Her conscience, annoyingly energetic now that she was no longer exhausted, reminded her that tonight might also be thenight to finally speak the truth she and Holt had both avoided the night he walked out of their marriage.
Guilt rose again.
“Stop it, June, we’ve already had this conversation, remember?” she hissed beneath her breath, took a deep breath, brushed the thought away, and concentrated on the food outside. As she walked toward the deck, June inhaled once more and ensured she’d forced her rogue thoughts and old feelings back behind the same mental door she had used for years, and carried the plates and cutlery out to the deck.
Holt had already set everything out. His phone, notepad, tablet, and pen sat neatly beside him on the table, evidence that even now, even in this odd suspended little pocket of the day, he had not entirely let the case go. The food boxes were stacked in the center. His coffee sat near his hand. The second cup, placed carefully before the chair beside him, made something in her chest soften before she could stop it.
Cozy,she thought. Then almost laughed at herself for the word.
“Here are plates, napkins, and cutlery,” June said, setting them down. “I wasn’t sure what was in the boxes.”
“We’ll need the spoons for dessert,” Holt told her with a grin.
“Dessert as well?” June’s brows rose. “Aren’t we going out to dinner later?”
“We are.” His smile brightened, and to her very great relief, he looked just as pleased by that prospect as she felt. “That doesn’t mean we can’t eat now.”
Keep calm, June, she told herself.
She sat beside him rather than opposite, picked up the coffee, and took a sip. And immediately recognized the heavenly taste of one of the best cups of coffee in town. “Oh, that’s good.” June turned and looked at him as she appreciated the flavor of the beverage.
“Can you believe that coffee vendor is still trading on the beachfront?” Holt asked.
“Yes,” June said. “I go there often when I’m in town.” Then she quickly added with a grin, “Don’t tell Margo.”
They both laughed.
“I stop there more often than I probably should when I’m in town, too,” Holt admitted.
That made June feel absurdly happy for some reason, or maybe because it was almost like a shared memory they were both enjoying.
They fell into a companionable silence while they dished up and started to eat. She had barely managed a few bites when she noticed it.
At first, it was only the sky.
A dimming at the edges.
Then the air.
It was heavier and thicker than usual and way, way too calm.
June lifted her head and looked out past the deck toward the water.
The horizon had changed while they were eating. The light had gone strange, not dark exactly but flatter, grayer, as if the colorhad been drained from the afternoon. The breeze that usually moved through the sea grass and rattled the leaves on the nearby trees had almost completely stopped.
And there was something else.
An absence of the usual sounds of the world that usually flowed around them.
She frowned.
“Is it just me,” June asked, looking at Holt, “or does the sky and air around us feel a little ominous?”
Holt set down his fork and glanced around more carefully.
“I didn't notice that until you pointed it out.” His brow furrowed. “But you’re right, it does.”
“There are no birds,” June said quietly. “And I can’t hear any insects.”
