Chapter Eighteen
Safe is a Story
The golf cart hummed like a bored bumblebee trapped in paradise as Harmony steered up the curve of Crescent Avenue, slipping through streets crowded with tourists looking everywhere at once.
Avalon was alive in the beautiful morning, unconcerned that another person had been killed.
Life must always move on. The dead were only mourned for so long.
Harmony and Cass rolled past white stucco homes and shop windows polished to a shine. Harbor bells clinked softly, like bracelets on a wrist. The world kept spinning.
Cass braced one foot on the dash as the wind gave her a free blowout that normally cost her a few hundred at a salon. “You drive like we’re being chased, Cuz.”
“We are,” Harmony said, easing around a couple hauling a cooler that was most likely full of beer.
“Followed by who?”
“Not who, but what. The story is chasing us.”
Cass laughed. “I’d think you’d stop then. You’re always looking for the next great story.”
“I don’t like this one,” Harmony told her.
Cass nodded in agreement. “Is this the equivalent of existential road rage?” She glanced over her shoulder at the bay that promised so much and delivered very little.
“Road rage isn’t always a bad thing,” Harmony said with a wink.
“I think we’ve become far too much a part of the story the island’s writing. I don’t like it,” Cass told her.
Harmony checked her mirror before making a sharp turn. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Well, with everything going on, it’s definitely a dangerous thing.” Cass nudged her. “You haven’t been sleeping. I catch you staring at shadows like you’re about to step inside them. It worries me.”
Harmony considered that. “I love danger. I don’t know why, but I do. I write about so many exciting things that it’s sort of fitting to be living like we’re in a book.”
“Adventures that end in death aren’t exciting. Normal people call that terrifying,” Cass pointed out.
“I’m not scared. We can live our lives or hide in fear. I choose to live. Besides, details matter. If more people actually paid attention to what’s around them, they’d be in a lot less danger.”
Harmony tapped the brake at a crosswalk. Tourists drifted past, plastic cups in hand, wearing fresh sunburns. A little girl pointed at the Casino as if it might launch into the sky.
At the corner near the arcade, a deputy’s SUV sat in the shade. One of the deputies leaned on the hood with a to-go cup in hand, gaze sweeping the street. He had the kind of stillness that saw too much when no one noticed they were being tracked.
Cass’s laugh rang out, bright enough to make a few heads turn. “Go left. I want to climb a hill.”
Harmony twisted the wheel and climbed past houses stacked together like coral. Golf carts nosed out from carports as wind chimes sang in the breeze. Below, boats glittered in the water as music floated up the hillside.
“Do you feel the charge in the air?” Cass asked, sounding genuinely happy.
“I’ve felt it since the moment we stepped off the boat on day one.”
“I think murder puts a charge in the air,” Cass said.
“Maybe. Or maybe it was always there, and the murders just made everyone admit it,” Harmony replied.
They crested a ridge where the road narrowed to a ribbon and the ocean fell away from their view.
Cass drummed her fingers on the bar in front of her. “Okay, Cuz, say the creepy things you’ve been holding in.”
Harmony smiled. “Hmm, so many options.”
“That’s very true when it comes to you.”
“It’s not murder if you yell . . . surprise,” Harmony said.
Cass burst out laughing. “You’re absolutely terrible.”
“But you love me anyway.”
“Yes, I love you anyway. Maybe because I’m just as flawed. Perfection is highly overrated.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Harmony said.
Harmony’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—unknown number. She handed the phone to Cass to open the text.
You think you’re safe? Cute Laugh. Too loud for someone who wants to live.
Cass’s color drained as she held the phone up for Harmony to see.
“I’m going to block them,” Cass said.
Harmony shook her head. “I’d rather know what they have to say.” She took the phone back and tucked it away. “Information beats comfort any day of the week.”
“Spoken like a woman who turns trauma into chapters.” Cass watched her for a long moment. “Do you have any guesses who could be doing this? I’m trying not to let it scare me, but I’m worried. I don’t want to die. Life’s good. We could leave the island now and be done with this.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Harmony said. “And, honestly, it could be half the people on this island. They’re all so repressed. That’s why bad things happen. People don’t let themselves live and be free, so they snap. It’s like a balloon—the air has to leak out slowly or it’ll pop.”
“I’m hearing a lot of rumors,” Cass said.
“People love to speculate.”
“Things are being said about you,” Cass warned.
Harmony steered the cart to the side of the road and let it idle. “What are they saying?”
“That you like this. That you like the attention, the power. That you’re writing about death like it’s a play for you to master, and the people on this island are just lines on a page.”
Cass’s voice was gentle, but the words weren’t. People wanted to wound her. They clearly didn’t understand how thick Harmony’s skin was. They’d find out.
Harmony looked over the hill toward the water, smiled, then started driving again.
“I’ve never cared much about what people say.
I care about who I am. They’re talking about me, but they’re talking about everyone else, too.
They suspect me because I watch all of them.
They suspect Mary because she’s angry. They look at Zach because he disappears, then always happens to be around during tragedy.
They think it’s Tosh because he’s so cold. ”
“You left out Torie,” Cass pointed out.
“She suspects herself,” Harmony said with a laugh. “Being a victim is her hobby.”
Cass laughed. “Don’t you miss when the gossip here was about who was sneaking off to Lover’s Cove for some late-night nookie?”
Harmony joined her in laughter. “That’s boring and happens daily.”
They coasted down through Metropole’s little maze, where tourists moved along cluelessly with shopping bags and iced coffees. At the corner, Alba lifted two fingers in a salute before hurrying on, late for work as usual. She kept her job because she was too good to lose.
“Antonio’s Pizza for lunch?” Cass asked.
“After we circle.” Harmony looped slowly along the backroads since they couldn’t drive down the center of Crescent.
She let the faces become inventory. Mario heading for the Pier and his second job at the fishing charter.
Janie was laughing too hard, hand grazing a new man’s arm.
Torie was power walking like the ground had personally offended her.
Joe was loading coolers with drinks, getting ready to take his boat out.
Harmony’s phone buzzed again. Same unknown number.
I can hear you when you stop laughing.
The words felt uncomfortably familiar, like something she might have written in a darker draft and decided not to use.
Cass’s teeth clenched together. “Now, I’m annoyed.”
Harmony slid the phone under her thigh, as if warmth could soften the words. “We’ll text back when we know what to say.”
“Or we could not play with a psychopath,” Cass suggested.
“That’s boring,” Harmony said.
“Do you really want their attention on you?”
“It seems they already see me.”
“You always play with fire. I hate it,” Cass grumbled. “If you do respond, I vote for, lose my number, psycho.”
“Nah, that’s too on the nose.” Harmony smiled. “I prefer a lot more foreplay.”
Cass groaned. “You’re not allowed to flirt or play with a potential murderer.”
“Then you’d better entertain me.”
“Challenge accepted,” Cass said, pointing toward the waterfront. “I’ll race you to the Glenmore turnaround. Loser buys lunch.”
Harmony arched her brow. “I’m driving. I’ll clearly win.”
“I said what I said.”
They slid through traffic, laughter bright, not nearly worried enough for two women who might already be marked as prey, sights lined up on their backs. But backing down wasn’t in either of them. They might as well laugh while they were still alive.
They parked and climbed out. Cass hopped onto the low wall, arms out like a girl on an imaginary tightrope. “Tell me something true.”
“Gravity works.”
“Something emotional.”
Harmony joined her on the wall. Together, they looked like a postcard of women who should have fewer secrets. “I don’t know who I’d be if I stopped listening.”
Cass lowered her arms. “Then don’t stop. Just remember to tell me whatever you hear.”
Harmony’s phone vibrated again. Three new messages stacked like waves.
You aren’t safe.
Safe is a story scared people tell themselves so they can sleep at night.
You love being a part of this.
Cass exhaled. “Okay, that’s it. We’re going to the police.”
“To say what? That someone has discovered modern technology?” Harmony slid the phone away as if it were hot. “Screenshots and shrugs?”
“We tell them you’re being threatened.”
Harmony glanced over her shoulder at a couple strolling hand-in-hand. “Threats need air to be real. I’m not giving them mine.”
Cass dropped down from the wall. “You’re stubborn as hell.”
“I’m efficient. Besides, the messages are useful.”
“How?”
“They tell me what the sender wants me to feel.” Harmony brushed dust from her palms. “And what someone wants is almost always where they’re weakest.”
Cass made a face. “Please stop sounding like a therapist with a knife hidden in her boot.”
Harmony laughed. “Hey.” She touched Cass’s shoulder. “I know how dark this feels. You and I are the light.”
Cass rolled her eyes, but her mouth curved. “Fine. But I get to pick the shade.”
“Something dramatic,” Harmony said.
“Obviously.”
They climbed back into the cart. Harmony turned the key, the motor purring to life. She didn’t pull away yet.
“Promise me something,” Cass said, staring straight ahead, voice softer than the wind.
“If I can.”
“Promise you’ll stop trying to control this story.” Cass’s voice cracked on the last word. Harmony hated how much that scared her because it meant Cass was right.
“What if the story’s controlling us?”
“Then we burn the pages,” Cass said. “We choose each other instead, like we’ve always done.”
Harmony nodded. “Always.”
Her phone buzzed again, a persistent gnat.
They reached Antonio’s and ordered salad because they needed it while they waited for pizza. The island made it too easy to eat like teenagers. Temptation was on every corner.
“Look who’s here,” Cass murmured.
Janie breezed past with two men in her draft of perfume and easy promises. “Oh, girls,” she sang. “You look absolutely delicious.”
“You look like you,” Cass said with a sugary smile.
Janie’s smile sharpened. “People are saying you’ve been very busy, Harmony.”
“People love fiction.” Harmony didn’t take the bait.
Janie leaned closer, a confessional without a priest. “I heard Mary threatened Tosh on the pier last night.”
“Did you?” Harmony asked. “From who?”
Janie’s lashes lowered. “From the wind. She’s louder than you think.” She paused, milking the moment. “Be careful. Glass cuts when it shatters.” She paused. “And stop standing on balconies at night. You’re too easy to photograph.” She winked and floated away.
Cass made a gagging face. “I need a shower after that.”
Harmony watched Janie’s bright dress vanish into the crowd. “Keep an eye on her.”
“Why?”
“She knows where the cameras are.”
Their salads arrived. Cass picked at it with irritated focus. Harmony speared a cucumber and nibbled. Through the open window, Zach passed by. He didn’t look in, but Harmony felt the tug of his presence anyway, like a tide that rearranged sand without asking.
“You should go talk to him,” Cass said.
“We’re talking.”
“In your head doesn’t count.”
“I disagree.” Harmony dabbed her mouth with her napkin.
“You could just go and jump on him.”
Harmony laughed as she shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“Thank you.” Cass tapped her phone. “You and Zach are inevitable. I won’t push. I’ll just tease.” She paused. “We should check on Mary.”
“She’ll answer if she wants to.”
“Translation: You already texted her.”
“Twice,” Harmony said.
The server brought their pizza, and they dug in like they hadn’t eaten in days instead of hours. Conversation faded as they devoured slice after slice, then slumped back, groaning in familiar regret.
Their check came. Cass paid and stood, stretching like a sleepy cat. “One more loop and then we change and pretend to be normal for a few hours.”
“Define normal.”
“Less crazy.”
They slid into the cart. Harmony’s phone vibrated again as she turned the key. She didn’t reach for it until Cass shot her a look.
An image this time. No text at first. The photo was tight and disorienting—a curve of white, the black line of a strap, a wash of glittering water behind. It took Harmony a second to place it.
A balcony. Her balcony. Shot from below, from the path. The timestamp was from the night before. In the bottom corner, a blur of dark fabric and a pale hand, caught by accident like the photographer forgot they were human.
She tried to remember who had walked past while she’d been out there, notebook on her lap, bare legs over the rail. Too many faces. Too many shadows. It wasn’t just that someone had seen her. Someone had chosen that moment.
Stop pretending you don’t like this.
Cass’s mouth dropped open. “We go to the cops. Now!”
Harmony stared at the slice of blue in the photo, the exact shade of the bay at dusk, and felt something shift inside her. It wasn’t fear. It was a thrill. Something with teeth. It unnerved her how easy that thrill came, how much closer it felt to curiosity than to panic.
“We need to go to Mary.”
“Why Mary?”
“Because she’ll tell me the part the cops can’t see yet.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Harmony set the phone face down, suddenly aware of how breakable glass could be. “Also, if someone’s trying to make me feel hunted, I’d like to visit the woman who keeps traps in her purse.”
Cass swallowed. “Fine. But I’m driving.”
Harmony didn’t argue. She slid out from behind the wheel, trading places, and let Cass gun the cart into a clatter of laughter and complaining gulls.
Behind them, the bay glittered like a promise made by someone who could afford not to keep it. Down the coast, a fish broke the surface and vanished. On a hotel bar, an olive rolled in a slow circle and came to rest perfectly in the wet ring it had left.
In the quiet spaces between the island’s bright noises, a thought curled warm and ugly.
Control was slipping.
Someone was playing a game and enjoying every second.
They weren’t ready to stop. And the worst part was, Harmony wasn’t entirely sure which side of the game she was on.