“I do not.”
Peanut gave her one of those Who-do-you-think-you’re-fooling? looks that were the cornerstone of friendship. “Come on, Ellie. Your baby sister looked like she was hurting. Are you going to pretend you can’t talk to her because twenty years ago you were Homecoming Queen and she belonged to the Math club?”
In truth, Ellie had seen it, too—the haunted, hunted look in Julia’s eyes—and she’d wanted to reach out and help her younger sister. Julia had always felt things too keenly; it was what made her a great psychiatrist. “She wouldn’t listen to me, Peanut. You know that. She considers me only slightly smarter than a pet rock. Maybe—”
The sound of footsteps stopped her.
Someone was running toward their office.
Ellie got to her feet just as the door swung open, hitting the wall with a crack.
Lori Forman skidded into the room. She was soaking wet and obviously cold; her whole body was shaking. Her kids—Bailey, Felicia, and Jeremy—were clustered around her.
“You gotta come,” Lori said to Ellie.
“Take a breath, Lori. Tell me what’s happened.”
“You won’t believe me. Heck, I’ve seen it and I don’t believe me. Come on. There’s something on Magnolia Street.”
“Yee-ha,” Peanut said. “Something’s actually happening in town.” She reached for her coat on the coatrack beside her desk. “Hurry up, Cal. Forward the emergency calls to your cell phone. We don’t want to miss all the excitement.”
Ellie was the first one out the door.
TWO
Ellie pulled her cruiser into an empty parking slot on the corner of Magnolia and Woodland and killed the engine. It sputtered a few times, coughing like an old man, then fell silent.
The rain stopped at the same time, and sunlight peered through the clouds.
Even Ellie, who’d lived here all of her life, was awed by the sudden change of weather. It was Magic Hour, the moment in time when every leaf and blade of grass seemed separate, when sunlight, burnished by the rain and softened by the coming night, gave the world an impossibly beautiful glow.
In the passenger seat, Peanut leaned forward. The vinyl seat squeaked at the movement. “I don’t see nothin’.”
“Me, either.” This from Cal, who sat perfectly erect in the backseat, his tall, lanky body folded into neat thirds. His long, bony fingers formed a steeple.
Ellie studied the town square. Clouds the color of old nails moved across the sky, trying to diffuse the fading light, but now that the sun was here, it wouldn’t be pushed aside. Rain Valley—all five blocks of it—seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. Brick storefronts, built one after another in the halcyon salmon-and-timber days of the seventies, shone like hammered copper.
There was a crowd outside of Swain’s drugstore, and another one across the street in front of Lulu’s hair salon. No doubt the patrons of The Pour House would come stumbling out any second, demanding to know what everyone was looking at.
“You there, Chief?” came a voice over the radio.
Ellie flicked the button and answered, “I’m here, Earl.”
“Come on down to the tree in Sealth Park.” There was a bunch of static, then: “Move slow. I ain’t kiddin’.”
“You stay here, Peanut. You, too, Cal,” Ellie said as she got out of the car. Her heart was beating quickly. This was the most exciting call she’d ever had. Mostly, her job consisted of driving home folks who’d drunk too much or talking to kids at the local school about the dangers of drugs. But she’d prepared herself for anything. That was a lesson she’d learned from her Uncle Joe, who’d been the town’s police chief for three decades. Don’t take peace for granted, he’d said to her often. It can shatter like glass.
She’d believed him, and so, even though she’d become a cop in a kind of lackadaisical way, she’d grown into the job. Now she read up on all the newest information, kept her skills honed at the shooting range, and watched over her town with a sharp eye. It was really the only thing she’d ever been good at, besides looking good, which she took just as seriously.
She moved down the street, noticing how quiet the town was.
She could have heard a pin drop. It was unnatural for a town chock full of gossips.
She unclasped her holster and reached for her weapon. It was the first time she’d ever drawn it in the field.
With each step, she heard her heels click on the pavement. On either side of the street the ditches were rivers of boiling silver water. As she neared the four-way stop, she could hear whispering and see people pointing toward Chief Sealth City Park.
“There she is,” someone said.
“Chief Barton will know what to do.”
At the corner, she paused. Earl came running at her, his cowboy boot heels sounding like gunfire on the slick pavement. He moved like a marionette on slack strings, kind of akimbo and disjointed. Rain streaked his uniform.