Page 61 of Tourist Season
“My story.” It’s not a lie. But Nolan watches me as though he knows it’s not the truth either. “He wants to interview me for his documentary. I think he’s still convinced that Arthur is La Plume. And he definitely knows there’s more to Cape Carnage than meets the eye.”
“Do you think when it comes out more widely that this McMillan guy is missing that it will throw him off course?”
“That’s what I’m hoping, but I don’t know,” I reply. “I thought that if it happened while Arthur was clearly in the hospital, it would be a perfect alibi that could finally put that whole ‘Arthur is La Plume’ theory to bed. I’m sure another disappearance will keep Sam interested in Carnage, but at least Arthur will be safe, and I figured that if he doesn’t have a body or the suspect he wanted to pin everything on, he’d be forced to leave eventually. But what ifSam’s too distracted to focus on anything other than the story he’s determined to tell? Maybe this has all been a waste of effort.”
“It’s not.” Nolan takes my hand. There’s such a relief in the warm touch. I don’t know what’s changing between us, or why. I can’t understand the tortured expression he gives me. I just know I don’t want this feeling to end. “I’ll find a way to steer him on the right path.”
“The ‘right’ path leads straight to me. Maybe I …” I swallow, looking away to the growing shadows that surround us. “Maybe I made a mistake. Let my emotions take too much control until I talked myself into making the wrong choice.”
“The ‘right path’ leads out of this fucking town. And that’s exactly where he’s going to go. That’s a fucking promise, Harper,” he says, his voice low and laced with a vicious edge. His hand tightens around mine. When I look up at Nolan, there’s no doubt written in his face, no trepidation. He’s not a hero. This is not a promise bound by morality. Nolan Rhodes is a villain. He’ll lie, he’ll manipulate, he’ll even kill for this promise. He would burn this town to ash to keep his word. “You did what you had to do, and he’ll leave when he doesn’t get the story he wants. We just have to stay the course.”
I give him a weak smile, a nod. But I know it will be hard to refocus Sam on one injured quarry when he’s already closing in on the bloody trail of another.
Nolan might not know the full details of my encounter with Sam, but I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing when he keeps hold of my hand as we follow a winding path of packed gravel that leads to an empty playground. Or maybe he’s thinking about all the ways he intends to throw Sam off course. Though I steal glances at him from the corner of my eye, I can only see sterndetermination in his expression as he keeps his sights on the path ahead. And maybe I shouldn’t trust too much in his promises. But as we slow to a stop and look down over the trail we took to get here, I find that I do believe him. I might not have faith in heroes. But I trust the man at my side to make a vow and keep it.
For a while, we just stand in silence to observe the town and the growing dark. From our little hill, we can see the attendees making their way in different directions. The sea shimmers in the distance, picking up the last light of the fading day. “We should let them all figure out where they’re headed,” he says. “So we don’t have to fight for a table somewhere.”
I sit on one of the swings, rocking back and forth. “Though I’d like to see a fight to the death over the Buoy’s nachos, I agree. I’ve eaten my body weight in popcorn anyway.”
Nolan gives me a faint smile before taking the swing next to mine. For a long while, we don’t talk, letting the swings squeak in harmony instead. I spot Lukas emerging from the theater with Arthur. He helps him to the curb, and though we can’t hear the words, I can make out the body language clearly enough to see that Lukas is about to chuck himself under the judgy bus. When Arthur pops his grandson on the head with the handle of his cane, I snort a laugh.
“How did you meet him?” Nolan asks as we watch Lukas jog down the street toward the nearby public parking lot.
I have a lie ready for exactly this question, one Arthur himself made up for me four years ago. I could feed Nolan the same story about being distant relatives. But instead, I say, “I was boondocking near the Lancaster Distillery. I walked into town to get supplies one day and I was passing by this same park when I saw an old Chevy Nova drive by. My dad used to tinker with vintagecars, so I noticed it right away. But then a few minutes later, it passed me again, heading in the same direction. And then again, a few minutes later.”
“Someone was following you?” he asks, and though he tries to keep his voice even, there’s still a thread of malice woven into its notes.
“That’s what I thought at first. So I stopped and pretended to tie my boot and watched for the car to come again. I thought maybe I was just paranoid. But sure enough, the old Nova drove past a fourth time. Just one man in the car. Going slow. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was watching three little girls playing tag at the park with no grown-up around. I just … had a feeling …” I swing back and forth, looking toward the street as I recall the instinct that fired to life in my veins. And therage. Nolan’s fist tightens around the chain in my peripheral vision, and I can feel that same fury churning within him. We might have started as enemies. Two monsters who are missing their souls. But our shadows share a likeness. “I came up here and sat on the swings, just close enough to keep watch on the girls. And that night, I hunted him down. Except Arthur had found him first, and I waltzed in just after the kill.”
“And Arthur didn’t try to attack you?” Nolan asks.
“He was pretty surprised, but no. Not at all. We kind of hit it off, actually. Shared interests and all that.” A wistful smile rises on my lips as I watch Lukas park in front of the theater just long enough to help his grandfather into the passenger seat of the old Jaguar, and then they’re off, headed for the estate. “By the end of the night, he offered me a permanent home if I promised to learn how to look after Carnage the same way he always has. The rest is history.”
I feel Nolan watching me, but I don’t return his gaze. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Yeah, but it’s a strange town. It attracts a lot of great people, sure. But a place like this summons the shitty ones too. It would quickly turn to chaos if someone weren’t here to protect it. Yates and his deputies certainly aren’t up to the task, and it’s not like Arthur can do it forever. Someone’s gotta take his place and look after Cape Carnage.”
“Don’t you find it exhausting?”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. “Sometimes.”
“You look after Cape Carnage. You look after Arthur.” The weight of all his attention burrows into the side of my face. “Who looks afteryou?”
My swinging slows to a stop. My lungs stall around a breath. The scent of sandalwood and cedar still lingers in my senses. My thoughts leap in several directions all at once. When I turn to face him, Nolan is watching me intently. “I do,” I say.
We stare at each other for a long moment, neither of us moving. I don’t know what he makes of my answer. But I do know that no one has ever asked me that question before. Aside from Arthur, Nolan is the only other person who knows my true nature. But he also seems to understand everything else. The weight of this responsibility. The pain of the loss I’m powerless to stop. Nolan sees it all. He seesme. And he looks at me now as though he wants every piece of my broken soul.
Nolan rises from his seat on the swing next to me. His eyes never leave mine as he stops in front of me, blocking my view of the street and the sea and the moon that hovers in the sky behind him. The whole universe around us seems to fall away.
“Maybe you should let someone take care of you for a change,” he says.
My heart riots.I should leave, the rational voice says in my head like a repeating plea. But that voice grows quieter every second that he watches me, until it fades into silence. “Maybe. Any suggestions on who? Your version of ‘taking care of me’ might be tossing me into the ocean with concrete shoes.”
Nolan drops to his knees in front of me, gripping my ankles to keep me in place. His eyes shimmer in the dark. I could kick him off. Push him down. A dark thrill courses through my veins when I wonder if he’d pursue me. But I already know he would. He wouldn’t stop until he caught me. He would revel in every second of the chase. And he’d probably love punishing me for it.
So would I.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says.
