She started to say that he had not, in fact, told her any such thing. He’d offered to help Lindsay by having some flyers posted, which wasn’t the same as actively searching. She decided to keep the peace and thanked him instead.

“On that note, do you know what exactly led Hope to move here for her fresh start? I mean, there are probably easier places to live than the East End in the summer.”

“We came here together for a visit a couple of months ago. I was thinking about taking a rental. As it turned out, she was the one who fell in love and wanted to make the move. She loves being near a beach.”

“And why was that?”

Even though Lindsay didn’t owe the detective any further explanation, she stopped to ponder the question.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I noticed a long time ago that she seemed totally at peace whenever we were around water. I started wondering whether she might have grown up in a beach town. I pressured her to take a paddle-boarding lesson to see if perhaps it came naturally. The first big wave knocked her over, almost like she’d never even been in the ocean before.”

She suddenly imagined a map of America, Kansas smack-dab in the very oceanless middle. Maybe the trauma that had led to Hope’s memory loss had originated in Kansas. Maybe something involving guns, explaining Hope’s reaction at the shooting range. Someone had finally found her in Hopewell—a stranger spending too much time at the restaurant, asking too many questions. Her instincts told her to leave . . .

She realized she hadn’t been listening to Decker. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You said she liked being on the water,” Decker said. “But she wasn’t a good swimmer? Did you spend any time in the water when you took that trip here together?”

“We went on a fishing trip. I was surprised she wanted to go.”

“So it was her idea? Maybe she used to fish . . . in her former life.”

Surprisingly, Lindsay noted no sarcasm in his voice.

“She never expressed an interest,” she said. “We had tons of fishing not far from Hopewell, but she said it was more about wanting to be out on a boat.”

“Did she keep up with it?” Decker asked. “The fishing, I mean? Or any other activities? Might be helpful to talk to any people out here who got to know her.”

“It’s not like she could afford regular fishing excursions with a guide,” Lindsay said. “But she was a semi-regular at Rowdy Hall. A bartender named Joe said Hope asked him to walk her to her car once. She was worried someone was following her. It lines up with what her boss said.”

“I know Joe,” Decker said. “I’ll swing by and have a talk with him.”

“Really?” Lindsay asked.