The island had been in the dark for more than half a day by the time we left the motel lot. The first sign of power returning came in the flicker of the streetlight—a surge through the cables—as I followed Josh’s car back to our place. Then the glow of lamps in the homes lining the main road.
By the time I stepped out of my car at The Shallows, the low hum of an air-conditioning unit already felt like relief. If that wasn’t enough of a giveaway, there was a cheer coming from somewhere out back.
“Josh, hold on,” I said, following him up the front steps. “I know you’re worried too. Just as much as I am.” I’d seen it in his expression sitting in Amaya’s car, when I asked him to open the trunk. An unspoken fear that neither of us wanted to address head-on.
“I don’t know. Disappearing, going off-grid, it’s not really that out of character for her. She ghosted me pretty good.” But he didn’t move, didn’t step closer or meet my eyes. He stared off into the distance as the rain continued, a little lighter than before. “Maybe it’s a simple thing, Cassidy,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe you just underestimate how much she hates me.” Then he looked at me, one side of his lip curling. “I’m sure that wouldn’t surprise you.”
And then he opened the front door, leaving me trailing three steps behind.
Inside, there was a new feeling, a buzzing in the air, like something had burst. Every light was on, along with the overhead fans. The back sliding door was open, letting in a mist from the rain.
Only Grace seemed to notice our arrival, turning from where she stood at the back windows.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“No,” Josh answered. He didn’t pause, barely glanced around the living room space before heading toward the steps. “Going to charge everything.”
Grace raised her eyebrows at me. “He does seem crankier than usual,” she said conspiratorially.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Found some umbrellas when the rain started letting up. They just went down to the beach to celebrate the storm moving on,” she said.
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” I said, and Grace cracked a grin.
Hollis came down the steps then, wearing athletic shorts and a windbreaker. “Better than being stuck inside, right?” She smiled tightly, and I wondered how close everyone here was to their breaking points.
Every year, we returned like we were expecting some new breakthrough. But year after year, the only thing that ever cracked was us.
I joined Grace at the back window, watching as Hollis strode quickly down the wooden path.
Grace frowned. “It’s probably half-underwater out there still.” I pictured quicksand, riptides, debris churned up and left behind in the storm’s wake.
A round of cheering carried toward the house, just as Hollis disappeared from sight—as if the rest of them were celebrating her arrival on the beach. Like a taunt against nature: We’re still here…
I stepped back from the window, like I was taking a hint from Josh. “I have a ton of work to catch up on,” I said.
“Same here,” Grace said, though when I turned for the steps, she was still standing at those back windows, watching the place where Hollis had just disappeared from sight.
I needed to charge my phone, which had drained so low it was in danger of powering off.
Above me I could hear Josh moving around—footsteps, drawers opening and closing—like he was still searching. As if the pill bottle might’ve rolled into an unchecked corner or fallen behind a dresser.
How he could spend this long searching for his medicine, and only half a morning looking for Amaya, I didn’t understand.
I wanted to tell him: She left a note.
I was sure she was running from something other than Josh. Josh was more passive in his aggression, more words than action. And he worked for her family—had started interning during summers home from college, sliding into their world, just as Amaya distanced herself from it. He had changed the trajectory of his life for the better, and she had watched him do it. If Amaya truly believed he was dangerous, that she was in danger from him, she would’ve said something to them, at the very least.
As soon as my phone had gained some charge, I started making calls:
I called the campground—still closed, line not serviced.
I called her office—She’s out for the week, is there something I can help you with instead?
Then the Blue Whale motel, hoping there was an automated system that would let me call individual rooms from the main line (there was not).
I tried calling Amaya directly, even, leaving her a message and explaining my concern when the line went straight to voicemail, the phone still completely off-grid.
I couldn’t stop picturing all the things that could’ve happened to her. That moment before we’d peered into the trunk, that horrific crackle of possibility—
“Hey,” Hollis said, practically sliding down the hall, raincoat slung over her shoulder, water dripping from the ends of her hair. She was breathless, glowing. “Oliver found out High Tide is opening.” She smiled. “I’m so ready to get out of here.” Then she moved on, wet feet padding against the hardwood floor. “Josh, did you hear? We’re going out for lunch!”
Thirty minutes, a series of fast showers and quick changes, and we were moving down the block as a group, a singular force under umbrellas and a steady mist of drizzle.
It seemed the entire town had the same idea. There was a line stretching out the door, with groups waiting to be seated. Joanie greeted everyone by name, so I assumed the majority were locals, feeling the same as us. Stuck, yes, but no longer stuck inside.
“Thank god we came as early as we did,” Grace said, eyes wide as we crammed into a corner table, which seemed to be the last one available. We had to borrow an extra chair and squeeze together at a table meant for four or five.
It was early afternoon, but there were groups sitting and standing around the bar, where the single bartender—Mark, again—seemed to have given up on keeping track of things, refilling glasses while people left cash behind on the bar top, in an honor system.
Though the room was loud and boisterous, our table remained eerily quiet. Heads bent over phones, like we were stuck in our heads, content to let the surrounding noise cover for us.
Eventually, our order was taken by a girl who didn’t look old enough to work. The table beside us seemed to know her by name. I assumed she was someone’s daughter, brought in for extra coverage.
Brody abruptly dropped his phone to the table. He ran both hands through his hair, and took a deep breath, looking around the packed room. “Okay, I cannot in good conscience order beer from the preteen,” he said. “Be right back.” He rose from the table, hands in the pockets of his jeans, wedging his way forward.
I watched as he leaned around someone at the bar. I recognized Will, sitting on a stool, speaking with a few men who were standing behind him: his cousin Kevin, cheeks ruddy, and another man, tall and broad and loud, moving animatedly as he was relaying some story.
Brody slapped his hand on the bar, shouting out his order, just as that man backed into him.
I saw the change take over Brody immediately. The slow-motion swivel of his head, the harsh set of his jaw. How his arm came around so fast, I thought he would hit the man, instead of just grabbing on to him, jostling him. I could read his lips well enough, each syllable enunciated—Watch it.
“Oh shit,” Josh said, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed. Grace leaned forward, mouth slightly open. Everyone was watching. We were supposed to be on the same side, supposed to protect one another. But there were limits to what anyone would actually do.
I pushed back from the table, wove my way through the crowd to where Brody was standing his ground, mean smile on his face, like he was daring someone to do something. Like he was asking for a fight.
“Brody,” I said, grabbing on to his elbow.
He tensed before looking over at me, frowning.
“I would like to eat before we get thrown out,” I added. In my job, I’d had more than my share of experience in deescalating scenes at a bar. I knew well how quickly a moment could turn physical. If I was lucky, I could divert the incident.
Brody didn’t crack a grin, but he did let me lead him away, the circle of men closing behind him, watching us go, until we were outside.
He slammed the door behind him, unnecessarily. I cringed, worried the glass would shatter, but it held.
“Jesus, Brody, what the fuck?”
He paced back and forth in the drizzle. A couple gave him a wide berth, heading for the entrance.
“She’s suing me for sole custody,” he said.
“What?”
He motioned to the door, like he was talking about someone inside. “Vanessa. Accused me of being an absent, negligent parent.” He’d gestured with quote marks, as if those were the official charges levied at him.
“What the fuck?” I asked, though I had no idea whether he was, indeed, absent or negligent. “Did she just text you that?”
I saw the way he’d thrown his phone down, but had assumed he was just low on patience, desperate for a drink—all of us, ready to snap.
“What?” He stopped pacing and shook his head. “Oh, no. That was my lawyer. Costing me a fucking arm and a leg, I might add. And he’s turning up shit.” He sniffed, then extended his arms. “I really do not need this right now.”
Finally, his eyes latched on to mine.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I said. He should’ve been home, getting ready for his son’s birthday. He should’ve stayed at work. We all should’ve been anywhere other than here.
“I have to be here,” he said. As if this were his responsibility to bear alone. A call to answer. A compulsion to satisfy. Then he tipped his head back and groaned. “I really do want that beer now,” he said, grimacing.
“Give it a few. I’m betting they’ll forget about it in a minute or two. I’ll go handle it.”
He smiled, and I saw that same charming Brody I knew from high school. The same charming Brody who had stepped into my bedroom, earlier in the week, seeking my company—or more, I was pretty sure. “You’re one of the good ones, Cass,” he said.
I hated the way I warmed at his compliment. “Five minutes,” I said. “It was a pretty large group.”
Back at the bar, it seemed that most everyone had indeed moved on. I slipped through the crowd, largely unnoticed. But a hand came down on my shoulder just as I had started placing my order with Mark.
“You need to reel your boy in.” It was the man with whom Brody had almost come to blows. He was blond, with a broad chin, and I couldn’t tell whether he was twenty-five or forty-five. He was also unsteady on his feet, in the middle of a Thursday, bracing himself against my shoulder.
“That’s what I’m doing,” I said, turning back to the bar. “And another of whatever he’s having,” I added to Mark.
That seemed to do the trick. He tipped his current beer bottle my way, then scooted onto an open stool.
I stepped out of the way to wait for my order, hoping not to engage again. Will suddenly appeared between us, a welcome buffer.
He made a noise with the side of his mouth—a click of derision—then leaned closer, to speak directly into my ear. “That was not the guy I’d pick to mess with here.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my choice either.”
How quickly I became liable for anything that happened within our group. All I’d done was break it up, lead Brody out, buy the wronged party a drink. And yet here was Will, spreading the blame.
I handed Mark my card, and Will laughed. “That’s gonna take a while.”
“Well, I’ve got nowhere else to be,” I said. We were all trapped here together, and I started to get anxious if I thought about the reality: we were buffered in by blocked roads and the violent sea. All of us at the whim of nature, and each other.
Will’s cousin was just behind him, now talking with the guy on the next stool. They must’ve all been together.
“Everything okay?” Will asked. “At the house, I mean?” His eyes were unfocused, like this was definitely not his first drink of the day either.
“Yeah, made it through fine.”
“Power back up?” he asked.
“Seems that way.”
He nodded. “Sometimes you need to hit the breaker a couple times, back and forth.”
How much he seemed to know. How much he seemed to see: Oliver on the pier the first day; Ian arriving in the winter. He seemed to notice much more than I thought a neighbor down the road normally would.
He leaned against the bar, took a deep breath. “Good news.” He jutted his thumb at his cousin. “Those guys work cleanup. They’ll probably be opening the road by morning.”
I felt my shoulders relaxing. “That is indeed good news.”
Then he cleared his throat, and I could feel something shifting. Some warning. An instinct. “Hey,” he said, nonchalant, slightly glassy expression. “Was this it?”
He pulled out his phone, pulled up a headline. It was obvious he’d been searching, with the little information I’d given him. We survived something was all I’d really told him. But he’d managed to unearth something, all the same.
School Trip Accident Leaves North Carolina Town Grieving
I averted my gaze, waiting for Mark to return with my card.
“No,” I said, on instinct, wanting to unwind everything. He knew too much: where we were from; when it had happened. I felt myself shutting down, defenses up. No outsiders. That was the rule for a reason. Leave the past to the past. Give a hint, and they want it all. He’d probably already told the group around him about what he’d uncovered, and now he was going for more. Maybe he’d known about the accident from the start and had sought me out instead, pulling me in with his demeanor, winning some bet with his friends.
I was not a good judge of what people wanted of me.
Mark arrived blissfully quickly with my credit card, and I smiled tightly at Will as I left with our drinks.
“See you round?” he called.
I nodded as I passed, but he wouldn’t. I did not make the same mistakes twice.
A late lunch stretched past dinner—no one wanted to leave, to return to The Shallows, all alone.
But ultimately we had no more excuse to stay, and the young waitress eventually told us they had other patrons waiting on the table.
We trudged back home, feet sinking into the soft earth of the unpaved access road, water still pooled in the grooves. The house was lit up against the gray sky, like a gothic painting looming in the distance.
Oliver abruptly stopped walking. “Did you see that?” he asked.
I followed his gaze toward the house. “See what?”
“I thought I saw…” He watched silently for a moment, eyes trained on the structure. Eventually he shook his head. “Probably a bird or something.”
But he seemed distracted the rest of the way back, keeping his eyes fixed on the house. And now I was imagining something too. A person in the window. A ghost.
I wasn’t sure what Oliver was expecting when he walked in, but he seemed to be moving carefully throughout the space, as if he didn’t trust his own assessment that we were truly alone.
Grace went straight to her laptop left on the dining room table. “Back to reality,” she said. “At least for those of us who have work.”
“Some of us can’t work remotely, Grace,” Brody said, flopping on the couch, exactly as I’d found him this morning.
Hollis joined Oliver in the kitchen, filled a glass from the sink, and guzzled it down. “God, I’m parched.”
Josh sat across from Grace in the dining room, scrolling through his phone, frowning. I was guessing he had a backlog of work messages from the last day of being mostly off-grid.
“Oliver,” Grace said, pressing some keys on her laptop. “I don’t think the Wi-Fi is back up.”
“Maybe we should try to reset the breakers,” I said, remembering Will’s piece of advice.
I didn’t know how Will knew what to suggest, or whether he was just referring to the power situation on our street in general.
Oliver frowned. “I think we can start with rebooting the modem,” he said from the kitchen. He pointed to the corner shelving unit in the space dividing the kitchen and the dining room. “It’s up there.”
I dragged one of the dining room chairs over to the corner, eager to make myself useful.
Even then, I had to reach up to feel around for the modem. I reached toward the flashing red lights, then pulled the box forward, bringing the wire with it. I pulled at the wire, trying to find where it threaded to the wall. But there was something positioned just behind it, tangled with the cable. A second wire, leading to the same power block.
I wasn’t sure whether this was also part of the internet system, so I pulled both forward, disconnecting them from the source.
It wasn’t until I stepped down from the chair that I saw what I’d uncovered.
I turned slowly, holding them both out in my hands. “What is this?” I asked. “Oliver, what is this?”
But I didn’t need him to answer. I knew exactly what it was. I just needed someone else to acknowledge it.
“Is that a camera?” Hollis asked, eyes widening.
I turned it over, saw the logo engraved on the bottom: WatchingHome.
“There are cameras in this house?” Brody said, standing from the couch.
Oliver’s eyes darted from my hand to the upper corners of the house, like he was seeking something out.
“Are there more?” Josh said, standing back abruptly.
“Let me see that—” Grace reached for the camera in my hand, but I held it tight.
I opened my mouth to speak, to ask, to accuse. But something in Oliver’s demeanor had changed.
“Wait,” he said. Then he put his finger to his lips.
As if someone might still be listening. Or watching.