Kelsey lifted her hand to wave.

And then she saw Eric’s face and froze.

“Marjorie—” his voice cracked, and he grabbed them, held them close. “Marjorie, it’s Beth.” And then, as if both she and Kelsey were beyond understanding— “My daughter. She’s missing.”

Chapter 2

“WHAT?” MOM’S LIPS MOVED, marionettelike. “What—”

“The boys are with the search party now. I tried to get ahold of you, but—”

“We stopped off to see my parents.” Mom looked dazed. “I never—”

Eric held up his hands. “I have to get back. We can talk on the way.”

He shepherded them to a jeep, throwing their luggage in the back, and Kelsey climbed in with the suitcases.

“It happened three days ago…” His shoulders hunched forward, fingers strained white on the wheel. “I should have kept tabs on her. She’s only thirteen…but my work…” His voice faltered. “I just can’t believe she’s…”

“Don’t,” Mom whispered. “Don’t even think it.”

“They found her sandals and a beach towel—covered with blood…”

Kelsey looked away, suddenly feeling sick.

“Beth’s a good swimmer, like her brothers. She knows the island, and she’s not one to take risks.”

“You don’t think,” Mom suggested gently, “that she…well…staged something…maybe ran away?”

“She was going out that night,” Eric said. “With a local boy she really cared about. Skip Rochford.”

“Skip…” Kelsey murmured, but Eric didn’t hear.

“The ferry only runs to the mainland twice a day. The last trip’s at four, and Beth was still home then. I know because she yelled at me from the hall, and I looked at the clock on my desk.”

“What about a private boat?” Mom was almost begging.

“They’ve already checked it out. Beth had no reason to leave here—she was happy.”

Skip Rochford! Kelsey was sure that had been the name of the boy on the boat, but if that was the same Skip Rochford Eric was talking about, then why hadn’t he seemed more upset? She pressed her nose against the fogged window, staring, when suddenly out of the rolling mist ahead something loomed up like a watchful animal. She leaned forward, frowning at the rocky horizon, at the black, ugly scars swelling against the hazy twilight, until the car turned into a driveway and stopped alongside a cottage.

The front door banged open immediately. “Dad?”

“Justin—has there been any—”

The shake of the boy’s head stopped Eric in his tracks. “Nothing. They’re still searching the cliffs, but…” He looked at Kelsey and her mother standing awkwardly by the car.

“Justin,” Eric murmured, “this is Marjorie and Kelsey. This is my son Justin.”

“You look cold,” Justin said softly. “Come on inside.”

He stood a head taller than Kelsey, and although she knew he was about her age, his face had a mixture of solemnity and little-boyishness he would probably never outgrow. His hair was sun-tinted brown, silkily brushing his shoulders, and his eyes were big and brown and gentle, lowering shyly as she stared at him.

As Mom went into the house with Eric, Kelsey hesitated on the porch. “I’m…really sorry,” she stammered.