With Every Breath (12 page)

that was safe enough; Gina wasn’t watching. And he wondered, for the first time, if maybe Leslie had been right. His days on the island—and the vast majority of them were spent right there—were solitary. And it was by choice.

Now there was Maddie Brogan, stirring him up, worrying Gina. In fact, Maddie was quite capable of wreaking havoc on the entire peace of the island. His peace, the peace he coveted.

Sooner or later, somebody was going to tell Maddie Brogan just how she had been found that day, he thought. It was a small miracle that it hadn’t happened already. At first he’d feared that the house would trigger her memory. But since the previous night he knew that her defenses were stronger than that. Still, she could not put up a wall against someone telling her.

It would be all in the line of duty if he tried to prevent it, or at the very least, if he tried to make sure he was close at hand when it occurred.

He finally left the breakfast bar. He grabbed his keys again and went downstairs to the Pathfinder.

Angus came to the house in time for lunch.

The sun was almost warm, as though straining to remember summer. It was the kind of morning that Maddie had fantasized about when she had brought Josh to the island. The sea crashed, hurling mist and spray over the cracked asphalt of the road. A few gulls circled overhead.

She and Josh were on the front deck. When Josh saw Angus, he actually made a grunting sound, deep in his throat. He hurried to the steps to meet him, then he whipped around again, going back inside.

It had been so long since Maddie had seen such

animation in him that her throat closed and her eyes burned.

Angus sat down on the steps, and Josh brought him the new kitten. To Maddie’s surprise, the big man reared back from the tiny animal.

"Claws!" Angus shouted.

"Mmmm," Maddie agreed. "That’s true."

"They scratch. Hurt."

"Only when he’s threatened." And that made her think of Gina Gallen. She shook her head against memories of last night. She wasn’t going to allow anything to mar the day.

Then she saw the white Pathfinder coming up the road from the bridge.

Her mood definitely changed. The oddest thing happened to her stomach. It felt as if it curled in upon itself. She was surprised when the truck turned into her drive.

Joe got out, and she realized that he wasn’t limping today. In fact, he walked like a jock, she thought, with an aggressive stride. His hands were stuck in his jacket pockets. His shoulders moved with that rare kind of self-awareness that came to a man who was very sure of his own strength. But when he got closer, Maddie thought that his face just looked like that of a tired cop.

She wondered if he had had a hard time sleeping last night, as she had.

She wondered what had kept him awake.

She wondered what in the world he was doing there.

"Hi," she managed.

He nodded at her. "Hey, Angus," he added.

"Hello, hello," Angus answered.

Maddie stood up. "Would anyone like a cup of coffee?"

Joe started to shake his head, then he looked hopeful. "Do you have the real stuff? You know, out of a coffeepot. Not instant."

"Oh. No, sorry."

He seemed to sigh. "I’ll pass then. Thanks anyway."

He looked down at Josh. "That’s a fine animal you’ve got there," he went on finally, hunkering down to the boy’s level.

Josh looked at him mutely, but his eyes lit. He clutched No-Name a little tighter.

"If he came from Mrs. C, then he’ll probably be a
good mouser," Joe said.

"Why?" Maddie asked. "Does she train them?"

He looked up at her, startled, then realized that she was joking. Something like she had last night, he thought, when he had told her that he was glad she didn’t think he was sniffing.

Looks and wit, too. It was subtle. You had to be paying attention to catch it. Joe almost smiled.

"Nah. She’s just got a house full of mice," he answered after a moment. "Her place is old, and on a double lot. The lot breeds mice, and the old foundation lets them inside."

"Oh," Maddie answered simply, and she smiled.

The look filled him with warmth. There was that shifting inside him again, in the area of his gut, and the pleasure glowed upward from the crack. Joe looked away from her.

"I just came by to warn you that a storm’s coming." he said shortly, standing again.

"A storm?" Maddie glanced up at the sky disbelievingly. "Josh has had the TV on all morning, and I didn’t hear anything about it."

"Because all the networks tape for the mainland. They forget about us sitting out here in the ocean all by our lonesome. Any bad weather that hits them gets to us hours before. By the time they get around to broadcasting a warning, we’re usually in the grip of it."

"So how do you know one’s coming?"

"The west ocean is choppy."

Maddie nodded slowly, taking his word for it. "Is there anything I should do?"

Joe’s gaze moved over the house. "You might want to tape up this big window."

"I don’t think that really does any good." At least it hadn’t had much effect on the rare hurricanes she’d witnessed down South.

Joe shrugged. "Why take a chance?"

"Because I don’t have any tape."

His gaze swung around to her again, his deep blue eyes assessing her. And then he grinned. "A good reason. Let me see what I’ve got in the truck."

Maddie watched him move back to the Pathfinder. She decided she liked the way he moved when his leg wasn’t bothering him. And he had a good, strong heart.

She looked down at Josh again. A child—any child— had to be hard for him to deal with after his loss. By his own admission he stayed on Candle because he didn’t want the vicious reminders inherent in the crime rate on the mainland. But for Josh’s sake, he hadn’t shied away from him.

Joe came back with tape. He made a big X across the bay window, then stood back to study his handiwork. Finally he nodded.

"That ought to do it. The big island will probably flood, too," he said, "but that’s not as likely to happen up here. The Wick is higher. Especially in this area, right next to the crest." He made a motion toward the promontory near the bridge. "You should be safe enough. Of course, when the big island floods, you tend to lose your electricity up here. Got any candles?"

Those she had noticed in a kitchen drawer. She nodded. "Good. Well." He hesitated for a moment. She had

the feeling that he was mentally running through possible reasons—excuses?—to prolong the visit, and came up with none.

"I’m off today," he went on finally, "but when the storm hits, I’ll probably hang out at the station in case anybody has any trouble. Give a call there if you need anything."

"Yes," Maddie answered. "Thank you."

"See you later." He moved down the steps, then seemed to think of something else and stopped. But when he looked back, it was at Angus.

"Want a lift down to the boats?"

Maddie realized for the first time that Angus had been inordinately quiet throughout Joe’s whole visit. In fact, she had almost forgotten his presence. Then Angus stood up.

"For fish," he said. "They give me fish."

"I know," Joe answered. "Waltzing Matilda’s
in at the dock. She went out last night for cod and she’s back already."

Maddie was freshly amazed at how everybody knew everything that went on around the island. No detail was safe or private.

Angus went down the steps. "Cod. Good." He looked back over his shoulder at Maddie and Josh. "Good-bye."

"Bye, Angus." She watched them leave, impressed all over again. Even Doe Carlson had more or less ignored Angus, as though he were invisible.

Joe Gallen really didn’t belong on Candle, she thought suddenly. He wasn’t like the others at all.

Chapter 9

Maddie was just shooing Josh inside for lunch when she saw a postal truck creep up the road over the promontory. Her brows shot up when it stopped in front of her own mailbox.

It certainly didn’t take the utility companies long to get around to billing a new customer, she thought sourly. Josh went inside, and she trudged irritably down the drive again to snatch whatever it was from the box. It turned out to be a sales circular from a department store over in Jonesport, but her good mood had plummeted anyway.

She found herself wishing she had brought a coffeepot.

She tossed the circular on the kitchen counter and opened a can of soup for Josh. She wasn’t hungry. She let him eat in the living room in front of the TV because it was turning out to be that sort of day. Joe had been right. Already the perfect blue of the sky was becoming marred by an occasional cloud. They weren’t dark or threatening, but they scudded overhead on an increasingly volatile wind.

At three o’clock, the network broke into a soap opera to give the coming storm its first press. They said it was expected to hit the mainland between six and nine o’clock, with gale force winds and rain. The coast guard had issued a small craft warning.

Ho-hum, Maddie thought, and wandered into the kitchen. She made herself a cup of coffee and went out onto the back deck. She thought of Joe Galleri’s eyes again. She really would like to photograph him, she realized.

The ideas and images for her pictures had never been something she could force. It was useless to twist and wrestle the germ of a thought, trying to make it come to life. It was like watching a pot to make it boil, she thought, but it was hard not to do that just then because her head had been emptied of pictures since Rick had tried to take Josh. She’d been starting to panic a little, to succumb to a strong urge to smash the block, to break through it so she could work again.

This current urge was progress, she thought gratefully. She realized that she was no longer afraid that the pictures would never come back.

She returned to the TV, alternately watching it and watching Josh play with No-Name. He had crumpled a wrapper from the package of crackers he’d had with lunch, and the kitten batted it around the living room with devoted frenzy. Once, she almost thought Josh was going to laugh.

She wondered if she had been wrong in not letting Leslie see him until Thursday. Maybe they should be striking while the iron was hot, while he was being tugged a little bit by the presence of Angus and the kitten. Maddie went to the phone to call her, to see if she had hours on Saturday, and realized that the phone was dead.

Well, hell.

Was it the incoming storm? She was inclined to think so. The only way the phone lines could run to the mainland was under the water, she reasoned, and looking out the bay window past the tape, she saw that the sea was getting rough. Still, she felt suddenly claustrophobic. It was like a weight pressing in on her chest. She’d been there for days without a telephone and it hadn’t particularly bothered her, but at that moment she felt cut off. vaguely panicked.

Three whole months of this? No wonder everybody was so attached to the Sandbar. Maddie realized that she was already bored out of her mind.

"Come on," she called out to Josh, stepping into the living room. "Let’s go down to that diner for an early dinner." It would get them out of the house, she thought, and while they were there she could find out if the phone at the diner worked.

Josh wasn’t as reluctant to leave No-Name as she feared. Maybe he was feeling a little cooped-up, too. They went out to the car, running through rain that was just starting. They drove over the bridge, and Maddie realized that they probably shouldn’t stay on the big island very long. Joe hadn’t said anything about the bridge washing out, but the water level was already high, only a few feet below the span.

The diner was quiet. Only one booth and three tables were taken, and there was an old man at the counter. She and Josh settled into a booth, and a waitress approached.

Candle Island wasn’t so far out of the mainstream as all that, Maddie noted wryly, watching her. One side of the teenager’s head was shorn down almost to her skull, but long hair flowed over her other shoulder, and a small silver ring pierced one nostril. Maddie

saw Josh studying the girl in rapt fascination, and she smiled.

She ordered a hamburger and waited for Josh to make a selection.

"How about a turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes?" Maddie suggested when he kept staring at the girl. That was always a favorite. But before he could latch on to the idea, she went on, deliberately giving him a choice. "They’ve got ham-and-cheese, too."

Josh didn’t answer.

"Don’t he talk?" the waitress asked finally. "That’s right, they said he don’t."

Maddie’s temper swished. Come on, Josh. Please. She was already getting tired of the omniscient "they," that unseen entity who knew everything about her, about her child.

She finally sighed. "Better bring him the turkey. Wait!" she said suddenly when the waitress turned away, scribbling. "Is the phone working here?"

The girl scowled, cracking gum. "I don’t know." "Would you check, please? I mean, there’s no urgency, but could you just let me know when you bring our food back?"

"Sure."

The girl returned five minutes later with their drinks. "I checked. It’s working fine. Why? Yours ain’t?" Maddie frowned. "No."

"Well, you’re up on The Wick, right? So something probably happened to the trunk or whatjacallit running under the bridge."

Maddie nodded. "Does that happen often?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

Such brainpower, Maddie thought, grimacing at her own uncharitable thought. "I noticed the water was high under the bridge, too. Does it ever get washed out?"

The girl shook her head. "Not too much that I’ve ever heard of."

Still, Maddie thought, maybe coming down to the big island hadn’t been a good idea.

When their food came, she ate quickly, wanting to be ready to leave as soon as Josh finished. He ate the mashed potatoes but picked at the turkey. By the time he pushed his plate away, the rain was coming down hard. It rattled against the diner windows in wind-driven bursts.

They went outside, dashing to the car, and were drenched by the time they scrambled inside. Maddie drove back up to The Wick by way of the main street. She noticed that the Pathfinder was already at the police station.

The wind made the telephone lines dance wildly. The sign in front of the cafe swung back and forth. The flag at the post office whipped and snapped, and metal jangled from the halyard, loud enough that she could hear it through their rolled-up windows. Waves crashed against the east side of the bridge, throwing foam up over the asphalt.

As she drove up onto the crest. Maddie felt something cold and oily settle into her stomach. Why did I do this? Why did I have to go out on a day like this?

A hundred more feet and they’d be in their driveway. Suddenly, Maddie felt a desperate need to reach it. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel, her fingers hooking like talons. She thought, I’m having a nervous breakdown. This is irrational, pure paranoia.

Whatever it was, it was pounding, urgent. She felt as though the shrieking wind was trying to tell her of danger but couldn’t find the words.

She turned into the drive and sat there a moment, shaking. Josh started to reach for his door handle.

"Wait," she croaked instinctively. Why? Something .
. . She looked around almost frantically, squinting through the rain. And then she saw it.

She had to swallow fast and hard to keep from letting out a sound. She hadn’t turned the engine off. She threw the car into reverse and hit the accelerator hard. They bulleted out of the driveway, scraping the undercarriage of the Volvo, hurtling backward into the street.

She thrust the car into drive and they shot forward, away from the house. She was shaking badly. She looked over at Josh. He was staring at her as though she was out of her mind.

Maybe I am. Am I? Did I really see what I thought I saw?

It was borderline impossible. She’d locked the door on their way out, and No-Name had been inside, bouncing around the living-room floor.

She didn’t turn onto the bridge. She followed The Wick Road around past the big houses on the west side, up to the northern tip, and came back down again . . . but no, that wasn’t good either, because the house would be on Josh’s side of the car, and if she was right, if she wasn’t out of her mind, then she didn't want him to see it.

It could have been anything, she thought, anything small and dark. On the door?

Think, she ordered herself, and she whipped the car around in an abrupt U-turn, going north again, just in case. It didn’t make sense that someone would kill a child’s cat and nail it to the door.

She went all the way around The Wick again and passed the house fast, looking to her left when they came to it. It was still there, sweet God, it was still there. Why?

Fury finally cracked through her disbelief.

She went around The Wick one more time and drove