Chapter 4
The Widow
I ease the car onto a narrow stretch of grassy beach roped off for parking.
The Maverick Key Lighthouse looms ahead of us.
At one hundred, it’s the oldest surviving structure on the island.
Today, the town is celebrating its centennial with a cookout complete with dozens of picnic tables, a live Southern rock band, games, and plenty of food.
I cut off the engine and step out with Natalie. The whitewashed tower casts a long shadow over the crowd. Once, it guided sailors through reefs and shoals. Now it features a gift shop and daily tours.
We grab our things.
“Momma, can I have a cookie? Pleeeease.”
“Since you asked so nicely, yes. But just one.”
Smiling, she carefully lifts the plastic wrap and takes the cookie out of the bowl. While she eats it, I stare out at the beach. The ocean is eerily calm, but it’s breathing. Dozens of small patches of ripples bloom across the murky surface. A floor of shattered glass.
A muffled curse drifts from the rusty blue Prius parked beside us. A man shifts unsteadily, trying to balance several containers of food he’s pulled from the back seat all at once. He’s thin, tall, and… striking. I wince at the impending food disaster. Certain it’s moments away.
“Here, let me help you with those.” I move quickly, grabbing a few of the dishes. Deviled eggs, rolls, and a veggie platter, all pre-packaged from the Maverick Key General Store.
Startled, he loses his footing and scrambles to catch himself, dropping a container of colorful cupcakes. After he regains his composure, he’s left clutching a plate of tea sandwiches.
His gaze fixes on the ground, staring at the sand-covered icing.
“Ohhh dear.” His accent is clipped, crisp—distinctly British.
He sets the sandwiches on top of his car and takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes and the dark skin of his forehead with a handkerchief.
This brings my attention to the expensive, tailored charcoal suit he’s wearing.
Not exactly beach attire, and even in the late fall, the temperatures in the afternoons hover in the eighties. He’s going to die in this heat.
“I must look like a clown.” He smiles as he puts his glasses back on and extends his hand. “Finn.”
He looks like he’s in his late thirties, maybe early forties. Uptight? Maybe geek chic. I shake his hand and introduce myself.
“Thanks for the help. I was hoping to make a good impression.” He gestures to the stacks of food. “May have gone a bit overboard.”
“Are you new to the Key?”
“I flew into Naples last night. I’m staying at the Driftwood Inn and Cottages. When I heard about the celebration, I thought I’d pop by and introduce myself to some of the town’s residents.”
Ah, he’s one of Maddie’s new guests. Either the scientist or a member of the film crew.
“How long are you planning to stay?”
“That depends.”
I raise my eyebrows, holding his gaze. There’s a curious pause, like he’s deciding how much to share.
The corner of his mouth flicks up. “Apologies for sounding so cryptic. Habit of mine. I’m consulting with Dr. Garrett Harlow to study the objects Dr. Nathan Carter recovered from the blue hole. And oversee the continued exploration and cartographic mapping of the cave system.”
I bite back a smile. With an explanation like that, he’s definitely the scientist.
“Dr. Phineas Clark?”
“Just Finn,” he says with gentle eyes.
I like him. He’s kind of awkward, but Nathan had a quirky side too—if not as pronounced as Finn’s. I have a soft spot for charming nerds, so he’s already won me over.
We gather up the remaining food and walk to the buffet. Tables are brimming over with covered dishes of all shapes and sizes. I’m not surprised to see Maddie already dipping into a full plate at the other end. I wave and start arranging our dishes with Finn’s help.
Natalie tugs on my shirt. “Can I play with my friends, Momma?”
“Sure, sweetie.” I watch her run off with a group of other first graders.
As I prepare the serving tongs, I gaze over the lighthouse green where volunteers have laid out all the activities and tables for the picnic.
Most of my friends and family are here. Hannah and Jamie are in the middle of the lawn tossing beanbags at a cornhole while Scott and Garrett stand nearby, absorbed in a heated discussion.
Typical for them.
I’m not a fan of Dr. Garrett Harlow. After Nathan died, he swooped in to take credit for all his work, and he’s just a rotten human being, just one notch above a criminal as far as I’m concerned.
He’s also the guy in charge of the Carter’s Drop project—a renowned archaeologist commissioned by university funders.
Scott runs the dives and doesn’t put up with any nonsense from Garrett or anyone else.
They’re only a couple of yards away, close enough for me to hear what they’re saying.
“Scott, you’ve got all the divers you need. My answer’s still no. How many times is this going to come up?” Garrett huffs in irritation. “Wes Harrington stays dead. Or he goes to jail.”
I haven’t thought of Wes in a while. His fake drowning in a siphon last year is the worst-kept secret on the island.
The rest of the world believes he died in the caves attempting to rescue Maddie from Mark.
But he’s alive and well. Where? No one knows.
Once a popular urban explorer with a massive social media following, he’s now invisible.
He’s also kind. After he found out about Natalie and me last year, he called me from one of his burner phones. We spoke for almost half an hour about Nathan and our daughter. He offered his help if I ever needed it. He loved Nathan, and I hope I get a chance to meet him one day.
“If you want to move at the speed you’re asking for, we need every cave diver we can get,” Scott says. “Wes has experience in the Drop. We need him to cover more ground.”
“Then get the divers you need. BUT NO WES.”
Scott says something under his breath and stomps off, joining Liam and Margaret at the picnic tables. He pulls out a seat and motions over to Maddie. Maddie’s been making laps around the buffet and picnic tables, helping everyone get what they need.
“Give me just a minute,” she calls out to him, giving him a flirty shake of her hips and belly.
Maddie’s eyes light up when she turns her attention back to Finn and me. But before she can speak, Garrett spots Finn, pushes his way through us, and extends his hand.
Finn accepts it with a measured shake, his expression polite and confident.
“Dr. Clark. Welcome to Maverick Key. I trust the accommodations at the inn were satisfactory. Ms. Connor keeps the rooms clean and provides a decent breakfast each morning. Worth the price if you don’t care about frills.”
I stop myself from rolling my eyes. Maddie and I are used to him. If he weren’t politely hostile, we’d wonder what was wrong. Finn, apparently, is a quick study—he doesn’t react at all.
Finn clears his throat. “Well, um. Yes. Very comfortable. Feels like home.” His gaze flicks to Maddie. “I appreciate the welcome.”
Garrett continues without missing a beat. “Very good. If you have time after lunch, I’d like to bring you up to speed on the work I’ve supervised. I’ve prepared some detailed field reports that should capture your interest.”
“Brilliant,” Finn says, smoothing the fabric near his watch. “I’m eager to jump right in. Would it be possible to see the stone Nathan found first?”
Garrett frowns. “No. The police still won’t release it. They’re dragging their feet, saying they need to keep it as evidence until they finish investigating that crazy murderer, Mark Glassier. It’s ridiculous.”
I stiffen at his callous mention of Mark’s name and look for Natalie, hoping she’s out of earshot. Relief spreads through me when I spot the kids several meters away, preoccupied with building sandcastles.
Finn’s hand settles on my arm, his brows drawing together. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He turns his attention back to Garrett, who’s still talking—explaining how the dives into Carter’s Drop are planned to resume next week.
I feel awful knowing that their plans are about to fall apart.
My boss hasn’t given me the green light to tell anyone what’s going on yet, but I’ll have to say something soon, before they get too far along.
I hate keeping secrets.
A motorcycle engine roars nearby, drowning out Garrett’s voice.
We all look over and see a sleek red cruiser pull up a few feet away from the buffet.
At the seat, a young woman removes her helmet, freeing long, dark sable hair, which cascades over her shoulders.
She parks and jumps off the bike, walking toward us.
Her short denim cutoffs and fuchsia-colored cropped tank scream for attention while warning Don’t mess with me.
As she approaches, I see that her left arm is adorned with a beautifully elaborate tattoo of a temple garden in vibrant colors, and she’s wearing a golden ring shaped like a curled cat with jade eyes.
I’ve never seen her before. She walks straight to a horrified Garrett, arms outstretched.
“Hi, Daddy Dearest.”
He goes pale as she gives him a warm hug.
“Sidney.”
“Miss me?”
Stiff, he sniffs and straightens, inching back and out from her arms. He points to the roped area. “The designated parking is right over there.”
She waves her hand, dismissing his concern. “I’m not staying long. Just wanted to stop by to say hello. Meet the neighbors.”
She greets the rest of us. She’s incredibly poised and confident. Miss Sidney Harlow, or Sid, as she asks to be called.
She looks like she’s still in her early twenties.
For someone so young, she carries herself with effortless grace, a quality that usually takes decades to develop.
Her job filming documentaries has taken her around the world, from Africa to Mexico, and she’s earned a reputation for provocative underwater cinematography. Fans call her the Diva of the Deep.