Kate glanced at him. “I thought he might have guessed.”
“No,” Brian said. “And I didn’t say a word. I know how to keep a secret.”
“You do,” Kate said, and Brian chuckled. Every time she and Conor walked past the Suydam in its intricately carved gold frame, Conor paused to stare at it. He liked art well enough, and Kate knew he indulged her passion for it. So it intrigued her to see him so entranced by this painting. She knew what East Beach meant to him.
It was the site of a crime that had become his most important case. He had solved the murder and brought justice to the family—people both he and Kate had come to love. Because of that connection, Kate had spoken to the Ocean House’s curator so she could buy the painting of East Beach for Conor, as her wedding gift to him.
“Did he say where he was going?” she asked.
“No,” Brian said. “I didn’t see them leave.”
“Thanks, Brian,” she said, and continued her search.
Out on the verandah, she spotted several of their guests at tables overlooking the sea. Judge Michael Reid—Conor’s uncle—was sitting with his wife, Anne. Several pals of Kate’s from the New York art world were sharing a platter of Ninigret oysters and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne. They beckoned her over, but she just waved. There was a large table of three Coast Guard officers that she recognized as Tom’s colleagues. Also at the table were Rhode Island State Police detectives Joe Harrigan and Garrett Milne.
Conor was a detective on the Major Crime Squad of the Connecticut State Police, and Joe was his Rhode Island counterpart. Garrett was Joe’s partner. Whenever a case concerned boats or coastal waters, they coordinated with the USCG enforcement division, escalating up to CGIS—Tom’s Coast Guard Investigative Service team. TwoDecembers ago they had all worked together on the Maddie Morrison case, the murder of a young mother on the path to East Beach.
The investigation had been intense, and Conor and Joe had become very good friends. Garrett less so. But when Kate and Conor were making up the guest list, Conor had said that Garrett kept hinting he wanted to be invited. He said that he had never stayed at the Ocean House before and that his new girlfriend was really pushing for it.
But Kate thought it was something else: Conor and Joe were tight senior detectives, and Garrett wanted to be part of their inner circle. She felt gratitude toward him for helping Conor in that important case. She didn’t want him to feel left out, so he was on the list. Joe, long divorced, had decided to come alone. Both Kate and Conor had the feeling he was hoping to meet someone at the wedding. Garrett’s date was nowhere in sight.
The white tent, where they would have their reception tomorrow, had been installed that afternoon; it rose beside the croquet lawn like a fairy-tale castle. Directly across the street was Watch Hill Chapel, where they would say their vows. Kate’s heart skipped so hard she had to catch her breath. Was she having wedding nerves? She was forty-two, and she had never been married before. Conor was six years older, and this was his first marriage too. They had each had their own reasons for staying single, but over the last few years, they had managed to break through to each other.
She looked at her cell phone—nothing. He hadn’t replied to her last three texts. Even when he was on a case, he would text or call to let her know what was going on. She texted him again.
Where are you? I’m looking for you.
No reply. She texted her assistant, Maeve Longacre. She’d brought Maeve and her boyfriend along to help with last-minute wedding details.
Have you seen Conor?
No, I’m with Suzanne, just finishing up the table assignments.
Suzanne?Kate texted back, wondering who that was.
Calligrapher, helping out.
OK, Kate wrote, surprised by the name Suzanne because she could have sworn she’d seen a contract with someone else.
“Hey, Auntie,” her niece Samantha Lathrop said, coming up from behind and giving Kate a hug. Sam was the daughter of Kate’s late sister, Beth. She was twenty-one, tall, with long strawberry-blond hair. Kate had been like a mother to her after Beth died. Although Sam had been a wild child in her teens, she had just graduated from college.
“Aunts and nieces,” Kate said, seeing that Sam was with their friend Hadley Cooke and her seven-year-old niece CeCe, all dressed for dinner. Kate, Sam, Hadley, and CeCe were members of a club no one would ever want to belong to—sisters and daughters of murdered women. It had made the four of them very close.
“What are you up to?” Sam asked.
“Looking for your uncle-to-be,” Kate said.
“CeCe and I are going to walk down to the harbor and back before dinner,” Sam said. “Maybe there’s just enough time for a ride on the merry-go-round.”
“Is that okay, Aunt Hadley?” CeCe asked.
“You bet,” Hadley said.
“Let’s all go,” Kate said, thinking they might find Conor and Tom—a Coast Guard commander who could never stay far away from boats, and the harbor was full of them.
The four of them set off from the hotel. They walked along Bluff Avenue, passing the path to East Beach, where CeCe’s mother had been killed. Both Kate and Hadley watched for the little girl’s reaction; CeCe didn’t say anything, but she resolutely turned her head away, picking up her pace and walking straight ahead.
They turned downhill on Larkin Road. CeCe grabbed Sam’s hand and began to run toward the merry-go-round. Every mooring in the bright-blue harbor was occupied. Bay Street was crowded with visitors browsing in shops, getting ice cream at St. Clair Annex, waiting for a table at the Olympia Tearoom, or strolling along the seawall.
