Page 158 of Secrets Along the Shore

Stop it. Focus.

I chug more coffee, swallowing it and my fear down, andthink.There has to be a simple explanation. Something has to make it make sense.

Before I can think of anything, Valentina finally returns from wherever she’s been, her eyes flying wide when she spots me.

“Sophie! How are you?” she says, not breaking her stride as she wraps two ample arms around my shoulders. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Um, yeah, I just got here,” I say, then realize the partially full cup in my hand suggests otherwise. “A couple of minutes ago.”

“You are in for a treat,” she says. “Mr. Calder asked for chicken and dumplings.”

A voice sounds from behind me. “I did that especially for you.”

Edward is standing in the doorway to the hall, beaming like a kidwho talked his parents into a new PlayStation. “For my lovely future daughter-in-law,” he says, winking, then crossing the space between us to hug me. “And for me, too,” he whispers before pulling back.

Everything in Edward’s countenance says nothing is amiss. That he didn’t see or hear me upstairs, and has no idea I just heard him tell a lawyer to run interference so I don’t learn he was trying to buy the property where Kamden Avery’s body was found.

The problem is,nothingin Edward’s countenance, demeanor, or voice haseversuggested he knows more than he’s letting on regarding Kamden Avery or any aspect of this case. He’s only shown me what he wants me to see.

I’ve never truly understood who this man is or what he’s capable of.

This terrifying realization sends an arctic chill deep into my bones.

It’s almost as terrifying as the fact that, by his own admission, Edward’s motivation for doing whatever he’s done is to keep Kamden Avery’s murder from ruining James’s bid for office.

James. His son. My fiancé.

I can only think of a few reasons why the discovery of Kamden Avery’s body would impact James’s political aspirations—and each one is worse than the last.

The airin the room is heavier than normal as Edward, James, Matthew, their cousin Chandler, and I sit around the table for ten in the imposing dining room. We’re in our regular spots—although Chandler doesn’t have a regular spot, as such. Chandler and other family members show up for dinner from time to time, often unannounced. Why he had to pick tonight of all nights…But maybe that’s good. Chandler doesn’t talk much and is a bit awkward. Maybe any weirdness Edward picks up on, he’ll attribute to Chandler being there.

We dine on chicken and dumplings, biscuits with honey, slaw and green beans, and talk about our work and local sports and the house fire two blocks away a couple of nights ago. I manage to speak, to make sense. On the outside, I pretend. Put on a solid show.

On the inside, I’m an emotional zombie. My brain’s a televisionwith snow on the screen and a constant drone of static, because I’m in shock. My father-in-law may somehow be connected to the death of Kamden Avery…or worse…my fiancé is.

There has to be an explanation.

There has to be.

“…Right, Soph?”

I blink and stare at James, sitting on my left, looking perfectly wonderful as always. The others are looking at me too, except for Chandler, who as usual is on his phone. My thoughts feel like a betrayal, but I don’t know how to make this train jump tracks. Apparently, he’s been talking to me, but I haven’t heard a word he’s said since…well, I don’t know for how long.

“Sorry, I was lost in my head for a second. What was that again?”

“You told me you don’t want a big wedding, right? Small affair?”

My heart plummets. I can’t think about a wedding—our wedding—right now. Not with what I just heard upstairs. For the first time, I don’t get warm fuzzies at the mention of the topic. Instead, a shiver travels down my back. “Um, yeah. Small is better.”

Edward lauds the benefits of a small wedding, while Matthew chimes in that James’s bank account will be happy about it. They all laugh, and I phone in a forced chuckle.

“Any woman I marry is going to have to be okay with a small wedding,” Chandler says, before taking a sip of his pinot noir. “I’m not interested in being on display.”

I need to steer the conversation away from weddings before I lose it.

Okay, Walsh. Come on, girl. Put on your deerstalker and make this work for you.

“Edward,” I say, “I wanted to ask you something about the case I’m investigating. The murder of the woman found this past weekend, Kamden Avery?”