Somewhere between boot camp and her first year of college, they lost contact. It happened naturally, as their relationship dissipated. His Coast Guard time passed in unremarkable fashion, and by the end of it, he assumed that Isla had moved on from him and met someone else. He met Sofia in San Diego during his last stint, and they married after six months of dating, a move completely out of character for someone like himself, a person who typically proceeded with caution on all things. Nine months later they had a daughter. After he was discharged, he managed to convince his new wife, after much persuading, to return home to Maine with him.
He ran into Isla at the drugstore one day and discovered that she had married Ray “Swisher” Eaves and had a two-year-old daughter. Of all the people to marry, Swisher Eaves was the last guy he had expected her to end up with. Despite the fact that he was married himself, the news sank him into a months-long depression. It reminded him that life never turned out the way one expected. Seeing her around town had been like sticking a needle into his heart and only reminded him how tenuous his own marriage was.
He dropped the James file onto the burnished oak table, feeling his blood pressure spike. Why? He knew why. Because Swisher didn’t know how good he had it. Because he knew for a fact that Swisher took Isla and his kids for granted. He had been that way since high school and hadn’t changed, like most boys from Shepherd’s Bay.
And the saddest part was that Swisher was an incredibly talented guy. Always had been. Great at everything he did. A natural athlete, with charisma and charm. Young kids back in high school used to ask for his autograph after high school basketball games. Ridiculously handsome in a town filled with wrinkled mechanics and portly fishermen, he stood out like a prince among peasants. He could fix nearly any kind of engine or machinery and had a gift as a painter of landscapes. Self-taught, of course. But Swisher had one fault that prevented him from succeeding in life: a debilitating lack of focus, which kept him from sticking to one thing for any length of time. The more he thought about it, the more he could understand how Isla had fallen for a guy like Swisher. In contrast, he could also understand how she might grow weary of his many schemes and crazy business ventures, as well as his inability to provide a stable life for his family.
The coffee shop’s lights dimmed. His papers lay strewn over the table, lit by the screen of his glowing laptop. He sipped his coffee, hoping that the caffeine might make him more alert. Only the caffeine was now having the opposite effect, and soon after the first sip, he felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion sweep over him. He swore he would not take any more night shifts if he could help it, no matter how many bills needed paying. If only his daughter had gone to UMaine instead of pricey Colby College, his finances might be less disastrous.
His eyelids began to close. He took another sip of his Costa Rican estate. At three dollars a cup, he hoped it might jolt him awake. No such luck. Best to drag his ass to bed and try to get some shut-eye. On a gorgeous day like this, when the sun shone brightly on their little town, he knew sleep would be hard to come by. No sense sitting in this café with all the hipsters and well-to-do reading newspapers and killing time.
Miles Davis trumpeted over the speakers. He glanced over at the barrister, with his numerous tattoos, earrings, and requisite man bun. Probably used his daddy’s money to buy this coffee shop. There’d been no decent coffee in town until Cafe Bello opened its doors. He actually enjoyed the ambience and decor of the place. Abstract art and edgy photographs hung on the walls. Jazz played low in the background. In the corner sat a coffee table formed out of an old lobster trap, covered with picture books, and surrounded by beaded leather sofas.
He closed the James file and shut down the laptop. The case would have to wait. His phone rang just as he stood to leave. It better not be the station. No way could he work another overnight shift. He answered it and discovered that two girls from Shepherd’s Bay High had not returned home after the celebration last night. One was Willow Briggs. The other, Katie Eaves.
ISLA
A MILLION THOUGHTS RAN THROUGH ISLA’S MIND, AND NOT A ONE of them was good. Karl sat across from her at the kitchen table, cement bags hanging under his eyes. He jotted something in his notebook whenever a relevant fact came to light. In the other room she could hear the whiz-bang action coming from the television. Raisin sat transfixed in front of the flat-screen, watching one of those Transformers movies with two of his friends.
She glanced up at the clock and saw that it was just past five. Where in the world could Katie be? Privately, she blamed Willow Briggs for whatever had happened to her daughter. Aside from Willow’s many talents, everyone knew her to be a wild child and a headstrong girl. Worse, she was absolutely gorgeous and knew it. Willow had a subtle way of flirting with the opposite sex that struck Isla as wholly inappropriate. In fact, the few times she had visited, and Ray had happened to be home, he had gone out of his way to accommodate her. Isla had thought Ray pathetic for doing this and had told him so, and he had acted as if she’d lost her mind. Katie had noticed this behavior, as well, and had rolled her eyes whenever her father doted on Willow, but she had never said anything. Because Willow struck her as needy and seemed to enjoy being the center of attention.
She got up and made a pot of coffee to keep herself busy. While filling the coffeemaker’s water reservoir, she gazed out at the bay and, beyond that, the ocean. Sunlight glinted off the smooth surface of the water. From this vantage, she could make out the majestic suspension bridge leading to Harper’s Point, the peninsula where the Briggses and all the other affluent families lived. She wondered if Willow’s parents were as concerned about the missing girls as she was right now.
“So what happened after the game?”
“I already told you what happened, Karl. Shouldn’t we be out searching for the girls?”
“We’ve got every officer on patrol looking for them. We’ve even put a call into the state police for some backup help.”
“That’s all good and fine, but shouldn’t we be doing something other than sitting here?”
“What you should be doing now is answering my questions.”
“There was a big celebration after the game. We all stood around the field and watched the girls get their trophies. Lots of hugs and pictures. After about thirty minutes passed, I asked Katie if she wanted to go home with us. She said no, that she wanted to stay back with some of her teammates. Supposedly, one of them was going to have a cookout for all the kids.”
“Does Katie drink or do drugs?” Karl asked, his head bent over the notebook.
“How could you even ask me that? She is a straight A student and attends church every Sunday.”
He looked up from his notebook. “You understand I have to ask you these questions, right?”
She crossed her arms and sighed. “No, I’m fairly certain Katie doesn’t drink or do drugs.”
“That you know of?”
“Yes, that I know of.”
“I asked the Briggses the same question, and they said that Willow occasionally has a glass of wine with dinner. They are okay with it as long as she drinks in moderation, but I have a hunch that maybe she likes it a little too much.”
“My kids know that drinking’s unacceptable in our household—except for Ray.” She looked away from him. “I should have never let her hang out with that girl.”