“She could be anywhere,” Catherine echoed, then lifted her chin defiantly. “But we’ll find her. Somehow.”
“Find who?” Neither woman had heard Nick enter the library; they turned in surprise at the sound of his voice.
“The mysterious unidentified widow of Douglas Ramsey, Annabel Cameron’s son, who was killed in the Second World War,” Willow said.
Nick’s face brightened. “Nice. You were able to find information on her?”
“Of course,” Willow said dryly. “We have a first name. Which may or may not be her real name. And that she gave birth to a daughter.”
Nick blinked. “And? That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Willow winked at Catherine. “But given ourlibrarian’s research superpowers, I doubt it will slow her down for long.”
Catherine frowned. “It’s not much to go on.”
“No, it isn’t,” Nick agreed, “but if anyone can pull it off, I suspect it’s you.”
Willow swiveled her chair around to face him. “So what brings you off the mainland on a workday?”
He grinned. “I had been thinking, given we finally have a nice day, and you two were a huge amount of help in solving this whole mess—”
“Even if I nearly got killed in the process,” Willow put in.
“Which you wouldn’t have if you’d listened to me and stayed at the inn—we were working it out and would have gotten there.” He grabbed a chair, swung his leg around, and sat down on it backward. “Turned out, that bottle you picked up was the clincher piece of evidence, after all. And then the background check told us Audra wasn’t who she said she was, but by the time it came through, we had no idea where to look for her. Then Finn woke Rina, and she realized you’d sneaked out at some point, and we didn’t know whereyouwere either.” He pinned her with a good-natured—mostly good-natured—glare. “It was a given that if something was up, you were probably in the middle of it. If Mrs. Ramsey hadn’t managed to make an emergency call, sort of miraculous given her condition, who knows what might have—” He stopped and rolled his eyes. “God, woman, you can turn anything into an argument.”
Willow held up her hands in mock helplessness. “Who’s arguing? I didn’t say anything.” She paused. “How is Patricia doing?” she asked hesitantly.
“Alive,” he said. “Pretty messed up; she’s got a lot of surgeries and rehab ahead of her before she can even stand trial.” He shrugged. “She admitted to everything—it was like she wanted to get it off her chest in case she didn’t make it. She won’t be a free member of society anytime soon.”
Willow was silent. Patricia had stood up to Audra, had made the call that got Nick out to the house—but she had also killed Effie and been a party to all the recent murders on the island… including Sue’s.
Nick got up and righted the chair. “But I’m not here to talk about her. I’m inviting the two of you to lunch. At the Dockside. On me. Diana and Mac are already there, and Rina’s coming.” He grinned. “Best lobster rolls on this or any island. What do you say?”
Willow nodded emphatically. “You’re on.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
As the trio walked along the coastal path toward the village, Nick asked Willow, “So now that you’re the heir to everything Cameron around here, are you going to live in the house, do you think?”
Willow looked almost wistfully up at the massive house, then back at Nick. “I’m not sure I want to. It’s too big, too”—she shared a quick glance with Catherine—“haunted to live in.” She looked around her, bright greens and blues of the ocean, the murmur of the wind in the trees and the soft roar of the sea beneath, breathed in the salt and pine, and smiled. “But I’ll stay on in the cabin for a while. I still have to finish my dissertation, and I can do it here as easily as anywhere else. Our fantastic local librarian can get me books”—she flashed Catherine a quick smile—“and most of what I need I can find on the internet, anyway.”
Willow looked across the green toward the row of boulders where she had eaten Diana’s tres leches cake after Sue’s memorial. She said, “Hey, guys—I’m a little more winded than I thought; I’m going to hang out for a sec, but I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”
The other two paused. “You sure? We can wait with you,” Catherine said.
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine, go ahead. Order me a lobster roll. I’ll only be a sec.”
Nick shrugged. “Suit yourself. See you in a bit.”
As the two walked off toward the dock, Willow eased herself down on the large rock. Nearby sat the dark-haired teenaged girl Willow had seen there on the day of Sue’s memorial reception, reading a book. No phone, no earbuds, just a book.
That should have been Willow’s first clue.
“Hi,” Willow said softly.
The girl looked up in surprise. Without the sullen glare and goth makeup she’d had in the Boston photos, Willow might have recognized her sooner and put it together, but she knew her now. “Hi,” the girl said back.
Willow suddenly had no idea what to say. She cleared her throat and asked, “What are you reading?”
