Chapter Thirty-Seven
Too Bright
Sometimes the morning was simply too bright. Too bright to hide stains. Too bright to pretend last night hadn’t happened.
The sky over Avalon was cloudless, that kind of impossible blue that made the previous night feel like a fever dream.
No one sitting in Steve’s Steakhouse could shake it off.
The clatter of plates and the low murmur of tourists only made the calm worse.
It was a reminder that life went on, even when your own has stopped.
Tosh sat on one side of the table, shoulders hunched, gazing into a cup of coffee gone cold.
Cass sat beside him, pale, her arm in a fresh sling.
The bandage beneath it itched where the bullet had kissed skin what seemed a lifetime ago.
Zach sat across from her, silent, eyes rimmed with exhaustion.
Next to him, Harmony stirred her tea slowly, watching the swirl of cream dissolve like smoke.
No one spoke for a long time.
Finally, Cass broke the silence. “They sedated her,” she said softly. “I was told they did it at the station. She was screaming so loud when they put her in the holding cell; they had no choice. Durante signed off on it. For her safety and ours. That’s what they wrote.”
Zach nodded once, not looking up. “She was gone long before they took her in,” he said. “We just didn’t realize how bad it was until last night. Maybe we’re all blind.”
Tosh rubbed his forehead with a shaky hand. “I should’ve seen it. I knew she was unraveling. I thought eventually she’d calm down, or that it would blow over. What in the hell was I thinking?”
Harmony spoke. “You were thinking like someone who wanted to save her.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Save her? She tried killing me, and then herself.” He paused a moment. “And that was after killing multiple women. There was no saving her.”
“People don’t always mean what they do when they’re broken,” Harmony said. “Sometimes the mind just snaps.”
Cass looked between them, her eyes wet. “She said she ended your story, Harmony. What did she mean by that?”
Harmony shrugged. “I don’t know. She was saying so much—and yet, saying nothing at all.”
Zach leaned back, letting out a breath. “So, it’s over then,” he said. “They’ve got her. She said enough for them to call it a confession. They think she had help, but she won’t confirm.”
Tosh looked at him sharply. “Who in the hell would help her?”
Zach frowned. “I don’t know, man. I just keep thinking about the evidence. The wounds. The angles. The staging. It’s my job. The strength it took to hang those bodies . . .” He shook his head. “Torie’s strong, but I just . . .” He trailed off.
“Rope work like that isn’t just rage. It’s practice,” Harmony added.
“Is she really capable of doing all of that?” Cass asked. “Was she even sane enough to figure it out?”
The table went silent again. Outside, a ferry horn blared in the distance, long and low, as if it were mourning something none of them could name.
It all felt too easy. Too neat. Too convenient.
Harmony finally spoke, her voice quiet but precise. “They’ll analyze everything. Forensics, prints, timelines. People do get wrongly convicted, but it’s harder these days. If she was the one who did it, they’ll know.”
“Unless someone touched what they shouldn’t have touched,” Tosh muttered, then looked away like he regretted saying it.
“What if she didn’t do it?” Cass asked. “Or what if she really did have help?”
Harmony’s gaze lifted as she shrugged. “Then there’s still someone out there with blood on their hands, someone who might not be finished.”
The words hung heavy between them. A shiver ran through Cass. Tosh’s jaw tightened as his eyes narrowed. Zach looked out the open window where the sunlight glinted off the harbor.
“I think we need to go home. It’s time,” Cass said after a long pause. “I can’t stand it here anymore. Every shadow feels like it’s watching me.”
Tosh reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “We can all get out of here tonight if you want. I think I need a break from the island as well.”
Zach nodded. “I love this place, but yeah. We need space. The sooner the better. We can hit the early ferry in the morning, or move fast and take the last one tonight.”
Cass let out a shaky breath. “Good. I didn’t want to leave with you guys still here. I’d be a nervous wreck. You’re more than friends—you’re family.”
“We feel the same,” Zach said.
Harmony smiled, though her eyes stayed distant. “We can all run from the island, but problems travel well. It might not be about this place. It might just be about us.”
Tosh frowned. “Are you saying we brought this on ourselves? That it’s our fault?”
“I’m saying that places don’t make monsters,” Harmony said. “Other people make them.”
Cass turned toward her. “What do you think about Janie? Maybe she was the one helping Torie and ran before she got busted. She had to see that Torie was coming apart.”
In all that had happened, they’d all forgotten Janie. And that, more than anything, felt like a mistake the island would punish. Besides, it was shocking since the woman liked to make a splash. She wasn’t forgotten too often.
“I don’t know,” Harmony said after a moment.
A chill settled over the group.
“Well, I know she’s been gone for a week now with nobody hearing a thing and no activity on her social media.
And her red dress . . . the one they found snagged in the Gardens?
That wasn’t an accident. Was it staged? I don’t know what to think,” Cass said.
“She just vanished, and the police have zero leads. Is she a victim . . . or an accomplice?”
“No,” Tosh said. “I don’t want to go down that road. Mary is gone. Janie is gone. I don’t want to think that more than one person was involved. I don’t want to imagine that this might never end.”
Zach frowned deeply. “We might not want to face it, but Cass is right. Mary is gone, and Janie’s missing. With all that’s happened, I don’t know if we’re ever going to feel safe again. It’s messed up. This island has always been my refuge.”
Cass lowered her voice. “Do you think Torie might’ve—”
“No,” Tosh cut in. “Torie really lost it, but there’s no way she killed Janie. They were close. And she was already being watched too closely when Janie disappeared. She told me that she kept seeing a patrol car where it didn’t belong.”
Harmony set her spoon down. She looked at each of them in turn. “Then where is she?”
The question silenced them. The only sound was the lazy hum of a ceiling fan above, its blades slicing the sunlight into slow-moving patterns across the table.
“What if she’s hurt somewhere?” Cass whispered.
“Or she could’ve left,” Zach offered. “Maybe she was scared and took off. Maybe she couldn’t handle it.”
“Or maybe she was run off like she’s been before,” Harmony pointed out. “She’s never been the type to stick around when the going gets tough.”
Tosh continued studying his coffee as if it might hold all the answers. When he finally looked up, his eyes were darker. “I think if she’s gone, it wasn’t by choice. That’s not how things work around here anymore.”
Harmony hid her agreement. Sometimes the island didn’t take people—it removed them. The words were dark, but possibly true.
Cass drew her cardigan tighter around herself. Zach glanced toward the door, as if expecting Janie to walk through at any moment. Harmony sat still, serene, as if she already knew the answers.
Tosh pushed his chair back. “I don’t want to sit here and talk circles anymore. I’m going to see if they need help looking for her and Mary.”
“I’ll go with you,” Cass said, jumping up to stand at his side.
Zach hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll meet you down at the rescue station after I talk to a few people.”
Harmony stayed seated. They all turned to her.
“Aren’t you coming, Harmony?” Tosh asked, brows furrowed.
She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay and finish my tea.”
He frowned, studying her. “You don’t seem at all worried.”
“I have concerns,” she told him. She smiled faintly. “Just not about Janie. I didn’t like her,” she said, sometimes too honest. “I won’t pretend grief I don’t feel. But missing people don’t stay missing for kind reasons.”
Cass gaped at her. Zach looked down. Tosh just turned and walked away. It felt like the judge’s gavel hitting down.
“We’ll see you soon,” Cass murmured, then followed Tosh.
Zach lingered a moment longer. “We define ourselves in the moments we don’t think anyone’s watching,” he said.
“I know who I am,” Harmony replied. “I’ve never tried to fake it.”
He nodded slowly. “I know who you are, too. You can act cold, like none of it bothers you, but I’ve seen you come unraveled. I know what’s inside no matter how hard you try to put on a facade.”
He looked at her a moment longer . . . and she started to crack. He gave her a smile, then turned and walked away. She shuddered.
She sat there alone, listening to the faint echo of laughter from the tables as she fought to hold onto a calm she was definitely faking. Tourists clinked glasses. Servers moved in smooth, practiced lines. Life went on.
Outside, a deputy’s SUV rolled slowly past the windows. Ciscel didn’t look inside, not directly. He checked reflections: glass, chrome, the shine of a passing tourist’s sunglasses. He was letting her know he was still watching. A shiver traveled down her spine.
She pulled out her notebook, her pen hovering over the page. Her hand was shaking slightly. She wrote down the words that wouldn’t leave her head.
The story’s not finished. Someone else had picked up the pen.