Page 25 of Half the Summer's Night
My phone chimes, the sound startling me but also grounding me enough that the overwhelming, sickening panic recedes. I throw down some paper towels on my vomit, peel my gloves off, wash my hands, and check to see who it is.
I assume it’s Ms. Staunton again, as anything related to the investigation would have gone to the office line. Maybe Penelope or Chloe, although I haven’t told them what happened yet.
But when I pick up my phone, the name I see on the screen is the last I expect.
It’s Rowan Hanover.
9
ROWAN
Iknow something’s wrong the second I step into the Palm Breeze lobby, and it has nothing to do with my precious encounter last night with Abilene Snow.
I’ve always been able to sense things. Uncle Nash called it my sixth sense and told me I was lucky to have it. My mother said I was possessed by a demon, which, coincidentally, is also why she sent me away when I was eight years old.
Whatever the reason for it, it’s just another way I’m different from everyone else. I hear people, all the stuff moving around inside them, and I go from there.
And I hear it when I come into work. Fear. Everyone’s afraid.
It’s not like when Mr. Nielson died. I did my job well, so all that generated was a cloud of dark curiosity. Only my Abi knew it was a murder, and that’s because I shared the truth of it with her.
This fear is different, though.
I wade through the thickness of it until I get to the front desk, where Judith has already taken over from Alberto, the night shift worker. When she sees me, her eyes get huge. “Oh my god, did you hear?”
“Hear what?” I adjust the display of seashells and dried starfish we have arranged around our check-in times.
“There was a murder,” she breathes.
I freeze. For a moment, I’m struck with a terribly paralyzing panic that I’ve been caught.
Except I haven’tdoneanything.
“A murder?” I say carefully, looking over at her.
She nods. “At the gazebo. I don’t know the details, but Marielle’s sister works in the coffee shop that’s over on the square, and she saweverything.”
“Everything,” I repeat numbly.
Julia leans over the counter, dropping her voice to a rough whisper. “The cops are all over the gazebo square,” she says, her fear tightening the words closer together. “She said there wasa lotof blood, that they were turning people away because they didn’t want them to see.”
Years of practice have made it easy for me to keep my expression neutral, even if a million neurons are firing off in my brain. Another killer is in town.
I don’t like that. At all.
I think of last night on the beach, that odd, not-quite-human presence I sensed. My skin prickles; the hairs on my arm stand on end. Maybe the presence felt not-quite-human because they’re broken like me.
“Do you know who the victim was?” I ask.
But Julia shakes her head. “Marielle’s sister didn’t know, and I don’t think they’ve released the name yet.” Her fear spikes suddenly through the air, sharp and unmistakable. “Do you think this has anything to do with that lady who came by yesterday? The coroner?”
The question cuts straight through me, and for a second, I forget myself.
“What?” I ask stupidly.
“That lady with the glasses,” Julia says. “Didn’t she think there was something off about the guy who died here a few days ago? I mean, I know that was an accident, but—it’s a weird coincidence, isn’t it?”
I’m suddenly aware of the weight of my phone. Abi. I should make sure Abi’s okay. If that presence followed my tracks back to her house…
