Page 10 of Dead of Summer
“Sounds glorious. I wish I could have joined you.”
“Tomorrow,” Faith says. He murmurs a noncommittal agreement. Out in the distance, a light glints off the waves. Faith can barely makeout the house on stilts she saw earlier. A dim light shines from one of its windows then blinks out. She points to it. “Does someone live out there?”
David’s body tenses behind her. “Ah, yes, the Rock. Home to our island’s famous recluses.” He snorts derisively.
“They never leave?” The idea of it fills Faith with questions. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.
“Not in years, as far as I know. But I don’t pay much attention. They’re total oddballs. And Henry doesn’t exactly have the best reputation.”
Faith continues to stare. The idea of a couple living out there with no contact to the outside world intrigues her. “In what way?”
But David is no longer paying attention. His face is illuminated by the screen of his phone.
“David!” she chides him.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, what happened to give him a bad reputation?” Faith says, irritation creeping into her chest. Bad enough that he’s left her alone all day but now he’s ignoring her. David must sense her frustration because he slips his phone into his pocket and takes her hand in his.
“Well, if you must know, he killed a young girl named Alice Gallo. Took her out in his boat and did god knows what to her.”
Faith’s heart jerks in her chest. “When was this?”
“Long time ago now.” His voice is gruff, and Faith can tell the conversation is hitting close to the bone. He is looking out at the Rock now, scowling. “He was never convicted, though he should have been. There was plenty of evidence though they never found the body.”
“You knew her, didn’t you?” Faith asks gently.
“Just a bit, I used to see her around Hadley in the summers. Poor thing. You can never account for what people will do when they are allowed to just follow their impulses.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s awful,” Faith says, feeling selfish. She shouldn’t have pressed it. She’s brought up something sad and traumatic on what was meant to be a relaxing night.
“Enough about them,” David says. “Leave the past in the past, isn’t that what they say?” He lifts her arm up and twirls her away from the water. “You look incredible. What is this, another of your stunning new vacation outfits? Well done.” Faith smiles, giving in.
“Never mind. Where are you thinking for dinner? I’m starving,” she says, eager for a reset. One day alone is nothing a glass of wine and a platter full of oysters won’t fix. “Elena says that the Oyster Room is incredible.”
David’s smile falters. “Actually, would you be okay with eating here on the patio tonight? Dad has asked the staff to make lobster. He has his heart set on it, I think.”
“Oh, okay.” Faith tries not to look disappointed. She has trouble imagining Geoffrey Clarke’s feelings being hurt.
“Just for tonight.” David puts his hands on her shoulders to reassure her. “Says he has something important to tell us. I’ll take you out tomorrow and show you off to the whole island.”
“Intriguing.” Faith raises her eyebrows, buoyed by the promise of being included in some interesting information.
“Come on then, let’s go dine with the most terrifying man on Wall Street. Just don’t tease him about his lobster bib.”
David holds out his arm to her and without hesitation she takes it.
Across the table, Geoffrey cracks a lobster shell in a pair of silver pliers. He peels it apart with his fingers and slurps the head from the shell. Faith finds her stomach turning as she looks down at her plate. The lobsters came out on absurdly large platters, one for each of them. She’s never liked the idea of lobsters. The boiling water, the tanks of them with their claws rubber-banded together, waiting for their time in the pot, has always made her queasy. It tugs at her conscience as she delicately pulls a claw apart, but she can’t bring herself to eat it.
Geoffrey clearly has no compunction about any of it. “Got to get in there, get your fingers dirty,” he booms at David. He hasn’t touched hislobster yet, either, Faith notices. She catches his eye, and he gives her a tired smile.
“So, David.” Geoffrey leans back in his chair. His fingers and mouth glisten with melted butter.
“So, Dad,” David replies, trying to act casual, but Faith catches the strain in his voice.
“You know I had something I wanted to tell you.” Geoffrey looks at him for a beat, drawing out the information. His eyes glitter in the candlelight. A small smirk plays on his lips; he’s enjoying keeping them guessing.
“I’m all ears,” David says.
