“You’re up early,” Neale said. She could feel the intensity of his stare, even though his eyes were part of the morning darkness, and she tried to stare back, undaunted.

“So are you.”

“I always am.” He moved off and climbed into his jeep. “You need a lift somewhere?” he asked without looking up.

“No…I was just going for a walk.”

“Suit yourself.” The jeep’s engine grudgingly came to life. Kelsey watched as Neale aimed it for the break in the trees.

“Neale!” she called. “Wait!” She suddenly found herself clutching the door handle and looking up into his eyes. There was something so cold about them…black and bottomless. For one weird instant she had the sensation of peering straight down into his soul—and finding nothing there. The shock of it brought her back again, to his insolent gaze and the impatient set of his mouth. “How’s Justin this morning?” she asked lamely.

He jerked his thumb in the direction of the house. “Asleep. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” He reached down to shift gears, and her hand came down on his arm.

“Wait. I’ve got to ask you something important. It’s about Beth.”

This time there was a response in the eyes, as if something roused and warily wakened. Kelsey’s fingers loosened on his arm, and her heart gave an uneasy flutter.

“Get in,” he nodded.

She sat as far from him as she could without falling out of the jeep, and he drove slowly, both hands on the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead. They headed down the beach toward the concession stands and the boat docks, Neale’s eyes keen upon the shadows, as if he could ferret out their darkest secrets. Kelsey sat still and waited for him to say something. At last the jeep braked to an abrupt halt. Neale shifted his body so that he was facing her and appraised her with his eyes.

“So, what do you want to know?” he asked.

Kelsey took a deep breath and plunged in. “I know everyone’s saying that Beth had an accident That she—”

“Drowned,” Neale finished for her, and she realized she was looking for something in his face—remorse, sorrow, something—but there was nothing that hinted of any emotion, “You don’t have to be so careful. Facts don’t shock me at all. Besides, I’ve pretty much accepted it.”

It was a strange kind of acceptance, Kelsey thought, as if it hadn’t taken much effort on his part. “But Justin hasn’t accepted it—”

“Yes, I’m sorry for Justin. And for my father. Isn’t that what you want me to say? I’m sorry for anyone when tragedy comes.” He leaned back into the corner and propped one foot on the edge of the seat, draping one arm across his knee. “And tragedies do happen. To all of us, sooner or later.”

In spite of her windbreaker, goosebumps broke out over her arms. Kelsey rubbed them, met his level gaze, saw that his walls had gone up again, “But you don’t think she drowned, do you?”