by Janna King
She felt even more alone than when she had been out in that water searching for Ruby, her feet reaching for the sand she knew was beneath her but couldn’t touch. She took a deep breath and instead of an exhale, pushed out sound from the depth of her soul. A long scream filled her entire body and echoed in her ears. Who would hear her? No one. And if anyone could hear her on this fucking island, would they even care?
She let the sea air cool her off. After some relief washed over her, she climbed down the rocks and started to walk back to the house, as much as she didn’t want to. She stepped around the plastic shovel and let the gritty sand polish her soles, slipping away with the thin sheet of water that ran under them.
She reached the sprawling beach estates, set far back from the shore. In their lights, the shadow of a figure came over her. She could hear keys faintly jangling under the sound of the waves lapping.
She started to run.
The jangling didn’t stop. The shadow and sound grew closer.
Mia sprinted down the beach at full speed. Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest. Her legs couldn’t go any faster. She saw a sandy easement between two estates where kayaks and dinghies were stacked upside-down against each other. She scrambled in, crouching between outriggers.
“Mia!” She heard Cole’s voice.
Mia tucked herself in tighter.
“Mia.”
Mia scrunched her eyes closed. “Why are you following me, Cole?”
“You ran off.”
“To be by myself,” said Mia, suddenly overwhelmed by the fishy smell trapped in this small pocket of air.
“Come out, Mia,” said Cole in a gentle voice. “Please, talk to me.”
“Leave, Cole.”
“I don’t want to.”
Mia rose, seeing Cole standing next to a paddleboard. “You need to get away from me,” she said.
“It was just some crazy driver. We’re all okay. No one is going to hurt you,” replied Cole. He stepped toward her.
Mia picked up a wood oar and held it between them. “You’re the one who’s going to get hurt, Cole. Because that’s what I do.” In the moonlight, she could see Cole’s confusion.
“What are you talking about?” he said.
“When people need me, I’m not there,” Mia continued, shaking her head. “I let Grant go off the night he died because I was thinking about myself. I wasn’t there for Ruby and look what happened. And I left my mom. I left her and she’s sick.”
“Stop. This is bullshit, Mia.” Cole moved closer, but Mia lifted the oar.
“It’s not bullshit. This is the real me. I never saw it before, but it’s very clear. And now, I’ve pissed off Otto and he tried to kill us, because that was his car. I saw him driving it when I was with Vincent. It’s my fault. I’m a terrible—”
Cole grabbed the arm holding the oar. “Mia, he wasn’t after you.”
Mia struggled away. “It wasn’t an accident, Cole!”
Cole pointed to himself. “He was after me.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m DEA,” replied Cole.
Mia snickered. “If you’re trying to be funny—”
“Believe me, there is nothing funny about this.”
Mia smashed the oar down on a dinghy. “What is happening?” She chucked it and glared at Cole. “This whole time, you’ve been lying to us, to me?”
“That’s kind of the job.” Cole shrugged.
“We slept together!” Mia shoved him.
“That never should have happened.”
“Did you even have a fiancée?” Mia glared at him.
“No. But I needed to give you a reason why I left the bar for so long that night. I had a lead.”
Mia turned away from him. “Oh my God.”
Cole nodded down the beach. “The Brant Point Lighthouse, where you just were—that’s a drop point.”
“For drugs?” scoffed Mia, whipping back at him. “I don’t do drugs, Cole, and I sure as hell don’t sell them.”
“I believe you.” Cole reached out to her, but she remained at arm’s length. “Mia, you can’t say anything to anyone. Lyndon knows I’m DEA, but Grace doesn’t. Otto may be part of something bigger than this island,” he said, motioning wide. “I had to get on the inside, but his seasonaires are longtime employees. The only way I could get close was to work for Lyndon Wyld. And we’re not ready to move on him yet.”
Mia stared out at the water. She thought about Ruby and the night at Brant Point. That was why Ruby went there. Maybe that was why she was so bold in taking Otto’s ATV. He wanted her to take it to pick up drugs.
“Why would you do this to me, Cole?”
“You haven’t exactly been honest with me either,” continued Cole. He pulled his smartphone from his pocket. “I need to show you something I found today.” He held out his phone for her. She took it and saw an Instagram repost of her, smiling in front of the fireworks. She had pressed the “+” button on her Insta Story. Someone had saved it and reposted.
She shrugged, handing the phone back to Cole. “I posted on the holiday, big deal. It’s our job. Well, my job, not yours, apparently.”
“My job now includes the murder investigation.” Cole zoomed in on the photo. “There’s a flag in the background. Do you see its colors?” He held out the phone. In the very corner of the photo was the tip of the red Wear National flag, lit by the fireworks. Mia’s relief over finding her mermaid teardrop necklace had been short-lived.
Mia sat on the curved bottom of a kayak and exhaled. “I was there that night.” She looked down, digging a foot in the sand. “I found Grant and then I found Ruby. I panicked and left, but I called nine-one-one first.”
“You did the right thing.” Cole put his phone back in his pocket and sat next to her.
“No, I didn’t.” Mia hung her head.
“Neither did I—,” said Cole, lifting her chin—“with you. I’m sorry, Mia.”
Mia looked at him. “I’m ready to tell the truth if you are.” She ran her index finger along the scar above his right brow. “Tell me how you got that.”
“I was eleven, showing off to my buddies. I jumped over a fire hydrant.” Cole tipped one hand over on the other. “Smack.”
“You’re badass DEA and that’s the story you have for me?” scoffed Mia.
“That’s my truth,” Cole replied. “What’s yours?”
Mia stared into his emerald green eyes, but didn’t know if she could reveal it all.
FORTY-EIGHT
It’s supposed to be one of the most peaceful places on the island,” said Cole, sitting with Mia on the living room couch. He showed her a Nantucket travel brochure for the island’s cranberry bogs.
“Is anywhere really peaceful on the island?” Mia sighed, looking at the cover photo of garnet red berries blanketing a pond.
“Come on. Ruby is going to be okay.” Cole put a hand on Mia’s leg. “You saved her. Thank God she was here.”
Mia looked at Cole. His eyes always made her feel better.
Cole slapped the brochure. “We’ll bike there, get a little exercise. It’ll be good. Let’s go!”
“Go where?” Presley entered from the kitchen with a bowl of strawberries.
“It’s a free day so we were going to take a ride to the cranberry bogs,” said Mia.
“Can I come?” Presley pleaded with her eyes. “I hate being a third wheel, but after what happened with Ruby, I don’t want to be here by myself.”
Cole glanced at Mia.
“Of course you can come.” Mia folded the brochure.
“I didn’t get to go to the bogs last year.” Presley stood on her tiptoes and clapped. “How about if we bring a picnic?”
“Sounds good,” replied Cole.
The three mounted the cruisers and peddled through town, stopping at the market across from the burned-out Wear National store with its yellow “Fire Caution Do Not Cross” tape in front. Mia glanced at the building. A few workers wearing ha
rd hats were surveying inside.
Mia, Cole, and Presley bought provisions, which Mia put in her bike’s basket. As they rode off, they failed to see Axel in a hard hat, standing in the Wear National store’s charred doorway.
Mia started to breathe easier when they were out of town on Milestone Road. The sun was out, with a few fluffy clouds in the sky. This was the Nantucket Mia wanted to remember.
Cole glanced at Google Maps on his smartphone. “We’re supposed to turn left when we reach the third Nantucket Conservation Foundation marker at the scenic overlook.”
Presley counted every time they passed a marker. Reaching the third, she examined the stone. “Says two hundred twenty.”
“That’s the one,” confirmed Cole.
They veered left on Larsen Road, which welcomed them with a notice on a wood post that read caution: bees at work.
Mia teared up at the thought of Grant during the trunk show. His cheek had swelled after the bee sting during croquet, but he’d still cheered for her over the kudos on her dress. His Abercrombie & Fitch model features had been distorted. But the sight was nothing compared to seeing him floating facedown, bleeding out in that pool.
“This is far!” Presley huffed as she rode.
“You wanted to come,” reminded Mia.
“It sure is pretty.” Cole scanned the nature around them.
They peddled past the rolling hills, grasslands, and freshwater ponds of the Middle Moors. They rode along the coastline and sea-sprayed bluffs. Sheep lolled behind a barbed-wire fence.
“Um, I think this is it,” said Cole, who stopped and pointed to a sign that read milestone cranberry bog. They gazed out at the field-size carpet of green groundcover and white blossoms.
“Where are the cranberries?” wondered Mia.
Cole lifted the brochure from his inner windbreaker pocket and read. “I guess I missed the part where it says the berries are ripe in the fall.”
“Selfie-worthy anyway,” remarked Presley, pulling her phone from her backpack. She snapped, tagged Mia and Cole, and captioned for Instagram:
Life is good. #BeWyld #friends #berrygood
“This’ll do for a picnic spot,” said Mia, pulling the grocery bag out of her bike’s basket while Presley spread a blanket.
Cole looked up. “Crap.”
Darker clouds were rolling in.
“That’s Nantucket for ya,” said Presley. “It can change in a flash.”
“I don’t want to get stuck out here in the rain,” replied Mia, her disappointment palpable.
“My hair’s gonna frizz like a poodle,” added Presley. “Let’s go.”
They packed up and ventured back. The clouds cast shadows on the surrounding vines. The birds launched into a constant chorus that trumpeted in their ears.
“I am not a huge fan of birds,” said Mia.
“I didn’t know that about you,” replied Cole.
Mia thought of the finches on the logo of J.P.’s hats. Some other nameless animal made a sound that Mia was sure was a ghost or a spirit. With the impending showers, the roads were empty. Mia and Presley peddled side by side.
“I’m not seeing the chemistry.” Presley nodded toward Cole, who was a few yards ahead.
“There’s a third element in the mix.” Mia’s brow lifted at Presley.
“Are you calling me a cockblocker?” Presley gasped in mock offense.
They heard a motor rev from around the bend behind them and turned to see a car speeding toward them. Mia had no time to think. She glanced back, noticing it was a classic gold Camaro. It was gaining on them.
“Oh my God!” she yelled as she peddled harder. Presley pushed her and Mia lost control of her bike. It careened to the left of the car while Presley controlled her bike straight. The car roared through the middle.
Mia’s bike hit a rut. All at once, she stopped and flew off.
The Camaro caught up with Cole, who turned and rode faster. He looked back again, then steered his bike into some bushes. The car disappeared in the distance. He circled back to find Mia. She was sitting near her bike, her hands and knees muddy and bloody. She was trying to catch her breath.
“Are you okay?” Cole jumped off his bike to help her.
“What just happened?” Mia stared at the empty road ahead.
They turned to look across the road. Presley composed herself, smoothing her shirt. “Well, Mia. You can thank me later.”
FIFTY
In the morning, while Presley was still sleeping, Mia and Cole snuck out of the house. They rode cruisers through town. Mia’s wounds were bandaged, but her knees stung as she peddled because scabs had started to form. The streets were quiet.
At the police station, Cole held the door open for her. He stepped in and she followed him to the bullpen. Mia recognized two of the officers from the scene at the Wear National fire and two others from the bust at The Rabbit Hole. As Cole’s colleagues exchanged nods with him, Mia felt like an idiot. She reminded herself that he was doing a job.
Cole led her into the investigation room. Mia glanced around. The gray concrete walls felt suffocating and the fluorescent ceiling light was harsh against the metal table. Detective Miller rose from one of the chairs.
“Fitzpatrick,” he said to Cole.
“Detective.” Cole shook Miller’s hand. Mia remembered their tussle after the Summer Solstice Soiree in front of the Seascape Restaurant. “Did Ruby Taylor get back to Stockton okay?” asked Cole.
Miller nodded. “She did.” He turned to Mia. “You must be Mia Daniels. I hear you have some information for me.”
“I’ll be right back,” said Cole. Mia shook her head slightly, but he gave her an assuring nod. Then he left, shutting the door. A two-way mirror reminded Mia that she was being watched, by whom she didn’t know. Miller tapped the chair on one side of a metal table.
“Have a seat.”
Mia sat opposite Miller. He slid over a small plastic bottle of water from the three clustered on the table.
“Thanks,” said Mia, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“It’s been a dramatic year for fashion on the island.” Miller shifted back and scratched his head. “So, what can you tell me about the drama on the Fourth?”
Mia took a deep breath and exhaled. “I ran into Ruby at The Rabbit Hole, where our company’s party was happening. She was extremely intoxicated. After she left, Grant got a text message from her to come over. He was pretty wasted, too.” Mia looked down at her hands. “I went to check on them both. When I got there, Grant was dead, in the pool. He’d been shot.”
Mia tried to open the water, but her hands trembled. Miller opened it for her. Mia took a sip and put the bottle down.
“Then I saw Ruby. She was badly beaten. And I saw the gun.”
“Do you think Grant beat her?” asked Miller.
“No.” Mia stared at the water.
“Do you think he raped her?”
Mia looked up at Miller. “No. I don’t think he raped her.”
“Do you think he had sexual relations with her?”
“He may have,” replied Mia. “But he could’ve just gone there to swim, too. He was like an overgrown kid. So was Ruby.”
“She was an overgrown kid who did a hell of a lot of drugs,” said Miller. “When we found her at the scene, she had Molly, heroin, weed, and traces of OxyContin in her system, not to mention alcohol, all of which are a problem on Nantucket.”
Mia dropped her head and shook it.
“You and Ruby were close,” said Miller. “Closer than any of the other—what do you call yourselves—seasonaires knew, so close you had friendship bracelets.”
Mia crossed her bare wrists.
“I did a little digging myself in the wee hours this morning,” continued Miller. “There are a host of posts with you wearing bracelets that matched one Ruby wore.” Miller pulled his smartphone from his breast pocket. He placed it on the table and scrolled through Instagram posts tagged #TheMia showing Mia we
aring the thin blue enamel bracelets. He stopped on the style tip video where Mia talked about taking off pieces of jewelry.
Mia’s heart pounded. “I gave one to her.”
“But there was a rivalry between the clothing line you work for and hers.”
“Yes. It was silly.” Mia gave a nervous snort.
“Would anyone on your side want to put her in a bad situation?” Miller rested his arm on the chair-back. “Or put Otto Hahn in a bad situation?”
Mia had to force herself to consciously breathe.
“How did this photo get on Ruby Taylor’s phone?” Miller walked around the table to Mia, sliding over a file. He opened it to show Mia a smartphone photo printed out. It was taken from Ruby’s point of view in the pool house: Mia’s leg and a vague outline of her sunflower tattoo in the darkness. Miller’s eyes went to Mia’s ankle adorned with the ink.
“Where’s Cole?” Mia’s eyes darted around.
“Relax, Mia.”
“Don’t tell me to relax. I want a lawyer!”
Cole entered. Miller tapped the table in front of her. “Listen, I’m pretty sure, given that Ruby was too intoxicated to shoot a gun, she was also too intoxicated to snap this photo at the time it was taken.”
The room was spinning. Mia thought about the blood pact with Presley, The Girl Vault, the proclamations of trust, how they would watch each other’s backs. She stared at that photo and remembered @hounddogdayz. In her head, she saw Presley leaning on The Rabbit Hole jukebox when Mac and Eve were arrested. It had been playing “Hound Dog.”
Cole bent down next to Mia. “Mia, we just want to know who was at the house with you. Grant’s last post was around nine o’clock. You posted one in front of the Island Pie Shop forty-five minutes later, according to the shop’s clock in the background. You’re not a suspect, but who was there?”
Miller picked up his pen. “While you consider sharing, I’d like to see your driver’s license. We need to include it in your statement.”