Chapter Eleven
Dressed to Kill
The sun came back out, and Catalina put on her good jewelry—pretending she wasn’t coming apart at the seams. The Casino Ballroom shimmered like a secret too bright to hold.
Crystal chandeliers threw gold across polished marble, the band played swing loud enough to drown out guilt, and the air itself buzzed with perfume, money, and pretense.
Avalon’s elite had gathered for charity, though everyone knew they weren’t there to give. They were there to be seen, to be forgiven, to pretend the island wasn’t cracking beneath them.
Harmony arrived late, slipping through the doors with a smile that could’ve meant anything.
Black satin caught the light as she moved, her eyes scanning the room and missing nothing.
Though she wanted to be there as nothing more than an observer, her pulse quickened with anticipation.
Nights like these always exposed something new.
The Casino’s floors echoed with every step—a confession desperate to escape. Above, chandeliers swayed gently with the tide, their light older than truth itself.
“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Cass teased, meeting her at the champagne bar. “You’re two glasses behind and three scandals too late.”
“I’ll catch up,” Harmony said, scanning the room.
Tosh stood near the stage, laughing loudly with the mayor’s wife. Candy glittered beside him in a sequined dress—a deliberate weapon. At a nearby table, Torie sat watching every movement with surgical precision, fingers white around her wineglass.
Mary hovered near the silent auction table, pretending to study jewelry, her hand shaking just enough for Harmony to notice. And Zach was leaning against a column, jacket open, expression unreadable.
Near the back wall, Deputy Ciscel stood out of uniform in a dark suit that didn’t quite hide the cop. He wasn’t drinking or dancing; instead, he leaned with crossed arms against the wall, surveying the room with that same quiet attention he always carried.
“You can feel it, can’t you?” Cass murmured. “The tension?”
Harmony smiled faintly. “That’s not tension. It’s foreplay.”
The band shifted songs. The crowd began to swirl. Waiters wove through laughter, champagne trays balanced high, while gossip moved even faster.
At a table, Sue leaned close to Leo. “You hear what they found near the cliffs?”
Leo smirked. “A bottle?”
“A shoe,” she whispered. “A woman’s shoe.”
“Plenty of those on this island,” he said.
Sue’s eyes flicked to Candy. “Not like that one.”
Janie swept by in a shimmer of silk and intent, three men trailing her like obedient shadows. She paused at Sue’s table.
“Having fun?” she asked in the perfected purr she’d spent a lifetime mastering.
“I’m having the time of my life,” Sue told her.
“Me too. My only problem is knowing who to choose first. It’s a difficult decision.”
“You know you’ll play with all of them until they’re sobbing at your feet,” Sue told her.
“We’ll see,” Janie replied, unoffended. It was hard to offend a woman with no shame. She skimmed a glance over the room—Tosh, Candy, Torie, Zach, Cass, Harmony—as if cataloging them, then let herself be swept back into the crowd. Meanwhile, tension near the dance floor mounted.
Torie slowly rose, her chair scraping back, her legs wobbling a little. Before anyone else, Harmony caught it—the bad decisions taking shape in Torie’s eyes. With a dangerous kind of grace, Torie navigated the dance floor, weaving through couples. Nearby, Candy laughed, unaware.
Torie’s smile flashed—sharp, dangerous. “It’s the slut and her puppet,” she announced, her laugh cracking through the music.
Heads turned.
Candy blinked, already used to Torie’s outbursts. “What are you talking about?”
“You and Tosh!” Torie shouted. “You’ve been sneaking around like I’m blind!”
Tosh froze mid-laugh, color draining from his face. “Torie, not here—”
But she was already closing the distance, the room splitting open around her. “Where then? The beach? Her bed? Yours?”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Cass reached for Harmony’s arm. “Do something.”
“I am,” Harmony said. “I’m watching.”
Candy’s expression hardened. “You should talk about faithfulness, Torie. How’s that husband of yours?”
Torie’s hand moved faster than thought. The slap echoed through the ballroom. For a second, everyone stopped breathing. Then the whispers began.
Tosh grabbed Torie’s wrist. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Maybe I finally found it!” she spat, yanking free. “You think you can humiliate me and walk away clean? You obviously aren’t aware of what I know.”
“What do you know?” Tosh demanded.
She smiled, eyes wild. “Enough to ruin you.”
Candy turned toward Harmony, trembling. “You’re enjoying this.”
Harmony’s lips parted. “Of course not.” The look she gave Candy said otherwise.
Someone else in the room clocked the exchange. Harmony felt the weight of a gaze on her, sharp and assessing. When she glanced toward the back wall, all she caught was the briefest glimpse of a man in a dark suit turning away.
Near the bar, Janie watched the scene over the rim of her glass, eyes glittering with delight. “And they say I’m the problem.” She drifted toward a new partner as if chaos was just another song.
At the far side of the ballroom, Mary had been drinking too much white wine, her movements sharp with anger. She approached Tosh like a storm disguised as a woman.
“You think this is funny?” she hissed. “You and your games. You play with everyone and don’t care about the mess left behind.”
“Mary, not tonight,” he said, exasperated.
“You talk about donations and goodwill, but no one cares when real damage is done.” The band kept playing, but no one was dancing anymore.
Mary’s voice cracked, raw and furious. “You think the island forgets? It remembers everything. Every scream. Every sin.”
Harmony appeared beside her, a calming hand on her arm. “Mary, come outside. Let’s take a breath.”
Mary turned, eyes wet, voice trembling. “You are far from sinless. You write about all of us as if we aren’t real. You write our pain like it’s yours to use, like we’re disposable without real feeling. How dare you!”
Harmony’s expression softened. “I write what I see. You deserve to have your story told.”
“I need justice,” Mary whispered, breaking apart.
Harmony’s tone was tender. “Are you finding it?”
The words landed like a slap. Mary blinked, stepped back, and then fled toward the exit. Tosh called after her, but she was already gone. The doors slammed, echoing through the vaulted hall.
The silence didn’t last long. Sergeant Durante approached Harmony, clearing his throat. “Harmony. A word?”
“Okay.” She turned to face him, polite, unreadable.
“You’ve been asking a lot of questions lately,” he said. “People talk.”
“They always do.”
“Some of them are starting to ask why you’re always in the middle of it. And why you’re always near him.” His gaze flicked to Zach for a brief moment. Harmony said nothing. She knew when to wait, and it seemed all of them had it out for her at the moment.
He studied her. “You were at the scene the night Lisa died. You’ve been seen with every person involved since. That’s not a coincidence.”
Harmony smiled faintly. “It’s research.”
“For a book?”
“For the truth.”
Durante’s jaw tightened. “Don’t make me regret going easy on you.”
She tilted her head. “If I were guilty of anything, Sergeant, you’d already know. The island talks to you too, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t answer, just gave her one long, unsettled look, then walked away.
The music shifted, slower this time—a sinuous rhythm that slid across the floor like smoke.
The kind of song that was made for hips and half-truths.
Harmony stood by the bar, still tasting the fight that had come out of nowhere, and Durante’s questions.
They’d been sharp and metallic, like blood or truth.
She needed something to wash them away. A drink wouldn’t do it. Movement might.
As the crowd regained its rhythm, she saw a man confidently striding forward.
“Dance with me?”
The voice was warm, unfamiliar, a stranger. Broad shoulders, linen shirt clinging where the heat had caught it, a grin that promised distraction. The kind of man who’d disappear by morning, leaving no name, no questions, no answers.
Perfect.
She took his hand. Why not? Catalina loved bad ideas.
His palm was rough, his confidence practiced.
They moved easily, his breath sweet with rum and bravado.
She let herself be pulled close, let her body remember what ease felt like.
The song wrapped around them like heat—all bass and heartbeat and suggestion.
The crowd parted enough for them to weave their way toward the center of the floor.
The man guided Harmony forward, his hand lightly supporting her back.
The first press of his palm against her spine sent a shiver through her.
His hand was firm, confident, his rhythm easy.
They began to dance, moving together like they’d done it before.
Lights over the dance floor flickered gold and amber, catching in Harmony’s hair as it swung over her shoulder. His breath brushed her neck.
“You definitely seem a woman of mystery,” he murmured, voice low in her ear.
“I am,” she said.
He gave a murmur of approval, the sound vibrating against her skin.
Around them, the air thickened. There was the kind of heat in the room that made logic unravel. Couples swayed. Glasses clinked. Laughter turned into moans.
Harmony tilted her head back, eyes half-lidded. For a moment, she wasn’t thinking about dead girls, secrets, or who might be hiding behind fake smiles. She let herself move—really move—hips catching the slow drag of the song, her breath syncing with his.
Then she looked up and saw Zach and Cass dancing together.