Siren (7 page)

60

I stopped a foot from the door. Judging by the profile visible through the thin curtain covering the window in the kitchen door, whoever had knocked was definitely male.

"Vanessa, if you're trying to tell me something--"

"Hang on, Big Poppa," I whispered, grabbing the doorknob. "Simon?" My potential burglar stood on the stoop in jeans and his maroon Bates fleece.

"Hey. Sorry, I know it's early--"

"You and Caleb always use the back door."

"I tried the back door," he said. "And the front door. And the side door. You didn't answer."

"Oh."

"And I was just about to force this door open, because you weren't answering. And because the lights have been on all night, and because I couldn't hear anything out here over all the noise in there. I thought something happened."

"Oh," I said again, feeling ridiculous. "Sorry ... I fell asleep."

"You fell asleep? I'm so glad to hear it!"

Big Poppa. I'd forgotten I was holding the phone. "Dad, sorry--yes, I finally fell asleep." I turned, hoping Simon wouldn't notice the light pink traveling from my forehead to the base of my neck. "But Simon just stopped by. We're going to get something to eat. Call you later?"

"You're okay?" Simon asked as I hung up and turned back.

"Yes. Thank you." I opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Want to come in?"

61

"Actually ..." He glanced behind him, toward his house. "I came over to see if you wanted to come out."

"Out where?"

His jaw clenched. "To find Caleb."

My heart thrust against my chest. I'd planned to head back to Betty's, since Louis had said he could use the extra help whenever I wanted to offer it, but finding Caleb came first. "Give me a few minutes."

He stepped inside as I ran to the bathroom to speed-shower. I didn't know what had made him decide that today was the day to try to find Caleb, but whatever the reason, I was happy he wanted to include me. Not only would it be nice to have company, but a search led by him was guaranteed to take much less time than one conducted only by me; as Caleb's brother, he had to know where to look better than I did.

Pretty Vanessa ...

I'd finished getting dressed and was drying my hair when I heard Justine's voice. The mirror above the sink was cloudy from the shower, but something behind me had flashed brightly in its reflection--like a lit match, sparking silver instead of gold.

The lake house was seventy-five years old. There was nothing shiny about it, especially not in the bathroom, which hadn't been remodeled since Dad bought the house in the late eighties. The tiles on the walls and floor were moss green, and the cabinets were dark wood with black handles. Anything that was usually shiny in normal, modern bathrooms, like the faucets and light fixtures, was dulled bronze.

62

I wiped the steam away with one hand. "You're losing it," I told my reflection. "About one hallucination shy of certifiable."

One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand ...

I froze. There was another flash above my right shoulder. Another between my left elbow and torso.

You can look ... but he has to want to be found...
.

Her voice surrounded me like the cool early-morning mist rising from the lake, covering my arms and legs in the thin, gray film I could never wait to rinse off. I closed my eyes against it, against her voice and the image of her from the dream that still lingered, her skin purple and yellow, her hair falling like clumps of dark seaweed down her back.

"Be right there, Simon!" I yelled in a pathetic attempt to warn away whatever was making me see and hear things.

I knocked hard against the towel rack as I darted toward the door. The impact made me drop the brush I still carried, but I didn't bother opening my eyes to see where it landed. I left it where it was and groped ahead of me until one hand landed on the doorknob.

My eyes snapped open as soon as my feet hit the hallway area rug. Running toward the kitchen, I felt the way I always did whenever I accidentally ended up the last in line while hiking with other people in the woods: like I wasn't
really
the last one in line.

"You okay?" Simon asked when I skidded to a stop in the kitchen.

63

"Fine," I said, trying to smile. "Just excited to get started." I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter and headed outside before he could say anything else. When he didn't follow me right away, I peered through the doorway.

"I'm not sure when we'll be back, so I put the TV on," he said, entering the kitchen from the living room.

I watched him jog down the steps. It hadn't even occurred to me to turn off the radio and lights before walking out the door. And instead of turning them off for me, the way other people might've for someone whose head was clearly somewhere else, he'd turned the TV back on.

"So where are we going?" I asked after locking the door and hurrying after him. "Where do we start?"

He quickened his step as we approached the Subaru, then pulled ahead of me to open the passenger's-side door. "The marina."

As he closed the door and rounded the back of the car, I glanced around as if sitting there for the first time. Simon had bought the Subaru when he got his license, and for two summers he'd played chauffeur to our little group, driving us to the movies, Eddie's Ice Cream, the miniature golf course. But this was the first time it'd ever been just the two of us. It felt strange to sit in the front without the car bouncing up and down as Justine and Caleb climbed in the back. And, of course, it felt strange to think that this was the first time I'd been in the Subaru since the last time, when the four of us were still together.

64

"Are you hungry?" he asked, dropping in the driver's seat and starting the car. "I picked up snacks."

I was about to say I was fine when I noticed two plastic cups in the holders between us.

"Watermelon guava," he said, then nodded to the Harbor Homefries bag by my feet. "And scrambled eggs, sausage, and cheese on a kaiser roll."

I grabbed the bag, surprised that he knew my breakfast of choice. Our foursome never ate the first meal of the day together, which meant I must've mentioned it at some point ... and he'd remembered. I was so touched by his thoughtfulness and moved by the gesture, I couldn't look at him as I unwrapped the sandwich. "Thank you."

In addition to satisfying our hunger, eating gave us something to do instead of talking during our drive into town. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to Simon; I just didn't know what to say. It felt like we'd fast-forwarded a few decades and suffered from empty-nest syndrome. After all that time, what did parents talk about besides the children who were no longer there?

"So," Simon finally said as we pulled into the Winter Harbor Marina twenty minutes later. "I have to ask a huge favor."

I'd been staring out the passenger's-side window but turned to him when he spoke.

"I don't know where Caleb's been, or what he's been doing. Our parents and I wanted to give him some time and space to deal with things in his own way, but we thought he'd be back by now. Depending on where he's been, if we find him--"

65

"When
we find him."

He let out a small breath. "When we find him, I don't know what kind of state he'll be in. Trauma affects people differently, and for Caleb to leave the way he did ... I just don't know how he'll act after being on his own for so long."

"Okay ..."

He glanced through the windshield as two fishermen passed by, toting rods and reels. "Would you mind not saying anything?" He turned back to me, and his eyes were sorry. "At least not right away? I know that he was the last one with Justine, and that you have questions about that night."

I looked down and fiddled with the straw in my empty smoothie cup. Simon had no idea that what I wanted to ask Caleb went far beyond that night, into the weeks and months leading up to it. He had no idea that I was banking on Caleb having the answers to everything I thought I'd known about Justine in the past two years--and perhaps before that--but hadn't.

"I know he'll tell you whatever you want to know," Simon continued, "but it would help if we let him go at his own pace. Seeing you will remind him of her ... and I don't want him to keep running."

I nodded. "Of course. I won't say anything until you say it's okay."

He exhaled. "Thanks."

We climbed out of the car, and I was happy to let him take the lead. Going to the marina was a good idea; I didn't think either of us expected to find Caleb there now, but he'd worked

66

there as a dock attendant since he was thirteen, when he'd finally been strong enough to lift the gas nozzle and help pull boats in. We'd heard stories about the marina nearly every day in the summers since then, and we knew some of Caleb's coworkers were also his best friends. Someone there had to know something about where he went.

I followed Simon into the office, which was a one-room shack covered in colorful buoys, like a Christmas tree festooned in ornaments.

"Well, look what the hook dragged in! Wait ... it
is
you, isn't it?" Captain Monty took off his glasses, wiped them with one corner of his cargo vest, and put them back on. "You look a little big for the older Carmichael boy, but I wouldn't forget that grin."

"You're not seeing things," Simon said, shaking Captain Monty's hand. "I joined crew at school this year. Turns out rowing for three hours every day is good for more than a suntan."

That explained it.

"The color's not half bad either, now that you mention it." Captain Monty folded his arms on the counter and leaned forward. "And who do we have here? She's a pretty one."

I shook my head slightly when Simon glanced at me. I'd met Captain Monty a few times over the years but clearly hadn't left much of an impression. Now wasn't the time to be remembered since I didn't want to answer questions about Justine.

"This is Vanessa. She's a friend from school."

"Brains
and
beauty, eh? You always were a smart one, my boy."

67

Captain Monty wiggled his eyebrows in a way that should've annoyed me but didn't, because he was Captain Monty.

"Anyway," Simon said, "I was actually hoping you might be able to help us out with something."

"You name it, it's yours. Except for the mighty
Barbara Ann
out there. She's mine."

I peered around Captain Monty through the window behind him.
Barbara Ann
, the ancient fishing boat that had been docked in the same spot for thirty years, still bobbed in the water not far from the office.

"Of course." Simon smiled as he glanced at the boat. "Captain Monty, we wondered if you knew anything about Caleb."

Captain Monty's furry white eyebrows dropped. He looked at Simon, like he couldn't believe he'd asked such a thing, then at me, like I had something to do with it. He took a pencil out from its resting place above his ear, slid a yellowing stack of charts on the counter in front of him, and examined them.

"I know he hasn't been around the past week or so--that can't be good for business, and I'm sorry he left you in the lurch right at the start of the season. But did he happen to say anything to you about where he was going?"

Captain Monty bent closer to the papers on the counter and made some notes. It seemed like he either didn't hear us or was going to ignore us until we gave up and left, but then he started chuckling. Softly at first, and then louder, until the sound spurt through his chapped lips and his shoulders shook.

Simon smiled. "Did I miss something?"

68

"I'm sorry--really. I don't mean to laugh." Captain Monty heaved a big sigh. "It's just, your brother's something else. I give him a job, decent pay, free gas, all the squid he can fit on a hook, and he just ups and leaves. I felt like a fool when he just stopped showing up without saying a thing to anyone. But obviously, I wasn't the last one to find out."

"Find out what?" Simon asked.

Captain Monty looked at Simon over the top of his glasses. "That he quit. That he left me for a pay raise I couldn't give him ten years from now and a couple of fancy polo shirts." He frowned. "Not telling me is one thing--but not to tell your own brother? You'd think that'd be a pretty good sign that something's wrong with the decision you're making."

"Captain Monty, I'm sorry ... you're saying Caleb quit? For a few extra bucks?"

"And some fancy polo shirts. You can get one yourself, if you want. I hear they sell them in the gift shop." He turned from us and pulled a yellow tackle box from the shelf above his small metal desk. "The fancy Lighthouse has fancy everything--gift shop, restaurant, manicures, massages."

"Caleb left here for the Lighthouse Marina Resort and Spa?" I asked. The Lighthouse had opened last summer and quickly gained a reputation as the most exclusive, expensive destination within a hundred miles of Winter Harbor. It had been resisted by locals but pushed by several powerful summer visitors, who got approval largely because the project created hundreds of new jobs.