As usual, Remi was her temporary savior, planting a profoundly welcome cup of coffee in her hand. “Everything OK, boss?” he asked, his demeanor suggesting he didn’t want to step over any boundaries between them.
“Has Sandra Harrington evacuated yet? I need to see her,” said Laurie. “It’s not right for her to wait so long to find out about her husband.”
“I just spoke to Gemma. They haven’t left yet. You need me to come?”
Laurie shook her head. “You need to get going. Have Ava and the children set off yet?”
“Yes, they went this morning.”
“Get going, Remi. I told you. There’s enough of us here.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’ll drive you off the island myself if you don’t get going, now get,” said Laurie, smiling as Remi gave her a hug for the first time since they’d worked together.
Laurie shut down her laptop and packed it away. It wasn’t the first time the station had prepared for an incoming storm since Ike had struck, and anything of value had already been securely stored. Even though the wind was raging, the threat of a full-scale hurricane still felt distant to her. But as she left the building and drove to the seawall, the reality of the situation began to hit harder.
The waves were lapping at the seawall, as if biding their time. Laurie had seen the very same road covered by water before, but it was an ominous sign seeing the water this far in already. She sent a message to Gemma, telling her she was on her way, as she moved back inland to avoid the queues of evacuating islanders.
Gemma replied instantly. Sandra has been in bed for the last two hours. Everything is packed so she’s ready to go.
Laurie drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. There could be no good time to bring her news like this, she knew, but the idea of delivering it when she was already laid out by grief seemed incredibly cruel.
It took another thirty minutes to reach the house. Again, Laurie circled back to it: a second death notice in a matter of days. She hardly needed reminding how quickly someone’s life could unravel, but it was hard to fathom that only days ago Sandra Harrington had a husband and daughter, and now would be facing up to a future utterly alone.
Gemma met her at the front door. “Sandra is still asleep. I’ve been packing for her,” she whispered, as she let Laurie in.
“Tilly?”
“Back with her father. They’re planning to leave as soon as they can.”
“Has Sandra said where she’s planning to go?”
“To her parents in Dallas.”
“I might need you to go with her,” said Laurie, before telling the officer about Glen Harrington.
Gemma was speechless for a few seconds before replying. “Of course I’ll go with her,” she said. “I don’t think she’ll be in any fit state to drive anyway.”
“Could you see if you can wake her up?” said Laurie, before catching sight of Sandra Harrington walking down the staircase wearing a thick navy robe, her hair darting in numerous directions, her face a fright mask of smudged makeup.
“Hello, Sandra,” said Laurie. “Come on, let’s get you some coffee.”
Sandra didn’t answer. She walked past them both toward the kitchen, where she began filling the coffee machine with beans.
“I can do that,” said Gemma.
“No,” said Sandra quite forcefully, before regaining her composure. “Sorry, I need to be doing something. You found him yet?” she asked, glancing at Laurie.
“Please, come and sit down, Sandra.”
Sandra shook her head, pouring water into the coffee machine before switching it on. While the roar of grinding beans broke the silence for a few seconds, Laurie indicated to Gemma that she should take over in the kitchen.
Laurie led Sandra to the dining table, the smell of stale wine strong on the woman’s breath. As they both sat, Laurie thought how similar they were. Both had lost daughters. Sandra was going through the early stages of grief and had turned to alcohol for comfort, whereas she was in a different stage, albeit one she suspected felt exactly the same. What had she turned to for comfort, she wondered, before glancing down at her hyper-toned body, which felt as devoid of curves as a slab of useless meat.
“This isn’t going to be easy to hear, Sandra,” she said.
Sandra smiled at her as if she was simple, as if anything could possibly be worse than finding out your daughter was dead.
“I’m afraid we found Glen’s body this morning at your apartment building in Houston. I can’t confirm for sure, but it seems highly probable that he has taken his own life.”
Sandra sat open-mouthed as the news filtered through to her. “Did he kill her?” she said, taking Laurie by surprise.
“You mean Grace?” said Laurie, glancing over at Gemma, who came and sat next to Sandra. “We just don’t know at this stage. We’ve been unable to find a note from him as yet.”
Sandra allowed Gemma to put her arm around her but remained tensed, her back iron-straight.
“Do you think he killed her, Sandra?” asked Laurie.
“It wouldn’t surprise me. He was a monster. He had no morals, no compassion, and I’m glad he’s dead. Now, let’s get this coffee. I’d like to get out of this town before that hurricane hits, and I don’t ever want to come back.”
Chapter Thirty
Laurie checked through Glen Harrington’s office in search of a suicide note before leaving the house empty-handed. Gemma remained with Sandra, helping her to pack and secure anything left behind. Laurie wondered if Sandra would be as good as her word and never return to Galveston. Grace’s body had been transferred to the pathologists in Houston, and Glen’s body would be there soon, too, so there may never be a need for her to return. And if Hurricane Heather proved to be as destructive as everyone now seemed to anticipate, Galveston’s infrastructure would be seriously curtailed in the coming months.
As she drove from Offatts Bayou, Laurie wondered if her own time in Galveston might also be coming to an end. She’d made a life on the island after getting posted here, but what was left of it now? Milly was gone, and David was receding from her. Her only real connection to the city was her job, and that was something she could do elsewhere. The hard truth was that every second in Galveston felt like it would always be a reminder of Milly. How could she run along the beaches, or swim in the gulf, without thinking about what could have, should have been? The three of them would have been so happy, and now making any kind of happiness here seemed like a distant dream.
Along the coast, it appeared everyone was thinking along the same lines, if only temporarily. The traffic toward the causeway crept along like a funeral procession, the faces in the vehicles haunted. There had been fatalities in Galveston during Ike, and in some ways the city was still recovering from that time. People had lost their homes and businesses, and many hadn’t returned. Those who prayed would no doubt be in contact with their maker right now, and from the look of it more people than last time were taking the warnings seriously. Another truth was that little had changed since Ike. Plans had been floated of ways to protect the area from further storms, but all such ideas cost vast amounts of money and what money there was had been spent on rebuilding. If Heather did make landfall tomorrow, power would almost certainly disappear in most areas. No matter what, the next few weeks, at the very least, were going to be extremely unpleasant for anyone left on the island.