“If you ask her in a supportive way, I don’t see why not,” she counseled, hating herself as she slipped willingly into the role.

“You can sympathize with what she’s going through, with her divorce,” he said, “since you and Pete were together so long. All three of us have been there. Except you’re much stronger than Grace.”

His marriage counselor had been right when he’d called Rory a caretaker. He was.

The sun was still high above the horizon, but had grown huge and orange when they packed up their equipment, stuck the bucket of crabs in the basket of Rory’s bicycle and headed back across the island. They rode directly to the Sea Shanty.

Shelly and Chloe were discussing what they should have for dinner when the crabs arrived, and they immediately got into the spirit, digging the crab steamer out from the dark recesses of the cupboards, filling it with water and putting it on to boil. They got out two sticks of butter, hammers, crackers and picks. Laughter filled the kitchen, along with easy chatter, and Daria had to admit to herself that she and Rory were no more than a couple of good friends, cleaning crabs together on a Saturday night

Dob Myerson handed Rory a bottle of beer and took a seat in the wicker chair. The trees outside Bob’s livingroom window dripped with pale, purply Spanish moss, and Rory’s gaze was drawn to them as he told the retired detective the reason for his visit.

“I think you’re going to be disappointed,” Bob said.

“Maybe,” Rory said.

“But I have to try. You were closer to that case than anyone else. I’ve read the police reports, but I’d like to hear it firsthand from you. What do you really think happened?”

The detective’s house was located deep in the woods of Colington Island. Although the island was only a few miles from Kill Devil Hills, Rory had gotten lost and was running late. He was supposed to meet Grace at Poll-Rory at six, and they were planning to go out to dinner with the Cato family. Even Zack was going, although that had taken some arm-twisting. Rory thought he’d be able to squeeze in this meeting with the detective first, but between getting lost and the man’s enthusiasm for discussing football, time was getting short.

The detective sighed.

“We didn’t uncover much, I’m afraid,” he said.

“There were a bunch of teenage girls in the area at that time, and every one of them, it seemed, pointed her finger at someone else. But we couldn’t subject anyone to a physical examination without more evidence to go on. So, if it was one of those girls, well, she got away with it.” He shrugged his thick shoulders, and Rory imagined the detective had been formidable in his college-football days, of which he’d already heard too much.

“But, to be honest,” Bob continued, “I don’t think it was any of them.” “Who do you think it was, then?”

Bob took a swallow of his beer and rested the bottle on his bare knee. “There were a couple of women who’d been reported missing around that time,” he said.

“One of them was from North Carolina, inland a ways, and the other from Virginia. Neither of them was ever found. My best guess is that one of them was Shelly Cato’s mother. The family of the North Carolina girl thought she might be pregnant, although they didn’t think she was that far along. What I think is that the girl was more pregnant than they figured, and she was despondent and scared. I think she delivered the baby right there on the beach sometime that night or early morning, then walked straight out in the ocean and drowned herself.”

“But wouldn’t her body have washed up, then?” Rory asked.

“Oh, you can’t really predict what the ocean’s going to do with a body.” Bob took another swallow of his beer.

“Where can I get information on the girls who were missing?” Rory asked.

“Their names should be in the police report.”

Rory vaguely remembered something about a missing girl or two. He would have to reread those reports.

Bob raised his now-empty bottle of beer in the air.

“Ready for another one?” he asked.

“No, thanks,” Rory stood up.

“I’d better be going. I’m meeting some people for dinner.”

Bob walked him to the door.

“You’re neighbors of the baby’s family, aren’t you?” he asked.

“The Catos?”

“That’s right. That’s who I’m having dinner with.”

“Well, tell that Supergirl Cato… what’s her name?”

“Daria.”

“Right. Tell her to get back to work. I’ve heard they miss her over at Emergency Services.”

“I’ll tell her,” Rory said, although he doubted he would. There was something Daria was not telling him about why she’d quit her EMT position. He’d sensed that each time she talked about it, and he figured she would not take kindly to anyone pressuring her to return to work.

Rory spotted the Catos on the crowded deck behind the sound side restaurant.

“There they are,” he said to Grace and Zack as they walked onto the deck.

Daria and Shelly sat at a large round table with a man and woman. The woman was Ellen, Rory figured, and the man was probably her husband.

Chloe was missing.

He waved, and Daria saw him and stood to wave back. The sound was behind her, still and slate-blue below the setting sun.

“You found us,” she said. She looked scrubbed clean and pretty, no makeup on her tanned face. She wore a sleeveless white dress, and her thick hair was pulled back in a ponytail. No sawdust in it tonight.

“Hi, everyone,” Rory said.

“This is Grace. I guess only Shelly has officially met her. And this is my son, Zack.” He put his arm around Zack and tried to draw him forward, but Zack remained stiff.

“I’ve already met them,” Zack said.

“Well, you’ve met Daria and Shelly, but not Ellen and her husband, right?” Rory tried to keep good cheer in his voice.

“Ellen, hi,” he said, then lied politely.

“You look great.”

“Hello, Rory,” Ellen said.

“Long time no see.” Ellen had put on quite a bit of weight. Of the three Cato girls he’d known from his youth, she had changed the most. The flesh on her face was looser. Her hair had grayed markedly and had lost its healthy sheen. Chloe and Daria were aging far more gracefully, he thought.

“This is Ted,” Ellen said, gesturing toward her husband.

Ted stood and gave Rory a bone crusher of a handshake, yet he was a soft-looking man, with friendly eyes and a spare tire around his middle.

“Honored to meet you,” Ted said.

“I’m an old Rams fan.”

“Me, too.” Rory smiled.

“Have a seat, Zack,” Daria invited, and with a sullen shrug, Zack sat down next to Shelly. Rory held out the chair next to Ted for Grace, then took his own seat between Grace and his son.

“Where’s Chloe?” he asked.

“At a vespers service,” Daria said.

“At St. Esther’s,” Shelly added.

“Ah,” he said.

“What a lovely view from here,” Grace said.

“Surpassed only by the food,” Ted added, and although Rory didn’t look at Zack, he could imagine him rolling his eyes at the banality of the conversation. He knew Zack would far rather be with Kara tonight than at this table filled with adults.

Grace, on the other hand, had accepted the invitation with delight.

She wanted to meet the Catos, she’d said, and she’d love to see Shelly again. Rory was feeling some disappointment in Grace, though, and it had taken him several days to recognize the reason for his subtle dismay:

Grace had shown little interest in Zack. She’d asked the boy virtually no questions, and did not even talk to Rory about him. Rory had brought up the subject several times, trying to get Grace’s input on the relationship problems he and Rory were having, but Grace barely seemed to listen as he spoke. Her indifference came as a surprise and a letdown.

Especially after the interest she’d shown in Shelly. He’d expected too much of her, he knew. She had her own trials and tribulations to grapple with.

“Hey, Dar!” A good-looking man walked by their table on the way to his own, stopping to bend low and kiss Daria’s cheek.

“Hi, Mike, how are you doing?” Daria asked.

“Just great,” he said, giving her bare shoulders a squeeze.

“We miss you.”

“I miss you guys, too,” Daria said.

Mike winked at Shelly, nodded to the rest of the table, then walked across the deck where he joined a woman and another couple.

“One of your pals?” Rory teased Daria.

She wrinkled her nose at him.

“Exactly,” she said.

“Fellow EMT.”

They ordered their dinners. At first Zack said he wanted nothing to eat, but Shelly insisted he try the crab cakes.

“They’re the best in the universe,” she said, and Zack ordered them, probably to stop Shelly from bugging him.

Conversation was superficial but swift. Ted wanted to talk about fishing and football, Ellen, about the shopping spree she had planned for the following day. Grace suggested shops Ellen might try farther south. Rory and Daria joined in the chatter wherever they could, but Rory was keenly aware of Zack’s silence. He wished there was some way he could bring his son into the conversation without it looking obvious and contrived, thereby earning Zack’s wrath.

Shelly suddenly whispered something to Zack, and Rory realized that he was not the only person at this table aware of the boy’s shyness amidst the adults. She whispered again, and a smile crossed Zack’s lips. He

whispered something back to her, and she giggled. The adult con n versation still surged across the table, but Rory listened in on Shelly and Zack to the best of his ability.

“Which one?” Shelly asked Zack.

“Kara,” Zack said.

“She is so cute,” Shelly said.

“Yeah,” Zack said.

“Did you have a girlfriend in California?” Shelly asked.

Rory leaned a little closer to his son, curious to hear his answer.

“A couple,” Zack said. He looked at Rory, letting him know he was on to his snooping, then turned his back on his father and continued talking with Shelly in private. There were more giggles and, on Zack’s part, some outright laughter. Rory smiled to himself, grateful to Shelly. She knew exactly what she was doing, he thought. She’d seen Zack’s discomfort and made the effort to bring him out of his shell.

Their food was served, and halfway through the meal, Shelly asked Zack, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Have you gone to watch the hang gliders yet?”

“Yeah,” Zack said, “and my dad and I are going to take a hang-gliding lesson soon.” He glanced at Rory.

“Right?” he asked.

“Right,” Rory said, pleased to have a chance to draw Shelly and Zack’s private chat into the conversation of the adults.

“We watched one of the classes. It didn’t look that dangerous.”

“Well,” Ellen said to Rory, “I hope your will is up-to- date.”

“Oh,” Shelly said, “I think it would be wonderful. I always wanted to do it, but I was afraid to, because I might have a seizure. But Father Sean hang-glides all the time.”

“Father Sean?” Zack asked.

“Is that a priest?”

“Yup,” Shelly said. “A priest who hang-glides?” Zack asked in amazement.

“I hope Father Macy’s piloting skills are better than his preaching skills,” Ellen said.

The insult seemed to go over Shelly’s head.

“He’s been gliding ever since I can remember,” she said.

“And he even won a contest a few years ago. Right, Daria?” She looked at her sister for confirmation.

“That’s right,” Daria said.

“He won the summer competition. It’s held every year. The next one’s in a few weeks, and I bet he’ll be in it again.”

“If it wasn’t for Father Sean,” Shelly said, “I wouldn’t be sitting here with you all today.”

Ellen laughed.

“No,” she said.

“You’d probably be sitting with a nice, normal family somewhere. Maybe even a wealthy family. Look what you missed out on.”

“Ellen,” Ted said in a voice too small for his size.

“Shelly has a perfectly fine family.”

“Why wouldn’t you be sitting here?” Zack asked Shelly. “What did Father Sean or Macy or whoever he is have to do with it?”

“Sean Macy—the priest—helped my parents adopt Shelly when she was an infant,” Daria explained.

“So we all have a special place in our hearts for him.” “Dad said Daria found you on the beach when you were a baby,” Zack said to Shelly.

“Yes, but I don’t remember it.”

Rory’s mind drifted for a moment. Maybe he should have a talk with Sean Macy, since he’d been involved in Shelly’s adoption. He wouldn’t know anything about Shelly’s parentage, of course, but still, it would be interesting to hear his memories of that time. And the priest certainly sounded human and approachable.