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Lexie frowned. “Nico, is everything okay?”
He sighed, glancing side to side before leaning closer to quietly say, “Listen, something’s happened. I can’t really talk about it, but . . .” Another sigh. “Are you working tonight?”
“Yes,” she said, mind racing with thoughts of what could have him looking so troubled. “I have the dinner shift.”
“Alright, I’ll come see you then.”
“Why? What’s—”
“I can’t,” he said, cutting her off, an apology written all over his face. “Not yet. But trust me, you’ll hear about it soon enough. In the meantime, just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”
Perplexed—and a little frustrated—Lexie lifted her hands. “That covers everything from take your birth control to don’t eat any iffy chicken.”
“Just keep your doors locked when you get home,” he said, killing any possible humor she’d attempted to inject into the conversation.
Before she could object further, his phone rang, and he scowled.
“I’m sorry, I gotta go. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Lexie let out an indignant huff of air as he left with his phone to his ear, the assignment in front of her forgotten. “Okay. Bye.”
He’d been right when he said she’d hear about it soon enough.
In the space of twelve hours, Lexie’s emotional bandwidth had gone from surprised and disappointed, to totally shocked, to sad, to understanding, and finally, to downright frightened.
It was a little after two p.m. when she heard the news of Isabelle’s murder, Annie called her in a tizzy to raise the alarm and make sure she was okay. In the wake of the unprecedented tragedy, gossip was spreading fast, a tidal wave of customers descending on Rusty’s like vultures to a carcass, forcing Wade to call the staff in early. Lexie was the last to arrive, and it had been bedlam ever since. Donning a new apron after her first was covered in spilled soup, she looked out over the gathering crowd. Some locals, some not. Some aware of the situation unfolding in their beloved town, some not. Lexie envied the latter, knowing exactly why the resident-to-tourist ratio had tipped to unusual proportions of familiar faces. It was the same reason she—and everyone else—volunteered to work doubles instead of going home. Safety in numbers. Okay, maybe that was just her. Still, there was a certain undeniable comfort in being around friends at a time like this. And whether they realized it or not, the Mercy Cove residents here tonight had gathered because they were seeking the same solace she was: sanctuary from the monster at their doorstep.
Isabelle had been a sweet girl. A little on the wild side, some might even have called her a hothead, but the rest of her had been full to the brim with kindness. Lexie remembered the first time they met, silver braces covering most of Isabelle’s teeth, her eyes hidden behind thick-lensed glasses as she awkwardly carried her books to class. Being quite the nerd herself, Lexie was glad to have someone to talk to. One day, another girl, Darcy, joined them for lunch, and their friendship circle was complete. Things changed through the years. Isabelle’s braces came off and contacts replaced her glasses, Lexie grew into her features, and Darcy started dating the cutest boy in school. By the time they all turned sixteen, they had standing invitations to all the parties in town, spent their weekends drinking with whoever was willing to buy them alcohol, even sneaking off the island to hang out with guys from the mainland.
It was fun. Until they met Sara and things got way out of hand . . .
Lexie shook herself, forcing the thought away. Today wasn’t about digging up ancient history. It was about Isabelle. Her life and . . . her death. She could only imagine what her parents were going through. To have your only child murdered. And not just murdered but—
A chill slid down Lexie’s spine at the details she’d overheard while flitting from table-to-table all afternoon—“ . . . tied up . . . stabbed over thirty times . . . so much blood . . .”—spoken in hushed whispers from grimly set mouths. The specifics were enough to send Lexie’s stomach churning. Multiple times she’d found herself bursting through the back door and into the alley for a few gulps of fresh air. Though once darkness fell, she didn’t dare step outside.
The clock on the wall told her it was nine p.m., a time when things usually started to wind down on a weeknight. But a glance at Vikki behind the bar, furiously pouring drinks and loading them onto trays, said otherwise. Even the kitchen was still running, plates of steak and mashed potato, lobster with corn on the cob, burgers sided with thick-cut fries, all sliding under the warmers with practiced efficiency. Annie was around somewhere too, taking order after order after order . . .
Nobody wanted to leave. Nobody wanted to be alone. Lexie understood. And even though her feet and back ached, she’d stay—all night if Wade would allow it.
She was about to start clearing more dirty plates when Nico walked through the front door, his eyes zeroing in on her without so much as a glance at anyone else. Lexie swallowed hard as he walked toward her, his police windbreaker damp with the light summer mist coming down outside, his face lined with the fatigue of an undoubtedly long day.
“Hey.”
Lexie gave a small smile. “Hi.”
“I guess you heard.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I think everyone has.”
He fiddled with the set of car keys in his hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before. I just had to wait until the official—”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
Nico nodded. “Are you okay? Did you know her?”
“I used to. We, uh, haven’t spoken for a long time.”
Lexie couldn’t help the shame and regret that bubbled up inside her at the admission, or the way her gaze couldn’t meet Nico’s as she said it. What had happened when they were kids wasn’t Isabelle’s fault. Or Darcy’s. But after the dust settled and the town finally stopped talking about it, Lexie had decided she needed a change. Distance. A lot of it.
