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  “And what about Dana?” Annette demanded. “The truth’s going to come out.”

  “Just keep your fucking mouth shut!” Yvette shot back. “You were only eighteen when you got involved with Daddy Dave.”

  “This isn’t about me!”

  “It’s always about you, Annette. Always.”

  Yvette stormed away as Coby set the plates down on the counter. She threw open the door to the garage, heading toward the hot tub, Coby assumed.

  Annette was staring at the envelope she’d had earlier, her face grim. Seeing Coby, she folded it and casually stuffed it behind a napkin holder full of bright blue paper napkins that was sitting on the counter.

  “You okay?” Coby asked.

  She drew a breath and the necklace glimmered. “Absolutely.” Then, “You know what I said earlier about secrets?”

  “About telling them, so they can’t fester and grow worse?”

  “Is that what I said? Sounds better coming from you.” Her lips tightened. “What if they’ve already grown worse? Maybe always were and you just didn’t want to look at it, and now . . . they’re monstrous.”

  “You want to tell me something?” Coby asked seriously.

  Annette pulled herself together. “Oh . . . God . . . no . . . It’s my birthday.” She scared up a smile and shook her head. “You’re a lot like your dad, y’know? More than Faith. I wish we were all better friends. I know it’s been weird for you, and Faith, and I want good things for the future,” she added urgently, giving Coby a big hug. A moment later she released Coby and headed back to the main party, but what Coby noticed most was that Annette’s whole body had been quivering.

  Coby glanced at the envelope whose edge was just barely visible behind the stack of blue napkins. Knowing she was really overstepping her bounds, she simply plucked it out and slipped open the flap.

  Inside was a lock of blondish hair.

  Then she heard Donald Greer’s voice from the main room: “Tillamook’s at flood stage, so we’re not getting home that way!”

  Quickly she stuffed the envelope back, wondering what the hell that curl of hair meant to Annette, as a chorus of excited voices erupted from the other room. Danner appeared in the kitchen aperture. “Are you staying here tonight?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I was thinking maybe the Dunes . . . like you and Faith?” From the living room several cell phones started ringing.

  “We’re in separate rooms,” he clarified. “You need one?” He was already pulling out his phone, looking at her questioningly.

  “Maybe.”

  “That was Nicholette!” Jean-Claude yelled loudly. “She and Cal are stuck on Highway 26. There’s a mudslide and one car at a time is getting through. They’re planning to turn around and go back.”

  “Yeah, I need a room,” Coby said to Danner and he punched in the numbers to the hotel.

  Ten minutes later the party exodus was in full swing. Those who didn’t have rooms were scrambling to find some. Coby found herself soothing Donald Greer, who seemed almost frantic to get over the pass and back to Portland. “Wynona wanted to come, you know,” he said, as he was hoisting a bag over one thin shoulder. “She did. But she was treated badly by your friends.” His gray brows were an accusatory line above his eyes. He didn’t say, “You, too,” but Coby felt it. “She needs to put it all behind her, but until she faces you all, she won’t be able to. I told her to come with me, but she wouldn’t. And now she’s waiting for me. To report that’s it all okay. I have to be back tonight.”

  “You’re going to have a long wait on Highway 26, and they’ve closed the roads south,” Coby said.

  “Then I’ll go through Astoria and circle around the top on 30.”

  They’d turned on the news and it didn’t look good anywhere. Coby wanted to tell Donald as much, but his jaw and mind were set, so she let it go.

  She turned, caught a glimpse of Danner talking with Jarrod and Genevieve, and suddenly the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness.

  “Damn it,” Donald said.

  “I’ll light the candles that are still on the cake,” Hank Sainer’s disembodied voice said from somewhere near the table. He flicked a lighter and touched the flame to each wick. Watery light, waving like tiny sparklers, filled the darkness.

  “We’re outta here,” Big Bob’s voice boomed as he and McKenna opened the front door, letting in a rush of wet, rain-soaked air.

  “I’ll help get you on the road,” Danner’s voice answered.

  “I’m going, too,” Donald Greer said, nearer to Coby, and fumbled his way toward the door with Coby at his heels.

  A wet towel suddenly slapped her and she stopped short, making out Benedict’s eely form moving past her. “Need some light?” she asked him.

  “No.” He slipped down the hall and toward the bedrooms, less affected than the rest of them by their near blindness.

  Coby’s eyes slowly adjusted and she could make out blacker shapes against black and dark gray ones. It took another twenty minutes before the brave or foolhardy or just plain desperate were all in their cars and ready to attempt the trek back. The dome light inside Big Bob’s truck cab came on, blasting both him and McKenna into relief.

  Donald Greer had found his sedan, and his balding pate shone beneath his interior light as well. A grim man with a sour expression who still blamed Coby and her friends for Wynona’s problems, though surely he knew by now they stemmed from the sexual abuse she’d suffered from her swim coach?

  Suddenly a wild shriek rent the night air. A screaming woman. Over and over again!

  Everyone froze, a tableau in black and gray and white dome light.

  Coby shuddered at the fear in the woman’s scream.

  Then, “Annette! It’s Annette!”

  It was Suzette’s voice. Shrieking.

  “Oh, my God! It’s Annette,” she said again, her voice receding as if she were running away.

  Bodies rushed back into the house, crowding toward the kitchen. But Suzette wasn’t there. They swarmed through the rooms and Coby found herself with a crush that moved through the garage to the outside.

  And that’s where Suzette was. Standing by the hot tub. Pointing to the white sweater floating in the bubbling water. The white sweater was attached to a body. Annette’s body.

  It was Danner who leapt into the water and turned over Annette’s body in the foaming froth.

  Her eyes were open. A glint in the beam from the flashlight held in Coby’s sister Faith’s hand.

  Suzette was blubbering. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. . .”

  Dave and Jean-Claude grabbed Annette from Danner and dragged her to the deck. Danner started immediate CPR. Suzette was crying and crying.

  “Where’s Yvette?” Jean-Claude demanded, his voice shaking. “Juliet?”

  “I’m here,” Juliet said, her voice charged with fear.

  No answer from Yvette.

  “Danner . . . ?” Faith asked, the question they all wanted to know, but he wouldn’t quit working on Annette.

  “Don’t let her die,” Jean-Claude begged.

  More minutes passed. Danner kept it up. Finally Jarrod put a hand on his brother’s back. “She’s gone?” Jarrod asked.

  Danner wouldn’t stop. He kept at it for what felt like an eternity as rain fell on their sodden group and the wind slapped them in the face.

  Finally, slowly, Danner sat back on his heels. “She’s gone,” he said.

  And Suzette started wailing again.

  Hours later the power still hadn’t come back on, but the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department had sent a man over who’d brought battery-operated outdoor lamps that lit up the scene on the outside deck like daylight. Annette’s body had been covered by a tarp while everyone but Dave, who refused to leave his dead wife’s side, waited inside the dark house.

  Coby was in a state of suspended animation. Shock, she supposed, but she couldn’t logic herself out of it. She sat in a chair by the fire, which hadn’t
been lit earlier because Dave had assumed, rightfully so, that the party guests would emit enough body heat to keep the room toasty and the fire would be too much. Now, however, it was crackling merrily away, in tandem with the wild, blythe weather beyond the windows and juxtaposed against the unnatural quiet of the room’s occupants. Galen Torres was tending the fire as if it were the only thing he lived for.

  Danner was wearing a pair of his brother’s pants and a sweatshirt from his own pack. He hadn’t brought a second pair of pants, expecting to be one night at the coast, not planning a fully clothed dip into the hot tub. He was talking to Deputy Burghsmith, who was interrupted constantly on his walkie by other members of his department who were scattered around the region dealing with other crises, most brought on by the storm.

  The county coroner was on his way, but it wasn’t going to be soon. Dave was finally urged inside by Jean-Claude, who was equally shattered, and the two men sat on the couch in shared shock. Juliet hovered near her father, looking scared, and Suzette paced from Galen at the fire, to Juliet and her father, to the kitchen, and back again. Yvette was with Benedict in the back den.

  Rousing herself, Coby walked to the kitchen, which was lit by several flashlights. She encountered Suzette and suggested, “Can we heat some water on the gas stove and make some more coffee? Dad usually keeps some instant on hand.”

  “Uh . . . uh . . .” She kept tucking an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. “Um . . . it’s in the pantry? It’s . . . over there. . . .”

  “I know the house,” Coby assured her. “I’ll take care of it.”

  As soon as Suzette paced away, Coby went to the napkin holder and looked for the envelope Annette had tucked there. The space was empty.

  Coby set about making the coffee, her concentration intense. A voice behind her said, “You know it doesn’t require a surgeon’s skill.”

  It was Jarrod.

  “It does for me right now,” she said.

  “Let me help.”

  He collected the cups, newly put in the dishwasher, and rinsed them out and started drying them. Coby glanced his way and realized someone had pulled down the shade over the window that looked onto the deck and hot tub.

  “Coby?” It was Danner’s voice.

  She looked up as she was spooning instant coffee into cups.

  “The deputy wants to have a word with everyone before we all leave. Would you mind helping me round them up? It looks like an accidental drowning. He just wants to write down their contact information, mostly.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll take it from here,” Jarrod said, sliding the cups his way.

  Genevieve and Juliet were the first people Coby encountered outside the kitchen and Coby told them what the deputy wanted. They lined up dutifully but with some trepidation, like kids for an obligatory trip to the school nurse. Meanwhile Danner was alerting Jean-Claude, Big Bob, McKenna, and Donald Greer.

  Coby found Hank Sainer standing by the windows, his gaze focused outward to the restless black sea and driving weather. “Deputy Burghsmith wants to talk to all of us and get our contact information. They’re over there.”

  He dragged his gaze away to see the forming line. Kirk Grassi and Galen Torres were at the end, a big gap between them and Donald Greer, as if they had no intention of actually moving forward. Juliet, who was finished with Burghsmith, squeezed between them and curled herself around Kirk, as if needing his body warmth.

  “Tell the sheriff’s department to call me,” Hank said in a near-unrecognizable voice. Coby looked into his eyes, which were sunken pools of dull blue, and there was a stretched look about him, as if he’d looked into the depths of hell.

  “He needs a phone number. And your address.”

  He wanted to argue; she could see it in the determination around his mouth. But he nodded curtly and Coby left him in search of Yvette and Benedict.

  She found them not in the den, but in a back bedroom that the boy and Yvette were obviously sharing. She told Yvette what Burghsmith wanted, and like Hank, Yvette tried to get out of it, but when Coby insisted it was no big interrogation, she finally consented, dragging Benedict with her.

  Eventually they all spoke to the deputy, who finished about the time the coroner’s wagon pulled up. Everyone moved to the far end of the living room while Annette’s body was loaded into the back; no one wanted to watch. Dave had to sign some papers and looked worse for wear when he was done. Burghsmith, after leaving them with two of the battery-operated lights, took the remaining one and headed toward the wagon. They were followed out by Big Bob, McKenna, and Donald Greer, who climbed back in their vehicles and drove off. Kirk Grassi announced Annette’s death had knocked the drunk right out of him, and taking out his keys, looked to Galen, who’d driven from the city with him, silently asking him if they were ready to leave.

  Suzette stopped her incessant pacing and ran to Galen, who had straightened but was still looking into the fire. She latched onto his arm. “He’s not going with you. He can’t leave! He’s with me! Aren’t you?” She turned beseechingly to him.

  “Of course.” He patted her arm but looked uncomfortable.

  “Then pull up a square of carpet,” Kirk declared. “’Cause that’s where you’re gonna be racking. I’m outta here.”

  “Galen and I are engaged!” Suzette burst out. “We wanted to tell you all after dinner. We just never had the chance.”

  Jarrod and Genevieve, who were getting ready to leave as well, both stopped short in surprise. “When did that happen?” Jarrod asked Galen.

  “Musta been after him and Juliet,” Kirk said, his eyes boring holes through Galen, who looked as if too much information was bombarding him.

  “You know that’s not true,” Suzette said. “Juliet wasn’t with Galen. Stop talking like this. I just can’t listen to your guy shit right now.” And tears rushed down her cheeks.

  “We are engaged,” Galen confirmed, holding her close. “I love Suzette and she loves me. I’m staying, Kirk.”

  The firelight gleamed orange against Kirk’s bald head as he lifted his shoulders and walked off, heading out the door without another word. Juliet, who’d heard the whole conversation, turned away, her shoulders slumped.

  Jean-Claude roused himself enough to come over and shake Galen’s hand, but it was clear he wasn’t in the moment.

  Coby sat down beside her father in the spot Jean-Claude had vacated. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey, Bug.” His eyes were red and his voice raspy.

  She collected his hand in hers and said softly, “Oh, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

  He couldn’t talk, just patted her hand, swallowing. Faith came over and said, “Dad, we’re all going to the Dunes tonight. You wanna come?”

  “I . . . don’t think so.”

  “We could be with you,” she pressed. “You need family tonight.”

  “Annette was my family,” he said in a woeful voice.

  “Come on, Dad. I’ll pack your things.”

  “No, Faith. I’m staying. Jean-Claude’s here, and Juliet and Suzette.” He trailed off, then seemed to dust the cobwebs out of his head. “And Yvette and Benedict.”

  “And Galen,” Suzette reminded him.

  Dave just nodded absently, already removed from the conversation. But then he surprised Coby by turning to her and pleading, “Will you stay here tonight?”

  “Well . . . sure. I could sleep in the den, unless it’s taken?”

  “It’s yours,” Jean-Claude told her.

  Coby slid her eyes to Danner, who nodded that he would take care of canceling her room.

  “Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Genevieve suddenly spoke up. She’d been exceptionally quiet for her throughout the whole evening, but Coby suspected it was just that she was so shattered. “I don’t think Annette’s death was an accident.”

  Chapter 9

  “What the fuck,” Jarrod breathed, gazing at her as if she’d grown horns.

  Genevieve turned on him, a
n outlet for her anger. “Well, what the hell was she doing out there? You think she just fell in?”

  “Benedict was out there, too. She was probably watching him,” Suzette burbled, sounding like she was drowning in her own tears. “Maybe she slipped.”

  “Benedict was clearly already out of the tub.” Genevieve shot her down. “Nobody saw anything. Why was she there? To meet someone? She didn’t just go out to enjoy the weather!”

  “Is that what you told Deputy Burghsmith when he was here?” Danner asked neutrally. Coby shot him a look, feeling a bit of a chill at the subtle change in his persona, the cop coming through.

  “Of course not. I didn’t want him to stay any longer. But something’s wrong here! You all know it,” Genevieve insisted.

  “Why would anyone kill her?” Juliet demanded. Since Kirk had left she’d hovered by her father. “She didn’t have any enemies. Everyone loved her!”

  “Except my mother,” Faith said, smiling faintly. Coby knew in Faith’s strange way that she was trying to lighten the mood, but her words only made Coby uncomfortable.

  “She had secrets she was going to tell,” Genevieve dropped the bomb. “She couldn’t keep them any longer.”

  “What secrets?” Everyone turned to see Yvette standing in the hallway, glaring at Genevieve. She’d mostly burrowed herself into her bedroom with Benedict since Annette’s body was discovered but had apparently decided to join the group now that the deputy was gone.

  “If I knew, I would tell,” Genevieve declared fervently. “But that’s why she’s dead. That’s why someone killed her. All she could talk about was how she needed to tell those secrets. How they had to be finally out in the open because they were festering. She was all about it tonight, wasn’t she?” she demanded, staring at Coby.

  Everyone turned to Coby, who felt the heat of their combined gazes like a wall of fire. Luckily, the uncertain illumination from the battery-operated lights made her feel less exposed.

  “She was talking about secrets,” Coby admitted. “She said they were poisonous and the truth needed to come out.”