Chapter Fifteen
The Second Toll
Colors floated in the clouds as light woke Avalon. The bells at the Chimes Tower played—slow, deliberate, hollow. Something was wrong with the sound. Early morning walkers looked up the hill, uneasy, yet unsure why.
Zach was the first to see the shape. At first, he thought it was a banner—a dark scrap twisting in the wind. But then, hair caught the light, long and tangled. The horror of the situation struck harder than a hammer. His stomach turned before his mind could form a thought. The wind blew. It carried the smell of rot, salt, and copper.
He staggered backward. “What the hell—” His voice broke, unable to utter another word.
A woman hung by her neck, her body swaying in the breeze. Her face was cut, making her unrecognizable from a distance, but something about the way her hand curled inward, slim fingers hanging with a silver band, was familiar.
He shook his head, denial warring with shock as he tried to process what he was seeing. Each step closer drew a wave of nausea over him, his mind desperate to reject what his eyes confirmed.
It was her.
It was Heidi, the woman he’d been with at the airport two nights ago. Her perfume still lingered in his truck, still clung to his skin. He turned and vomited in the dirt, trembling as the chimes tolled above him, mocking his trauma.
Before he could call it in, Zach saw lights as a deputy’s SUV crawled up the road. He barely stayed on his feet when three figures stepped out: Sgt. Vincent Durante, and Deputies Evans and Duong. Their hands hovered near their weapons—something Zach had never seen on the island.
“Hello, Zach,” Durante said, his voice weary. He was a man with eyes that missed nothing. His attention was fully turned on Zach.
Zach nodded, unable to utter a sound.
“What are you doing up here?” Durante pressed as the three men stepped closer, but kept enough distance to react. Zach knew what this must look like, but he couldn’t grasp the full scope. Shock still owned him.
“I’ve been working here all week,” Zach finally managed.
“Why didn’t you call this in?”
Zach shook his head and cleared his throat. “I . . . I just saw her. I was going to call when I saw you driving up.”
Durante jerked his chin at Evans, who moved away, lifting his shoulder mic. “Get medical staged and call LA County Homicide,” Durante said. “Tell them we’ve got another one. And this is different. This was more violent.”
Zach didn’t want to, but he looked up again. Durante was correct. Lisa hadn’t been cut anywhere but her throat. Heidi hadbeen marked. Was it the same killer? If so, why the change? Was the person escalating? A chill shuddered through him.
An ambulance, another patrol SUV, and two fire engines arrived in staggered bursts. Faces were shocked, no one knew what to do. This didn’t happen on Catalina. And now, there were two deaths far too close together.
“So, you were working up here and just . . . found her?”
The long pause told Zach the man didn’t believe him. He shook his head to clear it. He hadn’t been in love with Heidi, but she’d been warm beneath him less than thirty-six hours ago—now her body was on display in a gruesome way for all the world to see. It was inconceivable.
“I was checking on things,” he said. “That’s why I’m here so early. I’ve been doing the tower restoration. I looked up and saw . . .” He stopped, swallowed, cleared his throat, then met Durante’s eyes. “I thought it was fabric at first, something that had blown in and gotten caught. Nothing but trash.”
“Are you working here often?” Durante asked.
“Off and on. I’ve been restoring the beams this month.”
“So, you have full access?”
Now Zach was irritated. How could they think he’d do this? They knew him. It was a small island; the locals knew each other. What was happening to their paradise?
“Do you think I did this?” Zach’s voice wavered, eyes narrowed in disbelief and hurt. His glare was close to breaking, emotions on the edge of spilling over.
There was a pause. Durante didn’t flinch. “I see you’re alone with a dead woman in a tower that very few have access to.” Another pause. “Tell me, Zach—what should I be thinking?”
Deputy Duong strung crime-scene tape from the truck bumper to the scrub, making a wide perimeter. Evans logged times and names in his notebook. Firefighters stood back, waiting for permission to approach. No one crossed withoutDurante’s nod. Someone would remember who arrived first, who looked up . . . who didn’t.
Whoever did this hadn’t just staged a body. They’d staged an audience.
