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wanted to do anything that might detract from the explanation he’d given for Lynette’s and Miles’s presence at the cottage together. He’d asked them to check out the cottage for possible expansion. That was what he’d told the police, the press, anyone else who dared ask. The police were satisfied that it was an unfortunate accident with the gas heater and only too glad to have a rational explanation for their presence. End of story.
    Maybe people didn’t really believe that story, but they pretended they did. No one would dare suggest anything else in his hearing, or in Melissa’s. Or would they? He’d like to believe he’d protected his child from the speculation, but he’d never be sure.
    He tilted his head back against cool leather, letting the music soothe his frazzled nerves. He’d done what he had to, all along the line. And if he spent sleepless nights raging at God over this betrayal—well, that was no one’s business but his.
    Sarah thought there was another answer, but she was wrong. He’d accepted that, and she’d be better off if she did, too. Her face formed in his mind—the clear green eyes that weighed and assessed everything, the determined set to her mouth, that stubborn chin. Sarah wouldn’t give up easily.
    That conviction ruffled his thoughts. He’d gotten her offthe island. Word would get around that it wasn’t wise to talk with her, even if she came back. She hadn’t been here long enough to make many friends who’d help her—only the people she’d recruited to help at the fledgling clinic.
    Derek had been as close to her as anyone. Maybe Trent had best close that gap.
    He shoved back the chair and went down the flight of stairs from the loft to the living room. His half brother played with his eyes shut, lost in the music. With his features relaxed, he had a strong resemblance to their mother—the same curly brown hair and full lips. Music had been a bond between him and Lynette, one Trent had never shared.
    â€œDerek.” He leaned against the piano. It was a piece of furniture, nothing else. He could stand here without remembering the hours Lynette had spent playing it.
    Derek played a final chord and then glanced at him, eyes curious. “What’s up?”
    â€œDid you hear that Sarah Wainwright was on the island?”
    Derek whistled softly. “No. Why would she come back?”
    â€œShe has some crazy idea that Miles and Lynette couldn’t have been involved.” He hated the words. They tasted of betrayal. “She wanted my help to prove it.”
    Derek played a random chord or two. “You told her no.”
    â€œOf course I told her no.” Irritation edged his voice. He shouldn’t have to explain that to Derek. “What did you think? That I’d welcome her and jump right into an investigation?”
    â€œGuess not, when you put it that way. Still, you’ve got to feel sorry for the woman. She must be hurting.”
    â€œPoking into the past isn’t going to heal that hurt.” He ought to know. “I’m doing her a favor by shutting her down before she starts.”
    â€œShe probably doesn’t see it that way.”
    â€œMaybe not, but she doesn’t have a choice.”
    â€œFrom what I remember about Sarah, I’d say she isn’t one to take no for an answer. Where is she staying?”
    â€œGone.” He clipped the word. “She was at the inn.”
    Derek filled in the rest. “You sent her packing.”
    â€œYes.” She’d be gone by now. He ignored the faint trace of regret at the thought.
    â€œWell, I guess that’s taken care of, then.” Derek lifted his brows, his brown eyes questioning. “Isn’t it?”
    â€œYou knew her as well as anyone. She might contact you.”
    â€œAnd you want me to do what?”
    â€œThat should be obvious.” He suppressed a flicker of