Chapter 31 #3
I don’t look up to see the bittersweet smile the mayor gives me. But I feel it all the same. She squeezes my arm, and then she walks away, the judging committee offering their sympathies before trailing after her.
And then, it’s just me and Lukas and Max. “Do you want a ride home?” Lukas asks, his hand still wrapped around Maxine’s, his cheeks still damp with tears.
“You go ahead,” I say absently as I stare down at the flower-covered casket.
A series of intrusive, panicked thoughts choke up my throat.
My best friend is down there. I have to get him out.
How can I wake him up? How can I rewind time?
What if I hadn’t taken so long to pick up his prescription, would he still be here?
If I’d just agreed to put him in Whispering Pines like Lukas wanted—
“Harper . . . ?”
I shake my head a little, hoping to clear the torment that’s seeped into my mind. “I’ll be there in a bit.”
I don’t take my eyes from the grave as Max and Lukas leave.
Their footsteps recede. The cemetery grows silent. I feel like there are eyes watching me everywhere I go, especially now. But I don’t scan my surroundings for the source of my paranoia. I just press my arm to my side and feel the gun hidden beneath my black blazer.
A caw sounds from the mist. I look over to see Morpheus on the wrought-iron fence.
He ruffles his feathers before flying to land on Adam’s memorial.
It’s the first time I truly dread what he might say.
But he just gives three knocking clucks and eyes me as though he knows I have nothing to offer, but he’s here anyway.
I look down and notice one of the three bracelets is missing from its hanger, the same one Morpheus has taken before and brought back to the cottage. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” I say to the raven, then make my way to the head of Arthur’s resting place.
I crouch at the black-and-gold temporary grave marker. My fingers trace the letters engraved on the plaque. In loving memory of Arthur Lancaster.
“It’s like those loving memories have been stripped from me,” I say, fresh tears sliding down my cheeks. “All I can see is you on the floor. Everything else is gone.”
I set the glass plate down on the grass to lean against the wooden stake.
I don’t say out loud how sorry I am that I wasn’t there when he needed me.
I don’t tell him that he gave my life purpose and meaning when I felt like I had none.
I don’t promise to avenge him for what happened, or that I will hone my grief into a weapon to bring down Nolan Rhodes for what he’s done. I just tell him that I love him.
And with tears in my eyes, I walk away.
The graveyard is empty as I stroll down the curving lane that leads to the entrance of the cemetery.
The fog is so thick that I can’t see more than a few feet ahead.
A whir of wings and a croaking call sound overhead as Morpheus passes in the direction of home, another of Adam’s bracelets clutched in his beak.
I watch as he fades into the mist, then refocus on the iron gates as they come into view.
There’s a figure standing between them.
My steps hitch. My breath stalls. For a moment, I think it might be Nolan.
Tall and broad, athletically built. But my heart starts to calm when I realize it’s Sheriff Yates.
I guess he hadn’t left with the others after all, and I dread that he might ask more tactless questions at the worst time.
Even still, it’s a relief to have him here rather than Nolan, something I never would have thought possible before this week.
“Miss Harper,” he says with a nod as I stop beside him. “I’m sorry again about Mr. Lancaster. He was truly a pillar of Cape Carnage.”
I clear my throat, forcing the sudden knot into submission. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Are you going to be okay walking home? We’re happy to give you a lift.”
My gaze tracks to where his wife waits in her car.
She gives me a brief wave, and I give one in reply.
There are no other vehicles left on the road except for a heavy truck I can hear in the distance, its diesel engine piercing through the fog as it turns onto Spruce Road at the bottom of the hill.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’d rather walk. ”
“All right . . . I just want you to be safe.”
“I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Though I give Yates a weak smile, he doesn’t seem convinced.
The truck draws closer, its engine growling as it climbs the hill. Chains clank against metal. I catch the scent of the sea.
I turn toward the sound. And then my world implodes in a single glance.
A boom tow truck rolls toward us, the crumpled front of my 1985 Chevy G20 van snagged on the hook like a wounded fish.
The paint has been corroded by years beneath the sea.
Barnacles speckle the surface, water dripping from the interior leaving a trail down the road.
The driver honks at the sheriff and I startle.
“Sorry about that,” Yates says as he gives a salute to the driver before turning toward me.
I can feel his eyes on my hand where it covers my heart.
I should probably force myself to drop my arm back to my side, but I just can’t seem to peel that thin armor away.
“We received an anonymous tip yesterday about a vehicle submerged offshore a few miles north of the lookout. Not sure who it belongs to. But I guess we’ll find out. ”
I say nothing. My heart shreds itself raw against my ribs. I’m desperate to run. To fight. To disappear. But I stay right where I am, as though I’m bound in place. I can almost feel Nolan’s noose tighten around my neck.
We watch as the tow truck disappears into the white veil, the sound of the chains and the engine lingering like a phantom long after it’s passed from view.
“Well,” Yates says, “I’ll see you around, Miss Harper.”
And then the sheriff walks away.