Siren's Storm

man. It’s a glamour job. Pachow, pachow-make love to the camera.” He pretended to take a sexy picture of a washed-up boot. “Shit, can you believe this mess?”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Will admitted.

Angus’s wide smile darkened. “Tree branches ain’t all they found, bro.”

A sudden wave of nausea hit Will. “What?”

Angus’s voice dropped. “Man, they found a body. As in a dead body.”

“A girl?” Will’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

“No, man, a guy. He was all torn up, like he’d been caught in a propeller or something. He was shredded, dude.” Angus grimaced. “Like he’d been eaten alive.”

“Who was it?”

“No clue-and here’s the kicker. So I’m, like, all foaming at the mouth to write the story, right? Like, ‘Mysterious Death in Walfang!’ Byline: Angus McFarlan! But my editor is like, ‘No, no. We don’t know what killed the guy. It’ll freak out the tourists. We’ll just keep it on the DL, put it in the police blotter but keep a lid on it.’ ”

“Does your editor really talk like he’s starring in a CW show?”

“Only in translation.” Angus grinned.

“So you’re not reporting it at all?”

“Just in the obits, man. If we find out who the guy was.” Angus looked out over the vast expanse of ocean. The water was surprisingly calm, as if sheepish about the destruction it had caused the night before.

“So-what happened?” Will asked. “I mean, what do you think? Shark?”

Angus shook his head. “Nah. I don’t know. The body was shredded, man. If it was a shark, I think we would’ve found less of him, if you know what I mean.”

“Crazy.”

“And speaking of crazy-did you hear about Kirk Worstler?”

“I saw him downtown earlier.” Will skipped the part about how Kirk had stared so hard he’d practically bored a hole in Gretchen’s skull. “Why-what’s up?”

“He went nuts yesterday and ran up to the fire station and set off the town alarms.” Angus opened his eyes comically wide. “The firemen freaked-the whole town freaked. I’m surprised you couldn’t hear it.”

“God. What happened to that kid?”

“All those Worstlers are nuts, man,” Angus said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.” Everyone on the island knew it-the Worstlers were crazy. It was the boys, always the boys. Kirk’s grandfather Adelai had been a healer of sorts, and his father, Ishmael, was said to speak in tongues. Ishmael’s brother had been lost at sea-the story was that he had jumped overboard. And Kirk’s father had drunk himself to death. He’d been gone five years, and most said good riddance. He’d been a mean drunk, and he hadn’t been kind to Kirk’s mother or his sister.

For a long time Kirk had seemed like a normal kid. He’d been sensitive, sure, and artistic. But over the years something had shifted in him. What had for years been curiosity and keen intelligence turned to anxious watchfulness. He spent hours alone, walking the beaches, not playing, like other children, but watching. For a while, after his father’s death, he seemed to get better. He seemed like a normal, sad child. But then, after Danny Sawdee’s party last year, he changed again. Some people said that he’d taken acid, some said mushrooms. There were even a few who said that Kirk hadn’t taken anything at all-he’d had a religious experience, a vision, an awakening. All anyone knew for sure was that Kirk had taken a dare to climb to the top of the abandoned lighthouse at the tip of the island, and after he came down, he was different, and he was never the same again.

There were a couple of freshmen who thought that Kirk had seen an angel. One even said that she’d heard him singing one night. It was the most beautiful song, like it had been sent from heaven. She said that she didn’t understand the words, but they sounded foreign.

But most people just thought he was a crazed druggie.

“I heard his sister’s been trying to get him into rehab, but his mom says they can’t pay for it.”

“How do you find out all this crap?”

“Family connections. Besides, I’m a born reporter, man!” Angus laughed. “I live for this shit. And speaking of-” He stooped to capture a photo of a crab scuttling over a pile of seaweed-covered junk. One claw was waving a scrap of paper like an overeager newsboy. “Hey, when’s your friend getting back?”

“Gretchen? She’s back.”

“Really?” Angus grinned. “Well, okay then.” He turned back to his pile of wood and seaweed.

Will felt like he should say something more. Something like, Why are you asking? But he didn’t want to seem like he cared. Because he didn’t, of course. Gretchen knew a lot of people on the island-she came here every year. He knew that she and Angus were friendly. But he didn’t know what to think of Angus’s grin. He wasn’t sure his friend had a shot with Gretchen. He wasn’t really her type. Whatever that was.

Honestly, Gretchen dated a lot. She’d had a pretty serious boyfriend last year-Jason something. He was a real summer person type-drove a white Lexus, had the million-dollar smile. Will had only met him a couple of times and privately thought he was a grade-A jerk. Sometimes he thought Gretchen thought so, too. But he was smart and rich, and Gretchen liked going to expensive restaurants and getting surprise presents, so Jason worked for her, Will guessed.

Will looked down the beach. People were dotted here and there, collecting garbage and placing it in large contractor bags. The detritus was disappearing at a rapid pace. Will expected that it would be in its usual pristine state by Friday, when the first migrants from New York made their way east on the Jitney.

Will caught sight of a long-haired girl at the end of the beach. She was bent over a large piece of driftwood. Black hair spilled over her shoulders, and reflexively Will grabbed Angus’s arm. “Dude-who’s that?”

“What? Who?” His eyes focused on the heavyset bald guy with the clipboard and tight button-down short- sleeved sport shirt. “Franklin Overmeyer? He’s with the mayor’s office.”

“No.” Will’s heart was racing. “That girl with the long hair.”

“Kate Sands?”

At that moment the girl turned slightly, and Will got a proper view of her face. She had brown eyes, not green, and her face was round and freckled. It wasn’t the girl from yesterday. It was a girl from his Spanish class. “Oh-I… I thought she was someone else.”

“Dude, are you diggin’ on Kate? Because she’s a Gazette intern, too. I could put in a word-”

“No, seriously. I thought she was someone else.”

Angus waggled his eyebrows, and Will sighed. “Hey, look, I’ve got to head, okay? I’ll see you?”

Now I’m seeing things, Will thought as he walked away. Ghosts of the girl from hurricanes past. He felt as if the beach were littered with them.

Chapter Four

From the Walfang Gazette

Police Blotter: Drowning Death of New

York City Man Ruled a Suicide

Fifty-six-year-old Terrance “Terry” Milton died on Wednesday as a result of an apparent suicide. He maintained a summer house close to where his body was found Thursday morning. Neighbors state that Mr. Milton had been depressed since the death of his mother last year…

“Will! You’re just in time!” his father said as Will came down the stairs. “Come try some of this wine. This is Mr. Jameson-he has a vineyard on the North Fork. We’re thinking of selling some at the stand.”

Will’s mother sat silently on the couch, sipping from a glass of pale amber liquid.