Beach Thriller(107)

“No—no, you can’t blame yourself. Believe me when I say the best thing that happened that night is that you didn’t show up. Your whole world would have been different if you had. I’m not exaggerating when I say it might have been over. If I could take it back, I would, but you have to understand, Holly. I hated myself for what I had to do to escape.”

Holly looks me in the eyes. Hers are red, filled with tears. “I don’t judge you—I don’t hate you. I just…” She can’t get the words out. Her chest is heaving. Every breath is a struggle. But she pushes through the discomfort to find her voice. “I just need my big sister again.”

And that does it. My dam breaks. Tears streak down my face. I wrap my arms around her, holding on like I’ll never let go, a single word tumbling through my head: home. This is home … this is my place … with her … my family. My precious sister.

“Will you forgive me? Please, please forgive me.” My throat closes up. I barely get out the words.

“Only if you’ll forgive me,” she says.

And there we are, with our feet in the sand, clutching each other and crying as if it’s a final goodbye.

Eventually we break apart and walk toward the shoreline. I understand something now that I didn’t before. It wasn’t Holly I needed forgiveness from—I needed it from myself. I believe she feels the same. And now we’ve given each other permission to do just that.

“I have something for you,” Holly says, reaching into her pocket. She takes my hand, placing my long-lost claddagh ring into my palm. The gold glints in the sunshine.

“I never thought I’d see this again.” My voice catches as I slide the warm metal onto my ring finger. I can’t believe it still fits—and feels like it belongs—just as it always did.

Holly smiles as we both wipe tears from our sun-kissed cheeks.

It’s a perfect afternoon. The summer sun grips the sky as if it will never let go. A scattering of sailboats dots the horizon, moving swiftly thanks to a steady, warm, and pleasing breeze.

“What now?” I ask.

“I want to finish my story,” she says. “Will you help me?”

I squeeze her hand. My love for her feels eternal. “Of course I’ll help,” I say. “I’ll tell you everything.”





Chapter 70

Holly




New York City, three months later

“True crime? For real, Holly?” Dan scratched his head.

Holly hovered in her agent’s posh office on East 51st Street, taking in the view of the Manhattan skyline through the window behind his desk. “You said to try a new genre. So I took your advice. And it’s not too far afield from where I’ve been. There’s no apple orchard, but there are tortured sisters, a dark family legacy, and a real-life crime that went unsolved for almost two decades.”

Car horns blared outside his window, angry taxi or Uber drivers.

She’d expected to miss it more. Manhattan had colorful umbrellas, same as at the beach, but underneath them, determined food vendors sold roasted peanuts and boiled hot dogs. New York had no shortage of buskers either, but none played as discordantly as Sid’s son—the accidental hero of the story. After a few days in New York, catching up with old friends and now meeting with Dan, Holly found herself missing the cottage, the ocean waves, her friends and family in Beauport. The quaint seaside town felt like home again.

“I don’t know how you managed to get a completed manuscript to me so quickly. Maybe ocean living has been good for you,” he said from his brown leather desk chair.

“My return to Beauport has been nothing short of life-changing. And it’s all documented—right here in this book.”

Holly held up a stack of white pages she believed was the best thing she’d ever written. She had opted to hand-deliver the manuscript, even though she could have emailed it. But this book was too personal, too important to blast it off into the ether. She wanted to see Dan’s reaction. He had promised to read the first few chapters while she sat in his office.

Reading is rarely a spectator sport, but five pages in and Holly could tell he was hooked. She watched him read for a while until it was obvious he wasn’t going to be stopping anytime soon, so she went to grab some tea in the building’s cafe. When she returned a couple hours later, he was just finishing up, and she could tell he hadn’t left his chair once. He glanced up from the pages with a smile on his face as wide as a canyon. “This is all true?”

Holly nodded. “I started it ages ago as a thriller novel, but I was closer to the truth than I realized. Honestly, I’ve never written anything this fast or easily. The words just poured out of me—and thanks to Officer Finn McNeil from the Beauport PD, I can assure you that I got the procedural parts correct.”

Dan’s expression turned gloomy. “Do we have permission for this, Holly? The legal ramifications could be immense. A publisher is going to need assurances.”

“I got permission from all the parties involved to tell the story using their real names. They’re all happy to sign releases too.”

How quickly the dark clouds covering Dan’s face parted.

“I think the result is a suspenseful, true-to-life page-turner,” Holly said.

Dan agreed. He picked up the phone and started calling publishers.