Twilight at Blueberry Barrens (Sunset Cove #3)(2)
Kate handed them over and shivered as the early morning fog rolled in. Even though it was late June, the wind was cold off the sea, and her thin jacket did little to hold back its bite.
Claire adjusted the binoculars and gasped. “You’ll have to notify Kevin.” Their cousin was the local game warden, and he’d want to monitor this site.
“I’ll call him.” Her pulse jumping, Kate studied the puffin nest way above their heads. A bird with a fish in its beak landed in the burrow.
Kate and her twin looked much alike with their dark-blonde hair and big blue eyes, but while Claire had the sharp business mind it had taken to run an aviation business, Kate was just getting past the chemo fog from the aplastic-anemia treatment that had saved her life. Correction—Claire had saved her life by showing up in time to be a donor for the stem-cell transplant Kate had desperately needed.
Claire handed back the binoculars. “I heard they mate for life.”
“Which is the only reason you’re interested in them. You like anything to do with romance these days.” Kate smiled at the color washing over Claire’s cheeks. “You’d move your wedding up if you could.”
“I would. My mother wouldn’t hear of it though, and everything is booked now. Luke and I will just have to wait it out. It’s only a few more weeks. You’re still going to sing, right? You need to quit hiding that amazing voice of yours. You’re as good as Adele.”
Kate’s cheeks warmed. “Not hardly. But yes, I’m not backing out on you.” She lifted the binoculars to her eyes again and trained them up the jagged cliff of pink and gray to the ledge jutting out over the rocky shore about forty feet up. She greedily stared at the nesting burrows. Such an exciting sight was rare.
Something other than birds filled her field of vision, and it took a moment for her to register what she was seeing. Frowning, she adjusted the binoculars. It could not be what it seemed.
The figure sharpened into focus, and she made out long blonde hair fanning out on the rocks at the base of the burrows. Wait, was that another person beside the woman? She moved her field of sight and saw short dark hair and muscular arms.
She leaped into action. “Two people are hurt. I think they might have fallen off the cliff, maybe while looking at the puffins. We have to get up there!”
Claire caught at her arm. “We don’t have climbing equipment.”
Kate pulled free and headed for the water. She had to try to get to the base of the cliffs and climb up. She kicked off her shoes and waded into the pounding waves. The frigid water took her breath away, and a huge wave tossed her back onto the sand. Gasping, she turned for another try, but Claire grabbed her arm again.
Claire held her in a tight grip. “You can’t! The waves are treacherous here. We need help. I’ll call the Coast Guard. Kevin too.” She dug out her phone and placed the call.
Kate paced the wet sand. There had to be something she could do. She peered back up at the rock face. A movement drew her attention, and she saw a plume of dirt from the back end of a pickup truck. Mud caked every inch of its body, and she couldn’t make out the color or model as it drove along the high road. It likely had nothing to do with the accident, but at least the guy could have stopped to help.
Claire ended the call. “Luke’s Coast Guard cutter is less than five minutes away.”
Was it too late already? Kate looked at the figures at the puffin burrows. They weren’t moving. She eyed the rugged and weathered sea cliff that soared straight up into the air. Claire was right—there was no way they’d be able to climb up.
Two hours later the Coast Guard told her the couple was dead. Kate couldn’t have saved them even if she’d tried.
TWO
The small clapboard cottage where Kate grew up sat squarely in the middle of their blueberry barrens just off Highway 1, about fifteen miles northeast of Summer Harbor. The placement of its windows and shutters made the house, painted two shades of blue, seem to smile a welcome that she badly needed after the morning’s events. She got out of her yellow Volkswagen and shut the door.
Her best friend, Shelley McDonald, came down off the porch as Kate pulled into the driveway. Her long red hair gleamed in the sunlight. Her pale skin never tanned, so she usually covered her bare legs with jeans. “I brought lunch, homemade lobster bisque. It’s in the kitchen. And chocolate for dessert. You need a little TLC.”
Kate hugged her. “I’m still a little shaky. And to top it all off, I had a flat tire on the way home.” She followed her friend up the porch steps to the house. The aroma of bisque wafting out the screen door made her mouth water. She and Claire had spent hours going over what they’d seen and heard at the cliffside, and lunch should have been eaten two hours ago.
She led the way to the kitchen and washed her hands, filthy from changing the tire, then got down two Fiesta bowls in bright orange, Christmas gifts from Claire last December. “The news is all over Downeast Maine, huh?”
Shelley took the bowls from Kate. “You have no idea. I stopped in to buy the bisque at Ruth & Wimpy’s, and everyone stopped me to ask about it. I couldn’t tell them much, not even the names. Does the sheriff know what happened?”
“They’re investigating. He thinks it might have been a murder/suicide. The husband might have killed his wife, tossed her over, then jumped himself.” Kate shuddered, remembering the bodies. She pushed the thought away and focused on Shelley. “About ready to go?” Kate hated to ask. Her friend’s looming move didn’t make her happy, but Shelley seemed thrilled. She had taken a teaching position in Rock Harbor, Michigan, half a continent away.