Page 35 of Dead of Summer

HENRY

The small blue-and-white police boat has been in the water all morning.

Henry watches it move from house to house, two blue-shirted officers on board.

It is currently bobbing in the water next to the Clarkes’ main dock.

The officers, Brody and some young willowy man Henry doesn’t recognize, wait with a member of Geoffrey’s staff as they confer with another staff member on the dock.

Geoffrey appears, marching down the dock in golf whites.

His face shows an expression of exasperation that he has to do this himself.

He has aged badly , Henry thinks, considering his wealth.

His hair is nearly white. His face sags unhappily in the cheeks.

At the end of the dock, he stops and stoops slightly, catching his breath with his hands on his knees.

There is a bit of back-and-forth between the men.

Geoffrey gestures impatiently at the Rock.

His mouth moves angrily. Henry can imagine what he is saying though he’d rather not.

The officers get back into the boat and it pulls away from the dock, turning abruptly away from shore and cutting toward the Rock through the bay. Henry stumbles back, knocking over a chair.

He leans forward and focuses on the boat.

As it grows closer, he can see the two policemen more clearly.

One looks familiar, and he is startled to realize that it must be Brody , all grown.

Henry knew his father, Hadley Island’s former police chief, for decades.

He owed him. The other man is tall and thin.

The unexpected company sends his heart racing. He turns away from the window and frantically snatches up the logbooks and stashes them in the cupboard under the sink. Outside, the boat noisily scrapes up against the side of his dock.

The younger man jumps out first, clumsily tying the boat up as Henry steps out onto the deck.

Brody jumps up onto the dock and waves a large hand in greeting.

Henry cautiously raises his hand in response.

He goes to the stairs. Better to meet them down there, away from the house.

He’s not used to visitors in the best of circumstances.

And now, with the girl. They’ll have questions. Ones that he won’t be able to answer.

“Long time no see, Henry,” Brody says when he gets close enough. He looks remarkably like Ed up close; the ruddy cheeks, the sturdy build, even the small patch of thinning hair on top are a carbon copy of his father.

“Hello,” Henry coughs out while trying to convey a normal, unsuspicious appearance.

“This is Sam.” Brody jerks his thumb at the young man standing behind him. His lip curls back as he looks at Henry. That’s how they think of him on Hadley now, as some sort of monster, he realizes with discomfort. That’s why they’re here again after all these years, isn’t it? Another girl missing.

“How is Ed?” Henry asks, attempting to act like a normal person, but his voice goes up into a strange unnatural octave.

Brody’s cheeks sag. “Oh, you didn’t know? Dad passed about six years ago now. Had a heart attack.” Damn it. Henry should have remembered that. Had Jean told him? He normally would remember the details of something so important, but he is flustered.

“Oh,” he says. “I-I’m sorry to hear it.” Brody has the same way of moving that Ed did. The same slow deliberateness that is so often lacking in folks in general but especially in those who carry a gun.

Henry is suddenly very aware of his body, the awkwardness of it, the way his knees lock when he stands and his hands clasp and unclasp. The younger one stares at him, his mouth gaping. His eyes have followed Henry’s every move since he got out of the boat like he is some sort of curiosity.

“We’re looking for a young girl,” Brody says. Henry’s heart thuds.

“Sam, give me the picture,” Brody calls to the young one, snapping his fingers impatiently.

Henry’s body stiffens as young Sam pulls a piece of paper from inside his breast pocket and unfolds it, smoothing it on the roof of the boat. He eyes Henry warily as he thrusts it over to him.

Henry takes it, his stomach twisting sickly at the familiar face looking back at him from the page, so open and youthful.

“I don’t know her,” Henry says quickly, thrusting it back at them. But his voice comes out panicked, high-pitched. He glances back at the house, where the lens of the telescope catches the sun. Henry has forgotten to move it. If they go up there and look, it will be pointed at the Gallo house.

Brody watches him intently, his face bearing that same inscrutable calmness his father had often worn.

Henry begins to sweat in the direct sun. If they go up there and look through the scope, it will draw more suspicion. Brody follows his gaze.

“You’re sure?”

“I said I’ve never seen her,” Henry says.

It comes out strangled. “I don’t know any of the children on the island anymore.

” At the last words, he sees Brody flinch and look down.

And it hits him, a wallop to the stomach.

He’d thought perhaps foolishly that after enough time, he’d have paid his dues.

That his self-imposed prison sentence would have been enough for them.

But as he sees the face of the other policeman, Henry realizes that he was wrong.

The younger man looks at him now with open disgust. He has heard things.

All this time in isolation Henry had thought that maybe he could wait the rumors out, that one day he could make his return to the island.

In his most optimistic days, he’d even imagined that one day he could make a friend or two.

A few people to talk to quietly and look out at the water with in the evenings.

But now he sees he was being naive, a deluded old man who lives alone on an island.

One who people believe killed a young girl.

No matter how many years pass, the island’s residents won’t forget.

And they won’t forgive him. In that way they are alike. Henry won’t forgive himself either.

Sam is examining a spot of something on the dock. He beckons Brody, who crouches down to inspect it.

“Henry, do you know what this is?” Henry draws closer to them, warily following the line of Brody’s finger down to a dark splatter. “It looks an awful lot like blood.”

Henry grimaces. He had known the bandage wouldn’t be enough.

“It’s Jean’s. She cut herself at work, looks like it must have soaked through the bandage,” he says carefully.

The younger man gives Henry an openly hostile look and continues down the dock, a swagger in his steps now, searching for more.

From his pocket Brody produces a plastic bag and a Swiss army knife that he unfolds.

Henry’s face grows hot as Brody uses it to pry up a piece of the stained wood.

Surely they will just test it and know he is telling the truth, that it is Jean’s blood.

Brody starts to stand and stumbles on a jagged piece of the dock. Instinctively Henry reaches out a hand to steady him.

“What is that from?” Brody asks him. He is looking at Henry’s wrist. Henry looks down in horror at the tiny white beads.

Henry jerks away, caught out. Sam is standing behind Brody now, listening.

“She came with Jean. It was just the one time. Jean cut her hand and needed help.”

“Jean was here with a girl? Gemma?” he asks softly as Henry’s chest heaves.

He nods.

“You piece of shit,” Sam spits. He moves toward Henry, looming over him. Henry shrinks away, raising his arms above his face to protect himself. But Brody steps forward, cutting Sam off.

“Why didn’t you tell me straightaway, Henry?”

Unable to speak, Henry only manages to shrug helplessly. He doesn’t know exactly why he lied except that he didn’t want to be tied up in all that again. Brody is shaking his head.

“This doesn’t look good. There’s blood on your dock and this—” Brody holds out his hand for the bracelet.

Henry reluctantly pulls it from his wrist and watches as Brody drops it into the plastic bag.

“God, Henry. Why did you say you’d never seen her?

” Henry looks down at the dock, spattered brown with Jean’s blood. It’s all more than Henry can bear.

“We’ll be back soon. With a warrant,” says Sam.

“That all right with you, Henry?” Brody says with a gentleness that Henry wonders if he deserves.

“Why are you asking him? You’re giving him time to get away with it—” Sam starts, his fists clenching in frustration. But Brody throws him a severe look, shutting him up.

“Let’s go, Sam.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Henry bobs his head trying to cooperate though he knows he is too late. His vision is beginning to tunnel. “Come back whenever you like.”

As soon as they get back into the boat Henry scrambles up the stairs, desperate to be safely inside, no longer exposed. But the house shudders and creaks around him as leans back against the door.