A seagull called in the distance, a lonely cry beneath the relentless rush of the waves. From somewhere far away came the solitary wail of a boat whistle.

“I think she drowned,” Neale said at last. “I don’t think it was an accident.”

In one split second Kelsey felt all her fears congeal like ice around her heart. She scarcely trusted her voice to speak. “Then…you think…”

“Someone killed her.”

The surf roared in her head…or was it the wind roaring…or just his eyes, boring into her and through her, with that blackness that was so…inhuman? She tried to swallow over the lump in her throat. “But…why?”

“Why?” Neale repeated. He looked down at his hand slowly tightening into a fist. “Because she was there. Because it was a good night to push someone off a cliff. Take your pick.”

Kelsey didn’t like the tone of his voice, so casual, so detached. He leaned forward, very, very slowly, until his eyes were inches from hers.

“And you think she was murdered, too.” His eyes were almost amused. “Don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. She watched his hand loosen…clench…loosen again upon his knee.

“And it makes me wonder why you think that,” he said quietly. “Why you would ever think that Beth might have been murdered.”

She stared hard at a spot on the windshield, wishing she had never brought it up, never gotten into this jeep, never come to this stupid island— “I don’t think anything,” she said. “I’m just trying to understand it, that’s all.”

“Don’t.” He twisted back into driving position, but his hand stopped halfway to the ignition as he glanced over at her. “Don’t make it your business. You’ll just end up getting hurt.”

Kelsey’s heart tightened unmercifully. She wanted to look away from him, to jump out and run from him, but his eyes held her there, compelling her to look back. “You’ll just end up getting hurt…”

“Can we go back now?” she heard herself mumble.

He revved the jeep into action, reaching the cottage within minutes. Kelsey didn’t say anything more to him, and Neale drove away without a backward glance. “You’ll just end up getting hurt…” His words hung there in the pale mist, adding another chill to the morning. She pulled her windbreaker tightly around her and sat down on the steps, trying to think. Why is Neale so convinced that Beth’s been hilled? She was glad when Donna strolled up the drive, lugging a picnic basket.

“What did you do? Clean out your whole restaurant?” She waved and was answered by Donna’s contagious giggle.

“This should hold us till the beach party tonight.”

“What beach party?”

“Oh, didn’t the guys tell you? They have to work tonight for a party. A bunch of people from the mainland reserved the beach for some big special deal, and the law says they have to have lifeguards there.”

“So why are we going?”

Donna’s eyes twinkled. “We’re dates. Don’t tell me you haven’t been asked yet—”