Candy took the stage. Her voice floated through the small room, soft and aching, making the island hold its breath for a full three minutes. When she returned, she looked fragile beneath the applause.
“Beautiful,” Harmony told her.
Candy gave a faint smile. “You should’ve heard it before I ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. You made the island stop breathing.”
“That’s a scary compliment.”
“Scary seems to be the theme lately.”
Candy’s smile faltered. “She’s going to kill me one of these nights.”
“Torie?” Harmony asked.
“Yep.” Candy stared at the black water outside. “She watches me when she thinks no one sees. The air changes when she’s nearby. She blames me for everything Tosh does wrong. I’m getting punished because I want to live free with no commitments, and she wants absolution without earning it.”
“Tosh does a lot wrong,” Harmony said. “Don’t take credit for that.”
Candy laughed weakly. “I’m serious, Harmony. There’s something . . . off about her. She’s been following me. I swear someone stood outside my window last night.”
“Did you see her?” Harmony asked.
Candy shook her head. “Just a shadow. But Iknowit was her.”
Harmony’s tone softened. “Tell the police.”
“No. I refuse to sound crazy. No one believes drunks and songwriters—we’re built for drama.” She tried to smile, but failed. “Besides, I’m leaving soon. I’m playing a private show at the Airport in the Sky. After that, maybe I’ll take the ferry and clear my head.”
“Good idea,” Harmony said.
Candy picked up her guitar. “I’m out. I can’t take the drama tonight.” She stepped closer, gaze sharpening. “If something happens, write about my death beautifully. Make it worth the ink.” Harmony didn’t like how easily the words fit the night.
Before Harmony could respond, Candy smiled, kissed her cheek, and vanished into the night.
While Harmony thought about Candy’s words, Torie stood alone on the hills looking down at the town. The wind clawed at her hair. Candy’s voice rose faintly from the bar below—haunting and impossible to ignore. Torie closed her eyes and whispered along with the lyrics she pretended to despise.
Her phone buzzed.
She’s still singing about you. She won’t be much longer.
Her fingers tightened.
“Not for long,” she whispered, tucking her phone into her purse and staring at the dark water.
On the other side of town, at the Glenmore, Mary sat beside a window, her phone lit with a new message.
Someone’s missing.
She smiled without humor, lifted her glass toward the reflection, and murmured, “Of course they are.”
Check the places no one looks.
A shudder ran through her.
The island was busy.
Too busy.
