JULY 11 - 20

MAUD

Apparently, a person could drown on dry land hours after inhaling water during a near-drowning incident. That wasn't what happened to me, though.

The doctors said that I couldn't have been in the water for very long, otherwise I would've sustained significant brain damage. After I was rescued by the Coast Guard, a paramedic named Gabriel revived me. Everything that happened after I remembered only in brief and bright flashes punctuated with sensory details. I suspected that the beeping of machines, the antiseptic stench, and the potent taste of saltwater would haunt me forever.

Keeping track of time was tricky. In one of my early waking moments, Grandfather was sitting at my bedside and cried when he saw that my eyes opened.

"Watashi no chīsana sakana," he told me. My little fish.

The pain in my head was impossible to ignore, but every part of my body felt heavy. As time ticked on, I struggled to piece together the chain of events that landed me in a tiny hospital room. I'd found Zachary Healy and Brenna Quinn in the boathouse. Zachary had hit me on the head. While I'd drifted in and out of consciousness, I heard a gunshot. I wasn't sure how I ended up in the water, but I remembered the cold and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

The hospital released me after I recovered from a bad case of hypothermia and my head injury. I'd somehow evaded a concussion. While there was a part of me that felt like I got off lucky, I credited the doctors and paramedics for working the magic that they called science.

When I finally returned home, the first thing I asked of Grandfather was to keep my friends away. He reluctantly agreed, but only obliged for three days. I was resting on my bed when I heard the doorbell ring, and I dragged myself over to the front window. Sydney Atwood's black Prius sat in the driveway. I assumed Syd was coming from somewhere other than his house since he was my neighbor and walking fifty yards would've been the most logical and eco-friendly solution.

The upstairs hallway was quiet, but muffled words carried from downstairs. Unsurprisingly, Grandfather had welcomed Syd inside. He treated him like the son he'd lost.

"You two wait here," Grandfather instructed, and my stomach lurched. Syd wasn't alone. "If she doesn't come down soon, go up. She needs to see friendly faces."

I didn't need to see friendly faces. What I needed was to be alone so that I could continue to wallow in guilt and self-pity. Besides, I had no idea what I would say since a simple thank-you would probably undermine the severity of the situation.

I'd put my friends into an impossible position. That weighed on my conscience as well as Zachary's death. 

"I don't know if Maud will consider me to be a friendly face."

Recognizing the voice, I bit down on my lower lip and tried to ignore the emotion welling up inside of my chest. While I was lurking at the top of the stairs like a little kid, Nicki Watson was standing in my kitchen for the first time.

Grandfather made a swift exit by announcing that he was heading over to the Pacific King office to conduct an interview for the position that recently opened up. Thanks for nothing, Albert.

I silently cursed Grandfather for abandoning me to work through my personal problems, but I supposed that I couldn't keep playing the 'I almost died' card forever. A small eternity ticked by until I summoned the courage to go downstairs. The wooden steps creaked beneath my bare feet as I descended, announcing my presence to the boys.

They'd set up camp in the kitchen. Their quiet conversation stopped the moment I stepped into view, and I walked up to them as carefully as possible. My tear ducts were threatening to burst like a dam.

"You look like death," Syd observed, sitting on a stool at the island. He'd already helped himself to a bowl of Lucky Charms.

I sighed, tucking my hands into the pockets of my flannel. "You wouldn't be able to joke about it at all if I was actually dead, so I guess it's okay."

Syd coughed up a scratchy laugh but failed to deliver a response.

"Have you left the house at all?" Nicki asked, narrowing his gaze. The dark circles beneath his eyes reminded me of the all-nighters he'd pull before his chemistry exams.

"It's only been three days," I replied with a frown. "So don't treat me like a hermit."

It took me a moment to remember that the last time we spoke was when we'd fought outside the coffee shop. Nicki had tried to talk me out of going with Zachary, tried to warn me.

As Nicki remained quiet for a moment, I found myself holding my breath. The burning in my lungs was reminiscent of my struggle in the water. It was so, so tempting to give up and sink into the darkness.  But I guess there was always a part of me that loved to fight.

"I had to see that you're okay," Nicki finally said, his tone soft yet cold. "I think it's best if we can catch up another time." He turned to Syd. "I'll wait in the car."

His words stung. I imagined he felt guilty for not doing more to stop me from leaving that day. That feeling wasn't valid, though; no one could've stopped me.

But would things be different if I'd listened to the advice of someone other than myself? Would Zachary still be alive?

Asking myself these questions wasn't productive, but I couldn't help it. There were so many directions that night could've taken, and imagining different scenarios kept me up at night. Maybe it was what helped me avoid thinking about the coldness of the water or the splitting pain in my skull.

"Okay," I eventually murmured, giving him a weak smile. I would need to learn to live with this pain.

With one last lingering look over his shoulder, Nicki disappeared out the front door. I wanted to believe that this was for the best. I'd only ever given him trouble and served it to him on a silver platter.

Syd's spoon clinked on the rim of his bowl, snapping my attention away from the door. "Are you okay?"

I exhaled a shaky breath and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I think so."

"Nicki will come around," Syd said, attempting a half-smile. "He's still a little shocked, I think. We all are."

What happened was horrible. After all, someone died, and I nearly drowned, but it could've been worse. Dumb luck and a talented paramedic was what saved my life.

"I know it wasn't an easy night," I muttered, recalling the conversation I had with Allix over the phone. She'd done her best to explain everything, one brutal detail at a time. "Thank you for everything."

Syd nodded, stirring his now soggy cereal. When he looked up at me, I saw something in him that I hadn't in a long time: anger. As I searched his eyes, I tried to pinpoint the epicenter of the emotion. After a moment, I decided it was his heart.

"The police don't know about Brenna," I assumed. It was the elephant in the room, and refusing to address it would inconvenience both of us in the long run.

"Not yet," Syd said, standing up and dumping his extra milk down the drain. "I defended Brenna, and I believed in her. I even thought that maybe I..."

Those three words went unspoken. It was something you couldn't just take back. It was what made not saying them easier.

I hopped up onto a stool, crossing my ankles. "You don't have anything to be sorry about."

"But I do." Syd balanced his elbows on the island and massaged his temples. "She betrayed us. She betrayed me."

"Brenna tried to stop Zachary, you know."

"She should've tried harder."

"I don't think she could've," I snapped, and Syd stiffened. I suddenly struggled to look him in the eye as my memories from the boathouse resurfaced, and I pressed my eyes shut.

"When I walked inside the boathouse, I heard arguing. I recognized Zachary's voice, but not Brenna's... at least not at first. All I knew was that the person was scared. It's why I opened that door."

"How did you cut your hand?" Syd asked quietly.

With my eyes still shut, I ran a finger over the stitches on my palm. "There was a shattered window outside of the boathouse. I picked up a piece before going in. I'm not sure why I did it, but I guess there was a part of me that knew that something wasn't right. So, when I realized Zachary was talking to Brenna, I reached for the glass and cut my hand." I opened my eyes, my breath catching in my throat. "Instinct is funny like that."

Syd heaved out a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll let you have this one, but only because you almost died."

"I'm not going to report Brenna," I said. "It will only do more harm than good."

"Then it's only the six of us that know."

"And we should keep it that way. The wolf pack stays together, even when the hunt gets hard."

Syd offered me a wry smile. "I know you're serious when you resort to using wolf analogies."

*

I took my time walking down the boardwalk, letting the fresh air clear the fog inside my head. The warmth of the chai tea latte in my hand was a familiar comfort, a staple in my daily routine that was trivial but still brought me joy.

I slid off my Birkenstocks when I reached the end of the boardwalk and dangled my feet off the edge. Beneath the cloudy sky, the harbor was a dark grey, and I wished I could dismiss the unease I felt as I realized I could barely see beneath the surface.

There was a young family standing a short distance away with a blonde-haired toddler clutching a dripping ice cream cone in her chubby fist. I knew that they were tourists from the brochure the woman held, and by the man's Bowing baseball cap. My best guess was that they hailed from Seattle or from the Eastside of King County. While I never assumed that tourism on Friday Island would decline due to the events of the last two months, it was reassuring to see that the summer was retaining some sense of normalcy.

Never thought I'd be comforted by tourists, I thought.

Even after I finished my latte, I stayed on the boardwalk and eyed the water. I knew there was a part of me that was wary of it now, and that pained me more than any of my injuries.

When I was a kid, I spent hours at the beach boogie boarding with Syd. My dad would call me a mermaid, but I always liked pretending that I was an orca. Even though I was young, I'd felt a unique pull to them, drawn to their regal wildness that I soaked up whenever I went out on one of Grandfather's whale watching tours.

An expensive cologne suddenly itched my nose, and my heart was seconds away from conducting a jailbreak from my rib cage. I jumped to my feet and nearly knocked my Birkenstocks into the water.

"I was waiting for our paths to cross again," Conrad Kane said with a perfectly polite smile.

Men like Conrad  Kane were like sharks. They could smell blood in the water from a quarter of a mile away. Today, fear replaced blood.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, praying I sounded far braver than I felt.

My heart thumped so aggressively that I felt it in my ears. Seeing Conrad filled me with an overwhelming sense of dread. I couldn't remember who shot Zachary, but there was a strong possibility that it could've been him. I could be standing in front of a murderer.

"Nothing," Conrad dismissed my question with a flick of his wrist. "You're not the one who has something that belongs to me."

I worked my jaw. "Then what do you want from me?"

Conrad removed his dark shades with a casual yet deliberate swiftness. "To inform you that I'm publishing the photos of the Black Swan. If The Seattle Chronicle won't post them, I will."

"Why?" I choked on the word. "Why would you do that?"

"There are people who believe I have something to hide. Publishing the surveillance footage that verifies my innocence should kill off those concerns."

From over Conrad's shoulder, I saw another man who looked to be in his early thirties. I recognized him as Myles Bennett and remembered Syd telling me that Dakota wasn't fond of him. While my ex-boyfriend's judgment was severely biased, the more I knew about these people, the better I could defend myself.

"That would be in Apex's best interest," I remarked, pulling the folds of my cardigan tighter in front of my stomach.

Conrad took a long drag from his cigar. "It's a shame we've been at odds. Protecting those whales is, after all, my preferred goal."

I narrowed my eyes. Orcas were a lower classification of oceanic dolphins, and Conrad undoubtedly knew that. He wanted me to bite back, but I refused to take the bait.

"I wish that was everyone's preferred goal," I admitted. "Maybe that way this could end with somewhat of a happy ending"

Conrad barked out a laugh, and fixed me with a pointed look. "I'd tell you that life isn't like the movies, but most of the best movies these days don't have happy endings anyway."

The following moments whizzed by in a foggy blur. I watched Conrad rejoin Myles Bennett, and waited until they retreated to the opposite end of the boardwalk before leaving. I stormed past the young family, and both adults shot me a quizzical look.

By the time I arrived at the Pacific King office, I was pathetically out of breath and a singular tear rolled down my cheek. I dropped into the plush office chair behind my desk, and sucked in as much air as my lungs permitted.

I pulled my field journal out of the top drawer and flipped to the dog-eared pages, where I kept a collection of random observations about orcas. I knew most of the facts off the top of my head - for instance, the genus translation - but documenting other details was just a mindless hobby.

Picking up a pen, I wrote down the first words that came to mind.

Sometimes orcas are called the wolves of the sea, as they hunt in groups like packs of wolves. And like wolves, they are apex predators. They have no natural predators in their environment. They are bringers of death.

✘ ✘ ✘

Because OF COURSE I would never do that to Maud! She's my precious Leo girl.

Chapter Chitchat — which POV is your favorite? I'm curious because as much as I've enjoyed writing multiple POVS, I'm excited that my upcoming projects have just one.