The mother's voice broke again, a jagged shard of glass in the murmur of silk pajamas and cotton robes.
"Get blankets, something warm!" Practicality surfaced through the chaos, but the suggestion felt hollow against the chill that had settled over Paradise Key.
"How would… what could have happened?" Words trailed off, no one daring to finish the thought.
"Quiet!"
It was the loudest command yet. Heads turned to the newcomer, a figure of authority even in her haste. She strode forward, her eyes scanning the scene with a precision that belied her calm exterior.
"Mom!" A young girl's voice, stricken, sliced through everything else as she came running up behind her.
"Olivia, stay back!" The command was sharp but protective.
"Let her come; let her—" Mark's mother reached out, her plea swallowed by a fresh wave of grief. “E-Eva… please….”
"Please, everyone, just… please, stay back," Eva Rae said. The silence that followed was thick, each person wrapped in their own shroud of shock.
"Mark," the mother whispered again, a benediction to the son who'd been the heartbeat of this island paradise, now lying silent in its shallow waters.
Chapter7
I arrivedat the edge of chaos, my heart hammering, yet my mind clear. The early morning sun glimmered off the ocean, an incongruous backdrop to the horror unfolding on the beach. My gaze fixed on the water where a small crowd had gathered, their silhouettes stark against the rising light.
"Step back!"
My voice sliced through the murmurings and sobs, commanding attention as I shouldered my way through the throng of pajama-clad guests. Instincts honed by years of service took over. I scanned the scene: Victoria was crumpled near the shore, her friends were running to her, clutching her, and Mark's lifeless form was bobbing in the gentle waves. Kara, Jen, Amy, and Michelle were all there, and all their eyes were on me.
"Someone call 911," I directed, my eyes never leaving what needed to be done. "Now."
"Already on it," came a shaky reply from somewhere behind me.
"Good." I nodded curtly. "We need to get him out of the water. Carefully. I'll guide his shoulders. Who can take his legs?"
Michelle and Jen stepped forward, Michelle’s face set with grim determination, while Jen’s was pale and drawn.
"Slowly now," I instructed as we waded into the shallows, my hands steady despite the turmoil inside me. My fingers brushed Mark's cold skin, and I suppressed a shudder.
"On three. One… two… three."
Together, we lifted him, moving toward the beach.
"Get those blankets ready!" I called to the onlookers, who scrambled to obey. As we laid Mark down on the sand, I checked for any signs of life, already knowing it was too late.
"Keep everyone back," I told a lanky teen who seemed eager to help.
My words were clipped and efficient. I surveyed the scene, each detail etching itself into my memory—the way Mark's hair fanned out like a halo, the unnatural angle of his arm.
"Mom?" Olivia's voice reached me, quivering with fear.
"Stay back, sweetheart." My response was automatic, even though my heart broke for the grief she was about to experience.
"Is he…?" Olivia's question hung in the air, unfinished.
"Let's not jump to conclusions," I said, though certainty clawed at my throat. I knew it was too late.
She stared at her friend, shock edged into her face. I needed to help her snap out of it.
"What happened?" The whispered question came from a nearby guest, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Did he drown?”
