The Sky Beneath Her(69)

“But you look at me and everyone on this ship as if you’re worried.”

“Worried about strangers? Not so uncommon for a woman alone.”

“You’re careful to keep your counsel, and the only people I’ve seen you speak to are me and the young US sailor.”

And Sigrid. “He joined me on the deck.”

“And you were comfortable with him because he was likely very unaware of your past.”

I rested my knitted fingers on the table. “My past isn’t perfect but hardly noteworthy. And it’s over.”

“Is it?” He shook his head, his eyes sharpening with a cunning that I hadn’t seen before. “Who is chasing you, Frau Werner? Why do you always look so afraid?”

“I’m a widow traveling to the United States. I want to escape the war.” I leaned forward. “Why would a book dealer care about me? I am nothing. Why are you so curious?”

He grinned. “I’m inquisitive by nature.”

At that moment, Sigrid and William entered the dining hall. Both were well dressed and looked perfectly polished. My gaze dipped, but I watched them closely under hooded eyes.

“Do you know them?” Dr. Brooks asked.

“Their room is next to mine.”

“Ah. So, you have heard the fights.”

I stilled. “Excuse me?”

“They aren’t a happy couple. I’ve seen the way he controls her interactions.”

“You’re quite in the know, Dr. Brooks.”

There was that grin. “Again, details matter in the book-trading business. And I do enjoy watching people.”

“And who else on this ship have you been watching?”

“I watch everyone. All the time.”

“That makes you sound like a spy.” There were many spies in Vienna. Ever since the civil war a decade ago, neighbors had often turned against neighbors. Everyone watched their words because the most traitorous could look the most innocent.

He laughed. “Now who would want a simple man like me as a spy?”

“Isn’t that the point? It’s important to blend in.” Could Alfred have more spies on this ship? I didn’t know Dr. Brooks and needed to remember he was not my friend.

The amusement from his face never faded. “I have underestimated you.”





Chapter Twenty-Five


Tula





Sunday, June 14, 2026, 9:30 p.m.


Nathan had not tried to kiss me, and when he dropped me off at the Brooks house, I hesitated. We sat in the silence before I said, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

I wasn’t sure what the date had meant. “I haven’t had such a good time in years.”

“Same.”

Out of the vehicle, I fished the heavy key from my pocket, hurried to the front door, and unlocked it. Flipping on the light, I looked back at Nathan’s truck. He waved and then backed out onto the road. The truck soon vanished around a curve.

I closed the door behind me and stood in the silence. The dust danced and swirled in the light leaking through gaps between the blinds and windows.

I unlocked the back door and walked out onto the deck and moved toward the dune stairs. The ocean breeze was still warm and the stars burned bright in the night sky. I inhaled, listening as the ocean rolled up onto the sand. In the spray and sliding waters, a faint whisper rose above the churn.

How could you not love me?

The waters on the horizon were smooth and the air soft. Days like this convinced almost anyone that beach living was the way to go. On days like this, the ocean was benevolent. It spoke so softly no one saw the big stick clutched behind its back.

Anxiety should have been tightening my chest. I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t. The pull of this kind version of the monster was seductive.

I turned back toward the house. I stepped out of the fading light into the house, which was now catching moonlight.

Next week would be my last helping Kaitlin, and though I enjoyed her company, I was ready to move on to something else. I didn’t know what that was, but I was headed in the right direction.

As tempted as I was to return to the manuscript, I felt an obligation to give this house my time. After changing out of my dress, I spent a good hour boxing up the books in the middle of the living room. Once they were sealed and the sheets and towels in large trash bags, I turned my attention back to Dr. Brooks’s papers.

I hefted a box onto the large desk in the office and found several images of Dr. Brooks. In the first, he was on the back porch of this house, smiling up from a newspaper as if he was happy to humor the photographer. In many of the pictures he was surrounded by books, magazines, and newspapers. A man of letters. A doctor of sorts who had been based in Norfolk, but who’d escaped to this house whenever he could. I wondered who’d taken the pictures. Maybe the woman in the photographs?

I pulled the yellowed newspaper clipping that covered a local hit-and-run accident that had occurred on the beach road in Nags Head in the sixties. A driver had struck and killed a man who’d been trying to cross the busy road on a moonless night. The driver had not stopped, and at the time of the reporting, the crime wasn’t solved.

I smoothed out the article and dug through the layers of images. As I excavated deeper, I found more pictures from the fifties and sixties of the doctor and the lovely woman. She smiled in all the pictures, but her face was always slightly turned and her gaze glancing away from the lens.