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Tammy laughed and let him lead her forward.

I stayed where I was for another moment, watching the lights shimmer on the water. Then I followed them toward the edge of the dance area, telling myself I was being foolish. Harvey was a grown man with a job, a home, and plenty of people who knew him. Whatever had unsettled him on Friday, it didn’t necessarily have anything to do with tonight. If he and Owen had been arguing over money or business terms, it might have been no more than an ordinary disagreement, the sort where one person said things meant to hurt and unsettle the other. People said things in anger that they later regretted. Most disputes eventually blew over, or at least settled into something manageable.

Harvey and Owen might have had a nasty spat, but that didn’t mean Harvey was in any real danger.

I was still trying to convince myself of that when a sharp cry rose from behind the bandstand.

At first, I barely registered it. The music was loud, the crowd was talking, and the sound could have been someone who’d stumbled or discovered a spilled drink. Then the music faltered. A second voice called for help, louder and more frightened than the first.

Both the band and the crowd seemed unable to decide whether this was a medical emergency, a fight, or something else. The people nearest the stage turned toward the sound. A young woman in a festival volunteer shirt stumbled out from behind the bandstand, her face drained of color. She looked around wildly, as if she couldn’t quite make sense of what she’d seen, then shouted again.

“Somebody call the sheriff! Please! We need the sheriff!”

The music stopped altogether. People began moving in every direction at once. A few hurried toward the volunteer, while others pulled children close or stepped back from the bandstand. The sudden silence made the harbor seem strangely distant, the lapping water and rustle of the trees audible beneath the growing murmur of frightened voices.

Josiah was already moving, a uniformed deputy right behind him. I saw him push through the crowd, one hand raised as he called for people to stay back. His posture had changed completely. The warmth I’d glimpsed a little earlier had given way to the focused authority of the sheriff, and people responded to it almost instinctively.

“Everyone, please move away from the stage,” he called. “Give us room. Don’t go behind the bandstand, and don’t touch anything.”

Another deputy hurried to join him. Josiah spoke briefly to the volunteer, who pointed behind the stage with a trembling hand. He listened, asked her something I couldn’t hear, and then moved toward the narrow gap between the rear of the bandstand and the temporary fencing.

I found myself taking a step forward.

Ricky caught my arm. “Max, don’t.”

“I’m not going behind the stage.”

“You’re looking like you’re thinking about it.”

“I’m trying to see what’s happening.”

“So is everyone else, and that’s why the sheriff is telling us to move back.”

He was right, irritatingly enough. Tammy had come up beside us, her face pale, one hand pressed against her chest. The wedding coordinator, whoever he was, had disappeared from her thoughts entirely.

“Who do you think’s been hurt?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” I said, although I found myself wondering whether someone had been unfortunate enough to have a heart attack or suffer an allergy attack from all the seafood. It had happened before. Hartwell Cove’s festival food was delicious, but a crowded waterfront full of shellfish was a risky place for anyone with a serious allergy.

The volunteer was crying now. A woman from the committee wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her away from the crowd. I caught fragments of what she said to another volunteer: something about going to retrieve a box, seeing someone on the ground, and realizing he wasn’t moving.

Then Josiah’s voice carried out across the space as he barked an order to one of his deputies. “Call an ambulance. Now.” The words went through the crowd like a cold draft.

I couldn’t see much from where we stood, only the backs of the deputies and the edge of the temporary fencing. People were whispering, asking questions, trying to identify who had been behind the stage. The band members had moved away from their instruments, their faces tense beneath the bright stage lights.

A moment later, Josiah emerged from behind the structure. His expression was controlled, but there was a severity to it that made my stomach tighten. He immediately began directing the deputies, then turned to address the crowd. Josiah raised his voice so the crowd could hear him over the unsettled murmur.

“I'm Sheriff Mercer. I need everyone to remain calm and listen carefully. A serious incident has occurred behind the bandstand, and the festival is closed for the evening. Please remain where you are until a deputy has spoken with you. Do not leave the festival grounds, and do not approach the bandstand or the area behind the stage.”

A murmur swept through the crowd. Some people began asking questions, while others craned their necks to see what was happening behind the stage. Josiah waited for the noise to settle before continuing.

“Anyone who has been in the vicinity of the bandstand within the last hour needs to tell a deputy. That includes festival volunteers, committee members, performers, vendors working nearby, and anyone who was simply passing through. If you saw something unusual or spoke with Harvey Sinclair tonight, we need to hear from you. Don't assume something wasn't important just because it seemed ordinary at the time.”

There was no argument. People shifted uneasily, looking at one another as the deputies began organizing them into small groups. Josiah returned to the area behind the stage, leaving another officer to keep the crowd back.

Tammy drew a shaky breath. “What do you think happened?”

I swallowed. “I don’t know.”