Looking out at the ocean, Juliet found her thoughts lingering on her husband’s first boat. She remembered the girl who had set it on fire. And by the time the sun went down on the third day of her fast, she’d seen what she’d been blind to for all those years. That girl had no reason to lie. Amber Welsh had been telling the truth.
Juliet went inside and opened the little brown bag the witch had given her. She typed the URL into her phone. Three pencil-drawn portraits appeared on her screen. One was the girl they’d found down by Danskammer Beach. The second was Amber Welsh’s daughter, who’d gone missing. When she realized she knew the third girl—the one who remained unidentified—Juliet vomited one last time. Then she went to the store and bought a pair of neoprene gloves.
Part Three
On Labor Day morning, a bloated body wearing the tattered remains of a twelve-thousand-dollar suit washed ashore on Governors Island, where it was spotted by a group of picnicking tourists. Two teenage brothers from Akron, assuming the figure was a mannequin and the smell was just eau de New York, posted pictures on social media. The photos were yanked off the site as soon as it became apparent that their subject was, in fact, a decaying corpse. By that time, however, Jo had a screenshot of one of the posts saved on her phone.
She picked up Nessa and drove along Woodland Drive to Harriett’s house. A woman neither of them had seen before opened the door.
“Hello, Jo and Nessa,” she greeted them. “I am Isabel. Harriett is waiting for you both in the garden.”
They found Harriett snipping golden pods from a beanlike vine into a basket. Each gracefully curved pod was the length of a finger and covered in velvety golden hairs.
“Cowhage,” Isabel warned when Nessa went for a closer look. “Don’t touch.”
Harriett appeared to be in an excellent mood. “I see you’ve all met,” she said. “Isabel used to work on the Pointe, but she left a bit early this year. She’ll be staying here as my guest and holding down the fort tomorrow.”
“You’re going somewhere?” Jo asked.
“Celeste and I are taking the boat out. I have an appointment on Culling Pointe.”
Harriett set her basket aside and took a seat in a chair by the firepit. “So what’s the latest?” she asked. “Spencer Harding crashed into the Hudson. John Rocca had a heart attack while chowing down on coffee cake. Jackson Dunn was killed by a swarm of bees. And I can tell just by the look on your faces that the two of you have brought more news.”
Nessa glanced at Isabel nervously.
“Isabel is one of us,” Harriett said. “She knows everything. As a matter of fact, she was at Jackson’s house, watering his plants, when he died.”
“I was traumatized,” Isabel deadpanned.
“So,” Harriett said, “what do you ladies have to tell me?”
“The girl in blue’s name is Faith Reid,” Nessa said. “Her aunt emailed me from Jamaica.”
“Jamaica? How interesting,” Harriett said. “You’re getting closer.”
“And Spencer Harding’s body washed up in New York City this morning.” Jo took out her phone and pulled up the screenshot before passing the device to Harriett.
“Oh dear. It seems as though something’s been eating his face.” Harriett looked up with a grin. “A fitting end, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Harding, Dunn, and Rocca are all dead. Is it over?” Nessa asked cautiously.
“You tell me,” Harriett said. “How’s your headache?”
“It’s still there,” Nessa admitted. “It eased up for a while, but now it’s bad as ever.”