Fear the Drowning Deep(72)

“Go sit with Grayse!” Her tone told me she was far from ready after all. “I need you to keep her out of your Da’s way when he gets home. Now!”

Tiptoeing into the bedroom, I snuggled up next to a sleeping Grayse and stared out the window at the gray clouds swollen with rain. I had half a mind to climb through the window and run to Morag’s for the poison now, but I needed Fynn as much as I needed the deadly witch’s brew.

It was only a matter of agonizing moments.

Raised voices sounded from the front of the house, startling me into alertness.

The window was now streaked with raindrops, and the sky beyond it still steely gray, though my empty stomach told me it was nearing suppertime. I hurried into the hall, shutting the door with care to avoid waking Grayse.

Fynn and Da weren’t in the house.

Mam, tousle-haired and clad in a robe, stood in the doorway. She didn’t acknowledge me when I peered over her shoulder and asked what the fuss was. But I answered my own question as I took in the bizarre gathering on our lawn.

Standing on one side of the road, soaking up the rain, were Da and Fynn. Their fishing gear lay in a heap at their feet. They glared at five figures opposite them: Mr. Gill and four surly men who often smoked pipes at the tavern. Mr. Gill held something long and thin in his hands, and Fynn’s gaze was trained upon it.

“He has to come with us, Peddyr,” Mr. Gill insisted, gesturing at Fynn.

Da shook his head. “He doesn’t have to do anything. He’s a guest here. My guest.”

Mr. Gill shifted his weight. “I know you’re not happy about it, but Mrs. Kissack swears she saw the lad outside her window not an hour ago, leering and beckoning her to come outside. And when she did, she saw footprints leading over the cliffs!”

I clenched my hands at my sides. Mrs. Kissack had surely been dreaming.

Da scoffed, too. “Fynn was at sea with me! Whoever she saw, it couldn’t have been him. Danell, think, man! You stopped us on the way back from the harbor with our fishing gear!”

Mr. Gill cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. Even if she is mistaken, there are plenty of folk here who’d as soon take her word for it. And don’t tell me you can’t imagine why. He shows up just days after that unfortunate girl drowned, claiming he remembers nothing, hardly says a word to anyone—”

“And why should I?” Fynn’s eyes flashed. “I can recognize an idiot without having to engage one in conversation.” He crossed his arms, and one of the men imitated him.

Da clapped a hand on Fynn’s shoulder. “He’s been with me since before Liss went missing. He even reeks of fish!”

Mr. Gill tugged at his collar, his eyes bulging slightly. I hoped his shirt would choke him. “Still, he’s one of the only suspects we’ve got. He has to be taken in for questioning. And should he fail to provide answers to our satisfaction, a constable from Peel will take him someplace more … permanent.”

Take Fynn where, exactly? And what did he mean by permanent?

“Come with me, son,” Mr. Gill commanded, extending a hand to Fynn. Then I understood. He meant a cell, confinement, sentencing for crimes Fynn hadn’t committed. All to lure the town into a false sense of safety that would crumble the moment someone else’s head turned up in the harbor. Like Liss’s.

Mam shook her head and pressed her fingers to her lips. “Danell! How do we know you’re not the one behind these murders? Has anyone questioned you? What if I saw you outside my window, hmm?”

Mr. Gill’s lips twitched, but he didn’t spare a glance for Mam. He and his men advanced, forcing Fynn back. Da reached for something on his belt—a knife—but Mr. Gill was quicker. He aimed the long, thin object toward the sky, his face expressionless.

A bang reverberated through the still morning air as the end of the old hunting rifle exploded.

“Peddyr!” Mam’s cry drew neighbors from their houses with a chorus of front doors creaking open.

“Stop it!” A scream ripped from my throat as I pushed past Mam, running toward the men. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You’re only making things worse! Fynn is the only person who can help Liss. If you take him, she’s doomed!”

“Stay back, Bridey!” Da growled as I neared him, his eyes narrowed at the rifle.

“Wait!” Fynn held up his hands. “I’ll go.” He walked stiffly to Mr. Gill’s side, avoiding my gaze. “Lower your weapon. I’ll go.” The two broad-chested men seized him, securing his arms behind his back.

Mr. Gill lowered the rifle. “That’s as it should be.”

I ran toward Fynn but the men blocked my way. “I hate you!” I didn’t care who heard me. Weak Mr. Gill, his supporters, the neighbors who stared from their front steps like I was the evening’s entertainment. “I hate all of you!”

Mr. Gill turned, a sad smile on his graying face. “Go chase your sea monsters, lass, and forget this troublemaker.”

As he marched Fynn onto the road, I started after him, but Da swiftly grabbed me.

“Bridey! Get control of yourself!” He pinned my arms at my sides, and I struggled against him. “Ouch!” He winced as my foot connected with his shin. “We have to let Fynn go for now. But we’ll fight this. Don’t you doubt it for a second.”

I peered up the road, trying to spot Fynn in the group, but the figures all blurred together.