The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

was what every child hopes to see on their parent’s face, and despite Raymond Hatcher’s sixty-odd years, he reacted as any little boy would. He opened his huge arms and enfolded his father into them, holding him tenderly and murmuring his happiness through muffled sobs.
    Rawlings and Olivia retreated deeper into the kitchen to give the men some privacy. They sat at the table and waited.
    “Does Ray know?” she whispered.
    “He knows everything about Heinrich Kamler. That he didn’t kill James Hatcher and that he’s his father. I showed him the records. I also told him about Wheeler Ames. And that while he was innocent of one murder, he was guilty of another.”
    Having seen the embrace between father and son, Olivia could tell that Ray Hatcher was prepared to accept these truths, if only to have a few minutes with a man he’d longed to meet all of his life.
    Olivia reached under the polished laminate and searched for Rawlings’ hand. He clutched hers in return, and they sat in silence, seeing the echoes of the last weeks’ anguish and worry and wonder reflected in each other’s eyes.
    Listening to the soft murmurs being exchanged between Ray and Wheeler, Olivia wanted nothing more than to put her head on the chief’s solid shoulder. She wanted to tell him that she was in love with him, but this was not their moment. Their time would come.
    Easing her hand free, she placed her Heinrich Kamler watercolor on the table and smiled at the chief. Rawlings stared at the couple on the beach for a full minute and then brushed her cheek with his fingertips. He understood what she was silently conveying. The kiss of his fingers on her flesh was a clear message of “I’m in love with you too.”

    Several evenings later, Olivia and Haviland pulled in front of the Salters’ house. A blue “Welcome Baby” balloon bounced from the mailbox, and Caitlyn was on the front lawn creating enormous, magical-looking bubbles by running across the grass with a hoop filled with a film of soapy water.
    As Olivia watched, enthralled, a Chinese dragon of a bubble rippled from Caitlyn’s hoop, wriggling and glistening with oil-slick rainbows in the fading light until it popped to the sound of the little girl’s laughter.
    This was why Olivia had come. She needed to be with this family, her family, to see them revolving around one another like a group of planets in orbit. She needed the noise and the joking and the certainty that Anders was truly okay.
    Kim squealed upon seeing her, gushing thanks over the nursery and hugging her repeatedly. Olivia left Haviland outside to snap at bubbles and tiptoed down the hall after Kim.
    “He’s asleep, but I want you to see how happy he is in the room his auntie made for him.”
    Olivia waited as Kim eased the door open and then stepped back. “Take your time. I love to watch him sleep. It makes me feel like all is right with the world.”
    Anders was on his back. The curtains were closed but the lamp was lit and the scattering of stars on his ceiling bathed his face with an angelic glow. He had filled out since Olivia had last seen him, and she marveled at his plump cheeks and chubby wrists, delighting in the rise and fall of his sturdy chest and the strands of silky hair covering his head.
    He sighed and then smiled in his sleep. This was followed by a nearly inaudible coo. Olivia’s breath caught.
    As she stood wondering what Anders dreamed of, she felt someone coming into the room. Caitlyn crossed the carpet to Olivia’s side without a sound and took her hand. Gazing up at her with compassion, she whispered, “They fixed his heart, Aunt Olivia. He’s all better now. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
    Olivia couldn’t believe that such a young child had seen that she was in need of comfort. She knelt down and tucked a strand of loose hair behind Caitlyn’s ear, her heart overflowing. “Thank you, honey. I really wanted someone to say those exact words to me.”
    And then Olivia held her niece close, trying her hardest to believe the little girl’s promise.

Chapter 18
    Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found.
    —D.H. LAWRENCE

    I t would take Oyster Bay a long time to recover from the shock.
    From the outside, everything looked the same. The shops and beaches were filled with tanned tourists, and the rental homes and hotels were booked right through the first weekend of September. The locals smiled and