away. Sally had dark skin and a heart-shaped face with pronounced cheekbones. Her eyes were almond shaped and dark under thick brows. But she had frosted blond hair streaked with gray, which she wore in a long braid down her back. She had been adamant about the dangers from the witch. “Deadly Sea Woman,” Sally had called her.
Will seemed to absorb this. “Can I talk to her?”
“I think she moved away. To live with her daughter in Georgia, or someplace. I have no idea where she is.”
“Can I borrow your computer?”
“Sure.”
They walked into the living room, where Johnny was plucking a melody on his guitar. It was almost as old as he was-Johnny always composed on the very first guitar he’d ever owned. He never used it for concerts, but he considered it his “creative machine.”
Will waved and Johnny nodded, but he didn’t put down the guitar or give any other acknowledgment that he’d seen Will. He simply went on, playing the melody in his head, filling the house with eerie music. A strange look crossed Will’s face then, and Gretchen wished that she could read his expression as easily as he seemed to read hers.
Gretchen led the way up to her room. It was just the usual chaos-rumpled white quilt halfheartedly straightened across the bed, books and magazines everywhere, a sketchbook open on the floor revealing a study of a wing with hyperarticulated feathers and musculature. And beside it, a painting.
“Where did you get that?” Will asked instantly.
Gretchen felt her face turn red. “It appeared.”
“It
“Seriously, Will, it just turned up on my bed yesterday.”
“You have to call the police.”
“Won’t the Miller think I stole it?”
Will thought a moment. “I’ll call Angus,” he said. “His uncle Barry can get this sorted out.”
Gretchen nodded. “Would you?” She cast a wary glance at the painting. “The thing gives me the creeps. Who would leave it here? And why?”
“Maybe it’s some sort of message,” Will said slowly.
Gretchen grimaced. “Next time, they can just shoot me a text.”
“I’ll call Angus later,” Will promised. Gretchen flopped onto the bed and watched as Will settled into the chair and the screen leaped to life.
Immediately the chat she’d been having online with her mother appeared. Will’s hand paused over the mouse, and she knew that he’d spotted it. But he didn’t mention it. Instead, he started typing into a search engine. He came up with several pages on sea witches and Long Island.
“What are you finding?”
Will scanned a page. “Not much more than what you told me,” he admitted. “Sea Woman,” he added, half to himself. “She was a giant.” He shrugged. “Not too helpful.”
Gretchen tucked her legs beneath her and leaned against a pillow. “Why do you want to know all of this?”
Will turned to look at her. “How’s your sleepwalking?”
“It’s okay. I mean, I’m still doing it. Dad has to lock me in at night, which is really annoying. But yesterday I woke up curled up at the foot of the door, so I guess it’s a good idea.” She gave a little laugh.
“How do you get out?”
“I call Dad on his cell phone. Wake him up, usually. Then he sets me free.”
“What would you do if there was a fire?”
“Die, I guess.”
“At least you have a plan.”
“I could climb out the window.” There was a maple tree that grew close to the house. The branches were near enough to the window that Gretchen could climb down it if she needed to. In fact, she had done that once or twice. Not that she’d ever had much need to sneak out of the house with her father as her primary caretaker. Gretchen could simply stroll out the front door whenever she felt like it. But when her mother had been living with them, it was a different story.
Guitar notes wafted up to them. It was a sad melody, slow and strangely familiar. Gretchen hummed along, her eyes half closed.
After a moment, she became aware that Will was watching her. “What?”
“You know the tune?”
“I guess.”
“Isn’t Johnny making it up?”
Gretchen realized that she had no explanation for this. “Maybe it sounds like something else.”
“Maybe,” Will said. But he had a look on his face that Gretchen knew well. It was the same look he wore when he had something to say but wasn’t saying it. “Maybe, but maybe not-right?”
“Stop reading my mind.”
“It’s your face I’m reading.”
Will smiled a dry little smile and stood up. “I’ve got to get going.”
“Where?”
“Downtown.”
“Just wait a few minutes,” Gretchen said as she slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops. “I’ll come with you.”
Will didn’t really want her with him. He needed to talk to Asia, not Gretchen. But how was he supposed to say no? He was starting to worry about Gretchen. The sleepwalking wasn’t a good sign. And he didn’t know what to make of the correspondence he’d seen between Gretchen and her mother. Gretchen’s mother lived in France and they didn’t talk much. Will remembered her. She was petite, almost child-sized, with blond hair and very fine features. She was slender and had an elegant bearing. She never wore fancy clothes or even makeup, but a beautiful smell always hung around her, which Will realized now must have been expensive perfume. She was not a warm person, and Will had always been half afraid of her, even though she had never spoken a sharp word to him.
One summer, Gretchen and Johnny had come out during August. Yvonne wasn’t with them. When Will asked where Gretchen’s mother was, she replied in the sagacious way of an eleven-year-old, “She doesn’t live with us anymore.” As if she were a stray cat that had moved on. Gretchen had hardly ever mentioned Yvonne after that. Sometimes Will even forgot that Gretchen had a mother at all.
“Why are we here?” Gretchen asked as she parked the Gremlin in front of the upscale vintage store that sold ostrich leather boots for $300 and hand-beaded gowns for close to $1,000. For used clothes! Will couldn’t believe it the first time he’d gone in there. The prices had appalled him. It was closed now, the usual porch display gathered up and dragged inside to keep thieves from stealing the valuable cast-offs.
“We’re here because I need to talk to somebody.”
“Somebody specific? Or just anybody?”
“Somebody specific.”
“Somebody we might find at a diner?”
Will looked at her sharply. Gretchen had turned to face him. She was leaning back against the car door in an elaborately casual pose, as if she were seated in a comfortable easy chair. Yet her body looked tense.
“What makes you say that?” Will asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m right-right?”
“Yeah, I need to talk to Asia.”
“Why?”
Will sighed. “I’m not really sure yet.” He yanked the door handle and stepped out onto the brick walkway. Gretchen scrambled after him, and they started up the street toward the diner. When they turned the corner, they found a very weird scene. There was a crowd clustered in front of Sebastian’s, an upscale bar. For a moment Will assumed that everyone was there for the club scene, but then he realized that they weren’t gathered outside the door. They were gathered near the curb. And they were looking up-into a large purple-leafed maple at the curb, illuminated in an eerie glow by the light of a street lamp.
