Useless Bay(38)

“What is it?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Outside, the troll continued his threats.

Stay . . . Good girl . . .

“Another time, maybe. Right now, we’ve got things to do.”

“Okay . . . ,” Henry said. “I understand.”

His whole body heaved with excitement. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that excitement was over me. But I knew it had to do with what was coming.

He released his arms from around me and pulled his phone from his back pocket.

“What are you doing?” I tried to grab the phone from him. I was worried he was going to do something rash.

I was too late. He’d already pressed Send.

He showed me the text: I know what you did. I’m gonna tell Dad who really burned my hand. You and I both know the truth.

This was bad. If I was right, Joyce had graduated from manipulating to outright killing. Who knew what she’d do to Henry? “We should’ve gone to your dad with this,” I said. “We definitely shouldn’t tease the psycho.”

“Are you kidding? Dad relies on her. She runs his life. He likes his comfort. He won’t believe anything that threatens that. All I’ve got are the memories of a five-year-old me. It won’t be enough.”

“What about agent Armstrong, then?”

“And tell him what? That we suspect that she’s a sociopath?”

His phone beeped. Joyce had texted back. Henry showed me his screen.

You always were such a good little soldier. Meet me in the garage in ten minutes.

Outside, the sea kept rising, and I could hear the troll saying Yesss . . .

The thought splashed through my mind:

Everything dead eventually washes up in Useless Bay.





twenty


HENRY


The wind was blowing sideways as we crossed the path between the main house and the garage.

“I don’t like this, Henry,” said Pixie. “Can we please go find agent Armstrong?”

“No way. Not before I confront Joyce. You can stay in the house if you want to, but this is something I’ve gotta do.”

She bit her lip. “Do you at least have a plan?”

“Sure. Turn on my phone, get her to talk, and record her. Simple. You’re being kind of a wuss about this, Pix. It’s not like you.”

She looked out at the beach and got a face full of saltwater splash from a high wave. She jumped back as if that spray were trying to grab her. She wiped her face with her wet sleeve. Then she cocked her head, as if listening for something coming from the shore.

I’d never seen her this skittish before, but I didn’t have time to worry about her. I had to rely on her staying solid. She was a Gray. I was going to meet Joyce at any second, and there was going to be a reckoning.

“So, are you coming or what?”

She nodded. “If you’re going to do this, you’re not doing it alone.”

I took her arm in mine and kept walking. I was glad she was with me.

I let us in the side door of the garage.

The Lexus was parked in its usual space, and the rowboat was back in its spot and secured, surrounded with crime-scene tape. Kayaks and life preservers hung from hooks on the walls.

Remembering my fight with Todd Wishlow, I thought: Now I have a weapon. I wouldn’t mind fracturing Joyce’s clavicle. I knew from experience the satisfying crack an oar made when it struck bone.

Pix still seemed spooked by what was going on outside. It’s just a storm, I wanted to say. It’s true that this felt like something bigger. The sliding doors that looked out onto the beach were rattling so loud I thought they might break and dump a whole lot of seawater into the place. Wind whistled through the corners of the seaward doors, and with every wave came a thump, as if something was trying to get in.

I heard a scrambling noise over by the rowboat. Pix pulled out her flashlight and shone it in that direction.

What we saw in the beam was not what I expected.

Meredith and Sammy were sitting in the spot that Tonka, the second-best bloodhound in the state, had tracked Grant’s scent to. They were holding hands easily, but that was the only thing about them that was easy. Their foreheads were pressed together, and they were whispering intently about something that seemed important.

The mood was somber; but there was no question. The two of them were a couple.

“Meredith? You’re with Sammy?” I don’t know what surprised me more, the fact that my sister was involved with a Gray before I had taken my chance with Pix, or that she’d picked Sammy over all the rest—even Dean, who, by all accounts, was the best of the lot. The Golden Boy of Golden Boys.

Pix seemed just as surprised as I was. “How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know,” Sammy said. “It seems like forever . . . But listen, there’s something we need to tell you about. We should’ve told you sooner . . .”

Water was beginning to pool beneath the seaward doors.

“Not now,” I said. “You two need to get out—”

“Wait a minute,” Pixie said. “Grant knew about you two, didn’t he?”

Neither of them bothered to deny it.

“He knew that this was where you liked to rendezvous, and he came to get you after I rowed him back yesterday. When he said he needed to find someone better to help him, he meant you two. Not Henry.”