Chapter Three #2
“We could find more privacy,” Torie said, scanning the empty shoreline like she expected someone to materialize.
Her gaze kept darting not just to the water, but to the cliff tops, as if she half-expected a figure to be standing there, watching. Each time she found nothing, her shoulders tightened instead of relaxing. Interesting.
“It doesn’t get much more private than this,” Tosh pointed out.
Harmony followed Torie’s gaze, but there was nothing but cliffs, tide pools, and the distant curve of the harbor. A prickle ran along her arms. Zach appeared again and sat beside her.
“I’m going to keep asking how you are,” he said with a smirk.
“And I’ll keep telling you I’m fine,” she quickly answered.
He nodded, like he’d expected that. Somehow, she knew he was disappointed—always hoping she’d tell him the truth. It might happen one of the times he asked.
“Let’s find some treasure,” Joe said as he jumped to his feet.
Everyone joined him. For an hour, the group searched the sand for amethyst. They found some beautiful pieces, everyone competing for the best finds.
Zach approached Harmony, holding up a piece of purple glass. “Treasure?”
“Depends on who’s holding it,” she said.
He handed it to her, his fingers brushing hers. “Then call it a gift.”
His touch lingered just long enough to be intentional. Harmony wasn’t sure if it was interest . . . or if he saw something in her she couldn’t find herself.
From farther down the beach, Torie called out. “Zach, are you doing community service again?”
He looked over his shoulder, grinning big. “Just being neighborly.”
“Neighborly gets expensive,” Torie responded. “Ask my lawyer.”
Mary, a few paces away, gave a dry chuckle. “Everything’s expensive when men are involved.”
Joe joined her, offering a cold beer. “Then let me be the exception.”
“You’re sweet,” she said with a wicked smile. “But sweetness isn’t what I’m after.”
“What are you after?” he asked.
She glanced toward the horizon. “Balance.”
Harmony caught the word, tucking it into her memory.
Her fingers were itching for the keyboard.
Maybe her cousin was right, and she needed to live in the moment more often.
It was hard to do, though, when a person saw a story around every corner and needed to type instead of talk.
Still, there was something in the way Mary said balance that didn’t feel hypothetical.
It sounded less like a philosophy and more like a plan she’d already rehearsed.
“Is anyone actually finding these magic stones?” Tosh asked as he crouched in the sand.
“They’re here,” Cass said. “You just have to look a little harder.”
Zach smirked. “Sounds like dating.”
Cass tossed a shell at him. “You’d know.” She gave him a dazzling smile.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I tend to look for things worth keeping.” His gaze lingered on her for a beat too long.
Harmony caught it—the flicker of interest, the unspoken dare. She smiled. Being with this group was the real treasure. It didn’t matter what they found. What mattered were the words spoken, the looks given, and the touches they thought were being concealed.
Mary wandered along the tideline, toes sinking into the wet sand, collecting bits of glass and purple flecks that shimmered like secrets.
“Are these amethyst?” Harmony asked as she joined her.
Mary’s eyes were fixed on the horizon. “Some are. Some are simply glass pretending to be something precious.”
“Just like people,” Harmony said softly.
Mary’s mouth curved—the faintest sign of agreement. “You learn quick.”
Harmony studied her—the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way grief clung to her like perfume she couldn’t wash away. She’d never met someone who tried so desperately to mask the pain yet wore it with such dignity.
“Mary, I’d like to hear more about your daughter.”
Mary’s hand stilled. “It’s hard to talk about, but I’ll try.”
“You said people killed her.”
Mary looked at the translucent stones in her palm. “They did. They called it an overdose, said she partied too hard and too often. But she didn’t. They made her do it. They held her down and forced things on her.” There was a pause. “And I know exactly who did it.”
Harmony’s fingers twitched with the urge to reach for her, but every comfort she could think of felt small and useless.
“Do the police know?”
Mary laughed, low and bitter. “Police? They stopped caring after the first autopsy. But justice isn’t about who believes you. Justice comes when the world forgets to watch. I have patience.”
Harmony let the words hang in the air, heavy and dark and oddly beautiful. She had no doubt that Mary would get justice.
“You’ll make them pay.” It wasn’t a question. There was steel in this woman . . . in this mother. Someone was going to find out what happened when you messed with her family.
Mary smiled, secrets and pleasure in her eyes. “I already know how.”
For a fleeting second, Harmony envied the certainty in her voice. Mary had a target, a purpose. Harmony only had a question and a restless, gnawing hum that never left her ribs. How clean life must feel when you know exactly who deserves the blade.
Harmony wished she could see inside Mary’s mind in that moment. It would be worth all the gold in Fort Knox to know what she was thinking, planning, obsessed with doing. She’d have to wait, though, wait and watch . . . and listen.
By late afternoon, Parsons Beach shimmered in the sun. The group sprawled across blankets, sun-dazed and sticky with salt. Rum and tequila were flowing, and the laughter grew looser. Best of all, secrets began slipping like wet sand from cupped hands.
Candy wasn’t there, but her songs were—Joe brought a speaker, and her voice carried through the air like a ghost. Torie’s jaw tightened every time Tosh hummed along. Zach stretched out on a blanket, sand clinging to his forearms. He looked at Harmony.
“Do you write much while you’re here?”
“Always,” Harmony said. “The island’s loud with stories. It’s impossible to shut them out. If I don’t write, I’m afraid they’ll be carried away on the wind.”
He gave a lazy, confident smile. “Do you write about me? I’d make a great character.” He paused. “A sophisticated attorney protecting the rights of the innocent. Or maybe a suave CEO in a penthouse.”
“Or maybe a dirty builder with a hero complex,” Tosh said with a roll of his eyes.
“Don’t be jealous of the perfection,” Zach said with a laugh.
Tosh smirked. “I have nothing to be jealous about.”
“Yeah, everyone knows you’re Mr. Casanova,” Mary said, rolling her eyes.
“Nothing wrong with being Casanova,” Zach said.
“Except for all the girls you deceive,” Torie said, scooting closer to Tosh.
“If the girls let him do it, then whose fault is it?” Harmony asked.
Torie shot her a glare, not liking her input.
“I agree with Harmony. I only do what the ladies want,” Zach said.
“Ditto,” Tosh said.
“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Joe said as he moved a couple of inches closer to Mary.
Mary gave him a look that said he’d come close enough. Joe smiled, not intimidated. Maybe he’d lived a full life and was willing to get bitten.
Harmony looked back at Zach and gave him an innocent smile. She sweetened her voice until it dripped with honey. “I write about all of you. I haven’t yet decided if you’re the hero or the warning.” She winked.
Cass laughed as she made her way back from the water. “Careful, Zach. She’ll make you sound better than you are, then decide to kill you in the most horrific of ways.”
He grinned as he winked at Cass. “If she makes me sound too good, I’ll have to buy her dinner.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Men always think flowers, jewelry, and meals pay for their sins.”
Zach laughed. Tosh leaned back and grinned. They didn’t worry about who they were or what they did. One day, it might bite them in the ass. For now, though, they got away with a lot.
“Everyone has a price,” Zach said.
“I have to agree. Those who value themselves are priceless, though,” Harmony said.
“Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Don’t you listen to the good music?” Cass added.
Tosh laughed before tossing Cass a large amethyst. “Not a diamond, but close enough.” He winked.
“Only diamonds will do,” Cass replied. “Dipped in champagne.”
Everyone laughed.
Joe looked at Mary as he held out a drink. “Are you hungry, Mary? I’ll buy you anything you want.”
She took the drink but didn’t lift it for a sip. “I’m not hungry for anything you’re offering.”
The tenseness turned into laughter as Joe put his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. There was an edge to the laughter, though, as if the group knew too much and were trying to cover it with noise. The tide could change in a single heartbeat.
Harmony stood and walked along the curve of the beach, letting the water lick at her ankles. Pebbles clicked beneath her feet. Cass called to her as she ran into the water once more.
“Come on, Harm. Let’s swim!”
“In a minute,” Harmony replied, waving but not drawing closer. She couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that they were being watched. Torie wasn’t far behind her when a gull swooped low, screeching as if startled. Torie flinched.
“Damn bird nearly took my head off,” Torie said, her eyes wide in fear.
“Maybe it was running from something,” Harmony told her.
Torie stiffened. “From what?”
Harmony shrugged.
Mary approached with a fresh drink in hand. “We aren’t looking for ghosts today. We need at least one day free of them.”
“We’re not alone out here either way,” Zach said quietly, squinting up at the cliffs. “Hikers, rangers, whoever drew the short straw for patrol.”
Harmony followed his gaze. From this distance, the cliff line was a jagged silhouette; if anyone was up there watching, they blended in perfectly with the rock. She shook her head. No.
“I agree,” Harmony said.
Mary walked away, and Harmony glanced at the imposing cliffs again. One long shadow stretched across the rocks—nothing unusual. Yet something about its shape made her pulse skip.
Cass called from the water again. “Seriously, Harmony, you either voluntarily get in, or I’m gonna make it hurt.”
Harmony took a step forward, then another. The surf wrapped around her ankles like an invitation. The hum grew inside her. Zach caught her eye. He smiled, warm and open, and for a moment, it anchored her. She went deeper. The cold stung her skin.
Cass ran closer, and Harmony splashed her. Cass shrieked with laughter. Harmony wished she could be as free as her cousin. The others watched them play, and everything felt normal for a moment.
Then the tide pulled sharply, a sudden force that swept her off balance. Zach reached out just in time.
“Careful.”
Harmony held on as she regained her footing. “That was strong,” she gasped.
“It happens here,” he told her. “The undercurrents sneak up on you.”
Those weren’t the only things that snuck up on a person.
They played in the water for longer than they should.
All of their tensions and worries eased, washed away by the sea.
They were wobbly when they climbed back out.
Each person drifted off on their own for a little while.
Harmony lay down and let the sun warm her.
The peace didn’t last long before the group congregated again.
Cass came back and immediately started arguing with Tosh over music.
Zach moved to the sand and began building an elaborate driftwood sculpture—stunning, precise.
Torie lay on her towel pretending not to notice Heidi and Candy’s names lighting up Tosh’s phone as the women texted.
Mary walked along the water’s edge, still collecting amethyst. Joe watched Mary. Harmony watched them all.
Mary returned and showed the stones she’d collected. “Sometimes we collect the gems, and sometimes we have to bleed for them,” she said.
Harmony thought of the deputies again, of Ciscel’s cruiser slowing that morning, of Duong’s name on the gossip train.
Everyone seemed to be bleeding for something on the island—justice, answers, power.
Some of them were paid to pretend they weren’t.
She couldn’t focus on that, though. She was with friends.
“They’re beautiful,” Harmony murmured.
“Beauty eventually fades. This world is too ugly to maintain it for long.” She smiled, fighting to push away her ever-present sadness.
Harmony wrote down the words. Another line for a book she didn’t yet know she was writing.
The thought flickered through her—unwelcome and electric—that somewhere, someone else might be keeping their own version of this day. Another notebook. Another file. Another storyteller who didn’t ask permission.