Cold Comfort: Friday, July 12, 2024 – Alyssa (6)

I want to talk to my dad. I don’t think they’ll let me, but I say it, anyway: “I want to talk to my dad.” I’m back in the lodge with Truman and Edgar and two guards who look at each other before one turns back to me.

“He’s busy right now, but I’m sure they’ll let us know when he’s available,” he says, like it’s supposed to be reassuring.

Busy. Busy telling them what he’s been up to whenever they think Annabeth died. Was murdered. That’s bad enough, and then, what, busy telling them all he can about Dina so they can figure out if she was supposed to be kidnapped or if she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

I shake my head a little. “My brothers?” It’s not like I expect them to drop everything and come, but I just need someone who cares for me to know there’s more to worry about than me getting a bit homesick and cut-off this summer. My emails, especially to my brothers, have been blasé and dismissive: I’m fine. Getting lots of fresh air. Reading a lot of books.

The officers share another look, which is not reassuring. “We don’t know at the moment what the safest course of action will be.”

If they keep us here, the phones are down. If they let us go spend the night somewhere else, I still need to get my cell back from Jane, but I could make a call. Or even call on a landline or borrow Truman’s phone. If they keep us here, is that unlawful detainment?

“Hey.” Truman wraps his arms around me and kisses my temple. “They’re figuring it out. They don’t know who Percy’s really after, and they won’t know who he is until they find either him or Jonathan, so unless we think of something better, we just have to wait.”

Edgar crosses his arms and leans against the desk on my other side. “Any reason we can’t break into Jonathan’s cabin and find that information?”

“I don’t know if he has it on paper or digitally, but it’ll be in a safe behind a password and a biometric lock.” Truman shrugs at Edgar’s surprised huff. “He takes it all very seriously. That’s why there’s never been a security breach.”

“How did Percy get inside the other cabins?” Edgar challenges.

It’s my turn to snort. “He knocked. They opened the door. And then he didn’t shut them all the way behind him.”

He frowns. “Sloppy, or …?”

Truman starts to take a breath, but all that comes out is “Huh.”

“Or pointing the way?” I agree. “Shoot. We didn’t ask them. Jane or Henry.”

One of the officers steps out for a minute. Maybe their radios work here where cell phones don’t. I mean, they’d be pretty useless if they didn’t.

Wait, does that mean Jane and Henry are safe somewhere? A somewhere that these officers can contact, and ask for information, and get the answers we’re looking for? Maybe that was something they told Truman when I wasn’t paying much attention, or maybe they said it while I was in my cabin, showing my license and letting them do a quick look around to see that no one was hiding anywhere and it didn’t look like anything went down in here the way it did in Jane and Henry’s cabins.

It takes a while for him to come back, but his partner’s looking at him as expectantly as we are. “Percy was agitated. Close to panic.”

I nod, so they all look at me, and that was definitely not my intention. “It makes sense,” I explain, because all those eyes demand that I explain. “He went to Jane because he thought she heard something, but she told him he was wrong, so he went to Henry to find out the next part, and all that mattered was holding them back while he went on to the next person.”

“How long would it have taken you to notice something was wrong if the door hadn’t been left ajar?” one of the officers wants to know.

Truman shakes his head. “Alyssa was off today. She usually goes into town or stays in her cabin. Edgar and I were out kayaking. We don’t usually come in until lunch, and not everybody eats at the same time.”

“What about the Meyers?” he prods.

I shake my head. “If Lydia wasn’t around when someone wanted a hot sandwich for lunch, maybe, but otherwise not until dinner. And Jonathan’s in and out, shopping, doing the emails, that kind of thing. We don’t even have a strict meal schedule. Lydia puts the food out, but you can come in and get it whenever. People aren’t always predictable.”

“What about Dina Lauritsen? Uh. Agatha.” Seriously, it’s like these guys have never heard of nicknames. “Was she predictable?”

Edgar holds up his empty hands. “I was avoiding everyone as much as possible.”

I shake my head. “Some days she’d stay in for breakfast. Sometimes she did lunch with the other two—Jane and Emily—but other times I think she just avoided people, too. She’s been …” I close my eyes. “It hasn’t been a good time for my family. This isn’t really an ultimatum, but Dad wanted to give her some time away so they could both figure out what they want and finally have some sort of plan for moving forward, instead of just trying to make it day by day.” That feels like a betrayal, but he’s going to have to defend sending her here, on her own, to the police, to the media, and to himself.

“And what do you think your father wants, Miss Gladieux?” It’s oh so pointed.

Right. I’m the one who started this. “He wants her to have some breathing space and time to think about it without being pressured. He’s already bought a ring.”

“And he told you that,” the other guy jumps in. “Before you left.”

“Yeah. You have to book the cabins pretty far in advance, and I had the job, so he knew I’d be up here and that would limit how much we could talk. I don’t think he told Dina that part,” I add, like they’re going to find her and immediately blow the surprise, “but he told us. Me and my brothers.”

He nods once, perfunctorily. “How do your brothers feel about the threat of a stepmother?”

That makes me jerk back. “It’s not a threat. They’ve been together for years.”

Truman rubs my back, maybe so I can take a moment and realize yeah, of course the cop said it that way to get a reaction.

“Living in sin?” he suggests.

“So?” It comes out just dripping with scorn.

“I’m just saying,” he presses, because that’s what police do. “Maybe they didn’t want her horning in. Threatening their inheritance.”

Sighing, I cross my arms, knowing full well it’s a defensive gesture and will be read that way. “We’re not in a Grimm’s fairy tale. The only problem my brothers have is that they’re dads of young kids and they have no clue how to respond to or support either Dad or Dina without facing the fact that kids can die.”

“Die.” It’s the one with the notebook, and he taps it with the tip of his pencil. “You believe your half-sister died by accident?”

My shoulders tighten. My arms are a straitjacket. “I know we’re supposed to want justice and stuff, but there comes a point when you run up against the fact that your baby sister’s dead, and nothing anyone does will bring her back.”

“You didn’t want Annabeth Deschain dead?” he asks as though it’s impossible to believe.

“I wanted the truth.” My shrug is tight and angry. “My entire family wanted the truth. If she got up there on that stand and answered questions or tried to straighten out the timeline, then maybe we’d have it. We wanted that trial for closure, officer. You said she’s dead? Annabeth’s dead?”

He nods once. “Likely murdered.” My head shakes before I tell it to. “That’s not closure. That’s just more pain.”

---

Cold Comfort: Friday, July 12, 2024 – Agatha (4), coming August 18