JUNE 24 - 25

MAUD

We argued over the phone.

"I can't tell if you want me to come back or not," Nicki said for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

Sprawled out on my bed, I fought the urge to scream bloody murder into my pillow. "It's up to you."

"Maud," he exhaled a sigh that sounded like it hurt him. "I'm trying here. I'm really trying to understand what it is that you want from me, but you're going to have to give me something that isn't passive bullshit."

"Things are better now," I said, deciding to ignore his comment on me being passive, which I wasn't. "Grandfather answered whatever questions those psychos at the police department wanted, and they conducted a search at Pacific King. They found nothing of interest, and he's home now. Obviously."

I hated myself a little for feeling like I had to declare Grandfather's innocence as if it wasn't an absolute given. While I didn't know what the police wanted from him or why he was so reluctant to allow the search, that didn't matter. None of it did because this wasn't real. What was real was that my ex-boyfriend wrote a damn TV show in which the antagonist happened to be a fictional version of Grandfather - the key word being fictional.

Nicki remained quiet for a beat, and I could almost hear him thinking. "What about that old harpoon at the museum? Someone left an anonymous tip about it, and now the police are essentially calling it the murder weapon?"

"It was Allix," I disclosed, having been with Allix when she called in the tip. "And yes, they proved it was used to kill the orca. The department didn't release the details, but I guess there were still traces of blood on the shaft."

"Whoever did it had to have known that they needed to clean it more, meaning they must've felt rushed in getting it back to the museum."

"It also means they also had access to the museum or knew someone who did."

"That should help narrow down the list," Nicki said, suddenly sounding hopeful, but I didn't know what to believe in anymore.

A chilly twilight breeze swept through the open window, and I bit back a shiver. The last two weeks had crept by slowly, mostly because I'd kept to myself, not even wanting to talk to Syd. Grandfather's fate had been up in the air, and I felt like I was standing in a room with no exit as water rose up from under me. He was the only real family I had left. He was my home.

"Maud? Are you there?"

Realizing that I'd gone quiet for a moment too long, I flinched. "Yeah," I breathed out. "Yeah, I'm still here."

"I can come back this weekend. If not, I'll be back for the Fourth of July, and we can talk things through again then."

I swallowed hard as a knot started to form in my throat, knowing my answer would only widen the divide between us. "We should wait until the Fourth. The fireworks over the harbor never disappoint, and we can take out the boat."

I thought I heard him try to smile. "Okay."

"Okay."

Nicki ended the call, and I slowly pulled my phone away from my ear. The whoosh of my ceiling fan almost distracted me from my thoughts. Almost.

Sighing, I powered off my phone. That had been one of my better conversations with Nicki because it hadn't ended with me furious at how understanding and calm he was in the face of my selfish indecisiveness. It was cruel how compassionate of a person he was.

I slumped back against my pillows, closing my eyes and hoping sleep found me soon. I had the day off from work tomorrow and was hoping to hike, knowing that a walk in the woods always helped clear my head.

At some point, I must've slipped off into a dreamless slumber because when I opened my eyes again, the clock on my nightstand read 1:05 AM instead of 10:30 PM. The window was still open, and maybe that was why I could hear a sound from the street - a car door closing.

Blinking away the heaviness of my eyes, I rolled out of my bed and walked over to the window. My driveway was too long and winding to see the street, so I wondered if it was Syd coming home late. When he wasn't working at the theater, he was palling around with Allix, Dakota, and Brenna, though I liked to believe they weren't having too much fun without me.

If my instincts were half as good as I thought they were, then Allix and Dakota were at each other's throats again. I knew their relationship wouldn't return to normal until Allix found it inside herself to be honest with him about her five-month-absence. I didn't know the entire truth, but they were different. They were supposed to be on the same page, and I bet hanging out with them left Syd with a massive headache. Or maybe that was just what I needed to tell myself to feel better about keeping my distance.

Regardless of the answer, I was intrigued by whoever was outside and slid on my Birkenstocks. I made sure to leave the front door unlocked before venturing down my driveway. My eyes were quick to adjust to the dark as I walked, and soon I saw the car and its driver. Unfortunately, it wasn't Syd, or anyone else in my realm of consideration.

Leaning against the passenger side of his red Chevy pickup truck, the guy appeared to be only a few years older than me, with a dark buzzcut and his blue eyes flickering in the light from the cigarette dangling from between his lips.

My gaze dropped to the camera hanging from around his neck.

Paparazzi.

I'd only ever seen them on screen or in magazines, following around the rich and famous. However, they were usually middle-aged white men with sideburns who wore black baggy clothes. They were also never this handsome.

"Hey," he greeted, raising his camera. "You're Maud Hamilton."

"And you're trespassing on private property," I said coolly, wanting to keep it quiet that I knew this truck.

It was the same truck from Providence Point, the one that nearly hit Allix at the crosswalk, and the one from the banquet. More importantly, though, was the fact that the truck's reappearances weren't a figment of my imagination. It was real. Allix was about to get served one steaming cup of I told you so.

The guy's lips twisted into a dazzling smirk. "I'm not in your driveway."

I folded my arms in front of my chest, feeling a spark of irritation, and decided that I wasn't in the mood for coy games. "Are you going to take my picture or not?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"What's your name?"

"Zachary Healy."

Processing the unfamiliar name, I dragged my foot across the line where the gravel of my driveway met the road. "What are you doing at my house, Zachary?"

"I thought you were going to be the nice one," Zachary taunted, dodging my questions as he blew out a cloud of smoke. "The one who would accept my help if I chose to offer it."

The nice one? I wondered who wasn't the nice one.

"Well, you're wrong," I shrugged. "I don't need or want your help."

"I'm not so sure about that."

Bristling, I snatched Zachary's cigarette, took a long drag, and exhaled the smoke away from his face. "Really?" I looked up at him through my lashes. "Because I'm a lot of things, but a nice girl isn't one of them."

When I returned the cigarette, Zachary wore a rather mesmerized expression. "Okay, you're not a nice girl," he conceded, almost too eagerly. "And leads me to believe that you're not opposed to sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

I scoffed. "You're boring me. Skip to the part when you tell me something that you think I don't know."

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Why the hell not?"

"I'm good at what I do," Zachary boasted, toying with his camera in an almost lazy way. "I know where people go to hide their secrets, and the more I know, the more I get paid. That's how I stay in the game."

It occurred to me that Zachary didn't want to tell me because he thought he knew something valuable. Therefore, I chose to strike a balance between casual and divisive. "God, you're really baiting the wrong person," I sighed out. "Here's what's going to happen. We're going to have another chat tomorrow, where you'll tell me exactly what I need to know, and then we can go our separate ways."

Zachary narrowed his eyes, not seeming very keen on allowing me to take control of the conversation. As the butt of his cigarette burned red, he dropped it into the curbside puddle, which elicited a hiss as the flame drowned. I made a mental note to pick it up later.

"Meet me down by the docks at seven," he said after a beat of silence. "Don't be late."

Once his tail lights faded into the blackness of the night, I picked up the soggy cigarette to throw away on my way back inside.

*

As planned, I met Zachary at the docks in the morning. Waves of fog coasted overtop the glassy water, and when I inhaled, the coolness lingered inside my lungs. If things started to go south, the Pacific King Whale Watching Company offices were only a block away, and I'd be safe there.

Zachary was the first to speak. "You look good for someone who's going through hell."

"This isn't hell," I dryly retorted, toying with the zipper of my red rain jacket as we began to walk. "Hell is waking up in the middle of the night to a phone call from the other side of the world, and finding out that your parents are dead for doing the right thing."

"Poachers and elephants," he said, stifling a yawn. "I've heard your story before. Super tragic."

I attempted to swallow my bitterness. "If you know so much, then why bother making conversation?"

His laugh was self-deprecating. "I guess I wanted you to like me."

"You're doing a shit job."

Silence overtook us for a few moments, and I briefly wondered if I should also attempt to make Zachary like me. Heaven knew I didn't trust him, meaning I should try to build up some defenses. He might prove to be helpful, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

Clearing my throat, I examined his angular profile. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

My eyes narrowed. "You're acting a little too ominous for my liking."

From beneath the bill of his LA Angels baseball cap, I saw Zachary's eyes smile. "How am I supposed to act?"

"Trustworthy."

Just as he opened his mouth to answer, I spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches that lined the dock, and silenced him with a sharp look.

"Good morning, Albert," I called out cheerfully and waved to Grandfather's friend.

After everything that happened two weeks ago at the banquet, Grandfather took some time off and Albert was leading most of the whale watching tours. He was the only person Grandfather trusted to take over for him. Albert had been a loyal employee and friend for over twenty years.

Lowering his newspaper, Albert smiled. "Morning, Maud. I didn't know you were working this morning."

"I'm not," I clarified, feeling much more comfortable now that I was in his presence. "But you know me, I can't stay away from the water." I looped an arm through one of Zachary's. "I'm showing my friend around the harbor."

Zachary offered Albert a polite nod, but remained silent. Something about his demeanor had shifted, but I didn't know what.

Albert returned the nod, though his eyes narrowed as if he knew that there was something else going on. "Well, you kids have fun." He folded his newspaper, and stood up to leave. "I'll stop by to update Kazuo on business later."

Every feature on Zachary's face remained tight as he watched Albert walk away, and I cast my gaze towards the water before he could notice me staring. He extended his silence as we continued to walk, but eventually, he stopped in front of a dinghy tethered to a post, and I hung back a few steps.

"Here she is," he announced quietly.

Taking a step closer, I inspected the small boat. It had a hard floor and inflatable rubber sides that were without any dents or scuffs. Ultimately, it wasn't very entertaining to look at, and I didn't know how it could possibly be significant.

"Is this supposed to impress me?" I shot him a reproachful glare.

"You tell me."

A laugh escaped as I rolled my eyes. "Dinghies are usually carried by larger boats. They can be used as lifeboats or for towing light cargo, but this one is doing neither."

"Go on," Zachary prompted.

"No," I snapped, my patience dissipating. "Whose is this?"

"Conrad Kane's."

My eyes widened, but I quickly masked my surprise. "How do you know?"

"I told you already, Maud," Zachary drawled, his mouth lifting in a flattering half-smile. "It's my job to know these people's secrets."

His words caused a wave of curiosity well up inside of me, and no matter how hard I tried to deny it, I was going to have to give in. "You say you want to offer your help, but what do you have to gain? Don't say it's just about the money."

"Personal gain," he said with a shrug as if this was obvious. "Conrad's a great white shark, and when you have a chance to reel one in, you have to take it."

As I looked back at the dinghy, I noticed that it didn't have the Hunt Yacht logo, which was the manufacturer of the yacht Conrad owned. There was only one plausible explanation for that.

"Does Conrad own another boat?"

Zachary performed a brief scan of the dock, verifying that we were alone, and then nodded.

Scoffing, I turned away from him. Conrad owning two boats wasn't a game-changer, but it raised more questions. The first that infiltrated my mind was why Zachary thought this was important.

"I want to know what you found," I said, smuggling confidence into my voice. "You wouldn't be talking to me if you didn't plan on telling me."

An unmistakable intensity burned in Zachary's eyes, momentarily catching me off-guard. "This boat is just a sample of what I know and what I don't know. I don't know if Conrad is the one who's pulling all of the strings, but I do know that he shares his other boat with Gretchen England. Those two are secretly dating, by the way. I also know who was hired to kill the orca, and you're not going to like it."

I studied Zachary closely, knowing he could be trying to lead me astray, but there was no turning back now. "Tell me."

"You want to be some sort of biologist, right?" He waited for me to nod in confirmation. "All you need to do is ask yourself who the parasite is. Who's benefiting when the host is harmed?"

At first, I was clueless. The fog floating around us seemed to have crept into my head, making it difficult to see how this stupid metaphor provided me with an answer. I paused to think for a few moments, trying desperately to understand, and just as I was about to complain, I figured it out.

I contained the blast radius of my rage. I didn't move and closed my eyes, thinking of all of the times I'd thought of Grandfather's friend Albert like an uncle, someone who I'd considered family. He'd always been there.

Zachary seemed to sense that I'd worked it out, and put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you with me?"

I didn't hesitate. "I'm with you."