Nora didn’t seem to hear. “How could you?” she asked, pulling off her sunglasses to fix Quinn with a look of deep betrayal. “How could you let Mom know about Lucy?”
As if Quinn was the one who needed to beg forgiveness in this impossible situation. “I didn’t let Mom know anything,” Quinn said. She felt a stab of righteous indignation and it was a thousand times better than the anxiety she had almost grown accustomed to. “She barged in the other morning and Lucy was there.”
“Lucy?” Ethan asked softly, but both Quinn and Nora ignored him.
“What was I supposed to do?” Quinn asked. “Lock her in a closet? This is ridiculous, Nora. Who is she?”
But Nora just shook her head as if she regretted ever trusting Quinn with a secret so monumental.
It made Quinn furious. “Fine. Don’t tell me. What is this all about?” She reached into her back pocket and yanked out the flyer that her mother had given her.
Nora snatched it away and studied it with her bottom lip between her teeth. Quinn was surprised to see that the emotion that registered on Nora’s face wasn’t annoyance or even anger. It was fear.
“Where did you get this?” Nora asked, crumpling the paper in her hand.
“It was stapled to the pole of the streetlight outside Mom’s house. There are more. I saw another one on the side of the picnic shelter when I parked across from the public beach.”
Nora put her forehead in her hand. She was still for so long that Quinn pulled off her own sunglasses and tried to catch Ethan’s gaze. He was having none of it.
“If Tiffany is gone, would the courts just give her to him?” Ethan asked quietly, tucking close to Nora as if Quinn wasn’t even sitting there.
“He’s the only father she’s ever known,” Nora whispered, still cupping her head.
“But that doesn’t make him her legal guardian.”
“Wait,” Quinn cut in. “What are you talking about? Who is ‘he’? Is someone trying to adopt Lucy? Why?”
But Nora ignored her. She kept her voice so small Quinn had to lean in to hear her say: “If anything ever happened to Tiffany, I don’t know where things would land.”
“If anything ever happened,” Ethan echoed. “You don’t think . . .”
Quinn grabbed Nora by the sleeve and gave a quick jerk. “What in the world are you talking about?” she said, her voice far louder than she intended it to be. “What does Tiffany have to do with this? Are you talking about Tiffany Barnes? From high school?”
There was a moment or two of stillness as Nora glared at her sister, but Quinn was just as annoyed and glared right back. She opened her mouth to unleash more questions, but before she could voice so much as a syllable a shadow fell across her face.
“I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of your conversation.”
Quinn let go of her sister and shielded her eyes to look up at the newcomer. He was midthirties, smirking and arrogant, handsome in a sleek, strangely artificial sort of way. His hair was as oiled and immovable as Superman’s, and he was overdressed for the casual patio, where flip-flops reigned supreme—downright out of place in his dark pants, black shoes, and long-sleeved button-down shirt. He’s hiding something, Quinn thought. Tattoos or scars or something else that he didn’t want people to see. It was so obvious Quinn almost felt sorry for him.
“Donovan.” Nora’s voice was reedy and thin, and she had sunk back from him as if he emanated an odor she found repulsive. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see where Tiffany grew up,” he said, grinning. But the cheer didn’t reach his eyes—Quinn realized with a start that he looked predatory, hungry. Was this him? Phone calls and flyers and matchsticks. Lucy. What was he doing here?
“Imagine my surprise when I heard her name across a crowded patio,” he continued. “And then looked up to see you. Small world. I’m assuming you think Tiff’s still in New Ulm?”
“Yes.” Nora’s admission was quiet, defiant. Quinn realized that Donovan had phrased the question strangely, but before she could wonder at it Nora went on. “Visiting family.”
“Hmm,” he said, considering. “Mind if I sit down?”
Quinn had watched their exchange suspiciously, but when Donovan asked to join them she felt a chill race down her spine.
“Sure.” Nora motioned to the empty seat across from her.
“And what are you doing in town?” Donovan sat down and leaned back, stretching his legs out languidly as he studied Nora’s face.
“Visiting family,” she said again. “I’m from Key Lake, too, you know.”
“Of course.” Donovan’s eyes fell on Quinn. “And who is this?”
“My sister,” Nora said woodenly. “But I’m afraid she was just saying that she has to go.”
Quinn felt Nora’s hand fall on her arm. Her big sister squeezed almost imperceptibly, but there was a note of desperation in the air around her. A plea to be quiet, don’t push, no more questions. Leave now.
“Yes.” Quinn fumbled for her purse and rose awkwardly. “I have to go. It was, uh, good to see you, Nora. Ethan.”
“I’m Donovan Richter, a friend of your sister’s,” the man said, stopping her. He leaned forward and stuck out his hand to make it official.
Yeah right, Quinn thought. Friend, my ass. But she took Donovan’s hand anyway. It was cool and dry, oddly smooth and uncalloused. It gave her the creeps. “I’m Quinn,” she said, even though she hated sharing her name with him. It made her feel dirty, exposed. Being near him made her long for lovely things: the tang of a sour lemon drop, the summery, coconut scent of suntan oil, a thick book. She pulled her hand away as quickly as she could.
“I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen you before,” he said, and gave her a wink that shot straight through to her bones.
NORA
QUINN WAS GONE, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. The thought that Donovan was here, in Key Lake, that he knew her sister’s name, had touched her skin, made Nora’s vision blur at the edges. If he had started the fire in the shack—and Nora had no reason to doubt that he had—Donovan knew what type of car Quinn drove and where she lived and what exactly she looked like when her guard was down. When she was alone. Never mind that Quinn was decades older than Donovan’s preferred type. She was young and lovely, still softly round in the way of someone much younger than her years.
Nora had seen the way he looked at her.
“I have an order of onion rings and a mineral water here.” A waitress hovered at Nora’s elbow, eyeing the empty seat where Quinn should have been.
“Yeah,” Nora said, grateful for the brief interruption. Her mind was spinning. How had Donovan found them here? It wasn’t a coincidence. Nothing with him was a coincidence.
The waitress plopped down a green bottle of Perrier in front of Nora and stuck the metal tower of onion rings in the middle of the table.
“Thanks, Nor.” Donovan plucked the top ring and dredged it through the little cup of sauce.
Nora didn’t know what to say.
“Your sister’s a real looker. How old is she?”
What was he trying to do? Scare her? Make her angry?