt nauseous.

What if she had stolen the luggage herself from the airport and then planned the murder? She could have ditched the clothing in some distant donation center. Why hadn't she burned it?

Bryce saw a curtain move in the front window of the Neville house. Setting his jaw, he knew he had to get this over with. He put on his hat and got out of the car. The house appeared well kept with clean siding. The neat lawn was edged with flowers along the front walk.

When he knocked at the door, Dana Neville opened it. Her blond hair hung down to her waist and she wore a skimpy tank top and low-slung shorts.

"Yeah?" Her outfit bared too much skin and was far from modest. The heavy layer of makeup on her face made her look older, but it didn't veil the apprehension in her eyes.

"I'm Bryce Johnson from the State Police--"

"Who is that?" From the back of the house Bryce heard a gruff voice yell out.

Dana called back, "It's a trooper."

"What!" Dana's father, Hank Neville, the charter captain of the Ocean Dreams, came storming up to the door. He was a bear of a man--a good two inches taller than Bryce and at least seventy-five pounds heavier.

"We ain't done nothing." From the smell of alcohol on his breath, Bryce knew that if the captain took a Breathalyzer test right then, he would fail.

Bryce became even more polite. It was impossible to converse with a drunken man. "I'm here to ask your daughter some questions, sir." He had originally intended to ask Hank some questions, too--but considering the captain's inebriated state, he decided to scratch that idea for now.

"She's underage," Neville said.

"I am well aware of that, sir." Bryce couldn't question the girl without a parental presence, though a sober parent would have been preferable.

"What's this about?" The endings of Neville's words slurred.

"I have some questions about Jack St. Marie."

"She don't know nothing about him."

"It's okay, Daddy." The girl's words seemed to placate her father. He stepped back as Dana opened the door all the way. "You can come in."

Bryce nodded. The girl flicked the long hair from her shoulder, walked to a smooth sofa and sat down. He opted to sit by himself in an armchair. As he pulled out his notebook, the scent of new leather emanated gently on the air, mingling with the stench of the alcohol. Judging from the furniture, the quantity of makeup on Dana's face, and the abundance of alcohol, the charter business must be doing well.

The girl let out a ragged sigh. "So?"

The father stood behind the sofa with his arms crossed over his chest and glared at Bryce.

Bryce poised his pen over the notebook. "How long have you known Jack St. Marie?"

"Um. I dunno. Uh. Like maybe two years."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. Well, I'll be eighteen soon. I'm a senior and I'm graduating."

"She's going to college--in Delaware," Hank Neville pointed out. "She's smart."

The girl had a slightly pained expression as she listened to her father's drunken praise.

"How often did you see Jack St. Marie?"

"Um...like...maybe once a week or so. He took me out to some really nice places to eat--like in Philadelphia, Atlantic City, and even New York. Sometimes we'd go to Cape May and once he took me to Great Adventure. That was awesome." A wistful smile played on her lips.

Somehow, Bryce couldn't imagine Jack St. Marie on a roller coaster. "Did anyone else go with you and Mr. St. Marie?"

"No. It was just me and him. He hated to eat alone. So I was, like..." She flipped the hair off her shoulder again. "...doing him a favor, you know."

"Did you know he was married?"

"Umm...yeah. But he said his wife had agoraphobia. It's a disease--sort of a mental thing. I looked it up."

"How serious was your relationship with Mr. St. Marie?"

"Umm...we weren't serious--just friends, and like I'm real sorry he's dead. We had some good times."

Bryce pointed to the necklace Dana wore, a diamond heart on a gold chain. "Was that a present from Mr. St. Marie?"

Dana fingered the glittering heart. "Yeah. It was like so sweet of him. He said I couldn't walk into some of those fancy restaurants looking like I came from Shucker's Point. I really liked going out all the time and seeing new places. This town is like no-man's land. There's nothing to do."

"Where were you on the night Jack St. Marie disappeared?"

"I was at our high school prom at a hotel in Cape May. I've got pictures if you want to see them."

Bryce shook his head. "Did you have a date?"

"Sort of. A bunch of us went together--six of us, so we could split the cost of the limousine. And Mark was supposed to be my date, but he didn't dance. His feet hurt in his fancy snakeskin cowboy boots so I wound up dancing with Heather's date most of the evening which was okay because Mark was really kinda boring."

"What time did the prom start?"

"Eight, but we all met at Heather's house around six so everyone could take pictures. We got back around four in the morning and Heather's mom made breakfast for everyone and then we all slept for a few hours on the living room floor. So I didn't get back here until noon."

"How about April twenty-third?"

"Oh." She swallowed. "I came home from D.C. that day."

"You were on a trip?"

She nodded her head.

"By yourself?" he asked.

She took in a deep breath and bit her lip. "I went with Jack. He thought I should see the Smithsonian."

"May I see the lipstick you wear?"

Evidently caught off guard, her face froze. "Wh-which one?"

"All of them."

She hesitated. "But--"

"I can get a search warrant from the judge," Bryce threatened.

She got up off the couch and hurried into another room.

"Lipstick?" Neville screwed up his face. "What do you want with that?"

From his peculiar stare, Bryce figured the drunken man assumed Bryce was a cross dresser. Or, by now, since he was so soused, maybe he thought Bryce was a pink elephant.

Dana came out with a plastic box about the same size as a fishing tackle box. However, Bryce had never seen a tackle box in a shade of glittery pink. Putting on his gloves, he opened the case. There had to be at least twenty different shades of lipstick, and each one looked much like the other. This was definitely a job for the guys in the lab to figure out. He started to place them in an evidence bag.

"That one cost me forty dollars!" Dana protested.

Bryce glanced up at her. "Then you paid way too much."

"How long are you going to keep it?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether it was the shade on Jack's collar."

She blanched and sat down again. When the phone rang, she grabbed it.

"Yeah?" she said, her voice a bit shaky. "Sure." She swung the hair off her shoulder and shot Bryce a pleading look. "Can I go now?"

He pressed his lips together in irritation, but gave her a nod. He doubted that he would get much more out of her anyway. She walked off into the kitchen with the phone.

Bryce sealed the bag with all the lipstick tubes. He closed the pink tackle box and got up to leave.

"Wasn't nothing important happened between my daughter and that scientist." Neville lumbered after him to the door. "She just wanted to have some fun. Ain't much of that around here."

"Sure." Bryce handed the father a card with his phone number on it. "If she remembers anything else that might be important please tell her to call me at that number."

Neville took the small card and wadded it up in his hand. "She ain't gonna have anything more to say to you."

Bryce stared at the fishing captain. He knew the guy was three sheets to the wind, but drinking himself into a stupor in his own home was his prerogative.

Bryce kept his jaw clamped together and left. Walking out into the sunshine, he took a deep breath of fresh air. He didn't like drunks. He didn't like the rancid smell of alcohol on their breath; it turned his stomach. But he had found that sometimes those who got wasted were trying real hard to forget something painful.

So why was Hank Neville trying to anesthetize himself?

He got into his patrol car, glanced at his notes, and gnawed on the end of the pen. Dana Neville started dating Jack St. Marie when she was fifteen--under age. Bryce decided that not only was Jack a rotten husband, he was a lecherous old man. Would Hank Neville be mad enough to kill a man who took advantage of his daughter?

Bryce drove away from the Nevilles' house wondering why Jack St. Marie had started dating a fifteen-year-old girl when he had Evie for a wife. For a supposedly smart scientist, Jack St. Marie didn't have any common sense.

Thinking about Evie started an ache swirling around his heart. How could someone with the biggest blue eyes and the softest curly brown hair commit a heinous crime?

Back in high school, she had almost run him over with her friend's car, but it had been an incredibly stupid move on his part to jump into the path of the car. However, she had called in that fake bomb scare on the last day of finals in high school. He had seen her do it, and that was a crime. Still, he had kept his promise and never reported it, mainly because he loved her. She had begged him and claimed to have had a good reason for doing it, and no one had gotten hurt except him, with the worst damage being his broken heart.

Was it still broken? He slid his hand across his chest. That morning, when he had touched Evie, a piece of his heart had seemed to thaw. And that was very bad.

Had he been wrong to keep her secret all these years. Had his misguided loyalty created a monster? He shuddered at the thought.

* * *

Evie couldn't blame her malaise on the heat today since a nice breeze blew in off the water. She hadn't felt good at all for weeks--ever since Jack disappeared. After her morning meeting with Bryce, she felt especially rotten and she was getting a bit worried, particularly because the dizziness had grown worse.

She leaned against the door of the shed with the weed-whacker in her hand and watched as Tommy Lansdowne swung Glynis up to settle her on his shoulders. Then he walked over to Evie. Glynis chortled with glee and Tommy had a big smile on his face.

"You're great at entertaining Glynis." Evie couldn't help believing that Tommy was a decent kid.

"Yeah. I have a little sister...someplace." The grin vanished from his face. "My dad got custody of her."

"And he moved away?" Evie asked.

"Yeah. To Nevada."

"Do you ever hear from her?"

"No. And not from my dad either."

Evie nodded. She felt an ache of sympathy for him. "I'm sorry."

"My little sister is probably all grown up now, but she used to talk like the squirt here."

No wonder he had developed an instant rapport with Glynis. Evie held out the weed-whacker. "Since you worked a miracle on the lawnmower, I was hoping you could do the same for this miserable piece of equipment. It seems everything around here either doesn't work or doesn't work well."

Tommy took Glynis off his shoulders, swung her around in a circle, and set her on her feet before he took the tool from Evie's hands.

"Do it again!" Glynis begged.

"Later, squirt." Tommy's smile reappeared. "I gotta look busy."

Glynis frowned, but then she saw a butterfly flit past. "Mommy! Wook! I'm going to catch him." She skipped off in pursuit.

"Poor bug," Tommy commented as he fiddled with the start switch on the weed-whacker.

"She's gentle with them." As Evie watched Glynis dance away, she sought to fix that image in her mind, saving it for the dark, dreary future she might have. "The bugs usually live to fly again. Glynis has been going to Sunday school, so she's learning about all the Lord's wonderful creatures and how we are supposed to take care of them."

"Like that's gonna happen." Tommy put the tool on the picnic table next to the shed. He had his screwdriver out again and busied himself taking apart the tool. "People can't even take care of each other."

"Some do. The people at church have been real good to me. I wish I had belonged to the church when I was your age. It would have made a big difference." Maybe I would never have married Jack. Her conscience stung her. If she hadn't married Jack, she would not have Glynis.

Tommy didn't look up from his task. He had the casing off the machine and poked around inside it.

"I gave a career talk at church to the teens a few weeks ago. Some of the kids looked really interested in being a park ranger, but I was just hoping they would volunteer to help me out." She shrugged. "None of them have so far."

"They probably were turned off by the idea of not getting paid." Tommy began to put the machine together again.

Evie nodded. "I thought that might be the case."

"They'd rather have no job at all than work for minimum wage. I've seen them act like they're Donald Trump or somebody at school."

"But they all come from Shucker's Point," Evie pointed out. "How can anyone think they're somebody when they start out here?"

Tommy's mouth twisted up into a smirk. "Dana Neville thinks she's gonna be a Hollywood actress--rich and famous. She thinks she's hot."

"Is she?"

"No. She's just stupid. I used to date her but