Chapter Seventeen
Things we Swallow
The plaza smelled like smoke, cumin, and onions—comfort scents that almost managed to smother the island’s unease.
Every year, the Avalon Chili Cook-Off drew the whole island—families, shop owners, retirees, thrill-seekers, and gossipers pretending to be food critics.
Booths lined the square, decorated with banners and pun-filled names that made everyone grin despite themselves.
Bean There
Burned That
Chili Con Carnage
Mary’s Inferno
The Heat Is On
Crack Of Dawn
Dawn of the Dead
Usually, laughter came easily during the cook-off. Today, it came fast but ended faster. People glanced over their shoulders before speaking. The island’s usual warmth had curled inward, watching itself.
Harmony, Cass, and Zach moved through the rows with paper cups and sampling spoons. They smiled and chatted, though nothing felt natural. It had only been days since Heidi was found hanging from the Chimes Tower. The absence felt cleaner than Harmony had expected.
Cass wore her charm like armor.
Zach carried a hollow ache behind his eyes.
Harmony clutched her notebook like a shield, though she didn’t write a single word.
People tried to look normal, and failed miserably.
“I swear,” Cass muttered, “if one more person asks if I’m holding up okay, I’m tossing them in the ocean . . . or a vat of scalding chili.”
“I’d pick a medium vat,” Harmony said. “So you can really savor their pain.”
They arrived at Mary’s booth. She stood behind her table with her hair pinned up, sunglasses perched on her face despite the gloomy sky. Her sign read:
Mary’s Inferno
Justice Has Flavor
Harmony arched a brow. “Nice and subtle.”
“Subtlety’s overrated,” Mary said with a smirk.
Zach nodded in agreement. “Smells good, Mary.”
Her lips curved dangerously. “Careful, Zach. This chili bites back.”
She scooped them each a serving. Cass took one bite and immediately fanned her face. “Holy hell, Mary. What did you put in this? Vengeance?”
Mary looked delighted. “Among other things.” Her gaze slid to Zach. “Do you like it?”
Zach swallowed, then coughed, then drank half his beer before managing a hoarse, “Burns good.”
“Pain means it’s working,” Mary said, already turning to help the next customer.
They moved on as the crowd pressed around them. The Avalon newspaper snapped photos, highlighting community spirit, carefully cropping out the tension simmering beneath.
Near another booth, Tosh and Torie were already in a heated argument. They’d been partners for years, but this might be their last. She stirred the pot like she wanted to drown Tosh in it. There might just be another murder before too long.
“You’re the one who said it needed more peppers,” she yelled.
“I didn’t mean the whole damn bunch,” he replied. “You dumped them in like you were performing an exorcism.”
“You have no taste buds. I’m the chef,” she shot back.
Harmony stepped closer with a too-bright grin. “Great teamwork, guys.” Her smile was faker than the plastic bat hanging from their booth’s sign.
Torie rounded on her. “You here to take more notes, Harmony?” she spat. She wasn’t even pretending they were friends anymore. “Just another couple for you to play with and call it friendship?”
Harmony didn’t blink. “Every story needs a good conflict,” she told her.
Torie stared a moment too long, something sharp flickering in her expression, as if some instinct deep inside her was finally waking.
“Well, you have plenty of that to work with on this island,” Tosh said cheerfully. The man was impossible to offend.
Torie glared at him. “You’re one to talk, Tosh,” she hissed. “You are conflict.”
Harmony decided it wouldn’t be wise to eat anything Torie handed her. Not unless she wanted arsenic for dessert.
When a couple approached the booth, they took one look at the fighting pair and immediately turned on their heels. Tosh laughed. “You’re chasing everyone away, Torie. Planning to keep this chili all to yourself?”
“Screw you, Tosh.” She threw down her spoon and stormed off. Tosh kept laughing.
“Anyone want to step in and help?” He winked at Cass.
She flipped her hair. “Sweat it out, Tosh. It looks good on you.” Then she sauntered off, hips swinging, and Tosh’s eyes followed as if glued.
“Hurry up,” Cass called back to Harmony. “We need to try Janie’s before she charges us for a compliment.”
Harmony and Zach laughed as they followed Cass, who’d managed to claw her way out of her earlier mood.
They reached Janie’s booth. Her apron read: Spicy or Sweet, depending on what you add. Below was a collage of gemstones. Janie never missed a chance to advertise that everything she had was for sale.
A line of men stood at her booth, eager and oblivious. Janie had them wrapped around her finger.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the infamous trio,” Janie purred, eyes locking onto Zach. He gave her a look of disgust so obvious she flinched.
She turned on Cass. Jealousy sharpened her gaze. Cass didn’t have to try—men simply gravitated to her. Janie hated that.
Finally, she looked at Harmony. “Our famous author. Looking for inspiration . . . or indigestion?”
“Maybe both.” She eyed Janie’s pot with suspicion.
“I’ve got secret ingredients,” Janie murmured. “All the best fun happens under cloak-and-dagger.”
Zach reluctantly accepted the scoop from her and took a bite. He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
Janie lost a bit of her smile, but recovered quickly. “It’s more than okay, and you know it, lover.” She winked. If the table hadn’t been between them, she’d have been sliding up on him. She softened her gaze, being quite the actress. “I heard about what happened. How terrible. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Zach said, his voice clipped.
“Fine is such a fragile word,” she murmured. “Weren’t you the last person to see Heidi alive?”
Cass stiffened. “That’s enough.”
“What?” Janie asked, batting her long lashes, her voice dripping with innocence. “People are talking. We’re curious.”
Zach’s jaw tightened. “Maybe you should worry about what people are saying about you.”
Her smile cracked Zach’s way. “People talk about me because I matter. I’ve never been accused of murder, though,” she told him with enough sharpness to cut.
Harmony stepped forward, tossing her untouched chili in the garbage. “We’re done here.”
She looped her arm through Zach’s and leaned close, whispering something that made him smile—just to piss Janie off. They walked away, hearing Janie’s furious muttering behind them.
The festival chatter swallowed them again just as the band broke into a cheerful cover of Ring of Fire. The irony wasn’t lost on any of them.
Sergeant Durante stood near the tables, sampling chili with a stern face. “Enjoying the day?” he asked, as if joy were a crime.
Behind him, Ciscel murmured something to another deputy. His gaze flicked to Harmony, then away—quick, practiced, like someone memorizing details no one else noticed. Not for the report. For himself.
“As much as we can,” Harmony said brightly.
“Life goes on no matter who dies,” Durante said.
Zach tensed. Harmony trailed her nails down his arm until his muscles eased. She squeezed his hand.
Cass glared. “Yes, people die, and then new people are born. It’s the circle of life.”
“Some people die in the wrong place . . . or the wrong circles,” Sgt Durante said, his gaze not flinching. “Ever wonder why that is?”
“I wonder all the time,” Harmony said evenly. “We like to pretend to care about one death, while a thousand more happen on the same day that get no recognition. I guess those with something to gain get to dictate which lives matter and which don’t.”
His nostrils flared. “The law is about equal justice.”
Her eyes lifted almost—but not quite—into a roll. “When that’s actually true, the world will be a better place.”
They walked off before the tension could grow any thicker. Deputy Evans stood near the fountain, arms crossed, scanning the crowd. Deputy Duong was questioning a vendor, jotting something into his notebook. Watching. Always watching.
Nearby, Deputy Ciscel lingered half in shadow, pretending to study a booth’s permit but really watching the crowd with a focus that felt too sharp, too personal. His gaze flicked across Harmony, then away—quick, practiced, like someone taking notes no one would ever see.
Harmony noted both, and felt something cold slip beneath her skin—almost like a hum carried on the wind. A sound she’d felt before. She told herself she imagined it.
But someone else didn’t imagine her—someone’s gaze held on her long after she turned away, steady and curious.
They approached Efrain’s booth next. The airport manager was dazzling two women as he ladled chili with a grin.
Cass kissed him briefly. “Didn’t know you had a booth.”
“When lightning strikes ten feet from you, and you walk away, you start feeling invincible,” he said proudly.
“Lightning?” Zach asked.
“Oh yeah. Close enough that I smelled my arm hair singe.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “To tell the truth, I was a little bummed it didn’t strike me. I think I could survive it.”
Zach laughed—for the first time in days.
Harmony’s brows rose. “If that’s not a sign, nothing is,” she said, joining in the laughter. “The island doesn’t miss when it wants to be noticed.”
Efrain winked. “Life’s short. I’m living all of it.”
Zach’s smile faded again, his gaze drifting into the distance.
Cass nudged him. “You good?”
He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just tired.”
Harmony knew better. She saw something in his eyes, something that spoke of more than sleepiness. He was haunted. Was it because he missed the girl, or was there more to it? Could it be guilt?
They finally made their way to a table near the edge of the plaza. They were sufficiently full, and they needed to rest as they listened to live music.
Mary appeared with three beers. “You look like you need these.”
Her fingers brushed Zach’s wrist too knowingly—like someone accustomed to reading pulse, not comforting a friend.
Zach accepted one with a grateful nod. “More than you know,” he said. “Thanks.”
She sat beside him. “Ever think about leaving this place for good, Zach?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “But even when I leave, it doesn’t take long to call me back.”
Mary’s gaze was steady. “Maybe you come back because this damn place won’t let any of us go.”
Cass laughed. “You both sound like you’re in a horror movie and can’t find the exit.”
Mary didn’t smile. “Maybe we are.”
No one spoke for several moments. It was a silence that said nothing, yet spoke in volume. Harmony couldn’t take it any longer.
“We’ve got to get out of this gloom,” she said.
“It’s hard to do with all that’s been going on,” Zach replied, his gaze straight ahead, not looking any of them in the eye.
“Time will heal the wounds,” Cass said as she rubbed his arm.
He shook his head. Mary was still. She knew that time didn’t heal the wounds. They might not be oozing daily, but they were always there. No amount of bandages could cover them up.
Zach sighed. “Years ago, I was on another work site where a man died.”
Harmony heard the smallest click inside herself, like a lock deciding to turn.
Mary’s eyes sharpened as they all gazed at him in shock. No wonder he was taking this so hard. This wasn’t the first time a person had died at a place where he was working. Was this a coincidence, or did it mean something?
Cass froze.
Harmony’s breath stopped.
Not because she pitied him, but because she recognized the shape of guilt when it rippled through someone. Guilt had a pulse all its own.
“What kind of accident?” Mary asked.
“He fell off some scaffolding.”
“Yours?” Harmony asked quietly.
Zach hesitated—too long. “Yeah. Mine.”
Cass looked at him with worry. “Was it ruled an accident?”
Zach lifted his gaze, flat and exhausted. “It was an accident.”
His words were right. His tone wasn’t.
A bird swooped down nearby, stole a chip, and flew off. Harmony wished escape were that simple.
She met Zach’s eyes. “I’ve noticed something about this island.”
“What?” Cass asked.
“No one gets away with anything for very long.”
Zach stood abruptly. “I need air.” He walked off, shoulders tight.
“He’s breaking,” Cass whispered, her face tight with worry.
Harmony shook her head slowly. “Or he’s hiding.”
Her gaze drifted back across the festival—to Mary’s booth.
Justice Has Flavor glared back in bold italics.
The words rippled like a warning.
Or a prophecy.
Or a promise the island intended to keep.
Across the plaza, someone swallowed a laugh at the exact moment the wind changed direction, carrying the taste of chili and fear. Catalina always noticed who broke first, and who learned the rules.