He focused on escape. “Escape to where?”
“Escape from the island.”
“For you or for Candy?”
“Both. Sometimes I look at this place as a refuge, and sometimes as a prison. Depends on the circumstances.”
“How are you looking at it right now?”
“Besides the murders, it’s been a good visit.”
“That’s a strange way to put it,” he pointed out.
“Just being honest.”
“Who else did you speak with last night?”
“A lot of people. Cass. Torie. Tosh. Zach. Mary. Dozens of new people I’ve never spoken to before. I love hearing people’s stories.”
“Did you hear any threats?”
“What do you mean by threats?”
“Did you hear of anyone speaking ill of Candy?”
Harmony shook her head. “Threats are rarely spoken. That’s what makes them so damn effective.”
Durante let out what might’ve been a laugh. “Trying to make a crime scene poetic?”
“I write what people can’t or won’t say,” Harmony replied. “Apparently, someone else on this island is doing the same.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“People are getting strange texts. Rumors are spreading. And murders have become art. That adds up to someone writing a story.”
Something flickered in his gaze, brief and sharp, before he masked it. “And you’d know how that story should end, wouldn’t you?” Another pause. “Are you the author?”
She laughed. “I’m always writing, Sergeant. I’ll be doing it on my deathbed, worried about leaving a story unfinished. I can’t do that to my fans.” She paused this time. “But, I’m not the author of this story.”
He studied her for several heartbeats. “Do you enjoy this?”
“I enjoy nothing about death,” she said evenly. “I do, however, prefer understanding ignorance. If that looks like enjoyment from a distance, that’s a problem with geography. I love life, and I take it all in, the good, the bad, the ugly, and the glorious. I can find a story in everything. That doesn’t make me a killer.”
“It makes you cold.”
She smiled. “Some might say that. But, I donate. I cry at Christmas commercials. And I have a very clear line between harm and mercy, so I don’t think I’m that big a monster.”
“I don’t think any monster believes they’re the bad guy.”
“That’s also true. But, amIthe monster for writing the book, or areyouthe monster for reading it . . . and liking it?”
He opened his mouth to speak, shut it, glared at her, then waved his hand. “Stay close, Harmony. You won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
“I wouldn’t think of going anywhere. I love this place.” She stood and walked out. Durante gave a disgusted sigh. She pissed him off for some reason.
He moved over to the windows to see the witnesses standing in circles outside. He wished there was a magic wand he could wave to point out the guilty person. Things just didn’t work that way in the real world.
Cass slid in the door next. She was smiling, looking unconcerned.
