Chapter 12 Holt
HOLT
It was late when Mina finally came home.
Holt had been sitting in the living room with only the faint glow of the lighthouse beacon sliding across the walls now and then, nursing a light beer he hadn’t wanted in the first place.
He’d poured it because it gave him something to do with his hands, and because the sound of the bottle against the counter had felt normal, which was in short supply lately.
The room was dark enough that the furniture took on the shape of shapes rather than details. He could’ve switched on a lamp. He hadn’t. He’d been trying to think and connect the dots, make sense of everything he’d seen earlier.
He heard the front door open, then close softly, and the familiar sound of his mother’s shoes being slipped off near the entryway. A few seconds later, she stepped into the living room and stopped short.
“Holt?” Her voice lifted in surprise. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”
He set the beer down on the coaster with a controlled care that betrayed him. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home,” he said. His voice sounded calmer than he felt. “Where’s Tyler?”
Mina’s expression changed, concern settling in her eyes like a shadow. “He’s staying at Willa’s house,” she said, and then she took another step into the room, as if she needed to see Holt properly to decide if he was intact. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mother,” Holt told her, and he hated how often he’d been saying that lately.
Fine had become a placeholder. Fine meant he was still upright and functional and not losing his mind, which didn’t mean much when the town was on fire, people were being threatened, and his son had been dragged out of a burning building. Mina hovered near the edge of the couch, still watching him.
Holt let the silence stretch long enough to make his next words land.
“I’d like to know what happened to Uncle Abe’s Lincoln.” His eyes narrowed as he watched his mother closely.
Mina froze so completely that it was as if somebody had hit a pause button on her. Even in the dark, Holt saw it, the sudden stillness, the way her shoulders went tight.
“Why are you asking about Abe’s car?” Mina asked, and her tone was too careful, too measured, too prepared.
“I wanted to use it while I’m here,” Holt replied, keeping his voice even. His eyes narrowed slightly. “But funny thing. When I went to find it, it was missing.”
Mina’s brows rose, a performance of surprise that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Oh?” his mother said. “It’s missing?”
Holt stood up, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to control the space between them. He picked up his phone from the coffee table.
“Then I got a call,” Holt told her, and it wasn’t a lie. He’d gotten a call from June before they came to see him, and that visit still sat in his chest like a weight. “Can you tell me about this?”
He clicked on a photo and handed the phone over to her. Mina took it, and the moment her eyes landed on the image, her face fell. Not confusion. Not disbelief and just recognition.
“Holt…” his mother started, and the sound of his name came out like a warning.
“Mother…” Holt mimicked and watched her expectantly.
“I was hoping to get it fixed before anyone noticed,” Mina admitted quietly, still staring at the screen.
Holt’s stomach loosened and tightened at the same time.
Loosened, because the words suggested an accident and not something darker.
Tightened, because she had still done it.
She had still taken the car out of town.
She had still tried to hide it. In a town like this, in a week like this, hiding anything was like throwing a match into dry grass.
“You mean by taking it out of town and paying cash to get it fixed? I thought the car was insured?” Holt asked her.
And she nodded to confirm that it was. “So you can understand that this seems like very suspicious behavior to me, Mother.” He continued to stare at her unwaveringly. “What are you hiding?”
Mina lifted her head then, her eyes bright with defensive frustration.
“I couldn’t put it through the insurance,” his mother said quickly.
“Why not?” Holt persisted.
“Now don’t get mad.” Mina held up her hand, palm out, as if Holt was about to explode across the room. “It was my fault. I thought he was ready…”
Holt’s brow dipped tighter. “Who was ready?” A bad feeling started to trickle down his spine.
Mina’s gaze flicked away.
“I don’t want him to get into trouble,” Mina said, on a soft sigh, her voice lower now, and that was the first real clue. “Rad doesn’t know.” Her grip tightened on the phone. “And… No one was hurt but the car.” She emphasized.
“Mother,” Holt said, and he couldn’t keep the impatience out of his voice this time, “can you tell me what happened and stop skirting around it, looking like a rabbit trapped by a pack of wolves?”
Mina exhaled, long and tired, the way people did when they’d been carrying something all day and hoped it would never be set down in front of someone who would make it heavier.
“I was trying to teach Tyler to drive,” Mina confessed, and her cheeks flushed faintly.
“He loves that old car, and he kept asking, and I thought… I thought it might be good for him.” She glanced at her son.
“Remember, your father taught you to drive right here in the same place I took Tyler. You were also fourteen at the time.” Holt nodded, but before he could respond, she continued.
“I just thought it would be something fun for us to do together and to get his mind off of everything that is happening around a small town lately.”
Holt’s anger started to subside as he knew his mother’s heart had been in the right place. “Where did you go? How did the car get wrecked?”
“We were at the beach down the road. In the parking lot, and it was early in the morning, there was no one there,” Mina assured him.
“I put him in the driver’s seat. I told him to go slow, and he did.
He did. He was doing fine.” Her mouth tightened.
“Then he misjudged the turn and clipped one of those concrete barrier poles. The ones meant to stop people from driving onto the sand.”
Holt’s chest eased so sharply that it almost hurt. Relief hit him first, then the aftershock of shame that he’d needed to interrogate his own mother like this.
“So let me get this straight,” Holt said, watching his mother. “You took Tyler to the beach down the road in the Lincoln to teach him to drive. He misjudged a turn and clipped one of the safety poles?”
“Yes,” Mina said, nodding quickly, as if she could get him to accept the story by sheer repetition. “It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t reckless. It was just… an inexperienced driver, and a stubborn old car, and me thinking I could handle the accident quietly so as not to get Tyler or me in trouble.”
Holt swallowed. “Tell me exactly where it happened.”
Mina blinked. “Exactly?”
“Yes,” Holt said, and he softened his tone because he saw the hurt flare in her eyes. “Not because I don’t trust you. Because I need to understand the extent of the damage and the timeline. And because I’m trying to be thorough.”
Mina’s shoulders drooped. “You’re treating me like a suspect.”
“I’m treating everything like a suspect right now,” Holt replied quietly. “And it’s not that. It’s because you know Uncle Abe’s Lincoln is the same color as the car that struck Lacey off the road.”
“I didn’t even think about that,” Mina said honestly and held his gaze for a moment longer, her eyes wide with surprise.
“No, and why would you?” Holt’s voice was filled with understanding. “Where in the beach parking lot did Tyler hit the pole?”
“The north end of the parking lot,” Mina explained.
“Near the second row, where the poles line up closer because of the pedestrian path. It’s the row closest to the lifeguard hut, but not right beside it.
There’s a pole with a little chip out of the top, like it got hit before, and Tyler hit that one.
He scraped the front corner, and the headlight cracked.
I think there is still some glass on the ground. ”
Holt filed it away. The detail helped. His mother had always been specific when she told the truth. She wasn’t a woman who lied well, because she didn’t usually need to.
“And you paid cash because you didn’t want insurance involved,” Holt said.
Mina nodded, her face pinched.
“He’s only fourteen and not insured to drive the vehicle,” Mina answered her son.
“Also, if Rad found out I put Tyler behind the wheel… he’d lose his mind, Holt.
He’s already tense. He’s already worried about Tyler’s well-being with everything going on here in Sandpiper Shores lately.
” She blew out a breath in resignation. “I didn’t want to add fuel to that fire.
” Her mouth tightened. “And I didn’t want Tyler to get scared of driving because his first attempt ended with sirens and paperwork and his father’s or your wrath. ”
Holt sighed. “Has Tyler said anything to anyone?”
“No,” Mina said quickly. “I told him it was our business. He promised and was so apologetic.”
Holt shook his head slowly. “Thank you for telling me the truth, Mother.” A small smile spread across his lips. “I’m not mad at you or at Tyler.”
Mina’s eyes flickered, hopeful. “Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “What about Rad? Are you going to tell him?”
“I’m not,” Holt told her. “While I understand why you did it because I was fourteen once, and I did far worse with Uncle Abe’s Cadillac he had back then,” he paused because he knew that would land, “it’s best not to keep things like this hidden. Not right now. Not with what’s happening.”
“So you’re not going to tell Rad?” Mina's gaze grew more hopeful.
“No.” Holt shook his head. “But you and Tyler are going to.” His brows rose. “He deserves to hear the truth.”
Mina handed him the phone back, then rubbed her forehead. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”