Page 85 of The Sister's Curse

I coughed up water and nodded, giving him the thumbs-up.

“Let’s get to shore.”

I flopped to shore with Jasper’s help, relieved to reach thebeach and feel land under my naked foot. Jasper placed the bag of heads beside me and sat on my other side.

“Take long, even breaths,” he advised. He reached for my severed hose, and stared at my foot, missing a flipper. Blood was trickling down my bare foot from the wound in my calf. I’d popped some stitches. The neoprene on the right side of my suit was perforated, and there were scratches on my tanks.

“What the hell happened?” Jasper asked.

“I don’t know. Something was around my throat.” I unzipped the neck of my suit. I wasn’t bleeding anywhere else, at least.

I didn’t want to tell him about the Rusalka. “I…must’ve gotten hung up on some debris down there. You saved my bacon.”

“You’ve gotta be careful down there, Koray. It’s dangerous.”

My gaze fell to a random spot on the beach, and I crouched before something shiny.

I picked up a river pearl, green and blue, and iridescent in the sunshine.

—

I drove out to the Lister house to break the news. I’d been told to leave Sumner alone, but I had not been explicitly told to keep my distance from Lister. I was hoping that since he knew me, he might be willing to open up to me about more than the cousins.

As I drove, I passed a billboard for the sheriff’s reelection campaign. Sheriff Wilson grinned in his dress uniform before an American flag, exhorting voters toKeep Law and Order in Bayern County.

I made a face as I passed. I had never had any particular feelings about the sheriff before, positive or negative, until he told me to leave Sumner alone.Fuck that, and fuck him.

When I glanced up at the billboard, I saw in my rearviewmirror an advertisement for Mark Lister’s car dealership.Call Mister Lister for the best deals on trucks. Mister Lister!Mark stood in a suit before three shiny trucks, giving two thumbs up to the viewer. Those trucks probably were at the bottom of the sinkhole.

Lister’s house sat in a pleasant suburban development. An HOA clearly ruled: all the two-story houses had the same beige color scheme and exactly the same carpet of weed-free grass. They were apparently allowed three hostas and a single hydrangea bush, but no more vegetation.

I pulled into the Lister driveway, where a basketball hoop had been set up. I wondered how Ross was doing. I didn’t see a ball or a bike in the driveway.

I knocked at the front door.

I waited, scanning the porch, not seeing any doorbell cameras, but noticing that mail was halfway stuffed into the mailbox. One envelope contained a bill and was markedPast Duein red.

The door eventually opened. Lister was in a rumpled T-shirt. He didn’t look like he’d shaved or combed his hair in days.

“Mr.Lister, I’m sorry to bother you.”

He crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“I have some bad news, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

“More bad news?” He seemed too exhausted to fight me. He looked like he hadn’t slept, and maybe I could use that to my advantage.

“Is there somewhere we could sit?”

“Yeah. Come in,” he said at last.

The house was painted in shades of fashionable gray, with a living room that seemed to be missing some furniture. There were blank spots on the walls, where paint had faded around absent pictures. This was décor I’d come to associate with divorced dads.

I sat on a recliner opposite a large television, and Lister sat on the couch. Neither one of us touched the gaming chairs on the floor.

“Before I begin…can I ask how Ross is?” I asked.

A cough echoed behind me. I turned to see Ross in the hallway, dressed in a T-shirt and basketball shorts.