Maybe she needed to step in front of the story before it turned on her. Decide whether she would be perceived as the monster—or the one who survived the monsters.
She didn’t have the answers yet. She only knew that she didn’t want anyone else writing her ending.
***
Mary’s home smelled like coffee and cinnamon. Zach stood near the window, his arms crossed, watching her pace.Turbulence rolled off her in waves. It hummed in her voice, lived in the tremor of her hand. When it broke, no one would be safe.
“Are you saying you heard someone?” he asked.
“I didn’t hear,” she told him. “Ifeltsomeone. There’s a big difference.”
Zach rubbed his jaw. “Mary, you’ve been through hell and crawled out the other side. That scars even the strongest person. You need to rest.”
She stopped pacing and drilled him with a glare. “Don’t talk to me like I’m fragile, Zach. You saw what this place did to my daughter. You watched them sweep it under the rug. Now it’s the same routine with these murders.” She leaned forward, voice sharpening. “Everyone’s hands are bloody. Time to snap out of denial.”
Zach said nothing.
“Exactly!” Mary continued. “Youknowthis isn’t me losing it. There’s a sickness on this island. It’s simply wearing a new mask now. It’s always been here, and every so often it rises to the surface.” She took a long breath. “This time, it isn’t being buried. Now it wants to be seen.”
She rubbed her temple as if trying to ease out a thought that didn’t belong to her. “It keeps pushing,” she said under her breath. “Like it wants me to look where no one is willing to.”
He hesitated. “What do you want me to do?”
Mary poured another cup of coffee—black and bitter, exactly how she felt. “I want you to help me find out who’s lying.”
Zach gave a short, humorless laugh. “All of them are lying.” He paused. “For that matter,we’relying. Everyone is.”
Mary wondered if he was including himself or trying very hard not to. “Then we start with the worst of them,” Mary said. A satisfied smile curved. “We start with Harmony.”
He frowned. “Harmony? You think she’s involved?” He clearly didn’t think so.
“I think she’scontrollingit,” Mary said. “Everything escalated after she arrived. She’s always watching, always writing, always judging. She knows everything that happens, but somehow knows nothing about the deaths?” Mary rolled her eyes. “I’m not buying it.”
Zach shook his head. “I don’t know, Mary. That doesn’t make sense to me.”
“You like her, so you’re blind,” she shot back. “You’ve always trusted me. Do it now.”
“I do trust you,” he said. “But I think you’re chasing the wrong shadow and letting the real killer slip by.”
“Then we’ll move on to the next person,” Mary said.
Zach looked defeated. He didn’t argue.
“Are you coming with me or not?” she asked while grabbing her coat.
He sighed. “I’ll come. I still think it’s a foolish mission, though.”
“Well then, here’s to fools and beggars.”
They left her home.
***
The patio at the Bellanca Hotel bar on the end of Crescent Avenue was warm, the late-afternoon air heavy with the scent of gin, sunscreen, and gossip. Harmony and Cass sat with drinks in hand. Day drinking had stopped needing excuses.
“Damn, I’m tired,” Cass muttered. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Candy’s face.”
“Choose not to,” Harmony said. “The dead love an audience. If you stop watching, they need to find another stage.”
