Dark and Shallow Lies(69)

Zale said Elora was waiting for someone that night. She sneaked away while everyone was playing flashlight tag. Left them out in the storm, searching and calling her name.

I take another look at the notebook paper the bracelet was wrapped in, but there’s only one word handwritten there in dark blue ink.

Soon.

That’s all it says. Definitely not Elora’s loopy script. Plain printed letters. They’re distinctive, though. The S leans forward at a sharp angle, and the double o’s are odd-looking. Tall and elongated. More egg-shaped than round.

Soon.

“Who bought you this?” I whisper the words out loud to the ruffled bedspread and the yellow rug, then I wrap the little bracelet back up in the notebook paper and tuck it into my pocket.

I replace the loose paneling and inhale once more. A deep lungful of Elora. Then I climb back out the window like the worst thief ever. I haven’t taken much. Just a little love token and the faint whiff of orange-vanilla body spray still clinging to my skin. I slide the window closed, and I freeze.

Cigarette smoke hangs thick in the wet air.

So I know he’s there before I hear his voice.

“You shouldn’t be out here, Shortcake. Don’t ya know there’s a hurricane comin’?”





Hart lights up another cigarette, then he sucks in smoke and holds it for a long time before he blows it out. He’s got me in the hot seat, and he knows it. He ashes the cigarette and cocks his head to one side. “You wanna tell me what the hell you’re doin’, Greycie?”

“I just needed to be in her room. So I could say goodbye.” “Damn.” Hart shakes his head. “We don’t even know how to tell the truth to each other any more, you and me.” He turns and walks toward the end of the boardwalk. And I follow him. Like always.

He’s carrying a big pair of bolt cutters in his other hand. He gives them to me, then he hops down into the pontoon boat with the cigarette between his lips. The water hyacinth has grown so thick, it must be choking the old boat half to death. The purple flowers are pretty. But it’s invasive. It can suffocate a pond when it takes over. Block out the light. Steal all the oxygen. I sit down on the edge of the boardwalk, and Hart motions for me to hand him down the bolt cutters, so I do. He cuts the chain on the boat, then he climbs back up the ladder to sit beside me.

“Things get as bad as they’re sayin’, I don’t want it smashin’ against the boardwalk. Might take the pilings out.”

He finishes the cigarette and tosses the butt down into the bow of the boat. I focus my eyes on it for a few seconds, to see if I can get the cypress needles to light.

To see if I have any of my mother in me, I guess.

But nothing happens.

“You leavin’ tomorrow?” he asks, and I nod.

We listen to the night music for a while. Even the frogs sound worried. Like they know what’s coming.

“I’m not evacuating,” Hart finally tells me. “I decided I’m gonna stay and ride it out.”

So that’s his plan. Suicide by hurricane.

“Becky’s never gonna let you do that,” I tell him. “That’s stupid. She’ll get Leo to drag your ass on the boat.”

He laughs. “I’d like to see him try.”

“Hart –”

“I can’t leave her here.” His voice is so twisted up that it’s almost unrecognizable. “I was supposed to look out for ’er. I can’t leave her here all by herself.”

It hits me that maybe Elora was lucky. She disappeared all at once. But Hart’s been disappearing a little bit at a time. Every time I see him, there’s more of him missing.

I reach for him, and he lets me wrap my fingers around his. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. And then I realize it’s because he’s staring at my finger.

At the little blue pearl.

I try to snatch my hand back, but it’s too late. He’s got a death grip on me. Hart’s mouth is open and his eyes are dark. He can’t look away from the ring.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“I found it. Just now. In her room.” I hate myself for the lie, but I can’t think what else to tell him.

“Bullshit,” Hart whispers. “You’re lying to me.” He pulls his gaze away from my hand and looks up into my face. And I see the exact moment my own fear settles behind his hazel eyes. “You’re afraid.” He breathes. And my chest rises and falls. “I can feel it.” We both shiver. Mirror images of each other. But I can’t make myself say anything. Hart tightens his grip on my hand, and I wince.

“Somebody gave it to me,” I admit.

“Who?” My brain stalls out, and Hart loses patience. He clamps down on my hand even harder. I yelp and try to pull away again. But it’s no use. He’s so much stronger than I am. “Who gave it to you?” he demands.

“You’re hurting me,” I whimper. But he doesn’t seem to care.

“Elora loved that ring. She never took it off her damn finger. If somebody had it, they stole it off ’er after they killed ’er.”

“No.” He’s getting things all wrong. But I don’t know how to fix this. “It’s not like that.”

“For fuck’s sake! Stop playin’ games and tell me the truth, Greycie!” Hart’s voice is rising. There’s a frantic undercurrent to his words. And it throws me off balance. “Tell me where you got it!” His eyes are wild, and I wonder if the panic I see in them is his. Or mine. Or if it comes from both of us. “Please!”