Both Clare and Roland watch Kavita, but she looks down at her worried hands, thinking. The patio door would offer easy access to the restaurant, Clare can see, especially at night. Now, beyond the patio, the ocean’s color is a muted gray, the sun gone behind low and swirling clouds.
“What more do you want me to say?” Roland says after a minute.
“Do you remember what the shooter looked like?” Clare asks.
“No. It was a crazy blur. Wasn’t it, Kavita? He had a hoodie on. Some people said glasses. I don’t remember glasses. I remember a dark hoodie. Navy blue or black. He wasn’t a big guy. Pretty compact frame.”
On the barstool next to Clare, Kavita shifts back and forth, unsteady.
“How did he manage to get out?” Clare asks.
“People were frozen,” Roland says. “Terrified. By the time my brain had registered what happened, he was gone. Some of the kitchen guys tried to chase him, but he was too fast. There are nooks and crannies around here. He probably had his getaway route well mapped out.” Roland pauses, frowning. “I can’t even count the number of times I’ve been interviewed by the police. Dozens. Hundreds. We all wanted them to catch the shooter. I closed this place down for a week so they could scour it. I’ve been an open book.”
“You don’t have security cameras?” Clare asks.
A cloud passes over Roland’s face, the shift so instant that it sends a chill down Clare’s spine.
“I do now,” he says.
“Did you keep up with the Westmans after it happened?” Clare asks.
“Sure.” Roland addresses Kavita. “You remember Colleen? Zoe’s mom? Her daughters brought her back in for dinner a few times after the shooting. I guess some ill-advised attempt at normalcy, reclaiming the space, as the kids say these days. But in my all days I’ve never seen the life drained out of someone the way it was with Colleen Westman. She was catatonic. I never even heard her speak. Then her heart gave out. That’s what happens when you let this kind of thing get to you. It burrows its way deep into your system, your gut, and some kind of rot sets in. You need to find a way to move on, Kavita. This could kill you if you’re not careful.”
There is something in his tone, a sharpness, words of warning. This could kill you. Kavita is flushed, her breaths short, as if on the verge of a panic attack. Roland must notice because he collects a glass and fills it to offer her water.
“I’d like to ask you about Malcolm Hayes,” Clare says to Roland. “About Zoe’s disappearance.”
“I don’t know anything about that. Like I said, he wasn’t around much. After Colleen died, I only really kept up with Zoe. Tragic what happened there. I’ll say that any guy who disappears after his wife does looks pretty guilty to me.”
Clare nods. Next to her, Kavita has already drained the water, her breathing still too fast.
“Listen,” Roland says. “Delivery trucks are going to start pulling up here. I need to get back to work.”
“Yes.” Clare points to her business card on the bar. “I appreciate your time. You can call me if you think of anything else.”
Back outside, the temperature has dropped without the sun to warm them. Clare chases Kavita across the street, pressing the key button to unlock the car. They sit in silence in the tight space of the rental car, Clare waiting, gauging.
“Did that help?”
“No,” Kavita says. “I know he came through the front door. Not the patio.”
“That’s a perspective thing,” Clare says. “Eyewitness accounts are tough. You can both be right, or wrong.”
Kavita says nothing. Clare turns the ignition and adjusts the vents to allow the heat to hit them both. She feels inundated, her brain struggling to compute everything that’s unfolded. Just try to channel Somers, Clare thinks. Her quiet way, her calm.
“We could speak to Charlotte,” Clare offers. “She was there too.”
“Yeah,” Kavita says, sarcastic. “She’d love that. More prodding.”
“I want to help you.”
“You’ve got your own agenda,” Kavita says.
“I do,” Clare says. “That doesn’t mean we can’t work together. Don’t we want the same thing?”
The look Kavita shoots Clare is angry, toxic. In her pocket Clare feels her phone vibrate. She unlocks it to a text from Austin Lantz.
Found something for you. Meet at The Cabin in 20?
Clare sighs. K, she types.
“Where can I drop you?” she asks Kavita.
“Nowhere. I’ll walk.”
“You sure? You have my card—”
But Kavita has already exited the car. Clare watches her through the windshield as she crosses the street to head north, then stops, looks around, and turns to continue the other way. Even in a place as familiar to her as Lune Bay, Kavita seems lost.
In the light of day The Cabin Bar feels less cozy, a thin coat of grime and dust on every surface. The room is empty but for one man on his laptop in the corner. Austin isn’t here yet. Clare sits on the same stool as last night. This bartender is older, less friendly than his nighttime counterpart. He slaps a coaster and a menu in front of Clare without so much
