“He was standing behind a lanky boy digging in his capacious pockets for the right change for half a dozen postcard stamps. Dozens of youths cluttered the streets of Hawke’s Cove in the summer, mostly indistinguishable one from another, camouflaged into anonymity by their baggy pants and backward baseball caps. Maybe it was the boy’s intense study of one of the postcards in his hand, or the bend of his neck, but Grainger was certain that he knew this kid. As the boy turned away from the window, ...Grainger nodded to him, with a nominal I’m-sure-I-know-your-parents smile. Then Grainger’s smile froze, but the boy turned away before the look on Grainger’s face exposed how startled he was at the sight of those wide-spaced blue eyes. Grainger knew who he was, who he had to be. Without question.He was the image of his mother. Masculine, to be sure, but the same honey blond hair, the same ocean blue eyes, so achingly familiar. The spontaneous dimpled smile as he responded to Grainger’s half-smile.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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