“You could just go and jump on him.”
Harmony laughed as she shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“Thank you.” Cass tapped her phone. “You and Zach are inevitable. I won’t push. I’ll just tease.” She paused. “We should check on Mary.”
“She’ll answer if she wants to.”
“Translation: You already texted her.”
“Twice,” Harmony said.
The server brought their pizza, and they dug in like they hadn’t eaten in days instead of hours. Conversation faded as they devoured slice after slice, then slumped back, groaning in familiar regret.
Their check came. Cass paid and stood, stretching like a sleepy cat. “One more loop and then we change and pretend to be normal for a few hours.”
“Define normal.”
“Less crazy.”
They slid into the cart. Harmony’s phone vibrated again as she turned the key. She didn’t reach for it until Cass shot her a look.
An image this time. No text at first. The photo was tight and disorienting—a curve of white, the black line of a strap, a wash of glittering water behind. It took Harmony a second to place it.
A balcony.Herbalcony. Shot from below, from the path. The timestamp was from the night before. In the bottom corner, a blur of dark fabric and a pale hand, caught by accident like the photographer forgot they were human.
She tried to remember who had walked past while she’d been out there, notebook on her lap, bare legs over the rail. Too many faces. Too many shadows. It wasn’t just that someone had seen her. Someone had chosenthatmoment.
Stop pretending you don’t like this.
Cass’s mouth dropped open. “We go to the cops. Now!”
Harmony stared at the slice of blue in the photo, the exact shade of the bay at dusk, and felt something shift inside her. It wasn’t fear. It was a thrill. Something with teeth. It unnerved her how easy that thrill came, how much closer it felt to curiosity than to panic.
“We need to go to Mary.”
“Why Mary?”
“Because she’ll tell me the part the cops can’t see yet.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Harmony set the phone face down, suddenly aware of how breakable glass could be. “Also, if someone’s trying to make me feel hunted, I’d like to visit the woman who keeps traps in her purse.”
Cass swallowed. “Fine. But I’m driving.”
Harmony didn’t argue. She slid out from behind the wheel, trading places, and let Cass gun the cart into a clatter of laughter and complaining gulls.
Behind them, the bay glittered like a promise made by someone who could afford not to keep it. Down the coast, a fish broke the surface and vanished. On a hotel bar, an olive rolled in a slow circle and came to rest perfectly in the wet ring it had left.
In the quiet spaces between the island’s bright noises, a thought curled warm and ugly.
Control was slipping.
Someone was playing a game and enjoying every second.
They weren’t ready to stop. And the worst part was, Harmony wasn’t entirely sure which side of the game she was on.
Chapter Nineteen
