Then she turned and walked away, swallowed slowly by the shadows.
Zach watched until she vanished. Only the fading echo of her footsteps remained.
The night breathed around him, the surf rolling against the rocks in a slow, patient rhythm—like the heartbeat of the island itself.
As he turned to leave, Zach paused. Someone stood farther down the promenade, half in shadow. A deputy. Or someone dressed like one. The silhouette didn’t move until Zach did. He walked away. He didn’t know who was watching . . . but he knew he’d better be careful.
He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.
But for the first time in a long while, he wanted to find out.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Breaking Point
A new day brought the illusion of hope. Technically, they weren’t supposed to gather like this. Curfew had loosened intosuggestionsthe way rules always did once people got tired of being scared.
The ocean was a postcard—blue, glittering, and always pretending. The air smelled of charcoal and citrus as laughter drifted from Tosh’s patio. It should have felt normal. It nearly did.
Tosh’s place sat high enough on the hill to catch the breeze, strung with lights that swayed over the enclosed area. A grill hissed as music floated soft and easy from a speaker. Those attending the gathering were trying to pretend they were peaceful, pretending that nothing bad had happened, that no one had been hurt in the past months.
But there was too much evidence of the sin for them to forget.
Cass sat at a table, smiling faintly, tracing condensation rings. Zach manned the grill with a beer in hand, calm, whistling, asif nothing could affect him. Harmony sat close by, her computer and notebook put away, her eyes half-lidded, watching . . . always watching.
Mary wasn’t there.
No one knew where she was. No one knew when she’d return.
Torie arrived late. They heard her before they saw her—the click of heels on stone. When she stepped into the light, she was stunning in a sundress that shimmered against her tan skin, a glass of wine already in her hand. Her smile was too wide. Her pupils were pinpoints.
“This is what I call therapy,” she announced, sweeping in like she owned the night. “A balmy evening, steak, and selective amnesia.”
“Torie,” Tosh greeted. “You look beautiful.”
“Ifeelbeautiful,” she said, spinning, fabric flaring. Her gaze landed on Harmony. “How would you write me today? Would you say I look radiant . . . even after tragedy?”
Harmony tilted her head, considering. “I’d sayresilient. Isn’t that a polite word forcrazy?”
Zach slid a plate onto the table. “Everyone needs to eat.” He said everyone, but they all knew he meant Torie. She was already drunk and teetering, which meant things could go downhill fast. She needed something in her system to absorb at least some of the alcohol.
Torie looked at the plate like he’d offered poison. Her mood was already turning, and she’d just arrived. She smirked at Zach.
“Is food your fix for everything?” she asked. “Feed it, build it, sand it down until it’s pretty again.” Her voice sharpened. “That doesn’t work on people, Zach. Only on old wood.”
He didn’t answer. There was no point. He turned back to the grill—his refuge. Cass shifted in her seat. They needed a peaceful day. It didn’t feel like too much to ask after all they’d been through.
“More wine, Tosh,” Torie said, holding out her glass.
Tosh looked like he wanted to argue, but knew it wouldn’t matter. “It’s been rough,” he told her as he filled her glass. “We all need to sit, relax, eat, and forget about trauma for a while.”
“Don’t worry, love, I’mveryrelaxed,” she assured him. “Isn’t it funny? You’ve always told me I needed to learn to let go. Well, I have—so congratulations.”
Harmony caught the twitch in Tosh’s jaw, the flicker in his eyes as he tried to hold onto a calm he didn’t feel. He clearly felt responsible for Torie, but she was an adult, making her own bad choices. That wasn’t on him. It wasn’t on any of them.
Torie drifted around the patio, her fingers gliding along every surface—touching hands, shoulders, faces, cups. Like she was making sure she left herself everywhere. There were no boundaries. A nearly manic light burned in her eyes, though her lips stayed curved in that falsely innocent smile.
“You all look so sad,” she said. “Don’t. I mean, people die. That’s life and death, the circle of life. Lisa, Heidi, Candy, Mary’s daughter . . .” She shrugged, expression chilling. “More will die. The island needs to feed its hunger.”
