A figure lingered halfway down the street—still, deliberate, as if deciding whether to follow. Harmony didn’t slow. She didn’t need to. Power trailed behind her like a new perfume, and whoever shadowed her steps wasn’t ready to announce themselves. Not yet.
Someone’s story was rising.
Someone’s story was unraveling.
Someone’s story was about to end.
Maybe hers. Maybe someone else’s.
The writer always knew. The rest were simply characters, waiting for the page to turn.
Chapter Three
Exploring the Island
There was an eerie quiet in the air as everyone met outside Mary’s house. Her vehicle waited with the top down and a radio humming, something low and lazy. She leaned against the door in sunglasses and a loose button-up shirt, looking rested and regal in a way that didn’t match the tension threading through the group.
As they gathered on the curb, a deputy’s SUV rolled past, slowing just enough for Harmony to see Deputy Ciscel behind the wheel. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but his head turned, tracking their group for a beat longer than felt casual before the vehicle moved on.
“Climb in. We’ve got an hour before the heat tries to kill us.”
Cass climbed into the back with Harmony, who was still half-asleep and blinking against the rising sun. “Remind me again why we have to be up this early?” Harmony asked.
“Because the beach is better when it’s empty,” Mary said. “And because I don’t drink before noon without earning it.”
“And adventures that make the blood pump must start early,” Tosh added with a wink. Maybe it wasn’t excitement in his voice but something darker, something watchful.
He opened the passenger door for Torie. She brushed past him, perfume and tension trailing in the same breath. “You make it sound like a workout,” she said.
“It will be,” he murmured, eyes sliding toward her bare legs. “I promise.” His smile was full of confidence.
“Let’s get this over with,” Torie muttered, arms crossing. Her sunglasses were too dark for morning. Mary smirked as she started the engine.
The road to Two Harbors curled like a ribbon through the hills, the morning sun flashing between the cliffs and the windshield. Mary drove with one hand on the wheel, sunglasses low on her nose, a cigarette burning in the ashtray.
The drive wound along the spine of the island, cliffs dropping away to the sea. The music on the radio changed to something slower, a melancholy strum woven with the wind. Harmony tilted her head toward the open sky. Wind tangled her hair as the water flashed silver through the curves of the road.
“You’re quiet this morning,” Cass said.
“I’m listening,” Harmony answered. “The island talks if you’re willing to hear.”
“You and half the island,” Mary said dryly. “Lately, it feels like everyone’s listening. The cops. The tourists. The ones who pretend not to care.”
Harmony agreed. Cass didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole, though.
“It’s scary how much you hear,” Cass said with a laugh, but it was too short, clipped at the edges—the kind of sound people made when they were pretending not to be scared.
Tosh twisted in his seat. “What’s it saying right now?” He meant it as a joke, but the way he looked at her made her pulse skip . . . and not in a good way.
Harmony watched the water slicing through the cliffs. “That we’d better behave or else.”
The words came out darker than she’d intended, and the car went quiet for a beat too long. Torie stiffened, Cass shot her a sideways look, and Tosh’s mouth twitched like he didn’t know whether to laugh or worry. He decided on laughter.
“Then it clearly doesn’t know us very well,” he finally said.
Mary puffed on her cigarette. “No one behaves on Catalina,” she said. “That’s why people come here. To let go.”
Torie arched a brow. “What about you, Mary?”
