Tess’s thought caught in her throat. “Can we go see him?” she asked. “Tomorrow?”
Tess didn’t get much sleep that night. She tossed and turned, and when she did nod off, her dreams were wild and unhinged and violent. And she heard the scratching, but when morning finally came, she wondered if she had dreamed it.
She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to ask Wyatt’s grandfather when they met. But one thing was for certain, the man would know Wharton’s history. He had lived at the time of Sebastian Bell’s heyday. They probably knew each other. And if there had been any disappearances or murders or scandals back then, he would know about them. Getting him to talk about it would be the difficult part.
The clock said it was six thirty-five. After trying in vain to will herself back to sleep, Tess gave up the effort. She pulled on jeans and a sweater, and bundling up in her down coat and mukluks, she snapped on Storm’s leash. Together they set out into the predawn darkness.
Jim and Jane’s lights were on. Tess figured Jim was up early to open the store. But most other houses in the neighborhood were dark. Sensible people, sleeping until the sun touched the sky. As she walked through Wharton’s dark, deserted streets, she couldn’t help conjuring up the images in those paintings. Her grandfather, or someone, had walked these same streets. They had left La Belle Vie just as she had, closed the door behind them just as she had, and had set off into the darkness.
What compelled you? What were you looking for? What made you long to observe people without them knowing it?
As an artist, her grandfather had painted moments in time. Captured those moments on canvas, interpreted through his eyes. He needed to be a keen observer, whether it was taking in an idyllic scene of his own family at the lakeshore having a picnic, or the second before tension erupted into violence in a house occupied by his neighbors.
Tess knew her mind was going in all kinds of hypothetical directions at once, but she wondered—if domestic violence had occurred, had Sebastian watched it? Had he seen what was happening in the household? Did he feed off it? Or was he repelled by it? Did he help the woman? Whether or not he felt it was for art, Tess couldn’t shake how wrong it was, watching from the shadows.
Tess sat on a bench by the lakeshore, watching the frozen lake, imagining the deep, dark water below. She was so entranced by it that she didn’t hear Jim come up behind her.
“Hey, neighbor,” he chirped. “You’re up early.” He reached down and patted Storm’s head.
Tess managed a smile. “No rest for the wicked,” she said.
Jim chuckled. “That’s what they say. Need anything? I’m just about to open the store.”
Tess pushed herself up from the bench with a groan.
“Actually, yes,” she said, perking up a bit. “I could use some coffee beans. And I don’t suppose you’ve got any fresh croissants?”
Jim smiled, pointing to a delivery truck that was pulling into the alley behind the store. “Rene is right on time,” he said. “They might even still be warm.”
That was all Tess needed to hear. They walked to the store together, Storm at their heels, and she waited as Jim opened the front door and disabled the alarm. Jim met his baker, Rene, at the back door, flipping on the lights as he went. He emerged from the back room carrying a big box—croissants, muffins, and bagels—that he always offered fresh, every day from the French Canadian–run bakery that was down the shoreline a few miles.
“One plain, one almond, please,” Tess said with a grin. “Can you put it on my tab? And not tell anyone I’m going to eat two of these?”
“You got it,” Jim said, double bagging the pastries. “Your secret is safe with me. Hurry home before they get cold.”
After a hot shower, Tess settled into her warm kitchen with a cup of freshly brewed coffee and the plain croissant, which she buttered decadently. One bite sent her into culinary nirvana. That alone was a reason to wake up early in Wharton. She wondered if she should start making croissants, but then thought better of it. She couldn’t compete with this baker. She’d just buy them from him, when the time came.
She turned on the morning shows, waiting for a decent time of day to call Wyatt. After the news, a cooking segment （she made a note to try an interesting rub for steaks）， and a celebrity promoting a new movie Tess had no desire to see, she figured he would be awake.
“Hey,” she said.
“Good morning,” Wyatt said. “How was your night?”