Excerpt: Chapter 1

It’s grief, Peter decided.

He stood on the gravel path to Seaside Serenity Inn, hands in pockets, forcing a dispassionate assessment.

The inn looked exactly as he remembered it, nothing had changed in years. So it had to be him, his loss coloring everything these days, filling the spaces between objects and conversations with its own particular brand of subtle, insidious unease.

Yes. Just sorrow. Just loneliness. Nothing more.

But the prickle at the back of his neck wasn’t sorrow. He hadn’t expected it, but there it was: that old shiver his former partner in homicide used to call his ‘whispering ghost.’

It was the instinct that had made him a good detective, warning him, sometimes with uncanny certainty, when something was about to happen.

Just like now.

He couldn’t shake the sense that something was off here.

Not exactly wrong. Just… in the works. Waiting.

He waited too, hoping the feeling would fade while the driver circled around to the trunk.

The crash of waves nearby filled the quiet like an echo from another life, carrying the past forward to lay at his feet like driftwood.

But the inn was real enough. Its weathered shingles and wraparound porch were unchanged since the last time he’d stayed here.

Sara had been a skinny eleven-year-old with pigtails.

His hair hadn’t had a trace of gray.

And June was alive.

It’s a defense mechanism, he told himself. You’re conjuring forebodings to avoid something worse.

It’s what his therapist would’ve said, had he been seeing a therapist.

“Here you go, sir.” The driver handed him his luggage. “Or I could carry it up for you.”

Peter took the suitcase. “Gray hair, not feeble.”

The other laughed. “You look strong enough to me. Enjoy the vacation.”

The young man got in the car and cranked up the ignition.

Young man. Peter chuckled. The driver looked about forty. Had it really been that long ago he was that age? Sometimes it felt like forever, other times just yesterday.

As he came through the front doors, the scent of polished wood and honeysuckle surfaced a tide of memories.

Sara laughing on a chestnut horse by the shore. June holding his hand on the pier. The three of them on the porch, ice cream dripping down cones. Memories like old Hollywood photos, real enough to touch, yet mere fading copies of a time long gone.

The receptionist, a good-looking kid in his early twenties whose name tag read Jared, smiled at him. “Welcome to Seaside Serenity Inn. Are you in town for the art festival? People come from across the country, even overseas. This year’s special: work by our own Lucas Moretti. Brilliant but reclusive. The whole town’s buzzing.”

Peter filed the name away as he set down his suitcase. “Sounds like I picked an interesting week to visit.”

Not that he did the picking. Before she passed away, June had made him promise he’d take Sara and Olivia on vacation after she was gone. She’d put money aside for it, insisting he use it to reconnect, mend what distance and a lifetime of misunderstandings had slowly unraveled over the years. How could he say ‘no’?

The sound of quick footsteps against the wooden floor made him turn. A girl of about nine was running toward him, long dark curls bouncing with each step. For a moment, he was convinced it was little Sara, the way she had been all those years ago. His heart skipped a beat, expecting June to appear behind their daughter with an expression caught between exasperation and indulgence.

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” The girl’s excited cries shattered the illusion.

Reality settled in with a bittersweet ache as he bent down to receive Olivia in his open arms. He embraced her gently, pressing a kiss to her temple and stifling a sigh.

Behind her, Sara approached with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Peter hugged her too, holding on for just a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to reassure her—or himself. When they pulled apart, he saw it quite clearly: that same guarded look he’d often seen in suspects.

Was it the divorce that had hollowed her out like this? Or was it everything that came before it?

“Good to see you, kid.”

“You too, Dad.” Sara’s expression remained unreadable. “You timed your arrival well, got here just in time for dinner.”

“It’s my special talent.”

He watched her wrap an arm around Olivia’s shoulders, pulling her close, further away from him. And just like that, the past slipped away completely, leaving only the bare present in its wake. He hid the pang behind a smile.

“So. Let’s eat?”