Page 124 of Serenity Falls

‘Night.’

I watch her go. And then I glance back at Harold. Noah couldn’t stop the flood. But he could build an ark.

I reach forward to close the laptop.

That’s when I see it.

I guess the wooden panelling and wing-backed leather chair should have been a giveaway. Harold is conducting this interview in some kind of private members’ club.

There’s an ashtray on the table beside him, a cigar propped in it. Next to this, a drinks menu. The menu is a deep midnight-blue, and etched on the front there’s what looks like a picture of a skull. I zoom in.

In lavish silver writing, I can just make out the name of the club: Closing Time.

Ellen

The more I thought about what I’d seen that night – the crane, the small green car sinking into the lake, the face beneath the hood, one I knew very well – the more I began to see that this could be a most excellent opportunity. I always like to think of myself as a glass-half-full type of person. Problems are merely challenges to be overcome.

Knowledge, as they say, is power. And secrets are currency. I’ve always made sure I’m rich in both. And this secret, well, this could be worth a great deal. Maybe enough to elevate me from being a simple – although massively respected – organizer of events in Serenity Falls to a more official position, such as a councillor, or even (and I became a little giddy thinking about it) a Conservator.

I had managed to quell any qualms I might have had about what happened to the car (and possibly the occupant). Whatever I saw, it must have been necessary, essential to the smooth running of Serenity Falls. I know only too well that there are occasions when one has to do something unpleasant to achieve one’s ends. For the greater good. Yes. I could certainly ‘get on board’ with that, as they say.

I admit I was a tiny bit surprised by the person I saw in the hazmat suit, but not shocked. There are people in Serenity Falls who I am always cautious around. People who are respected in the town, people who have connections, people who could cause problems if they found me out.

Marla Grayson is one of them. And the person I saw last night is another. But the balance of power can shift in an instant. Now I knew something. Something that could be detrimental to this person if the residents of Serenity Falls were to find out. Some people aren’t as understanding as I am. They don’t appreciate what it takes to keep everything running tickety-boo. Goodness, it could shake the town to its very core. And, as someone who loves Serenity Falls, I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen. I saw it as my duty to protect the town. But such diligence and loyalty should be rewarded.

Mind made up, I thought about the best way to tackle the issue. I’ve always felt that face to face is best where possible. But how to engage? The individual in question wasn’t part of my normal social circle. So, an invitation for tea or coffee would seem somewhat out of character. This person had influence, they were smart. They would see through an obvious or clumsy ploy. So, how to put myself in their path? And of course, the answer is so simple I’m almost cross at myself for not thinking of it right away.

I needed to come to them in a professional capacity; to ask for their help. This is something I rarely do, so it’s not surprising that it took me a while to think of it. But needs must. I needed to play a part. Humble, needy, supplicant.

That would be my in. And from there, I would reveal my hand.

I smiled and picked up the phone.

35

Serenity Falls library is a solid, red-brick building on the corner of the town square.

The square itself is a bubble of activity, with people bustling around preparing things for the fiftieth-anniversary celebrations. As well as banners and balloons on every building, more stalls are being erected, as well as a stage.

Sadie meanders around the workmen, past the town hall and up the library steps. Inside, the library is large, cool and deserted, save for a sole librarian seated at the front desk.

Her long, mousey hair is pulled into a messy bun, and thick glasses hang on a chain around her neck. Her head is bowed, intent on a book.

As Sadie walks up to the desk, she looks up. ‘Can I help you?’

Sadie tries not to recoil. The left-hand side of the woman’s face and neck is a shiny, twisted mass of scar tissue. Burns, Sadie thinks, and immediately feels bad for her reaction. It was just a surprise.

The woman smiles. Only one side of her lips lifts. Even her voice is kind of tight and scratchy. Miss F. Green, her name badge reads.

‘Oh, erm, I just came to meet some friends to study.’

‘What a cute accent. British?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you must be one of our new residents on Acacia Avenue?’

Christ, Sadie thinks. Not again. However, she manages a polite smile in return. ‘That’s right. I’m Sadie.’