And how strange that all of the summer kids were back in Golden Cove when it happened. Anahera, Nikau, Vincent, Josie and Tom, Daniel and Keira. Even Christine and Peter. They’d all, but for Josie and Tom, traveled the world, seen cities that had been ancient before the first rock was broken in Golden Cove, and yet here they were, back home as the ghosts of the past began to rise.

“Do you know anyone in the Cove who looks like me?” she asked Josie. “Same height, skin tone, hair, that kind of thing.” Matilda hadn’t been able to think of anyone Anahera hadn’t already considered and warned. All probably fell outside the killer’s preferred profile for one reason or another, but Anahera had thrown a wide net. Just in case.

This time, Josie sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God, I remember now. Those women, the way they -looked… you grew up to look like them.”

“You see why I’m asking. I’ve already called around to a few women.” She listed the names.

“Okay,” Josie said through shallow breaths, “let me think.” A long pause before she said, “This isn’t connected to Miriama, then, is it?” So much hope in the words. “I mean, she doesn’t look anything like you.”

It seemed a huge coincidence to Anahera that a beautiful young woman would go missing in the same small town that might’ve been a serial killer’s hunting ground, and the two not to be connected, but none of it fit. All three hikers had vanished off the face of the earth. Miriama had been found. And no one could control the ocean.

“Hold on, I’ve got to serve a customer.” Josie was gone for two minutes and when she came back, her voice shook. “It was Evelyn. She said there were police down by the beach, too, and she saw them load something on a stretcher into a big van.”

Anahera knew this news wasn’t hers to tell. And Matilda wasn’t ready to handle an avalanche of sympathy. “He’s still a cop, Josie,” she said instead of answering the implied question. “He doesn’t share everything.”

“And here I thought you were going to be my new source of fresh gossip.” Josie’s voice continued to tremble.

“Take a breath,” Anahera said gently. “Another. One more.”

When Josie could finally speak again without breaking, she said, “The good news is, I can’t think of anyone else in town who really -fits… what do they call it? The victim profile, that’s it. All those years of watching crime shows have finally come in handy.”

Anahera tracked a fantail as the small bird with its showy tail hopped from branch to branch. “That’s good.”

“No,” Josie cried, “it’s not good! It means that you’re the only possible target in Golden Cove.”

54

Will walked through the familiar corridors that led to the forensic mortuary. It was always cold here, as if all the death that passed through had permanently stained the building.

He met no one on his journey; hardly surprising when the world outside was fading to darkness. But he knew Ankita would be waiting. Pushing through another set of doors, he clenched his gut, and went to enter the room where his friend and colleague probably had Miriama on a cold metal slab.

The door opened from the other side.

“Will.” Ankita was still wearing her scrubs, though she’d removed her gloves and apron, and the smell that clung to her was of death gone to rot. “Perfect -timing—-I just finished the postmortem.” The harsh fluorescent lighting caused an appearance of pallor even in the dark brown of her skin. “Come on, we’ll talk in my office.”

Will had no desire to see Miriama cut open. Not that laughing girl who’d brought him cake and told him she’d be back in a couple of days with another piece to tempt him.

He followed Ankita down the hall.

Once inside her office, she went to the coffee carafe on a side table, touched her hand to it. “I need to give a certain forensic tech a raise.” She poured two mugs. “We can go outside if the smell’s bothering you.”

It coated the insides of Will’s nose by now, the rot and the loss. “No, let’s talk here.” Miriama deserved the respect and Will had smelled death before, survived it. At least it wasn’t the smell of burned flesh.

His stomach turned.

Placing one mug on his side of the desk, Ankita carried hers around and sank into the battered black leather of her chair. Will took off his jacket before he sat down in the visitor chair.

In front of him, Ankita’s desk was as meticulously organized as always. Her compulsively neat nature was partly what made her such a good pathologist. Ankita never accepted anything at face value. With her, Will could be certain every suspicious bruise would be examined with a critical eye, every indication of a toxic substance analyzed.

She would do Miriama justice.

“How was the drive?”

Will shrugged. “Rain,” he said. “You know what it does to otherwise sane drivers.”

“Yes, I caught a bit of that on the way in, too.” Putting down her coffee after taking a long drink, the pathologist leaned her forearms on the desk. “You know the problem with a body that’s been submerged in water. Added to that, there was a significant delay before I had her on my table.”

“Did you manage to find anything?”