Dropping my chin, I run into the rain. It feels like blades slashing my face. Under my soaked shoes, the loose sand makes it seem like I’m running in place. I cut diagonally across the dark beach, heading for the surf where the sand’s firmer.
But solid footing comes even sooner. When I look down, I see treads. Those teeth marks, the tracks bulldozers leaves behind. This sand’s so compacted it almost feels like a paved road. Picking up speed, I reach the lighthouse in about six minutes. I holler for Aunt Charlotte and Lanette.
The rain and wind whisk away their names, throwing them into the dark.
I circle the lighthouse, walking beside the glowing white cylinder and its sweeping cone of light shining out to sea, illuminating needles of gray rain. Behind it, the dug-out holes are filling with water.
I call out again and again, heart aching.
I want to call the police. But I know the legal rules: Nobody’s considered officially missing until twenty-four hours have gone by. And it’s been—what—one hour? And then there’s Officer Merrimack. Our little chat in the medical clinic convinced me he’s not going to help.
Turning into the wind again, I run on the tracks again, heading south this time. All the way to the end of the island. My wet ponytail lashes my face.
I’ve hated the dark for as long as I can remember. The dark always makes me feel even more alone. Separated. Isolated. I run faster and see lights up ahead. My heart leaps. That big house facing the ocean like a ship. I run even faster and climb the many steps to the front door. Thighs burning, hands shaking, I press the doorbell.
The guy named Luis answers. But it takes me a second to recognize him. No Hawaiian shirt. Instead, rain pants, sweater, and his hair is wet.
I wipe rain from my eyes. “I need to talk to Mr. Brogan. Right now.”
“Mr. Brogan is indisposed,” Luis says.
Indisposed? I’m never sure what that means—on the phone? In the bathroom? “I can wait.”
Luis hesitates, like maybe he should explain to me that when somebody’s indisposed, it means they’re not going to talk to you. Get it?
So I explain, because I’m probably looking like a drowned muskrat, “I’m part of the science contest.”
“Yes, I know.
“This is an emergency.”
“Mr. Brogan is not availa—”
“When will he not be indisposed?”
The door opens wider. Brogan himself appears behind Luis.
“Raleigh.” He frowns. “What are you doing out in this weather?”
“Call the police.”
He and Luis exchange a look of surprise.
“Lanette,” I tell him. “And my aunt. They’re missing.”
“Missing?” Brogan opens the door, pulls me inside, then closes the door. “What do you mean, missing?”
I wipe the water off my chin. It drips on his nice floor.
“Luis, get Raleigh a towel, right away!”
I don’t wait for it. I start telling him about the beach tonight—leaving out the part about Tex being there, too. “My aunt’s got this crazy idea about ghosts, something with the lighthouse. She wanted me to stay with her. And I went. Because—” Luis appears, hands me a towel. Warm and fluffy, I could bury my face in it. “Then I went back to the inn, where we’re staying, you know, Blackbeard’s Inn?”
His face fills with concern. “Go on.”
“But I promised to check on her.”
“Who?”
“My aunt.” I wipe my face once more. “But she wasn’t there.”
Silence. The kind of silence that says, Uh, this is really weird and not enough info, all at the same time.
“Lanette and I started looking for her. My aunt. Lanette walked through the dunes and I—” I swallow. Here it comes. “I started collecting sand.”
Brogan frowns. “Collecting . . . sand?”
His tone. Luis walks away, his navy blue sweater and rain pants disappearing down the same hallway where he got the towel. A light shines at the far end.
“Raleigh?”
“Yes, sir, I know, but something didn’t look right.”
“What time was this?”
“Six. Ish.”
He stares at me a long, long time. “So it was dark. Why would you allow Lanette to walk off by herself, in the dark, when your aunt was already missing?”
“There are no sand piles around the holes.”
Silence.
“Where’s all the sand? That’s what I kept thinking. You dig a hole, you create a hill of some kind. Aggradation. Accretion. Degradation. Simple geology concepts.” I wipe my face, which is burning. “And then, somebody pushed me into the hole.”
He stares at me. Like he’s trying to keep up. I wipe my face again.
“Somebody pushed you,” he repeats.
“Yes, sir.”
“Raleigh—”
“The sand around Cady, she wasn’t even in a hole. That’s the other thing. She was on top of the sand, with more sand piled on top of her. So nobody dug a hole. But there was all that extra sand. Where did it come from? It wasn’t in situ.”
“I’m sorry, in what?”
“Situ. From that place. Native soil. Cady was buried in sand that came from the other side of the island. But why would somebody go to all the trouble of digging sand way over there and hauling it clear across the island to bury her?”
“Raleigh, I am so sorry.” He reaches up, taking a handful of his hair. He tugs it, trying to stay calm. “This competition, the strain, we both know—” He stops. Then offers me a sad-sad smile, like I’ve come down with a fatal disease. “I know you’re under a lot of strain. For now, let’s keep the focus on Lanette and your aunt. They’re missing. And you’re positive?”
“Yes, positive. And here’s the thing. My aunt can’t swim.”
That makes him pause.
I start counting. One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Finally at six one-thousand, he reaches into his pocket and takes out his cell phone. I’m so relieved, my pleading gaze floats around the room. Wet rubber boots puddle near the door. This storm is really bad.
“It’s Bill Brogan,” he says into the phone. “I want to report a missing person, or two.”
Pause.
“No, twenty-four hours have not elapsed but the weather is closing in. This is urgent. I have very solid evidence these people are missing. We need to find them.”
The relief. I want to cry. Finally, we’re getting somewhere. Brogan takes questions from the person on the phone, then asks me. What was Aunt Charlotte wearing, Lanette. Any health issues—diabetes? No. Heart condition? No. I keep my eyes on his face. Something there reminds me of my dad. Handsome, the kind of looks that make you feel safe, secure. And the glow from the cell phone lights up his blue eyes. Also like my dad’s eyes. I wipe my face with the towel, pressing it to my mouth.
My cell phone buzzes.
I dig into my pocket.
“Hold on,” Brogan says into the phone. “We might have something.”
I tug from the wet cotton pocket. It vibrates again. Text message. Wouldn’t they call instead—
Did you read the book?
I scan the message twice. Then look at Brogan. “Not them.”
“Sorry,” Brogan says into the phone. “False hope.”
Then another buzz from my phone. I look down, then up at Brogan, shaking my head, No. He continues talking into his cell phone. But my gaze falls back to my screen.
He’s not who you think he is. Dangerous. NK
Not Kidding.
I raise my gaze. Brogan’s staring at me. My face feels hot again, burning under his intense focus. I lower the phone, glance around the foyer, listen as he tells the person on the other end that Lanette’s from Oregon, that she’s here for the contest. “I can’t have another tragedy,” he says.
I can see the dining room beyond the foyer. Cleared now. All the books gone. But dust outlines their rectangular shapes. Geologic displacement, again.
And where did all that sand go?
I shift my gaze to the next space. That room with the armor and weapons. Man cave.
Suitcases.
“Call me as soon as you find anything.” Brogan disconnects the call.
“Thank you.” I turn to the door. “I better check on—”
“You shouldn’t leave.” He takes my arm. “Not in this weather.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Luis will drive you back. To the inn.”
His grip is strong, painful. I stare into his eyes. Blue. Like my dad’s eyes. Only now I’m realizing just how many shades there are for blue. I try to smile. “But if Luis drives me, I might miss them. If they’re walking.”
“He can walk with you.”
“No, really, thanks.” I try to stretch my smile even further. But my arm hurts and this blue is not my dad’s blue. It’s cold. Ice. Dangerous. NK. My fingers tighten around the phone. “The inn isn’t far. And if I have any problems, I’ll call the police.”