Chapter Twelve
Vanishing Proof
The island seemed calmer after Lisa’s death. Or maybe people had simply learned how to whisper. The last storm had blown itself out, but the air still felt charged—like Avalon was waiting instead of exhaling.
The morning came heavy with heat, the kind that made guests slow their gait as they wiped sweat from their brows. Laughter drifted along Crescent Avenue while birds swooped low over the water in search of breakfast.
Torie watched from the balcony of her rented villa, robe half-tied, coffee cooling in one hand, phone in the other. From where she stood, she had a perfect view of the Marlin Club’s back alley—and the familiar figure slipping out of it.
Candy. Barefoot. Still faintly glittering from the night before, guitar slung over her shoulder like an extra limb.
“Of course. Always the same exit. Where the hell are you off to now?” Torie murmured, narrowing her eyes. She hit record on her phone.
Behind her, Janet’s voice interrupted.
“You’re talking to yourself again. Or watching someone.”
Torie jumped, coffee sloshing onto the railing. “Geez, Janet, don’t sneak up on me.”
Janet grinned, lifting two cups. “Brought caffeine before you jump off the balcony.”
Torie set her cold cup aside and took Janet’s with a shaky hand. “I’m fine. Just watching Candy. She’s always up to something.”
Janet followed her gaze. “She’s hungover. Probably forgot where she left her shoes.”
“No,” Torie said sharply. “She’s been sneaking around all week. Tosh has been, too.”
“Torie . . .” Janet sighed. “Don’t do this. You sound paranoid.”
Torie didn’t look away from the alley. “I’m awake for the first time in a long while.” Her voice thinned. “He’s a lying, cheating bastard.”
“You and Tosh aren’t even—”
“Don’t.” Torie’s tone hit like a whip. “Don’t say it.”
Janet leaned against the railing, studying her friend. “You and Tosh are taking a break. That was decided a while ago. It was smart.”
“We are,” Torie said. “But that doesn’t mean he gets to humiliate me.”
They stood a moment in uneasy silence. Harbor bells clanged faintly in the distance. Janet smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
“You look like you’re dressing for an alibi.”
“Funny,” Torie muttered, eyes locked on Candy lighting a cigarette. “She’s been meeting Tosh in secret all week . . . but she’s been meeting other men too. That woman is collecting more than stories.”
Janet snorted. “Candy meets anyone who will do something for her. It’s part of her brand.”
“This is different,” Torie said. “It’s more.”
Janet’s smile faded. “Please tell me you’re not getting back with Tosh. It always ends the same.”
“I know!” Torie yelled.
“And you’re still married,” Janet added softly. “To someone else.”
Torie’s jaw clenched. “My marriage ended years ago. We just stayed for the kids.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that Tosh was supposed to be . . . a fling. Revenge. Closure. Not emotional support.”
Torie’s eyes burned. “He promised he’d stop seeing her.”
“Candy?” Janet asked.
“And Janie. And Lisa. And all the others.” Torie swallowed hard.
“He said he’d give me the respect of keeping them out of rotation.
What we had mattered . . . or it was supposed to.
” Torie’s voice trembled with a mixture of fury and heartbreak.
“You don’t get it. He makes me feel alive, and then he makes me feel like I’m losing my mind. ”
Janet hesitated. “Maybe take a break from the friendship, too.”
Torie bitterly laughed. “You sound like Harmony.”
“Well . . . if we’re all saying it, maybe you should listen.”
Torie scoffed. “I don’t trust Harmony. She asks too many questions. She was there the night Lisa died, and now she’s circling all of us like case studies. How is that normal?”
“What questions?” Janet asked.
“I don’t know. I just know she’s writing things down, and I don’t trust her.”
“Maybe it’s innocent,” Janet said carefully. “She is a writer.”
Torie shook her head, setting down her cup. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t—”
Too late. Torie was already moving, turning the walk into a stakeout.
She followed Candy through the streets, her heart pounding. Catalina seemed too bright and clean for how dark she felt inside. Every smiling face mocked her.
She cut behind the Avalon Theater and climbed the path to the cliffs above Lover’s Cove. Sea wind tangled her hair as she crouched behind a rock. Candy set her guitar down, lighting another cigarette.
Moments later, Tosh appeared.
The same grin that had once undone her slid into place effortlessly. He tucked a strand of Candy’s hair behind her ear. Candy laughed softly. Tosh’s hand slid down her back.
It was intimate. Easy. Rehearsed.
Torie’s breath broke. “You liar,” she whispered. “You lying—”
She hit record, hands shaking. The video captured everything: the touch, the smile, the betrayal.
Then Candy looked up toward the ridge—straight toward Torie.
Torie ducked low, scraping her knee on the rock, heartbeat roaring. When she peeked again, the cove was empty.
She walked for hours after that, aimless, shaking.
Later, she pushed into The Sand Trap. A live band played, the air thick with rum and salt. Harmony and Cass sat near the back.
“Torie—” Cass began, but she waved her off.
She dropped into the seat beside Harmony. “Guess what I saw?”
Harmony looked up, her voice steady. “What?”
“Candy,” Torie hissed. “With Tosh. All over each other. In the middle of the day. They wanted me to see.”
Harmony tilted her head. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”
“I’m not blind. I have a video.” Her fingers trembled as she opened her gallery—the file was gone. Her phone suddenly felt heavier.
“What?” Her voice cracked. “It was right here.”
Cass reached for her hand. “Breathe, Torie.”
“They deleted it,” Torie whispered, face draining of color. “They’re covering it up.”
Harmony didn’t touch her drink for a long moment. The condensation pooled beneath her fingertips, like she’d forgotten how to move. Cass didn’t notice. Torie did.
Harmony raised a brow. “You think Candy and Tosh broke into your phone?”
“I think everyone’s underestimating me.”
Cass frowned. “No one is—”
“Waiting for me to break!” Torie finished wild-eyed. “All of you are.”
Harmony’s tone stayed calm. “Sometimes grief distorts perception. You’ve been through a lot—”
Outside, a shadow crossed the window—slow, deliberate. Harmony saw it. She didn’t react.
“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” Torie snapped. “You’re not my therapist. You’re the one writing everything down for your next book, not giving a damn who you hurt.”
“Torie, that’s not fair,” Cass protested.
“And you,” Torie spat at Harmony. “You knew Lisa. Did you write about her, too? Did you have something to do with her death?”
Silence fractured the air.
Harmony’s fingers tightened around her glass—just once—ice knocking against the rim before she stilled it.
“Torie,” Cass whispered, horrified.
“I’m not crazy!” Torie insisted. “I just see more than anyone else.”
“You’re hurting and saying things you’ll regret,” Harmony told her.
Torie shook her head, her eyes wide as she unraveled.
“You’re writing all of our pain as if we’re nothing but pawns in a sick game.
” She looked at Cass. “You’d better wake up, little girl, or you’ll be next.
She’s not here to relax and make friends.
She’s collecting us like someone who keeps souvenirs. ”
For half a heartbeat, Harmony’s face shifted—something Torie couldn’t read, something quick and masked—gone before anyone else noticed.
Harmony’s eyes narrowed. “Writers observe.”
“Writers exploit,” Torie shot back.
Silence fell across the table. From the corner, music swelled and dipped. Cass reached for Torie’s hand. Torie jerked away.
“Torie, you’re seeing things you want to see so you can feel grounded,” Cass said.
“I’m seeing clearer than I ever have before.”
“You have to stop, Torie. You’re coming unraveled, and I’m scared for you.”
“I need to prove this,” Torie said, jerking back. “You’ll see. You’ll all see.”
People at nearby tables were beginning to glance over. Torie stood, clutching her bag. She gave them one more glance, her eyes filled with fear and worry. Then she rushed away without another word.
Harmony watched her go. “Unraveling,” she murmured.
“She’s spiraling,” Cass whispered.
Harmony was silent for a long moment, then shrugged. “Or maybe it’s all a performance,” Harmony said. “Sometimes, it’s hard to tell the difference.”
Cass sighed. “If she doesn’t stop, something very, very bad is coming.”
Harmony smiled faintly. “I guess we’ll soon find out.”
***
Torie waited until Harmony’s lights went out before slipping inside. The lock was easy. She’d grown up on this island and knew its secrets.
Inside, everything was neat—annoyingly so. On the desk sat a notebook. Open, as if it had been left that way on purpose.
Torie approached and froze.
In tight handwriting were sketches—Lisa’s smile, the bonfire circle, the curve of the beach where her body was found. Lines connected names like a spiderweb.
Mary—Vengeance.
Zach—In Hiding.
Tosh—Manipulation.
Candy—Liar.
Torie—Unraveling.
Janie—Empty.
Deputies—watching.
Her heart kicked hard. “What are you hiding?”
She flipped another page—and gasped.
A timeline of Lisa’s final night. Details no one had shared publicly.
One note read: Broken bracelet clasp found behind the last bonfire pit—missed by responding units.
“No. No. No.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you up to, Harmony? How do you know all of this?”
A floorboard creaked behind her.
Torie froze. The scent in the room shifted—jasmine, ink, and something colder underneath. Something that didn’t belong.
Torie spun, eyes wide. “Is someone there?”
No answer. But the air felt disturbed—like someone had moved a second too soon.
She slammed the notebook shut, shoved it into her bag, and ran. She stopped midway and sat with her back against the wall, her eyes closed. She was a mess. When her legs could hold her again, she went straight to Janet’s.
Janet answered after several knocks, hair mussed from sleep. Torie burst inside.
“I have proof!” Torie gasped. “Harmony isn’t who she says she is.”
“Torie, it’s three in the morning.”
“She knows things she shouldn’t.”
Janet rubbed her eyes. “What proof?”
Torie opened her bag—and went still. The notebook was gone. She emptied the bag, hands shaking. Nothing.
Janet checked the hallway. No one was there. No one was leaving. But Torie swore the front door had been locked behind her.
“Are you sure?” Janet asked softly.
“I’m not crazy!” Torie shouted, pacing. “I held it in my hands. It was real.”
“Maybe it got dropped—”
“I didn’t drop it.” Torie’s voice cracked. “Someone took it.”
Janet’s worry deepened. “Torie, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m scared, too,” she whispered.
Janet moved closer, gentle now. “You need sleep.”
“They’re all in on it,” Torie said. “Candy. Harmony. Tosh. Zach. Mary. Janie. All of them.”
“What are they in on?”
“Pretending,” Torie said. “All of them are pretending to be something they’re not.”
Her gaze drifted to the window—to the dark ocean glinting under the bright moon.
“They know things. I believe they have something planned.” Her voice dropped. “I’m going to find out.”
Janet swallowed. “Torie—”
She was already walking away, murmuring beneath her breath. “No one makes a fool of me twice.”
“Torie, what will you do?”
Torie stopped for a moment. “Pretend to still be one of them. That’s the only way I can figure out what they’re up to.”
She didn’t let Janet answer. She simply walked away.
Torie didn’t sleep that night. She couldn’t. Thoughts churned too loudly.
When dawn broke, the Chimes Tower rang, the sound drifting across the cliffs. Janet found her on the balcony, barefoot and pale, staring at the horizon.
“Did you sleep, Torie?”
Torie shook her head. “The island doesn’t sleep,” she whispered. “Neither do I.”
Fear curled through Janet’s chest. Was Torie finally seeing the truth? Or was the island taking her apart inch by inch?