Page 35 of Holding On

The rest of us stand by the large window that looks out over the harbor and watch the light display.

If possible, the storm’s ferocity has increased.

“At least we didn’t have to worry about getting electrocuted.”

Crackle. Crash.

“Jesus,” says Bryce in such a low voice I’m afraid he’s having a flashback. Then I hear him say to Jackson, “I fucking love weather.”

“I am so sorry. I feel like an idiot,” says Maya. She’s shivering in waves as she holds the mug in her hands.

“You’re not an idiot,” says Carlson. “This is a once in a decade storm—I should have had you come up here—except, well . . .” He pauses and decides to go back to more neutral territory like the weather. “They predicted a storm, but not like this. There are at least two more boats loose in the harbor. This is bad.”

There’s another flash of lightning and a crash of thunder.

“I have to go to the restroom,” she says.

Carlson points over his shoulder. “Down the hall and make the second right.”

When she stands, she weaves slightly on her feet, and Bryce steadies her with a hand on her back.

“You sure you’re all right?” I ask and take over for Bryce.

“Yeah. I’m just . . . I’m just dizzy. I need to sit down again.” I help her back into the chair and glance at Carlson.

“You’re probably a little dehydrated,” Carlson says and Jackson leaves for a moment, returning with a glass of water. “You probably swallowed a gallon out there. Drink that and keep drinking.”

“Okay,” she says, her teeth chattering. Beneath my fingers, her frame shudders, again in waves, and I realize she’s probably also suffering from shock.

“Do you want to come with us back to The Inn?” I ask. “Finn said you have a room and—”

Carlson cuts me off. “I’ll take her back to the docks. This is supposed to break in an hour. I need to check TheWinnow for damage anyway. That good with you?”

She nods, but there’s something in her stare—the way she won’t meet my gaze tells me something’s wrong.

“Jack,” she says, and then, “Detective, I can get a hotel for a night or two if you need me to.”

Carlson shakes his head. “It won’t come to that. Worse comes to worse, I’ve got a spare bed in the office. Barr knows you’re renting from me, right?”

Barr?

Maya’s eyes widen, and she blows on her cup of tea before answering. I want to use this pause to explain that she works for Audrey. But it’s not my place. This is why her next words feel like a sucker punch.

“Yes, I told him today that it was the only place I could find with such short notice, so he knows.”

“Good. Well, My Dahlin’ is probably a mess too, so he won’t be suspicious if you do end up having to stay here. She’s moored at the marina.”

“You’re working for Barr?” My voice sounds raspy. I can’t believe it. No wonder she’s been asking questions.

“Oh—just for a week. Right?” Carlson says, and then he turns to me and he does make eye contact—the kind where you almost feel trapped. “It’s just for a week, and then she goes back with Audrey. Barr’s got a full docket this week and his guy is out, right?”

Her “Yes” is spoken into her mug, followed by, “Just until the end of this week.” But unlike Carlson, she won’t look at me.

“She didn’t want to tell you.” Carlson’s stare is somehow reassuring.

Bryce checks his watch, a big military-style piece that looks like it probably supports holographic images. “We should go, boys,” he says. “Chloe says the soufflé won’t keep after seven, and it’s six thirty.”

Food is the last thing I want right now. My appetite has vanished. Maya keeps refusing to make eye contact, but when I put a hand to her shoulder to offer a silent goodbye, she reaches up and puts hers over mine.

“Thank you so much, Travis,” she says, and she stands and wraps both arms around my neck. The embrace is brief, but I feel the dual purpose. It’s an offer of thanks and an apology.

But I’m not sure why the apology, and if I think about it too hard, my stomach hurts worse.

After tossing my shoes to the floor of the car, I climb into the back seat and fold my arms. Bryce turns over the engine, backs down the steep driveway and into a turnout, and then we make our way slowly down the mountain.

For the first several minutes, both Bryce and Jackson are quiet. The cloud cover and the rain have lightened somewhat, so we don’t have to shout. Thank God. I have a pounding headache.

“What the fuck just went on in there?” Bryce says suddenly, twisting around partway in my direction. “Did you know she was working for that jackass, Barr? I can’t even say his name around Chloe without her shutting down for hours and then crying, and I have to coax her out of herself. That guy killed your parents.”

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. Bryce waits half a beat and then turns back to the road.

“Shit. Carlson’s up to something. What’s your take, Jackson?”

Jackson sighs. “Mateus is an excellent profiler, and I’ve worked with him an awful lot this past year. I can tell you the first thing I learned from him.” Shifting in his seat, he half-turns toward me. “When someone is lying, they’ll stare directly at you. People telling the truth look off to the side with intermittent points of eye contact.”

Bryce grips the wheel. He couldn’t care less for backstory. “Unpack it, Kid. What are you saying?”

“Carlson was staring right at you during that whole Barr explanation, Travis. He’s lying.”