Page 2

Like the rest of this sprawling clifftop residence, the hall is grander in dimensions than repair. Duck-egg-blue walls – long in need of repainting – support a chipped yet finely stuccoed ceiling. On the parquet floor, a threadbare runner does little to deaden sound.
The house stood abandoned on Mortis Point for two decades before they bought it. Four years on, Lucy knows that even the pittance they paid was a ransom. Wild Ridge, as the place is named, is still salvageable, but they’ll never afford the repairs. Certainly not now.
The front door is an immense mahogany slab. A transom window above it admits a rectangle of slate sky. The door itself features two panels of sand-blasted glass. As Lucy watches, a shadow moves across them. Proof, if any were needed, that the interruption wasn’t illusory.
She calls up her mental map of Skentel, populating it with the people she loves most. Fin at Headlands Junior School, where she dropped him just before nine. Billie at college in Redlecker, further along the coast. Daniel in his workshop, on the backshore above Penleith Beach.
Lucy steps into the hall and pads along it. The hammering starts up again, so violently that the door shakes in its frame. From the force of the blows, and the size of theshadow, she assumes her visitor is a man. Could it be a creditor? A bailiff? One of Daniel’s customers, intending to surprise him at home?
As she draws closer, the banging falls silent once more. Her fingers reach out, touch the brass latch. Hesitate there.
Something about this feels wrong. Portentous. To be avoided at all costs. Lucy’s never been one to doubt her gut, but she can’t ignore the intrusion. This is her home – until someone with authority says otherwise. No way she’ll cower inside it.
Flipping up the latch, she hauls the door wide.
4
It’s Bee.
Lucy’s so surprised that she glances up the lane, expecting to spot an accomplice. Bizarre that someone so petite could create such a racket. Or cast such a deceptive shadow.
Dressed in black with bubblegum-pink hair, Bee peers up at her through lashes as extravagant as a giraffe’s. What she lacks in height she compensates for in girth – wide hips, heavy shoulders, a pleasing roundness of belly. On her T-shirt is a rainbow unicorn with the legend:I DON’T BELIEVE IN YOU EITHER. Lucy’s known her five years, ever since Bee walked into the Drift Net and demanded a job.
Bee jerks backwards when she sees Lucy’s towel and wet hair. Her bangles ring like windchimes. ‘Hey, Luce. Daniel in?’
Lucy’s fingers fall from the latch. ‘Bee?’ Again, she glancesalong the lane. All she sees is Bee’s electric scooter, leaning against a hedge. ‘Who’s running the Drift Net?’
‘Eh? Oh, I left Tommo in charge.’
‘Tommo? Is that— Do you trust him?’
Bee regards her strangely. ‘Dude, he’s myboyfriend. Of course I trust him.’
Still, Tommo’s a fresh catch, landed just six weeks ago. Lucy’s only met him once, and hardly in the best of circumstances. ‘Does he know how to—’
‘I called you loads,’ Bee says. ‘Thought I’d better hop up. They found theLazy Susan.’
That throws her for a second. She’s never quite got used to the name of Daniel’s boat.Theirboat, she corrects. Although if ownership were awarded on maintenance effort, Daniel could probably claim it. Lucy may have scrubbed barnacles one or two seasons, diving beneath the hull in full scuba, but it’s nothing to the effort Daniel’s sunk in. Hard work and heartbreak’s a price you don’t see going all-in on a forty-year-old yacht. A saner couple might have learned from the experience of renovating Wild Ridge. Not them.
‘Theyfoundher?’ Lucy frowns. ‘Who? Found her where?’
‘Just drifting, I think. Somewhere out to sea. They’re towing her in right now.’ Bee cranes her neck, angling for a peek down the hall. ‘So is Daniel here? I mean … shit, I know she’s nothisboat, especially.’ She pulls out her vape pod and takes a hit, exhaling strawberry-scented smoke. Again, she glances past Lucy’s shoulder into the house.
Lucy sidesteps, blocking her view. And feels instantly strange. But the study is visible from the front door. She doesn’t want Bee to see what she’s been doing. ‘Are you saying someone stole her? From the dock?’
‘I’ve no idea. Some guy came in, talking about what he heard. Coastguard chatter, I think. Dunno much more than that, really, but I figured you guys should know.’ She shifts her weight from one Doc Marten to the other. ‘You … um … you good?’
Lucy feels another bead of water climb down her spine. The day feels like it’s unravelling. ‘Yeah, look. Thanks, Bee. I’d better throw on some clothes, find out what’s happening.’
‘You want me to come with?’
She shakes her head. ‘Can you get back to the Drift Net? I’m sure Tommo’s coping fine, but I’d feel better if you were there.’
Bee takes another hit of strawberries. ‘Sure, dude. I’ll skedaddle.’ She pivots and trips down the path.
They found theLazy Susan. Just drifting, I think. Somewhere out to sea.
Lucy glances behind her. Stalking along the hall to the study is a draggle of wet footprints. Seeing them makes her shiver.