“Would you like me to close the door?” he asked, and she nodded, so he did. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you,” Caitlin said nervously as he settled into his chair behind the desk. She licked her lips, wishing she had rehearsed what she wanted to say. “I, um, I know this mightseem like a strange question, but I-I’m trying to make sense of an accident that happened in Lucinda’s Hamlet twenty years ago and I wondered if you might be able to give me information that would be helpful.”
He rubbed his jaw. “That depends on the type of accident, and whether the fire department responded to the call. We keep records of fires, but the department of motor vehicles or the police department is your best bet for information about vehicular collisions and crashes.”
“It wasn’t that kind of accident. It was a drowning,” said Caitlin. “I should’ve been clearer. I’m not asking you for information because you’re the fire chief. I’m asking because I think you may have been friends with the girl who drowned. She was visiting Dune Island on a family vacation, and staying at The Windmill Cottages, which my aunt and uncle owned at the time. Her name was Nicole Dixon.”
Craig’s expression and posture didn’t change, but Caitlin noticed a tiny flicker of recognition pass across his eyes. “I’m familiar with the details of the drowning, but I wasn’t friends with the victim,” he stated.
“Are you sure?” Caitlin gently prodded. She pulled the photos and paper placemat from her pocket. “I think you’re in these snapshots with her and two other kids from that summer. I’m sorry if this is upsetting, but if you could take a look, it might jog your memory.” She handed him the strip of photos, which he glanced at briefly and handed back to her.
“Yeah, I guess that looks like me,” he said, as if he kind of doubted it.
Caitlin was incredulous. She held the photo so it was facing him. “You really don’t remember hanging out with Nicole?”
He shrugged. “Back then, lifeguards were very popular. Girls came up to us all the time on the beach and asked to take photos with us.”
“But this wasn’t taken at the beach—it was taken at the arcade.”
“Same difference. That’s where I went on my lunch break, and there were lots of girls hanging out in there, too.”
“But in this photo, the two of you were kissing, so?—”
“Look again.Iwasn’t kissing her.Shewas kissingme. On the cheek.” He seemed to be splitting hairs for some reason, and it reminded Caitlin of when Jonathan implied she wasn’t really seeing what she thought she was seeing.
“Okay, but it seems strange you wouldn’t remember hanging out with Nicole, considering she drowned shortly after this photo was taken. Everyone on the island was talking about it. The accident was even covered on the Boston news.”
Instead of refuting her point, Craig said, “You seem to know a lot more about her and the accident than I do, so I’m not sure how I can be helpful to you.”
Feeling stonewalled, Caitlin tried not to let her frustration show. “Could you please look at this again and tell me if you know the names of the other kids?” she asked politely.
He took the strip of photos from her extended hand and squinted at it. “I can’t even see this girl’s face. I don’t know who the guy is, either.”
“Didn’t you work with him?”
“It’s possible, but he could’ve worked at any of the beaches in the area. He doesn’t look like anyone I grew up with from around here, so he was probably one of the summer people who landed a seasonal job as a lifeguard.”
He handed the photo back to Caitlin a second time and shuffled his feet beneath his desk as if he was getting impatient. But she couldn’t leave without asking what she’d come to find out.
“Is it possible his name began with the letterR?” She quickly unfolded the paper placemat from the Pirate’s ARR-Cade, laid itflat on his desk, and pointed to the faded inscription. “I’m asking because Nicole apparently had a crush on someone whose first initial was R. She wrote it here, right above this doodle, see?”
Craig narrowed his eyes, leaned forward, and examined the placemat. Then he drew back and crossed his arms against his chest. “Like I said, I don’t remember the other lifeguard in the photo, so knowing his initial doesn’t ring any bells. But frankly, I don’t understand why you think it matters now whether Nicole had a crush on someone twenty years ago.”
“It’s just that she never mentioned liking any boy while she was here, so I was curious about him…”
“Listen, there are plenty of people on this island who’d be willing to speculate about the love lives of people they hardly know, but I'm not one of them. Professionally and personally, I mind my own business,” he said emphatically, and stood up. “Excuse me, but I’ve got work to do.”
“Wait, please.” Caitlin sensed Craig was hiding something, and she didn’t budge from her seat. She lifted the placemat from the desk and hurriedly explained, “I’m not just trying to satisfy my curiosity. It’s kind of hard to see in this lighting, but beneath the little drawing of these cubes and squiggly lines, Nicole wrote, “Thursday, August 29,” which was the date she died. It was also the date of a beach party we went to together. My theory is she jotted it down so she’d remember to meet R. there—or to meet him nearby. Anyway, I was worried she’d want to leave the party early, but she promised me she wouldn’t. Then, for some reason, while I was on a walk, she changed her mind, and she decided to head home alone. Except instead of turning off the beach at The Windmill Cottages, she wandered all the way to the inlet. Which doesn’t make any sense to me, because she hated the marsh. But I have a hunch something must have happened between her and R., and that’s why she ended up down by the current.”
She was rambling—although… did she imagine it, or did Craig’s face just blanch? “You don’t think there was foul play, do you?” he asked in a gruff voice. “Because I believe the police and medical examiner ruled the drowning accidental. But you’re welcome to confirm that with them.”
“Oh, no, I’m not suggesting anything like that,” Caitlin insisted. The thought had never occurred to her, but she could understand why the suggestion might put Craig on the defensive, especially if he was photographed hanging out with R., whether or not he remembered him. “I just meant I suspect R. was supposed to show up at the party, and when he didn’t, she got upset and stormed too far down the beach or something like that.”
Craig shook his head. “Like I said, I barely remember her and I have zero recollection of the other two kids in that picture.” Then, not unkindly, he added, “Twenty years is a long time. You should let this go.”
He opened the door and waited beside it until Caitlin got up, thanked him for his time, and left. Then he shut the door behind her.
He’s hiding something, I’m sure of it, because I’ve been evasive like that, too, especially when someone mentions Nicole’s drowning. But Caitlin recognized that if her favorite aunt had never been able to persuadeherto talk about the accident, then it was unlikely she herself could convince Craig, a virtual stranger, to open up about his memories of that summer, either.
