Harmony laughed.
Cass bumped Harmony’s shoulder. “Besides, it’s more fun to be with you and watch all the chaos. Since you’re the director, after all.”
Harmony shrugged. “I simply write what happens.”
“Maybe it happensbecauseyou write it.”
Nonsense. That was utter nonsense. If this weren’t true, though, why was her pulse pounding at the thought of it?
She downed her champagne.
Somewhere in the ballroom, the old building seemed to exhale. The light glowed a fraction too bright, like they were rehearsing for the moment they’d be asked to go out for real.
When the lights turned off . . . then came back on, who would still be with them?
Chapter Twelve
Vanishing Proof
The island seemed calmer after Lisa’s death. Or maybe people had simply learned how to whisper. The last storm had blown itself out, but the air still felt charged—like Avalon was waiting instead of exhaling.
The morning came heavy with heat, the kind that made guests slow their gait as they wiped sweat from their brows. Laughter drifted along Crescent Avenue while birds swooped low over the water in search of breakfast.
Torie watched from the balcony of her rented villa, robe half-tied, coffee cooling in one hand, phone in the other. From where she stood, she had a perfect view of the Marlin Club’s back alley—and the familiar figure slipping out of it.
Candy. Barefoot. Still faintly glittering from the night before, guitar slung over her shoulder like an extra limb.
“Of course. Always the same exit. Where the hell are you off to now?” Torie murmured, narrowing her eyes. She hit record on her phone.
Behind her, Janet’s voice interrupted.
“You’re talking to yourself again. Or watching someone.”
Torie jumped, coffee sloshing onto the railing. “Geez, Janet, don’t sneak up on me.”
Janet grinned, lifting two cups. “Brought caffeine before you jump off the balcony.”
Torie set her cold cup aside and took Janet’s with a shaky hand. “I’m fine. Just watching Candy. She’s always up to something.”
Janet followed her gaze. “She’s hungover. Probably forgot where she left her shoes.”
“No,” Torie said sharply. “She’s been sneaking around all week. Tosh has been, too.”
“Torie . . .” Janet sighed. “Don’t do this. You sound paranoid.”
Torie didn’t look away from the alley. “I’m awake for the first time in a long while.” Her voice thinned. “He’s a lying, cheating bastard.”
“You and Tosh aren’t even—”
“Don’t.” Torie’s tone hit like a whip. “Don’t say it.”
Janet leaned against the railing, studying her friend. “You and Tosh are taking a break. That was decided a while ago. It was smart.”
“We are,” Torie said. “But that doesn’t mean he gets to humiliate me.”
They stood a moment in uneasy silence. Harbor bells clanged faintly in the distance. Janet smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
“You look like you’re dressing for an alibi.”
