2
May 1
Virginia
Ford Wagner stood on the beach, facing the sea, and closed his eyes as he drew the salt air into his lungs. God, he’d missed
this place. He’d spent all his childhood summers in North Hampton Beach—had such magical memories of the warm sand shifting
beneath his feet, the icy surf rippling over his body, the melodic sound of the ice cream truck as it made its daily rounds
and the sight of an egg-yolk sun peeking up over the horizon when he was so eager to hit the beach sleep was no longer an
option.
As he’d grown older, there’d been parties and bonfires to attend, not to mention losing his virginity to the much older girl
staying in the house next door. He even got his driver’s license while he was here, after learning to drive in the Jeep his
parents had given him for his sixteenth birthday.
Those were the days... But so much had changed. First, there were the murders that’d taken place between his junior and
senior years in high school. They’d stolen the innocence of this small community, cast a pall over everything—and freaked
his mother out so much she refused to come back.
Then, just before he’d graduated from Brown University with his MBA, his parents had gone through a bitter divorce and his father had married a woman who was half his age. After spending eight turbulent years with her and having two more boys—a second family—he’d had a heart attack and died in January. Now his widow was contesting the will, attempting to get more money. And not just a little. She was going after the bulk of the estate—something he couldn’t even mention to his mother. Sara was so bitter about everything that’d happened, it would just send her back into therapy. And he couldn’t expect his brother, older by two years, to help carry the load. Houston was an alcoholic who’d be on the streets if not for the paycheck he received from Wagner Business Solutions for doing absolutely nothing and Sara letting him live with her. Ford had to run the family business, as well as fight the parasite attempting to attach herself to the family fortune—while going through a divorce himself.
The perfect, healthy, happy family he’d once had was now shattered and broken, and his soon-to-be ex-wife was pregnant, which
absolutely terrified him. He’d always looked forward to having kids, but this was not how he wanted to start a family. Now
he was facing a custody battle with a woman who’d proven herself to be so vengeful he suspected she’d quit taking her birth
control pills on purpose.
When he opened his eyes, he felt as though he could see the pieces of his former life drifting in the ocean like debris after
a shipwreck.
“Ford, is that you?”
He turned to find an old friend walking toward him—someone he hadn’t seen for years—a Frisbee in one hand, an empty leash
in the other and a Labrador retriever trailing behind, sniffing at a pile of seaweed. “Chet! How are you, man? I had no idea
you’d be here.”
“I still come every summer. My sisters are too busy with kids in various sports, but as the baby of the family, I’m not involved in all of that quite yet. My wife and I use the house, and I get a few paintings done while I’m not in school teaching art classes. Then my folks, sisters and their families join us for a couple of weeks in August.”
“Where do you teach?”
“I’m in Baltimore these days, at a community college.”
“That’s great.” The last time he’d seen Chet Anthony was when they’d planned an Atlantic City meetup—together with a few other
guys—during college. They’d all lived in different places and gone to different universities, so the only thing they’d had
in common was summers in North Hampton Beach and that they came from mostly wealthy families, which was probably why, despite
promises that it’d never happen, they’d drifted apart.
“I enjoy it—but would like to become successful enough with my own painting to do it full-time.”
“What kind of painting do you do?”
“Mostly I paint birds—in acrylics.”
“It’ll happen.”
“I hope so. It’s good to see you again. What brings you back after so long?”
Ford was searching for the peace and happiness he’d once known in this place. But he wasn’t about to admit that. His mother would be furious. She wouldn’t want anyone to know they had problems; she was all about keeping up appearances. “We’ve been renting out the house for so long it needs to be repaired and updated. So I’m taking a few months off to make that happen.” He was actually supposed to get it ready for sale. Since his mother and brother never used it anymore, they were pressing him, as the trustee of his father’s estate, to liquidate. They wanted the money. He might have to give his soon-to-be ex a portion of the proceeds, too, and Paris, his father’s widow. But he didn’t want the locals to know what he was planning to do until he pounded in the For Sale sign, mostly because he didn’t want to deal with their reaction. And he couldn’t face parting with the house that held his best memories. He wasn’t even going to allow himself to think about putting it on the market until the summer was over.
The dog was wandering too far. “Eddie!” Chet called and whistled to bring him back before saying, “Heard about your father,
dude. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Came as a shock. He was always so active. We thought he was perfectly healthy.”
“From what I heard, his new wife kept him busy.”
That was a euphemistic way of acknowledging the embarrassing relationship. Ford was shocked his father could be stupid enough
to be fooled by someone like Paris. Just looking at the two of them together gave the impression she was a gold digger, and
that was exactly what she’d turned out to be. “She’s not an easy person to deal with.”
“Spoiled?”
“Selfish, too. And she’s the mother of my two half brothers, so I’m unlikely to ever get her completely out of my life.”
“That’s rough. I wanted to attend the funeral, but Kira was days away from giving birth to Kenzie.”
A warm wind, coming off the water, ruffled their hair and clothes. “So you’re married and have a baby now?”
He smiled like a besotted fool. “Yeah. And both are pretty amazing.”
“Congratulations!”
“You’ll have to come by. I’d love for you to meet them.”
“I’ll do that. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch. Life has... gotten away from me.”
“No worries. It’s not all your fault. It’s been overwhelming for me, too. How’s your mother?”
Not the same. That was the thing. Sara was once a warm, fun-loving, well-adjusted woman. But the divorce seemed to have damaged
her irreparably. Now she was anxiety riddled; only her psych meds kept her going. “Fine,” he lied.
“And Houston?”
Houston had been a burnout since high school. Most people assumed he’d never amount to much. And that was proving to be true.
“The same.”
Chet once again called his dog to his side. “How long are you in town?”
“The entire summer.” He’d never needed three months to himself more...
“Really? Who’s taking care of the business while you’re gone?”
“My next in command.”
“You must trust him a great deal.”
“It’s a her, and I do. I’ll be working remotely while I renovate the house. But I can’t imagine Renee will need me too often.
She’s been around forever, and sales typically slow down in the summer.”
“Wow, man, you’re running the whole freaking empire already. I always knew it would be you and not Houston.”
He ignored the Houston part. His brother benefited from what their father had built almost as much as he did, but he was the one doing all the work so things wouldn’t fall apart. The inequity of it sometimes bothered him. He kept telling
himself to be grateful he was capable of following in his father’s footsteps, but he felt Houston could do more to help than
he did. Instead, he’d become a burden, and that had created even more contention in Ford’s marriage. “Selling software to
businesses isn’t an empire.”
“From what I’ve heard, you’ve made vast improvements to something that was already the best on the market. Wagner Business
Solutions does data warehousing, right?”
He dug his toes deeper in the sand. He was still wearing the khaki shorts and golf shirt he’d arrived in. He’d been so eager to set foot on the beach he’d dropped his luggage as soon as he entered the house, kicked off his shoes and padded down the stairs off the deck. “Among other data-driven things.”
“Why would you take time off to renovate a house?”
Because he needed to do something different, something therapeutic, and for him that included working with his hands. By the
end of each day, he planned to be too exhausted to think. “I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
“Have you ever been involved in construction?”
“No. But it isn’t rocket science. I’ll figure it out.”
Chet clicked his tongue. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
“And if I can’t, I’ll just hire a sub.”
“Some of the faces around here have changed. Let me give you my number. If you need help, I should be able to steer you to
the right person—if I can’t lend a hand myself.”
“I appreciate that.”
They exchanged contact information. Then Chet called his dog one final time, put him on a leash and lifted a hand to wave.
“We’ll figure out a date to have you over for dinner,” he said as he started to walk away.
“I appreciate that. It’s nice to run into a friendly face.”
“I might’ve given you the wrong impression. You should still know quite a few people. The old guard never seems to change.”
Chet retraced the steps he’d just taken in anticipation of leaving, a serious expression on his face. “Matter of fact, I was
just at the barber’s, where I heard that Lucy is back for the summer.”
“You mean... Lucy McBride? The one whose father...”
Chet’s mouth twisted. “Killed that old couple? And Aurora? Yes.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope. Only she goes by Sinclair now.”
“So she’s married...”
“According to the Clarks, she isn’t.”
“How would they know?” he asked.
Chet shrugged. “You got me. She’s rented the Smoot cottage—where that spinster librarian lived?”
“ Lived? What happened to Ms. Smoot? Don’t tell me she passed away—”
“No, she’s in a home these days. Fell and broke her hip, so Dahlia’s taking care of the place while her aunt recuperates.”
He remembered Dahlia. She hadn’t hung out with his group, either, but he’d seen her around quite a bit. “And she rented it
to Lucy?”
“Now you’re catching on. Aurora Clark’s parents are furious about it.”
Ford could see why, but... He scratched his neck. He thought of Lucy every now and then—more often than he wanted to—and
felt bad for how he and the rest of the community had treated her. At the time, everyone had been so shocked and horrified
they could think only of their own loss and anger. No one had been looking out for the daughter Mick McBride would leave behind
when he went to prison, even though she was only seventeen at the time.
That seemed pretty harsh now. He’d wondered over the years how she’d gotten by on her own, what she’d been doing and how she’d
turned out. She’d been smart. Savvy. He knew that from the time he’d spent with her. Had she gone to college? “What’s she
been doing since she left?” he asked.
“No idea,” Chet replied. “I don’t think she stayed in touch with anyone.”
That didn’t come as any surprise. “Then... what in the world would bring her back?”
“That’s what we’d all like to know.”
“When will she be here?”
“I’m assuming the first of the month. That would make the most sense for rental purposes.”
The Smoot property was a small bungalow set off by itself, just down from his place. “Then I guess we’ll soon find out,” he said.
When Ford reached his family’s summer house, only half a mile or so from where he’d run into Chet, he didn’t stop and go inside
as he would’ve done had he not learned that Lucy Sinclair was coming to town. Curiosity compelled him to continue walking
and, when an inlet cut off the beach, take a small trail through the scrub grass to the Smoot cottage.
Although it was much smaller and didn’t have a view of the ocean like Coastal Comfort—the name his mother had given their
house—the Smoot cottage offered privacy. He could see why Lucy might want to stay there as opposed to somewhere in town. It
was out of the way of the locals, and most of the tourists wouldn’t even know about it, let alone wander this far from the
public beach and the quaint restaurants and shops they frequented.
The trailer park she’d once called home was off the beaten path, too, he remembered, except it was on the other side of town.
He could understand why she might not want to be close to that, either. He could only imagine the terrible memories seeing
it would bring back. He’d never forget the day the police showed up to search her trailer. Ford had taken Lucy out several
times by then—they’d actually become a couple—and she’d texted him immediately, terrified and confused.
She’d needed a friend. But he’d put her off, told her he couldn’t come over.
Looking back, he cringed at his response, especially because he’d never followed up like he’d promised. Instead, he’d distanced himself the way his parents demanded. They’d insisted she was trash, bad news, not worth his time. They’d said she had to have realized her father was a violent man who’d done something unforgivable, and not coming forward was just as bad as participating in those crimes herself.
He’d known they were stretching for something to hold against her. Judging by the stricken look on Lucy’s face during the trial, which was held in Montross only twenty-five
minutes away, she’d had no clue.
Still, he’d allowed his parents to persuade him, and the fact that everyone else turned on her, too, convinced him they must
be right. Kids were heavily influenced by their peers; he’d been afraid standing by her would make him a pariah. It wasn’t
as if he’d been with her for months or years. If he’d known her better, maybe he would’ve reacted differently.
At least, that was what he’d told himself since. But he knew in his heart that what he’d done had hurt her—so much that she
had to hate him.
He’d hate him if he were her...
The place looked dark and closed up, and the garden was overrun with weeds. It’d obviously been untended for a while. He remembered
seeing the little free library old lady Smoot had put up next to her mailbox when he was just a kid and wondered if she’d
ever be able to come home.
He walked around front. Sure enough, there was no car parked in the drive. But according to what Chet had told him, there
soon would be. What did Lucy hope to accomplish here?
There had to be some motivation because, for her, returning to North Hampton Beach would be like bleeding in shark-infested waters.
He was just pivoting to head back when a car turned in. He’d been caught nosing around, which felt awkward, but it would only
make matters worse if he skulked off as if he’d been doing something wrong. It was much smarter to wait and say hello to whoever
was behind the wheel. At least then he could play off his visit.
Dahlia, Sharon Smoot’s niece, climbed out as soon as the en gine went off. With her distinctive red hair and myriad freckles covering her face and arms, he recognized her immediately, despite the years that’d passed since he’d last seen her.
“Well, if it isn’t Ford Wagner, the boy everyone wanted to be—or be with!” she said, grinning from ear to ear.
“What are you up to these days?” he asked.
“Causing trouble, as usual.” She opened the back door of her SUV and hauled out a laundry basket full of sheets and towels.
“What about you?”
“Just working for a living.”
“Well, what you consider a living and what I consider a living are probably two different things,” she said with a cackle.
“It’s good to see you again.” He walked over to carry the basket for her. “How’s your aunt?”
“Old, which makes it hard for her to mend. She’s been in a convalescent home in Richmond for months.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Looking confused, she relinquished the basket into his hands. “So... you walked over to visit my aunt? I didn’t realize
you knew her that well.”
“I don’t. I just got into town and was on the beach when I ran into Chet, who told me you rented this place to Lucy Sinclair—who’s
actually Lucy McBride. That true?”
With a grimace, she grabbed her purse from the front seat and slammed the door. “Don’t tell me you’re going to start in on
me, too. I’ve taken so much grief over that. Everyone who comes to the bar where I work bitches at me for it. But I didn’t
know Lucy Sinclair was Lucy McBride until I’d already admitted the cottage was still available. It took me a few moments to
realize there was something familiar about her and ask if it was her.”
“And she admitted it was?”
“Seemed a little hesitant, which made me feel bad. She was obviously worried I wouldn’t rent to her if she told me the truth. And yet she was always nice to me when she lived here. So I’m not going to discriminate. Besides, my aunt needs the income to offset some of her medical bills and, as far as I’m concerned, Lucy hasn’t done anything wrong.”
He arched one eyebrow. “The Clark family would disagree with you.”
She shot him a sheepish expression. “I know. I remember that summer, too, and I feel bad for what happened to Aurora. She
wasn’t the nicest person—not to me, anyway—but she didn’t deserve to die.” She dug around in her purse, came up with a set
of keys and started for the front door. “Still, who am I to tell Lucy McBride that she can’t come back here?”
“I’m not suggesting you should’ve done that. I’m just wondering if you know why she’s coming.”
She unlocked the door and swung it wide before waving him inside ahead of her. “Nope. Didn’t tell me. And I didn’t want to
pry. I’m just going to freshen the place and hope she doesn’t cause any trouble while she’s here.”
He glanced back at her as she followed him in. “I think the Clarks are more likely to cause trouble than she is.”
“They’d better not. She’s not the one who killed Aurora.”
“So they’re no longer claiming Mick did it for her benefit?”
The level of light in the room dimmed as she closed the door. “To get rid of her romantic rival? So that she’d have no competition
for you?”
He didn’t want to be the reason anyone had died. He could only imagine how much worse it would be for Lucy to be accused,
even if it was only via gossip, of having a girl killed over normal teenage drama. “They were claiming something like that,”
he mumbled.
She took the basket and put it on the floor of the living room. “Aurora thought you were too good for a poor girl living in
a trailer park. She complained about Lucy to her friends and family all the time. I bet that’s where it’s coming from.”
“Probably.” He remembered Aurora showing up at his house late one night, smelling of alcohol and being a little too eager to climb into his bed. Fortunately, he’d been so caught up in Lucy he hadn’t been interested—or he would’ve felt even worse about her death. “You’re saying they’ve stuck by it ever since?”
“Really seem to believe it,” she said. “I warned Lucy that they still live in town, and it might not be pleasant for her here,
but...”
“But...” he prompted.
She sighed as she rested her hands on her hips and looked around at the dusty interior. She obviously had her work cut out
for her. “Lucy’s either brave or stupid, because she wanted to rent this place, anyway.”
“So... when’s she coming?”
“Lease starts first of June. But I told her it’s sitting empty, so she can come whenever she wants.”
“And what’d she say to that?”
“She just thanked me—politely—and left it there.”
He didn’t need this complication. He’d come here to escape. But in a way he was glad. Maybe he’d have the chance to apologize
and make up for what he’d done—or hadn’t done—so he could really leave the past in the past. “Do you have her number?”
Dahlia’s eyes narrowed. “I do. Why?”
“I’d like to have it—so I can check on her now and then while she’s here.”
“ Check on her? Last I heard, you were married. As a landlord, I’m not sure I can give out that kind of personal information, anyway.”
“I’m divorced—or soon will be. But this isn’t about that. I feel I should’ve done more for her back then and would like to
be able to look out for her now, from a distance,” he clarified. “I won’t bother her other than to make sure she isn’t harassed.”
Dahlia studied him for several seconds. “Okay, I believe you,” she relented and got out her phone.