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Authors: Elizabeth Chandler

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“So the evidence is somewhere else now.”

“At the bottom of the ocean,” he replied. “Maybe you’ve noticed: Bryan likes to leave people and other disposable things in deep water.”

“We can’t give up, Tristan. If we want to be together, we have to clear Luke’s name.”

He held her close again and rested his chin on her head. “We have to do a lot more than that.”

“When you were on the bridge, did you learn anything new from Bryan?”

Tristan told her what Bryan had admitted—boasted of, actually. A year and a half earlier, when he struck the woman on the side of the road, he left her there to die,
prizing his hockey career above her life. He knew he could rely on his old friend Tony to fix his car and not report the drunken hit-and-run, but he hadn’t counted on Corinne being at the body shop that morning, working on a photo essay. She’d always been a snoop and a blackmailer, and she found in Bryan’s damaged car the custom-made cufflink he had worn to the sports banquet. Unfortunately for Bryan, the police found the other cufflink at the site of the accident.

As Ivy and Tristan had suspected, Bryan grew tired of paying off Corinne; so he strangled her, framing her old boyfriend, Luke. But Bryan soon realized he couldn’t rely on Luke to stay out of police view. He killed him, too, dumping him in the ocean off Chatham. After Ivy and Tristan discovered that Alicia could provide Luke with an alibi, Bryan added her to his list of victims.

“There’s evidence somewhere,” Ivy said. “The more you kill, the more witnesses and evidence you leave behind. Somebody saw something each time Bryan murdered. Somebody has or knows something very useful to us, but just doesn’t realize it.”

“Ivy, most of the murders happened months ago, and the more time passes, the harder it is—”

“Stop and think about it,” she interrupted. “A lot of people were at Max’s party the night Bryan slipped off to kill Luke. A lot of people went to the sports banquet the night of the
hit-and-run. . . . Of course! They would have taken photos at the banquet. I bet they hired a photographer to sell pictures to all the proud parents.” She laughed and picked up a plastic buoy, shook Tristan’s hand, and awarded him the float as if it was a trophy. “Smile,” she said. “Your cufflink is showing!”

He laughed with her but quickly grew serious again. Bryan was a threat, Tristan thought, but Gregory was an enemy that no gun or human authority could stop. And Gregory had one goal: to kill Ivy. Who would he possess next? Both Dhanya and Kelsey would give him easy access to Ivy.

“We need to find you a safe place, Tristan, somewhere far from here.”

“As long as you’re with me,” he said.

“No, we need to stay separate—just for a while.”

“No way!”

“Bryan’s lying low right now, pretending we have a deal,” she went on. “But he killed everyone else who knew something that would incriminate him. Why would he spare us?”

“Because,” Tristan said, “from the police’s point of view, Bryan is friends with too many corpses.”

“Tristan, don’t you see? That’s exactly how he’ll use us—to cover himself and neatly tie together the murders of Corinne and Alicia. He can finally get his frame-up of Luke to work if he kills us together, so neither of us can talk. He’ll
make it look like a murder-suicide, the end of Luke’s killing spree against the women he loved. The way to stop Bryan is to put distance between you and me—”

“I’ll never leave you!”

“Tristan,” she pleaded. “We want the same thing, to be together. But for a while we need to be apart.”

“I’ve been apart from you. I won’t leave you again.”

Ivy closed her eyes and leaned against him, silent for several minutes. At last she said, “Does this boat sail? If I brought fuel for it, could it go?”

Tristan shook his head. “I don’t know anything about boat engines, but the electronics are stripped.”

“Then you’ll be safer on land. Here your only escape is to swim.”

“I could go back to Nickerson.”

“No, too many park rangers have seen your photo.” She hesitated, then said, “I know a place close by that you could use. The family has just left there and Aunt Cindy has the key. It’s hanging on the pegboard—I can make a copy.”

“How long will they be gone?”

“I don’t know. Their son was killed on the beach the afternoon Gregory left Beth. He was struck by a bolt of lightning.”

Tristan took a step back from Ivy and stared at her, horrified. “Gregory will kill anyone!” But he knew there was one person in particular he wanted to kill.

Fear and anger ground a fist in Tristan’s gut. Unlike Bryan, Gregory wouldn’t be cowed by the threat of getting caught. Ivy’s safety depended on him. He would destroy Gregory if it was the last thing he did.

Three

“BETH’S BACK!”

Late Thursday morning, Ivy looked up from the bed she was making and grinned. Will, who had the day off, stood outside the window of the barn suite, his tan body glistening with seawater, his hair spiky. “When you’re done, meet us on the beach steps,” he said.

Twenty minutes later, Ivy crossed the lawn that lay between the inn and the edge of the sandy, shrub-covered bluffs. Beth and Will stood on the landing that was halfway down the steps, looking out at the glittering ocean. From
her view at the top, Ivy’s eyes traveled to her left, where the sea swept around a long point of land, pooling behind the line of dunes to make Nauset Harbor. She said a prayer for Tristan. She had told him she wouldn’t be back until she had copied the key to the beach house, not wanting to draw more attention to the fishing boat until he was ready to leave it.

Beth turned suddenly, as if the psychic part of her had sensed Ivy approaching. Ivy rushed down the steps.

“Whoa! Slow down!” Will exclaimed. “I can’t catch both of you.”

Ivy hugged Beth. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Me too! I mean, I’m glad to see
you
,” Beth said, and they laughed.

Beth’s blue eyes were without the shadow that had darkened them when Gregory possessed her. Her light brown hair, streaked with summer sun, lay softly against her apple cheeks. “How are you feeling?” Ivy asked.

“Good, really good. How about you?”

“Great, now that you’re back. We missed you!”

Ivy sat on a bench and Beth joined her. Will sat across from them, his paddle and board propped against the railing.

“I missed you, too, but I had you with me,” Beth said, lightly touching the pendant that Ivy and Will had given her.

Ivy squeezed Beth’s hand, then looked across at Will.
She remembered the fear and pain that had lined his face when they found Beth in the bell tower with a rope around her neck. She remembered the agony in his voice:
Ivy, if I lose her, I can’t go on!
Now his brown eyes were shining.

Beth reached for Will’s hand and Ivy saw the way his fingers twined with Beth’s, as if he was acutely aware of each place where their hands touched. Ivy knew that Will loved Beth as deeply as Ivy did. But had something changed—was he
in
love?

Will pulled back suddenly. Beth bit her lip, then tucked her hand beneath her leg. Ivy wished she had been more discreet in her staring. Trying to steer them onto a light topic, she said, “You’re back just in time, Beth. Philip, Mom, and Andrew are coming to the Cape Sunday. You guys better get cracking on
The Angel and the Alley Cat
.”

It was a graphic novel, a series of adventures that Will and Beth had created for Philip.

“I’ve got a zillion ideas,” Beth said. “I just hope my illustrator can keep up with me.”

Will laughed.

“But first Will’s going to teach me how to stand-up paddleboard,” Beth said to Ivy. “Do you think I can get my hair to spike like that?”

Will self-consciously brushed down his damp hair, and Ivy sat back, smiling to herself.

“Ivy,” Beth said, her face growing serious, “what’s
going on with Luke? Will told me what happened Saturday night.”

What Bryan claimed to have happened
, Ivy silently corrected her friend.

She didn’t want to endanger Will and Beth by revealing that Bryan was the murderer—the kind who killed those who knew what he had done. But it was time to tell them about Tristan’s return; she and Tristan might need their help.

“Luke isn’t who Bryan thinks he is.”

Will and Beth looked at her, puzzled.

“The real Luke died. He drowned off Chatham.”

“Drowned!” Will exclaimed. “Then who is—”

“Tristan. It’s Luke’s body, but Tristan’s spirit.”

A small gasp escaped Beth.

“Tristan’s occupying Luke?” Will asked. As Ivy explained everything, Will gazed out at the ocean, his eyes darting over the vast blue, as if he was seeing anew the reel of events from the last five weeks.

“It’s no more unbelievable than Gregory possessing me,” Beth remarked quietly.

“There is one difference,” Ivy told her. “Tristan has taken on all of Luke’s body. Luke’s spirit—his mind, his memories, his soul—is gone. He died and went on.”

“Does Gregory know that Tristan has returned?” Beth asked.

“Not yet. Not as far as we can tell.”

Will frowned. “Where’s Gregory now?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’ll be back,” Beth said. “He wants revenge.”

They sat silently. Beth’s cell phone rang, and she automatically shut it off.

“It’s your mom,” Ivy and Will said at the same time, recognizing the ringtone.

Beth read the text, then pulled the car keys out of her pocket. “Be back in a minute.”

When she had disappeared, Will turned to Ivy. “I’m really sorry, Ivy. I didn’t understand what was happening when Tristan first came back. I felt like you had just thrown me aside.”

“After all you had done for me!” Her voice shook a little.

Will leaned forward, making her look at him. “I knew you had never stopped loving Tristan. Even when I was most in love with you, I knew you loved him, too. And that was okay with me. I trusted your heart—knew it was large enough to love us both. Then when this stranger came between us, I couldn’t understand. I was so angry—at you and at myself.”

“I’m sorry, Will, for all the pain I’ve caused you.”

“I thought that I had been duped—like I really didn’t know you, like I had fallen for someone who didn’t really
exist. But the Ivy I knew is back now.” He smiled. “You didn’t change after all.”

Ivy felt a lump in her throat. “Friends?”

He took her hand in his, then lay his other hand on top. “Friends happily everafter.”

LATER THAT DAY, WITH AUNT CINDY AND BETH’S
mother headed to Provincetown and herself assigned to preparing late afternoon refreshments for guests, Ivy had the perfect opportunity to copy the key to the Steadmans’ house. Alone in the kitchen, she lifted it from the pegboard.

“Hey, Ivy.”

She quickly turned around, shoving the key into her back pocket.

“Hey, Kels. Dhanya,” she answered as they entered the kitchen, surprised that they were still hanging around. “What’s up?”

Kelsey flopped in a kitchen chair. “
Bore-dom
. I am totally, horribly bored!”

Observing the tins and plates Ivy had laid out on the kitchen island, Dhanya opened them and began arranging the tea cookies. “There’s a seventy percent chance of storms, but Kelsey doesn’t want to shop,” she said with a shrug.

“Where’s Bryan?” Ivy asked.

“He went back to the rink—has to work this afternoon
and tonight. His uncle pushes him too hard,” Kelsey complained. “He’s always working.”

“Or saying he has to,” Dhanya suggested quietly.

Kelsey reached for a cookie. “I’d know if he was cheating.”

“Want to go shopping, Ivy?” Dhanya asked.

But an idea was forming in Ivy’s mind. “What if we surprise Bryan?” she proposed. “Why don’t we go skating this evening?”

Ivy figured that, juggling both his job and Kelsey, Bryan would be kept busy and she’d have an opportunity to check out the photographs hanging at the rink for a glimpse of the cufflink.

“Now, that’s an idea!” Kelsey said

“Mind if I invite Chase?” Dhanya asked.

“We should invite everybody,” Ivy replied. The more distractions for Bryan, the easier her sleuthing job would be. “Make it a party,” she advised Kelsey. “You don’t want him to think you’re desperate to see him.”

Kelsey grinned. “Really, Ivy, you know more about dating than you let on.”

When tea was over Ivy drove to a shopping area, where she made a copy of the key to the Steadmans’ house, then purchased with cash two no-contract phones. With the GPS turned off and no account traceable, communication between her and Tristan would be more secure.

Just before eight, Chase picked up Dhanya and Kelsey, and Will and Beth rode with Ivy to the rink. Max caught up with them in the parking lot. Bryan saw them as soon as they walked through the entrance. “Hey! What a nice surprise!”

“We would have invited you,” Kelsey told him, “but you were working.”

He gave her a bemused smile. Kelsey, dressed in skin-tight biking shorts and a workout top with a plunging neckline, was obviously asking for attention.

“It was Ivy’s idea,” she added.

Bryan’s smile faded. “Really,” he said to Ivy. “I didn’t realize you were a big fan of skating.”

“I’m sure I told you—last winter Beth and I skated every weekend.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly; he was suspicious and would be watching her.

“Beats jogging,” Beth added.

He flashed Beth a smile. “Beth, glad you’re back! In your honor, free passes!” He went to the counter and grabbed tickets for all of them, including other skaters who were entering at the same time, making a show of it.

Beth blushed.

“Come on, everybody, get your skates.” He herded them to the rental desk, back in his old role of boisterous camp counselor, the kind of guy liked by team members,
little hockey campers, parents, frat brothers. . . .

To Ivy, Bryan was more frightening than Gregory, when Gregory was alive. Her stepbrother had never pretended to like anyone but a chosen few. Bryan was everybody’s pal, and could turn on you without notice.

“Hey, Chase, you’ve got your manly look going tonight!” Bryan teased as they exchanged their shoes and sandals for skates.

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