Close to the Bone (Widow's Island #1)(2)

Cate understood. The big ferry system of the Puget Sound area didn’t stop at Ruby’s Island. All supplies were delivered by smaller boats. She thanked Dick and Adam and headed for the woods, glad she’d worn her heaviest boots. The ground was soft from the recent November rains.

Cate’s boss had called her in the middle of the night, well aware she was on leave for six weeks. “The ferry from the mainland to Widow’s Island is down, and we need an agent on the scene immediately,” he’d told her. “I hate to ask you, but I’m also relieved that you’re already there.”

“I’m on leave,” she’d muttered into the phone, knowing it didn’t matter. When children were lost, the FBI got involved.

“I’ll get another agent out there as soon as the ferry is running again.”

Cate had sighed. Widow’s Island was small and distant from the more popular San Juan and Puget Sound Islands. Seattle commuters didn’t live in this area; only island locals lived here. Sometimes the ferry was unavailable for days because Widow’s Island was low on the priority list.

She hiked up the slope, the pain in her shoulder reminding her that she was on medical leave.

Not tonight.

After following the lights through the woods for several minutes, Cate spotted a group. Three men and one woman. Happiness bubbled up in Cate’s chest at the sight of the woman’s profile. The group turned to see who was approaching, and Tessa Black’s jaw dropped open.

“Cate!” Tessa launched herself at Cate and nearly knocked her over with a big hug.

“Hey, Tessa.” Cate returned her old friend’s hug, joyful tears burning in her eyes. I should have told her days ago that I was visiting.

Tessa pulled back, her gaze searching Cate. “You’re the FBI agent they sent?”

“Yes.” Cate wasn’t ready to explain.

“It’s so good to see you. It’s been forever.” Tessa squeezed Cate’s hand, her smile nearly as wide as her face.

“It feels good,” Cate agreed. “I’ve missed you,” she added softly, stealing a glance at the curious group of men watching the two of them. Cate nodded at Kurt, the deputy she recognized. She looked back at Tessa and swallowed hard, searching for the nerve to ask a painful question.

Tessa’s blue eyes suddenly filled with sympathy. “I wondered the same,” her friend whispered in a shaking voice.

“Could it be?” asked Cate.

“Maybe.”

Becca Conan wasn’t the only young teenager who had vanished from the islands.

Samantha Bishop, the third member of Cate and Tessa’s tight teenage trio, had vanished nearly twenty years ago.





2


Dr. Henry Powers watched the two women emotionally greet each other. Clearly the dark-haired woman was not the FBI agent Deputy Black had expected.

“Cate and Tessa have been friends since they were tiny,” Deputy Kurt Olson informed Henry and the other deputy. “Cate’s been gone for . . .” Kurt screwed up his gray-stubbled face as he thought. “Must be over fifteen years now. She visits occasionally. Her grandmother still lives on the island.”

“Looks like a happy reunion,” Henry commented. But then both women’s faces fell, and they lowered their voices. They looked ready to cry.

Maybe not so happy.

They drew apart, their faces still solemn, and Tessa introduced the FBI agent to the group.

Cate Wilde looked cold even though she was bundled up in a coat and scarf. An island breeze had started and frequently blew her long black hair across her face. She’d brush it away impatiently. Henry shook Cate’s hand, wondering what had abruptly depressed the women’s reunion. As he met her gaze, the discomfort in her blue eyes startled him.

She’s in physical pain.

He’d seen enough in his years as a doctor to instantly recognize it.

Cate smiled for the introduction, but it appeared forced. “I understand you took over for Dr. Hardy,” she said. “He delivered me and was the only doctor I ever saw until I left for college.”

“I think a few dozen people have told me the same story,” Henry replied, pleased to see his comment created a real smile on Cate’s face.

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

It was true. Ninety percent of the people he’d met during his six weeks on Widow’s Island had informed him of their history with his predecessor. It’d been interesting the first few times, but most of the stories included criticism of what Henry did differently from the old doctor. The islanders weren’t receptive to change.

Will they tell stories about me one day?

If I stick it out.

The job had brought a few surprises. Tonight he’d learned that he’d inherited the title of county coroner. The midnight phone call from the sheriff’s office had caught him off guard.

“You’re the only doctor around, aren’t you?” the sleepy, gruff voice had asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re the coroner, just like Dr. Hardy was before you.”

“I guess I can tell when a person is dead.” Henry had seen his share of murder victims. And attempted murder victims. A dismal perk of working in a busy Los Angeles emergency room. “How many deaths a year do you get around here?”