Torie was the first to stand. “What was that?” Her voice cracked.
Harmony was already on her feet, heart punching her ribs, thoughts sharpening. She scanned the dark beyond the flames.
Candy was the first to move. “Lisa!” she shouted, bolting toward the shoreline and stumbling in the sand.
Zach dropped his knife and grabbed a flashlight from his backpack. Harmony swayed, and he steadied her with one hand. For a moment, the chaos blurred, and it was just the two of them in a small, held circle.
“Be careful,” he said, voice low. There was something in his eyes that made her stomach dip—not fear exactly, but something that knew where fear could go.
“I should probably take that advice,” she whispered. “But I think it’s too late.”
They moved forward together.
The flashlight beam skimmed along the wet sand until it collided with a still body at the water’s edge. The tide crept over the side of her still body, then retreated. The wound on Lisa’sneck was deep and precise. Someone had arranged her: arms set, hair spread, body posed like a photograph.
“Strange,” Harmony murmured before she could stop herself. The angle, the neatness, the way the cut sat on her throat. Something about it was wrong.
Torie’s scream came next, shredding the air. She dropped to her knees and clutched at Tosh. “Do something!”
Candy lurched forward, took one look, slapped a hand over her mouth, and then turned away to retch.
Mary’s face emptied. She knelt beside Lisa, careful not to touch, just staring at her eyes. “Close them,” she whispered. “Close her eyes.”
“No one touch her!” Zach said sharply. “Back up.”
He looked at Tosh, who hadn’t moved. Tosh’s face had gone chalk-white, his eyes bouncing between Lisa and Torie as if unable to land. “She was just—she was—” His voice broke. “She was just dancing.”
Harmony’s attention snagged on a small mark on Lisa’s wrist, separate from the throat wound. The sand around her legs was disturbed, as if she’d been dragged and then someone had tried to erase it.
Something small glinted near Lisa’s shoulder—a scrap of something in the sand. Harmony leaned a fraction closer, but a wave rolled in and scrubbed it away.
“Call someone,” Cass said, trembling. “Call the police.”
“No service out here,” Zach muttered. “I’ll go.” He turned and jogged up the beach toward the road. The dark swallowed him quickly.
“He’ll find help,” Tosh said, but his voice was hollow. “He will.” The fire crackled and popped behind them, indifferent.
Candy was sobbing openly now. “Who would do this? She was just—she was—”
“Alive,” Torie said. “She was alive five minutes ago.”
Mary rose, eyes on the water. “She crossed the wrong person,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone. “Justice comes eventually, even if it’s late.”
When help came, it did so quietly at first. A pair of lights. Low voices. The smell of salt and diesel. By then, the group had retreated, huddled in a loose cluster. Cass’s breathing hitched. Torie was folded against Tosh. Candy blinked like she couldn’t quite bring the scene into focus.
Harmony stood slightly apart, arms wrapped around herself, her drink abandoned in the sand behind her. Mist kissed her face. The night felt too clear. She couldn’t stop staring at Lisa: the way her hair fanned in the surf, the placement of her hands, the eerie calm in the middle of horror.
When Zach returned, he said simply, “I got help.”
Torie turned on him. “You were gone for an hour.”
Harmony realized he wasn’t even out of breath. If he’d run the whole way as he’d said, shouldn’t he have been?
“The station’s on the other side of town.” His tone was even. No one argued.
The tide kept rolling in, retreating, rolling in again. It sounded like applause.
The first deputies from Avalon Station emerged from the dark like silhouettes cut from it—tan uniforms, steady movements, no wasted steps. These were the men who usually dealt with loud music, lost tourists, and the occasional bar fight. They knew everyone’s names and most of their secrets. Tonight, their kindness was tucked away behind a layer of training they rarely had to use.
