“That’s mean,” Cass said.
“It’s the truth,” Harmony replied. “She gets herself so wound up that she loses time. Maybe she’s guilty and doesn’t even know it.”
“Wouldn’t that be a twist?” Cass said with wide eyes.
“Our minds protect us from what we don’t want to know,” Harmony said. “But sometimes they make us remember things we wish we could bury. It’s a double-edged sword.”
“You mean, like . . . she could have multiple personalities?” Cass asked.
Harmony considered for a moment.
“She could. Or she could just be exhausted and fractured. Trauma. Stress. Shame. People block pain any way they can.”
“Like what?” Cass asked.
Harmony took several moments before answering. Her eyes drifted toward the foggy harbor, and it was clear she was in a whole other world, just as she often was.
“Trauma makes people forget,” Harmony said. “So does guilt and shame. Some people lose time without knowing. Others rewrite their memories—soften them, blur the edges, change the ending.”
Cass shivered. “That sounds terrifying.”
“It is,” Harmony agreed. “But it’s also survival. The brain would rather lie to us than let us break. Sometimes, people believe the new version more than the truth.”
Cass walked a few steps in silence, her coffee steaming in the cold air.
“So . . . do you think that’s what’s happening with Torie?” she finally asked.
“It could be,” Harmony said. “Or it could be happening to someone else entirely.”
Her voice was calm, maybe too calm. It sounded like experience rather than observation. Cass felt a shiver traveldown her spine. They didn’t talk more about it as they kept walking.
They rounded the corner near the Glenmore. A deputy’s cruiser idled out front. The mainland detective, Vega, stood near it, talking quietly with Sergeant Durante. Vega’s eyes flicked to Harmony and Cass, assessing, cataloging, suspicious in a way that made Harmony feel flayed open.
He’d already decided someone was lying.
Durante noticed the glance too and quickly looked away, guilt or irritation . . . or something colder passing over his features.
Mary stood outside smoking, her hair pinned back, looking like a widow rehearsing grief.
“Good morning, girls,” Mary said.
“Morning, Mary,” they echoed.
“How are you sleeping?” Harmony asked.
“I can’t sleep when the ghosts are active,” Mary replied.
“I agree,” Cass whispered.
“Did you hear about the suspicious vehicle up in the hills last night?” Mary asked.
“No. Do they know who it was?” Harmony asked.
“Don’t know. The deputies have been asking around. I think we’re not even close to being done with whatever game someone has us all playing.”
“Don’t say that,” Cass said with a shiver.
Mary smiled faintly. “Pretending doesn’t make it go away.”
