The Truth About Comfort Cove

He slid the fax cover sheet underneath the actual data page and briefly glanced at the headings, before going straight for the results.

Frowning, he then read the heading in full. It didn’t make sense. He pulled the cover letter back out, and read the message that Lori Givens had sent him.

And stood there.

Good God in heaven.

Frank Whittier’s plane should have landed. Lucy waited impatiently for Ramsey to get back with the official word from Lori regarding Frank’s sample. Fully confident that all things happened as they were meant to, she knew there was no mistake that Lori’s call had come in on the very day that Frank would be in Massachusetts. They wouldn’t have to wait to have him extradited. They could bring him right in.

This one couldn’t wait until after Emma’s wedding. Lucy had faith that Emma would agree with her. If Frank had taken Claire, Emma would most definitely not want the man at her wedding.

Tapping her finger on the table in time with her foot on the floor, she wondered what was taking Ramsey so long. She didn’t want the coffee he’d poured. A little juice would be nice, though.

There were paper cups on the counter by the refrigerator. If Comfort Cove was anything like Aurora, there’d be juice in the refrigerator to go with those cups. And a place to drop change to help replenish the juice when the supply was depleted.

She waited another couple of minutes, eyeing the cups and the refrigerator and then got up to help herself. She’d just poured the juice into the cup—cranberry, not the orange she’d been expecting—and still hadn’t had the sip she’d been craving when Ramsey opened the door.

Cup halfway to her mouth, Lucy froze. “Ramsey? What is it?”

He was haggard-looking. His cheeks were drawn and his color wasn’t good. Heart pounding, she didn’t move.

“Sit down, Lucy.”

“Tell me what’s happened.” It wasn’t the fax. No matter how badly they wanted Frank Whittier, a case wouldn’t make Ramsey look as if he’d seen a ghost. He’d been gone too long.

“You need to sit down.”

It was Sandy. She’d left Ramsey’s number with Marie as a backup. Her mother had found out about Allie. She’d killed herself. She… “Tell me,” she said, her voice too loud. “Tell me, now.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Tell me!” The shrill tone couldn’t be her. But there was no one else there. Just the two of them. In a little room with a closed door blocking out the rest of the world. Her juice sluiced over the sides of her paper cup.

“Did Lori Givens show you how DNA matching works?”

She didn’t give a damn about Lori right now. “Yes,” she bit out. “When we were working on the Buckley case. I asked her to explain it to me.”

“And you gave her a sample of your DNA to use for the lesson.”

“Yes!” So what? Who the hell cared. “Tell me what’s going on, Ramsey!”

She had to know. Couldn’t take any more. Her limbs felt weak, but she wasn’t going to take this sitting down.

They kept their station too hot.

She couldn’t lose Sandy.

“We found Claire, Luce.” The elation that should have accompanied his statement wasn’t there. He sounded…lost.

Claire was dead, too. The knowledge settled on Lucy with a certainty that weighted her to her spot. They were going to have to tell Emma that her little sister hadn’t made it.

And by the look on Ramsey’s face, the little girl had suffered.

A lot.

“Where was she?” she asked. Still standing. Still holding her juice. There was no room in the moment for movement. Of any kind. Claire took everything they had.

“She’s here.” His eyes were warm. Settled on her. And vacant, too. As if he was seeing something she couldn’t see.