“I don’t have to . . . I don’t . . .” He couldn’t finish.
Quinn unbuckled her seat belt and slid across the space between them, catching Walker’s face in her hands and kissing the hollow beneath his ear, his jawline, his mouth. When their lips touched, it was electric, consuming. And by the way his tongue found hers, hot and insistent, Quinn knew that he was just as desperate for her as she was for him. In just as many ways. “It’s you,” she whispered against his mouth. “It will always be you.”
Walker let her go reluctantly, and when Quinn was halfway out the door he snagged her hand and leaned across the passenger seat. “Be careful,” he said. “Try not to mention Lucy. This will all be over soon.”
“Okay.” She nodded. But her pulse was high and fluttering in her chest.
Quinn didn’t recognize anyone who had gathered in the fire chief’s office. Bennet was nowhere to be seen—presumably because Key Lake was out of his jurisdiction. But a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a faint, jagged scar on his cheek turned and gave her a warm smile as she entered the building.
“Crazy business, this,” he said, extending his bear paw of a hand. The back of it was furred with white hair. “We haven’t dealt with an arson in a long while . . .”
The interview was brief, to the point, and Quinn was in and out in a matter of minutes. The fire chief seemed more amused than concerned, grateful that nothing valuable had been damaged and quite convinced that the same people who were responsible for the graffiti that they were forever scrubbing off the band shell in the park could be blamed for this.
“Call me if you think of anything else,” he told her, handing over his card as Quinn prepared to leave. But it was obvious he didn’t expect anything to materialize. And Quinn had no intention of telling him about Lucy, the phone call, Nora’s insistence that they be careful, wise.
“Of course.”
The sun was directly overhead and beating down with a merciless zeal as Quinn jogged across the sidewalk. How many minutes had passed? How long had she been gone? Her distance from Lucy felt like an itch she couldn’t assuage.
“You all right?” Walker said, searching Quinn’s face as she slid into the car.
“Fine.”
“What now?”
“Have you talked to my mom?”
“She texted a minute ago. All is well.”
“Then I want to see Nora,” Quinn said, already tapping on the screen of her phone.
“What?” Walker sounded shocked. “She’s in Key Lake?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
Nora responded to Quinn’s text immediately and suggested they meet at Malcolm’s.
Why? Quinn typed.
Mom. Lucy. Walker.
Three reasons. And because Quinn wanted answers, she complied. “Can you drop me off?” she asked Walker, worried that he would balk.
“Sure,” he said, giving her a sideways glance. “I want to pick up some locks from the hardware store anyway.”
Malcolm’s on the Water was hopping on a late-summer Saturday afternoon, and the only table available was in the far corner of the patio. The lunch crowd—all dressed in swimwear and cover-ups, sundresses and board shorts—seemed to prefer the air-conditioning or the shade, and the little table the hostess led Quinn to was the only one bathed in a wide swath of direct sunlight.
“Is this okay?” she asked Quinn with an air of defeat. It seemed the table had been turned down by more than one party already. But it was perfect as far as Quinn was concerned. Private, out of the way, situated next to a speaker that was crooning the Beach Boys. It was all so cheerful, so normal. Quinn felt conspicuous as she jittered and bobbed with nerves.
“It’s fine,” Quinn told her, all but collapsing into a seat.
“Great.” The hostess dropped a stack of menus on the wrought iron table and left without another word.
When the waitress came by, Quinn ordered a sparkling water and the tower of onion rings. She wasn’t much in the mood for fried food, or any food for that matter. But one didn’t take up a table at Malcom’s in the summer without ordering. And onion rings had once been Nora’s favorite.
She put on her sunglasses and scanned the crowd for any sign of Nora. A part of her wanted to slap her sister. To throw herself into the fray when Nora arrived and make a horrible, ugly scene. There would be tears and shouting, accusations of the reality TV sort. But beneath her anger and confusion, Quinn mourned the loss of her sister. The hurt that had brought them here. If their father had turned Nora away . . . It was unthinkable.
When Quinn opened her eyes to find Nora weaving through the tables as she made her way toward the corner, what was left of her composure crumbled to dust.
“Nora,” Quinn said, standing as her sister approached. Her voice trembled even as she fought the urge to reach for Nora and pull her into a crushing hug. Anger and affection made awkward dance partners, and Quinn couldn’t decide whether she loved her sister in that moment or hated her just a little.
“Keep your voice down.” Nora’s sunglasses obscured her eyes, but the set of her mouth was grim. “What happened? You said he’s here?”
“I don’t even know who he is, Nor. But there was a fire—”
“What?” Nora looked shaken and leaned forward to grab Quinn by the arms. “Is everyone okay? Is—”
“It was the shack just up from our cabin,” Quinn said quickly. “We’re fine. Everyone’s fine. But we think he did it. Whoever’s after Lucy, I mean.”
“Oh my God.” Nora whispered. She sank into the chair next to Quinn’s and pulled it close. She said, “Sit down.”
Quinn complied, but as she did so she realized that there was a man standing just behind Nora. He was broad shouldered and pleasant-looking, his tawny hair just messy enough to be natural and not the result of careful styling. His smile was small and serious as he pulled out a chair and joined them. “Nice to meet you, Quinn,” he said. “I’m Ethan.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” she managed, but her mind was racing. Was this Lucy’s father? Impossible. Ethan wasn’t someone that Quinn remembered—definitely not from Key Lake—and Nora had to have gotten pregnant right after her senior year of high school. During? Close enough. The timing explained so much. Why Nora withdrew from the family. Why she abandoned her scholarship and ran away. Why she had never really come back.
Quinn shot Nora a look that begged for a few more details, but they were all wearing sunglasses and her attempt at sisterly ESP was lost in the space between them. Questions burned on her tongue, making her feel tingly and just a little delirious, but she settled for: “I ordered onion rings,” because she didn’t know what else to say. Stupid.