Chapter 17

17

I woke in a sweat, late, blinking myself furiously back to consciousness. I'd dreamt all night of police coming in through the window of my playhouse room, holding up bits of ladder and looming over me. They were not there when I opened my eyes. Logically, I knew they wouldn't be, but guilty dreams bleed into reality for me. And I had been doing something questionable the night before.

I skipped the shower, panicked myself into my Morning House shirt, smoothed back my hair, and hurried to my position down by the house entrance. I almost ran into one of the black swans in the process. It made a noise like a demon woken from its unholy slumber and stretched out what looked to be about a twenty-foot wingspan and lunged at me. In my sleepless confusion it seemed like I was being chased by a black dragon and I scrambled up to the veranda from the side.

But there was no boatload of people coming up the path. Van was stretched out on one of the lawn chairs with a cup of coffee and his vape, scrolling on his phone.

"No rush," he said. "Cops have called off tours for the morning. Relax."

He gestured to the empty chair next to him. I dropped into it, my head thrumming.

"They're searching the water around the island. And everyone's extra nervous because of the storm."

Liani and Tom came across the lawn together, both in their bathing suits. We got a wave from them, and I held up a hand in return. They continued on, toward the lagoon.

"Did you see Riki this morning?" I asked.

"Nope."

"I just have to go talk to her for a second."

Van nodded and returned to his phone. I went back toward the door, avoiding the swans, and entered the hall I'd been in just a few hours before. There was a beautiful coolness in the morning. The magnificent glimmer of light from the thousands of glass pieces in the dome. The Ralstons were settled calmly in their frames, ready for tennis and boating and swimming. I jogged straight up the steps toward Riki's turret. I didn't know what I was going for, exactly. There was an impulse to see her, to confirm that last night had really happened. I got to the door at the top of the round staircase and knocked.

No answer.

We'd definitely done it. Climbed ladders and photographed research and sat on the floor together and...

And nothing. We sat on the floor and talked about soap and snacks and then she went to bed. I walked back down the steps, feeling a bit deflated. I was about to go all the way downstairs, but paused by the large room that led out to the high balcony where Dr. Henson did yoga. I went to the little storage closet where she kept her mat. I pressed the panel and opened it up. Inside was the broom, the mop, all the usual things. But no yoga mat.

Why had she taken it to her room instead of putting it back? Especially if it was wet?

Dr. Henson was gone. The paddleboard was drifting down the river on its own—but she had been up here with the yoga mat. I'd seen the dry mark on the ground. She'd told me she kept her mat up here, but it was back in her room.

I could just mention this to the cops. But then they would ask me when I had seen it in her closet. I could tell them I saw it when I was looking for her yesterday morning when the research student was waiting for her. That would be a lie.

What I couldn't tell them was that I saw it when we broke into her room at four in the morning on a flying trapeze to record all her work. And I would eventually say that—it would spill from my mouth.

I realized I was starting to hyperventilate. I took a moment to lean against the wall and take long breaths. This cleared my thinking. So the yoga mat was in her closet. So what? So she told me she normally kept it upstairs. But normally doesn't mean always . So she brought her mat back to her room. It meant nothing. And it had nothing to do with being lost in the river.

I repeated this to myself as I went back outside and rejoined Van.

"April was looking for you," he said. "She had a cinnamon roll for you."

I nodded blankly.

"You okay there?"

"Fine," I said, trying to shake it off. "Yeah, just..."

"I know. It's freaky. Do you want..."

He proffered the vape, and I shook my head no thanks.

"What's going on with you and Riki?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said.

"Listen," he said. "I get it. I went out with the bad boy too."

"Chris?" I asked.

"Chris. Mr. Christopher Nelson. Our Christopher."

He shifted around in his seat, tucking his knees up to his chest. "Do you know how much time he spent rescuing puppies? Genuinely. His family let him foster dogs all the time. He always had one or two, but sometimes he'd take care of a whole litter of abandoned puppies. This one—it was a newborn, so small, eyes closed..." Van squinched his eyes closed. "... it needed constant care and bottle feeding, so he got permission to carry it around all day. It only weighed a few ounces. It was tan, with these little floppy ears about the size of a thumbnail, and had a tiny pink belly. You could hold this puppy in your palm and she'd sleep. He made a sling so that it was up against his chest for warmth, up against his heart, and he would feed it from a little bottle between classes. Do you have any idea what it is like seeing the hottest person you know carrying around a tiny blind puppy in a sling and giving it milk?"

I took a moment to imagine Akilah doing this. I could even picture what outfit she would be wearing.

"Here was the other thing about Chris—he knew people. He didn't like bullshit either. He lied honestly."

"That's not a thing," I said.

"It sort of is? Everyone knew he hooked up with about half the tourists he took out on Jet Ski tours. He cheated on Liani. You knew Chris would do stuff like that. But if you needed him in the middle of the night? If you had to talk to someone? You could call him. He was probably up with a foster dog, anyway."

Van smiled, but there was an uncertainty at the corners of his mouth.

"He didn't cheat on me," he said. "We weren't dating -dating. I just asked him to tell me if he hooked up with someone. He didn't tell me. I had to hear about it from someone else. That was the problem. I found that out the night of the party and I was pissed. I argued with him and I walked away. I went back to get another drink and hang out and dance and yell at the moon. I just needed a few minutes. I was going to go back and we were going to make up. That's the best part, anyway. But when I walked away, he fell."

Van pursed his lips, and for the first time, I saw something cross his face that wasn't jovial.

"Some people even thought I pushed him. Argument, off he goes. I even had to talk to the police. We all did. We've done this already this year." He rubbed at the bit of stubble on his face. "When you think about it, and I have, a lot of us here would have wanted to push Chris off a cliff at one time or another. He was that kind of guy. But that was also what made him the best. He made no sense."

Van wiped the serious expression and went back to his regular half smile.

"So that's our baggage. We had a Chris-shaped hole in everything. Then you appeared. I think I know why Dr. Henson wanted you to come. We were all in a daze. Having someone new shook things up. All of this is to say that I get it. I liked the person who was trouble."

"Riki is trouble?" I asked. "What's the deal with that, anyway?"

"My advice? Honestly? Don't worry about all that. That story isn't sparking joy, if you know what I mean. No offense intended with the whole spark thing."

As we spoke, Riki appeared from below us, coming up the steep slope of the lawn from the direction of the boathouse. She was carrying a shopping bag and taking long, determined strides.

"Marlowe!" she said, noticing me. "I need to show you something."

She continued toward the front door. She was far enough away that she wouldn't hear anything we were saying, but Van leaned over to me anyway and spoke in a quiet voice.

"Don't let anyone give you shit about Riki. Go forth and multiply, I say. You have my blessing."

"We're not..."

"You will be," he said, tapping the side of his nose. "You don't live here. You won't have to deal with any fallout. If you're broken up, move on."

He flapped a hand at me, indicating that I should run off now. I got up, feeling a bit dazed as I followed Riki toward the house.

"By the way," Van said. "I had about forty milligrams of edible this morning and I'm not sure if it kicked in, so maybe don't take my advice."

"What the hell," Riki mumbled. "What's he talking about?"

She looked good this morning. She hadn't done anything different, really. Same smudged black liner and oversized black clothing. The sky suited her. The gray clouds made her eyes stand out like gems.

"Puppies," I replied.

I mean, it wasn't a lie.