came out here to get Rudy. I didn’t see Lila’s broken body. She must have been pushed from the Point after we left.
I let out my breath, relieved.
“Come on,” Kevin says, again with that boyish shrug, this time indicating the short steep path that goes down to the causeway.
“Um. I really don’t have the shoes for it,” I say, pointing at the rope-soled canvas slip-ons I’m wearing. But he’s already scrambling down the path, so I follow, keeping a close eye on the slick, seaweed-slimed rocks. When I make it down and look up, I see that Kevin is already striding across the massive flat stones that make up the causeway. I step gingerly on the first stone, skirting tide pools where small fish dart and delicate strands of seaweed wave in the sparkling water. Ever since Luther told our English class the story about the nine sisters who drowned in the incoming tide and turned to stone I’ve hated walking on the stones. The legend says that when the tides come in, the sisters will pull anyone still on the stones down into the sands to drown with them. Luther said that part of the legend came about because there’s quicksand on either side of the causeway.
I look down at my watch and see it’s only been fifteen minutes since the low tide point. There’s no chance of being caught by the incoming tide. Kevin is sitting on a low ledge just below the Maiden Stone, waiting for me. I walk carefully over the slick stones, trying hard not to think about drowned girls reaching up to pull me into quicksand. When I reach Kevin I look down at my watch again. “Shouldn’t we head back?”
“The causeway is clear for three hours,” he says. “We have plenty of time. Don’t you want to touch the Maiden Stone?” He crooks his head and looks up to the tall standing stone looming above him. Below the narrow ledge he’s on there’s a deep gap where seawater churns restlessly as if eager to take back possession of its vanquished land.
I shake my head and point at my soaked canvas shoes. “I told you, I’m not wearing the shoes for it. Why don’t you tell me why you brought me out here?”
He holds my gaze and then nods as if he’s made up his mind about something. “Okay. I did want you to see something. It’s back there.” He stands up and leaps nimbly from the ledge to the causeway, leading the way back to the mainland. “The causeway is crossable for three hours,” he says. “And Lila was found here.” He points to the first flat stone directly beneath the Point. “The man who found her at six-thirty took pictures because he knew that when the tide came in at seven it would destroy evidence. There was blood around her head, staining the rock. So we know she died after three thirty-six, when the tide went out. According to your account you and Rudy were already home at three-thirty—six minutes before the tide cleared the causeway.”
“Yes, that’s right—”
Kevin cuts me off. There’s nothing boyish in his face now. “And you heard Harmon when you got home at three-thirty and you’re sure he was home until he went out jogging at six-thirty, so Harmon couldn’t have had anything to do with Lila’s death.”
“That’s right,” I say, meeting his gaze.
“But,” he says, climbing up to the path. “If you were just a little off . . .”
“I showed you the text from Rudy. I left right away.”
“I know, Tess,” he says, almost gently. “The traffic light camera on the coast road clocks you there at three-twelve.” He lets that sink in for a moment and then adds, “And clocks you coming back at four-ten. So my question for you is: What were you doing between three-ten and four-ten?”
I could tell him that Rudy and I sat in the car arguing. But what if that’s another trap? What if there’s a security camera in the parking lot? It would show me leaving the car and returning with Rudy at four. I have a feeling I don’t have too many chances left with Kevin Bantree. And besides, I know Lila’s body was not on the causeway when I arrived at the Point so I won’t be endangering Rudy if I tell the truth.
“Okay,” I say. “Rudy was waiting for me there.” I look toward the Point. “It’s a place he goes when he feels scared. The