“Oh, really? What’s the latest date you’ve gone swimming?”
“November 24 in the oceanside, December 8 in the bay.”
She shrugged and acted unimpressed. “It’s early. There’s still time for me to break your record.”
Shane gave her a hearty laugh. “I look forward to congratulating you on that.”
She smiled, but as she scampered inside, she already felt triumphant for a different reason: for the first time since she’darrived, she hadn’t thought about Nicole’s death the entire time she’d been at the beach.
Caitlin was freezing.How is it possible that just the other day I went swimming, and today I wish I’d worn my balaclava?she silently grumbled, ducking her head against the raw wind.
She wouldn’t have ventured outside the cottage at all this morning, since she didn’t like going into town on Saturdays, but she’d accidentally left her phone charger at the library in Benjamin’s Manor yesterday. She figured she’d pick it up and then stop for groceries in Lucy’s Ham on her way back.
But she got so cold walking the short distance from the bus stop to the library that after she collected the charger from the volunteer at the reception desk, Caitlin decided to sit near the gas fireplace to warm herself. She’d barely had time to settle into an oversized leather chair when a blaring sound and flashing lights filled the room.
A recorded voice came on the loudspeaker: “Everyone must evacuate the building immediately. Please leave your belongings where they are and calmly proceed to the nearest exit,” it said, and then repeated the warning.
Caitlin pulled on her coat, shoved her phone charger into her pocket, and then she followed the other patrons outside.Forget this, I’m going to a café for a maple pecan latte or a hazelnut hot chocolate.
She started down Main Street when she realized in her haste to evacuate the library, she’d left her purse behind. So she rejoined the other patrons who were hugging their chests and stamping their feet, trying to keep warm as they waited on the front sidewalk for the all-clear signal.
“This is the second time the alarm has gone off this week,” one of them complained loudly. “I betcha anything a staffmember burned something in the toaster oven again. The library really needs to invest in a higher-quality smoke detector.”
“Or they should take the toaster oven out of the breakroom,” someone else chimed in. “And replace it with a microwave.”
“What good would that do? They’d just be burning popcorn instead of toast, which would still set off the alarms,” a third person said, and a spirited discussion ensued about the pros and cons of updating the breakroom’s appliances and smoke detectors.
Even though their comments seemed tongue-in-cheek, Caitlin noticed how freely the islanders expressed their opinions before they had all the facts about what had happened.If they’re this passionate about a smoke detector going off, I can only imagine the rumors that circled the island when Lily’s family member set the conservation land on fire, she thought. Hearing the locals talk madeCaitlin even more eager to collect her purse and continue on her way.
A few minutes later, a fire truck pulled up in front of the library with its lights flashing, but no siren on. When the driver hopped down from the cab, Caitlin did a double take.That’s the guy from the Halloween party, the one who made the joke about rescuing me from a tree, she realized.Which means he wasn’t dressed in a costume after all—he was wearing his uniform.
The head librarian circled around from the other side of the building just as he was coming up the walkway. “Hi, Miriam. Are you burning books again?” he joked.
She gave him an apologetic look and shook her head. “Sorry to make you come out here a second time for a false alarm.”
“Better a false alarm than a fire.” When he smiled and his cheeks dimpled, Caitlin had no doubt he was the blond guy pictured in Nicole’s old photos from the arcade. “We’ll reset thedetector in a jiff so everybody can get back inside where it’s warm.”
“That would be great, Craig.”
Craig?Caitlin silently questioned, as he and a second firefighter jogged up the front steps and disappeared into the building.If that’s his name, it means he wasn’t the boy Nicole meant when she wrote N. hearts R. So R. must have been the other guy in the photo—the one with dark hair and a tan.
Then again, perhaps Caitlin hadn’t heard the firefighter’s name correctly; maybe the librarian had called himRay, notCraig?
A flicker of yellow in her peripheral vision caught her eye, pulling Caitlin from her thoughts: the firefighters were hustling down the front stairs. She tried not to gawk as they headed to the truck.
“All clear,” the driver called, waving to the waiting crowd.
“You guys are the best. Bye, Jose. See you later, Craig,” the librarian replied, putting to rest Caitlin’s doubt that she’d misheard his name.
She filed into the library behind the other patrons and retrieved her purse from where she’d left it. But now Caitlin was too cold to walk to the bus stop, or even to hurry a couple doors down to a café to get a hot beverage. Yet she was too agitated to sit idly by the fire. Despite her best attempts to put what happened to Nicole out of her mind, now that she was positive that Craig was the same guy she’d seen in the photo, it was all Caitlin could think about.
Using her phone, she did a quick internet search for the local fire department. Sure enough, she found his name: Craig Thompson.He’s not just a firefighter, he’s the fire chief,she realized, a little impressed.I wonder if rescuing swimmers as a teenage lifeguard influenced his professional aspirations?
But now she was far more curious about the other lifeguard in the photos she’d found, the guy Nicole apparently had liked. Who was he, and did he still live on Dune Island?If I could find out more about him—about what he was like twenty years ago—it might give me a better picture of what else Nicole was doing that summer. It might even shed some light on why she’d written “August 29” on the placemat from the arcade. But how can I research R., when I only know his first initial and what he looked like as a teenager?
It occurred to her that as a lifelong islander, Marion undoubtedly had known Craig and R.—as well as the brunette girl in the photo—when they were young, or at least she’d been acquainted with their families. Caitlin supposed she could question her about them, but then her neighbor would want to know why she was asking. And so far, Marion hadn’t uttered a word about Nicole’s drowning, which was one of the reasons Caitlin felt so at ease in her presence. It was as if they had an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t talk about what had happened, and that was the way Caitlin wanted to keep it.
She was suddenly struck by an idea.I can search the library’s online copies of Hope Haven High School yearbooks! I’m sure I’ll recognize R.’s photo, and he’ll be identified by his full name. Most senior yearbooks also list the graduating students’ interests and activities, which will give me a lot more information about him.
