off and we’ll do it tomorrow.”
The sky had turned black by the time they locked up the gallery, and Chip glanced at the western horizon. “Looks like a storm’s getting ready to hit.” The three men shuddered, keenly aware of what a storm could mean in Clark’s Harbor.
Jeff Horton had spent the entire day walking the beach, tramping north aimlessly, telling himself he was looking for wreckage from Osprey when in fact he was trying to sort out the pieces of what had happened.
He had been awake all night, and several times he had heard someone else downstairs, also awake. Twice he had been tempted to go down and tap at the Randalls’ bedroom door, just for the company. But it wasn’t company he needed. He needed to understand what was happening.
He had left the house early in the morning, telling no one where he was going—he was sure the Randalls would understand, and besides, he wasn’t sure where he was going. Or what he was looking for.
He knew that storms could kill people, but they did it simply, straightforwardly. They came down on you if you were at sea, tossed you around, terrified you, then, if the spirit moved them, hurled a gigantic wave at you and crushed you.
If you were on land you were safer, though a storm could still smash your house, drop an electrical line on you, or cut you down with a bolt of lightning. But could a storm make someone cast a boat adrift? Could it send someone into an art gallery to destroy its contents? Could it hang a woman from the branch of a tree in the middle of the woods? All Jeff Horton’s sensibilities told him it could not. And yet, as the wind began to blow and the dark clouds began to lower over the horizon, he turned south and started back toward Clark’s Harbor. The surf began to build and the tide began flooding in, the storm on its heels.
Missy and Robby were on Sod Beach when the storm struck the coast. As the first drops of rain fell Missy gave up her search for a perfect sand dollar and called out to her brother.
“It’s starting to rain.”
“So what?” Robby said, not looking up from the patch of sand he was carefully searching. So far he had found five undamaged shells, and Missy none, and he was sure she was just trying to spoil his fun. Besides, the beginnings of the storm made the beach exciting. He glanced up at the clouds, then grinned happily at the sight of the churning surf. He was only vaguely aware of Missy’s complaining voice.
“I want to go home,” she insisted. “I don’t want to stay out here and get soaked!”
“Nobody’s home,” Robby pointed out. “Dad’s still at work and Mom’s down at Dr. Randall’s.”
“Then let’s go there,” Missy begged. “We can go through the woods.” She started across the beach, determined not to look back, not to give her brother a chance to cajole her into staying on the unprotected sand. She wanted to turn around when she got to the reef of driftwood that lay at the high water line but was afraid to, afraid that if Bobby wasn’t coming along behind her she would give in and go back toward the angry sea and the growing storm. Not until she was safely into the forest did she risk a look.
Robby was no longer on the beach. Missy had a moment of panic, then decided that her brother was teasing her, trying to scare her. Well, she wouldn’t be frightened. And she wouldn’t go running around looking for him, the way he wanted her to. She would stay right where she was, in the safety of the forest, and watch. Sooner or later, Robby would come looking for her.…
Jeff Horton arrived at the north end of Sod Beach in a shadowy half-light, a dark gray dusk made heavy by the now-raging storm. The beach looked deserted, but as Jeff passed the Palmers’ cabin he paused, a curious sense of apprehension sweeping over him. When he began walking again he had an urge to run but fought it off, telling himself there was no danger, nothing to be afraid of; he only had a few hundred yards to go before he would be comfortably inside the Randalls’ house.
But as he moved through the storm Jeff began to feel an odd sensation: the lightning flashing around him seemed to slow him down, drain