“We have a memorial with his mother.” Heat crept up Archie’s arm as his forearm tightened, ready to strike.
“Ah yes.” Carmichael made a show of checking his blank notebook. “Your wife is also deceased.”
“Car crash.” Archie gritted his teeth, as though they were the only barrier holding back the fury clawing its way up his throat. Heat flared under his skin—flames, metal, the screech of tires. He scrubbed a hand over his face, forcing the memory back down. “I’m sure you’ll find the report.” His face almost cracked as he forced out a thin smile, anything to convince the detective he was just another island crackpot with no boundaries, rather than a threat to the investigation.
“I’ll be sure to look it up.” Carmichael smiled like they were sharing a private joke.
Archie exhaled, slow and sharp. “I’ll not keep you any longer, Detective. I’m sure you’re incredibly busy here.” He motioned to the crowd that showed no sign of dispersing.
“Thank you, Mr. Wolfenden. It was very good to speak to you.” Detective Carmichael flipped his notebook closed and clicked his pen, his eyes never leaving Archie’s face. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
Archie ducked under the police tape and headed to his car. Heat lifted off the tarmac in visible waves. He checked the time—if he hurried, he could talk to Malachi before they left for the Johnstons.
Ina would hear nothing about his encounter with the detective. The engine revved and he fed back onto Coast Road. His stomach dropped. If this was a message, he already knew where the next one would be waiting. Glenoe Waterfall.
Chapter 12
Ina
“Are you two ready yet?” Ina kicked the banister at the foot of the stairs, the dull thud travelling up the house. No answer. She kicked it again, ignoring the sting in her toe. They were late. Again.
Steam still clung to the bathroom mirror from Archie’s shower. He’d come back from the Polar Bear with confirmation the Selkie were back, muttered it like a verdict, then disappeared upstairs without discussion or a plan. The mayor was dead. Murdered. And instead of tightening ranks, they were splintering through their own house like strangers.
It made no sense to leave Malachi here and then charge off on some half-baked investigation when the Polar Bear was crawling with police and spectators. He was lucky he hadn’t been seen and hauled in for questioning, while the real threat lurked in the waters. Archie always charged first and thought later.
At least Malachi had slept, giving Ina the quiet she needed to bake. Two carrot cakes sat in Tupperware on the counter. Cinnamon and nutmeg still hung in the warm air—comfort smells at a time when comfort was lacking. They were running late to the Johnston house and still had to swing by for Tilly.
The funeral would be at the weekend and was likely to be one of the biggest the island had ever seen. Half of Latharna would show to pay their respects and the other half would attend for fear of missing out. Tonight was their only opportunity to pay their respects in relative privacy—and listen. Alcohol and grief loosened tongues. Martin was the mayor and a popular member of the angling club; the house would be crowded.
The Selkie never lingered long on land; they would strike again before they left. The sooner they got to the Johnston house, the sooner they could leave and work out what to do next.
Malachi appeared at the top of the stairs, still shrugging into his jacket. Deep shadows lay under his eyes. The nap had only made him look worse.
“Tie,” Ina raised her voice, sharper than necessary.
Malachi flinched, rolled his eyes and spun back to his room.
“I saw that.” Ina hated the eye-rolling—it meant she wasn’t being taken seriously.
She checked her watch again, fighting the urge to march upstairs and drag Archie down by the scruff of the neck. It was important Archie talked to Malachi about the Selkie. She’d sworn for years, she wouldn’t go against Archie’s wishes—but Malachi couldn’t stay in the dark much longer. Not now. They’d made him vulnerable without meaning to. If the Wolfendens no longer stepped into their role as protectors, then other entities from the Otherworld would become bolder.
Malachi reappeared and spun around to show off his blazer and tie combination, nearly losing his balance.
“Come here and let me fix that.” Ina adjusted the knot on his tie. “What’s your dad doing up there?”
“Isn’t he already downstairs?”
The door to Archie’s office opened on cue. Archie stepped out in his funeral suit.
“What were you doing in there?” Malachi peered past him, suspicion sharp in his voice.
“Paperwork.” Archie didn’t miss a beat.
“The desk looked paper-free to me.” Malachi gestured towards the desk. “Are you paperless now? I don’t see a computer.”
Ina held her breath as the space between them grew. Archie’s real office was in the Hideaway, but Malachi didn’t know that—yet.
“Ina even tidied it for you earlier,” Malachi pressed, clearly trying to goad Archie into reacting. Ina tried to catch Archie’s eye and willed him not to rise to the bait, but it seemed her brother had had enough.
