Clio felt uncomfortable hiding information from them. It felt like a risk to lie, but also a risk to tell them the truth, because part of her believed that Lillian’s death, just like Eleanor Bruton’s, might not have been an accident.
Diana
When Diana arrived to update her colleagues on how things had gone with Anya and Tracy, she found Sarabeth Schilders, Karen Lynch, and Giulia Orlando waiting for her. They’d drawn the blinds in the back room of the Institute of Manuscript Studies, and the space was dimly lit.
“It went well,” she said before they asked. It would be the first thing they wanted to know. This had been so long in the planning. Everything was coming together. Finally. “Anya was blown away by the manuscripts. As we agreed, I asked her to let us know by end of day tomorrow if she wants the position.”
“Why not give her a little more time?” Giulia asked. “What if having such a tight deadline puts her off?”
“I’m only following orders,” Diana said. “As you know.”
“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Sarabeth asked.
“I think so. She was like a kid in a candy shop around the manuscripts.”
“Go figure,” Giulia said.
“Do you think she believes that Tracy is the benefactor?” Karen asked.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about there,” Diana said.
“I mean, why would she doubt it?” Sarabeth snapped.
Karen shrugged. “She’s a clever girl.”
“We’ve been very careful,” Diana reassured her. “I won’t keep you much longer. I just wanted to check in in person before Anya and Sid leave town. Giulia, anything to add?”
“Paul and I took Sid out for a drink. He seems like a nice guy. He loved the cottage. He and Paul got on very well, too. Paul offered to take him bouldering if they move here, and Sid seemed keen.”
“Good. Any red flags?”
Giulia shook her head. “No. He had a lot of questions about the Wi-Fi that we had no clue how to answer.”
“Let’s make sure we get answers for him and reassure them that everything can be made just the way they want it. Sarabeth?”
The older woman frowned as she polished the lenses of her glasses with the sleeve of her jacket. “I think we’re on the cusp of winning this and doing some very serious damage to the Kats, so let’s not fuck it up. My main concern isn’t whether Anya Brown will agree to work with us, because I think she will. It’s how we stop the Kats getting to her like they got to the others.”
“We’ll take good care of Anya Brown.”
“They got to the others.”
Diana bit her lip. Sarabeth was wrong, but she couldn’t know the truth. And her concern was valid. The Kats were deadly when they wanted or needed to be.
She said, “Of course we won’t let anything happen to Anya.She’s our best and last hope to transform this organization in our lifetimes.”
Clio
Clio’s sleep was wrecked again once she started thinking about Lillian. She lay in bed but kept the curtains open, because out here on the island who was going to look in? The only artificial lights she could see were pinpricks, shining from properties on the other side of the loch. There were no headlamps to rake the ceiling here.
Even though she felt blanketed by the deepest darkness she’d ever experienced, it couldn’t muffle her recall of the morning Lillian died. Memories surfaced as abruptly as flipped tarot cards, riddling her with grief and uncertainty.
Tired of lying in bed, she got up early and watched dawn break over the loch, the sky oozing sherbet pinks and oranges onto the glassy water and misting the ruined castle with watery light. She held her breath as a red stag stalked the edge of the forest right outside the window. A cup of black tea warmed her hands. She blinked in the rising steam and the stag was gone. She watched a heron fly past, wings beating silently just a few feet above the water, and then, for the first time since Lillian died, she broke down the way she needed to and cried uncontrollably.
When her fit of weeping had subsided, she felt steely inside and determined.
She got dressed and went out. The forest receded around her in dark and darker shades of green, but the sun had risen high enough that here and there the edges of things seemed tinged with gold. Wet leaves stuck to her boots as she walked the path that led around the perimeter of the island. Now and then, something living crashed or flapped in the undergrowth, startling her, but she never saw what it was. She was guided by a hand-drawn map of the island she’dfound in the house book, and her goal was to reach Seal Cove, where Eleanor’s body had been discovered.
She knew she was close when she heard waves scraping a pebbly shore, the inhalations and exhalations of the loch. A ridge of large stones and a patch of coarse sand lay between her and the water. The stones were slippery, and everything on the shore was dressed in seaweed, colored briny red and yellow. There were strong smells of both freshness and decay.
