by his side. What was the tradition now, Hayley wondered? Did she thank him for the dance, fetch a drink, kiss him? She was neither thankful nor thirsty, and she certainly wasnât going to kiss him.
âI need to talk to my mom,â she said.
âI need to talk to Ben,â Fraser said.
âYes, ask him about his intentions.â
âHow do you mean?
âWith my mom. What are his intentions with my mom?â
Fraser gave a scoffing laugh. âI think itâs more important to ask why his bloodstained knife was beside a dead man.â
âYes, find out that as well.â
She went to find her mother, knew she had to say the right thing; it couldnât sound selfish or unreasonable.
âMom,â she said coldly as she arrived.
Ben lifted two empty whisky glasses. âIâll get us a refill. Would you like something, Hayley?â
âNo,â she replied sharply.
âOK.â Ben shot Sarah a sympathetic glance and headed for the makeshift bar.
âI saw the way you were dancing,â Hayley said.
âAnd how was that?â
âYou were touching. You were together.â
âThatâs the nature of the dance. You were holding Fraser.â
âNot the way you were.â
âAnd how exactly was that?â
âAs if  . . . as if you were enjoying yourself.â
âI was enjoying myself. Iâm allowed to enjoy myself.â
âNot like that. Not with some random guy. Youâre married to Dad.â
Her mom took her hand, said softly, âItâs time to move on, Hayley. I have to try live my life again.â
âNo.â Hayley said it again, forcefully, âNo!â
If her mother moved on, then gone was the last hope of her mom and dad getting back together. Hayley knew that only her mom could save the marriage and that when her mom lost interest the marriage was over.
With sudden, crushing clarity Hayley realized that the marriage was over.
She moved away, towards the door of the mission, heard her mom call her name but didnât stop. She had danced a Highland dance and that would do for this evening, would do for this entire trip, would be enough for a lifetime. She walked through the door into cool air and a darkening sky.
An empty police car remained by the harbour, the Moby Dick bobbed in the swell, and the only sound was the hubbub of voices from inside the mission and the incoming tide breaking against the jetty. On the beach there was a line of dark, churned sand where many feet had trodden before examining and removing the body. The police tape was gone, the sea already surging over the spot where the body had lain and washing away the evidence of murder.
Hayley walked a few paces along the beach, then stopped. It was beginning to get dark and the wind had picked up, flurrying the sand. She turned back towards the harbour and caught her breath as a shadow crossed the sand ahead of her. A man was moving along the bottom of the harbour wall, his body pressed against the old stones. For a moment Hayley thought it must be a policeman but there was something in the way he moved that she recognized.
She fell flat on the sand and became driftwood, then carefully raised her head to watch the moving figure. He didnât want to be spotted either, crouching behind the wall and carefully peering over the top of the jetty. And then she recognized him. At first she didnât believe it, thought it not possible, but there he was. His build was unmistakable, his borrowed clothes distinctive, his skin dark.
It made her think about the old story from Vacation Bible School about the man spewed forth from the mouth of a great fish, restored to life. The man called Jonah.
CHAPTER 13
â W here did you find my knife?â Ben asked.
âBeside the dead man on the beach,â said Fraser.
âAnd where is it now?â
âItâs under my bed. In a shoebox.â
âAre you an idiot?
Catherine Asaro
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