Tidepool

by Nicole Willson

  Sorrow scowled back, trying to think of a cutting reply. “And I expect that you’ll be investigating my brother’s disappearance from this place just as thoroughly?”

  Lewis blinked and looked away from her. “Miss, we have no sort of proof that anything happened to your brother here. I told you already that there’s very little we can do.”

  “Is that so?” Sorrow said. “Well, I have it on very good authority that you’re going to be getting some help with that quite soon.”

  “How so?” All Marshal Lewis’s bluster vanished, Sorrow noticed with satisfaction. And the Coopers looked at her with wide eyes.

  “My father has been in contact with some very prominent detective agencies. He is determined to get to the bottom of whatever befell Henry, even if you people don’t care. And those men could be arriving as early as today. You can explain to them why Mr. Sherman and I are being held in this town against our will.”

  Sorrow, of course, had no idea if anyone else from Baltimore was coming to Tidepool at all, much less today, but she was satisfied to see that the news flustered the man she now considered her captor.

  “Miss Hamilton…” Marshal Lewis’s hand fluttered to his throat, and he drew a breath before continuing. “I’m sure this can all be worked out. I’m afraid that detectives or no, there’s very little to go on here with regards to what might have happened to your brother.”

  “Well, then you should have nothing to worry about when they get here,” Sorrow said, raising her chin as she stared at the hateful man. “And yet I’d say you look quite worried.”

  The marshal really wanted to say something to Sorrow, she could tell. Something quite angry and perhaps even rude, judging from the way his eyes bulged and his face reddened as he pressed his lips together.

  “I will be in contact with you later on,” he said finally. “I suggest that you and Mr. Sherman stay close to the inn.”

  And without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

  “Sorrow…” Charlie began.

  “I don’t want to hear it, Charlie.” Anger boiled inside her. “I’d be safely home by now if it weren’t for you. I told you we shouldn’t have stayed here.”

  The Coopers still lingered in the sitting room, and Sorrow turned to them.

  “I’m afraid I will be needing the room for another day after all. I’m no more happy about it than you must be, but you heard the marshal.”

  Balt waved a shaky hand in the air. “Of course, Miss Hamilton. We can, perhaps, reduce the price a bit under the circumstances.”

  “That’s very gracious of you. Thank you.”

  Without another look at Charlie, Sorrow swept out of the sitting room and up the creaky wooden stairs. She shut the door to her room with a satisfying bang before sitting at her desk and gripping her head.

  Despite her bravado with Marshal Lewis, she felt quite helpless. The Spartan room felt even smaller, and she thought the squeal of the kitchen door’s hinge might drive her to madness.

  She tried to conceive of an escape plan, some way she could slip out of Tidepool without anyone noticing. But she knew she stood out as a stranger, and particularly now when she was under suspicion.

  She pulled out the stationery she had brought with her and started a letter to Father.

  “I hope that by the time you receive this letter, I am safely home. However, if I am not, it is because Charlie and I are being prevented from leaving Tidepool.

  While nobody seems to know what became of Hal or if he indeed ever left here, terrible things are happening in this place. The marshal is acting as if he must treat us like suspects, but I think something else is going on, and while I’m not sure why we are being kept here, I fear for what might become of us.

  Father, you will tell me that I shouldn’t have come here, and I will admit that you were right. I should have listened to you, and I’m sorry. If you have not already, please send investigators, police, and anyone else who might be able to exercise some authority over these awful, stupid, dreadful people—”

  Sorrow’s vision blurred with tears of frustration. She stopped and took a deep breath to collect herself before finishing the letter to Father.

  Her head ached terribly, and she realized that she’d had no more than a few hours of sleep since arriving in Tidepool. She put her head down on the desk, intending just to rest her eyes for a moment.

  The horrendous shriek of that damned kitchen door jolted her awake. Although she couldn’t tell how much time had passed, the light outside looked distinctly different. She picked up an envelope, addressed it to her father, and tucked the letter inside, planning to run it over to the post box close to the inn; nobody had told her she couldn’t write letters.

  Charlie’s door was closed. Sorrow considered knocking, but then decided that she still resented his role in causing her to be detained here.

  Nobody stopped her as she walked out of Cooper’s Inn, and she slipped Father’s letter into the post box. As she did, she started to regret being harsh with Charlie earlier. He couldn’t have anticipated what would happen this morning, and he’d only been doing what her father had asked him to do. She resolved to go back to the inn and see if he had any ideas on how to get them out of this predicament.

  As she walked back into Cooper’s, a very agitated-sounding Balt spoke from somewhere nearby. Sorrow paused in the foyer but could see no sign of him. Perhaps he was in the kitchen, then. She moved into the tavern, wondering what had the man so upset.

  “You are getting terribly careless! Don’t you understand what a mess you’re getting us all into?”

  “Mr. Cooper, I’ve told you time and again that what’s happening is not up to me. The Lords Below want what they want, when they want it.” Mrs. Oliver’s deep voice sounded from the kitchen, and Sorrow felt a chill just listening to it. That voice was as cold and pitiless as her dark eyes.

  The Lords Below? What on earth?

  “But it’s never been like this before!”

  “I agree. The creatures are stirred up and consumed with unrest. They say that a great change is coming to the world, and they will need their strength for what is to happen.”

  “What in hell does that mean?”

  “I’ve no idea, Mr. Cooper. It is not my place to challenge them.”

  Sorrow wondered if she were still asleep at her desk, dreaming this surreal conversation. Lords? Unrest? Creatures? None of it made any sense.

  “And now you’ve got those folks from Baltimore mixed up in all of this,” Balt continued. “That girl’s yelling about her father sending detectives down here.” Sorrow’s stomach grew cold.

  “They can send in the entire US military if they like. There will be nothing for them to find.”

  She was talking about Henry. Charlie. Sorrow.

  “Leave the visitors to me, Mr. Cooper.”

  That was all Sorrow had to hear. She tiptoed out of the tavern, hoping she could avoid making the floorboards creak, and stole upstairs. She knocked on Charlie’s door just as the kitchen door squealed again.

  He opened it, looking disheveled and tired.

  “Hello there, Sorrow.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No. Maybe. I’m not sure I could call what I was doing ‘sleeping,’” he said, giving her a lopsided smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  He looked quite startled when she entered his room and shut the door.

  “Sorrow, the Coopers might not approve of—”

  “Charlie, shush. Listen to me. Whatever is going on in this town, Ada Oliver is behind it.”

  Charlie stared at her for a moment and then laughed. “Come now, Sorrow. I know the woman seems rather odd, but you can’t tell me she did that to that man on the beach this morning.”

  Sorrow shook her head.

  “She spoke of… creatures.” It sounded absurd when she repeated it, and yet there had been nothing funny to her about Mrs. Oliver’s conversation with Balt.


  Charlie dropped his chin and stared at her. “Creatures? What creatures?”

  “I don’t know. But she’s in league with them. And I just overheard Balt Cooper giving her quite the scolding for being careless. Whatever is happening in this place, it wasn’t meant to involve us, and he’s quite unhappy that it did.”

  “Sorrow, that makes no sense. Are you sure you heard them correctly?”

  “Yes. And I’m aware of how it sounds. But think about it. I didn’t believe anything human could do what was done to that man. Well, perhaps nothing human did.”

  Charlie ran a hand over his tousled blond hair and shook his head.

  “Sally, it was probably a shark attack. You do realize that these people likely grew up hearing tall tales about monsters in the sea, don’t you?”

  “But Marshal Lewis—”

  “The marshal’s putting on a show for the out of towners.”

  She nearly laughed. “What?”

  “He’s talking tough.” Charlie was warming himself up to this, Sorrow saw; the color returned to his face as he spoke and he began gesturing like an orchestra conductor, something he always did when an idea excited him. “Doesn’t want us going back to Baltimore and nixing any development deals just because we saw something terrible happen. He wants us to know he’s in control.”

  “Oh, Charlie.” Sorrow shook her head. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

  “I know these sorts. I’ve dealt with them before. All bluster and puff.”

  “That’s absurd. And it has absolutely nothing to do with what I just heard. Mrs. Oliver is behind this. Whatever the marshal is doing, it’s irrelevant. And I intend to get to the bottom of it all.”

  Charlie raised an eyebrow. “And how are you going to do that, when no one will tell us a thing?”

  “I’m going to go to that woman’s house and inform her that either she can tell me where Henry is, or she can tell my father’s detectives when they arrive.”

  “But Sally—”

  “Father’s expecting us to arrive in Baltimore today, yes? He’ll notice when another of his children goes to Tidepool and doesn’t come back. He’s not going to just sit around idly after that happens again.”

  Charlie sighed. “Then perhaps the thing to do is just stay here and try to keep out of trouble. If you truly think Mrs. Oliver is killing visitors to the town, then going up there to antagonize her is hardly going to accomplish anything. And I don’t want you to be the next chewed-up corpse washing up on the beach.”

  Sorrow felt heat rise to her cheeks; Charlie dropped her gaze for a second as if he himself were a little embarrassed by what he’d just let slip.

  Very tentatively, Charlie took her hands in his. His fingers were warm and felt strong as they closed over hers.

  “Sally, someday this is all going to be a funny story to tell everyone back home, and nothing more. But only if we play this smart. So we go along with the marshal and his tough guy act. Let him beat his chest, play to the locals.”

  “If it only involved us, I’d agree. But I want to know what happened to Hal, especially if there’s even the slightest possibility he could still be here somewhere.”

  “And your father will be sending along the people who can find that out. But we can’t do it alone. You know we can’t. We’re outnumbered. Promise me you won’t do anything rash, Sally.”

  Charlie squeezed Sorrow’s hands rather tightly, and so she had to mentally cross her fingers as she replied “Fine. I won’t.”

  A sharp knock on the door made them both jump.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE PRANK

  Charlie released Sorrow’s hands and answered the door. Balt Cooper stood there sporting his usual watery-eyed, anxious look. He seemed a bit surprised to see them together, but recovered quickly.

  “Mrs. Ada Oliver would like to meet with both of you,” he said. “In the tavern.”

  Charlie and Sorrow glanced at each other as an arrow of fear shot through Sorrow’s midsection. She had been quite prepared to go to Mrs. Oliver’s home and confront her; she hadn’t expected Mrs. Oliver to bring the confrontation to her.

  But lacking any immediate reason not to go downstairs, she finally looked at Balt.

  “Alright.”

  “If we must,” Charlie added.

  Balt raised an eyebrow at that before turning away.

  Surely that woman wouldn’t attempt anything in the tavern. Would she? As she made her way down the steps, Sorrow wished she could feel more certain about that.

  Mrs. Oliver sat in her familiar burgundy armchair close to the fireplace, her back to the entrance. She turned to look at them and then stood.

  “Mr. Sherman and Miss Hamilton.” She nodded to each of them in turn. “I understand that Marshal Lewis has insisted you remain in Tidepool for the time being. I find the notion that you could have anything to do with the events here ridiculous, and I thought you might join me for lunch back at my home for a brief respite from this inn. And I’d like to continue our discussions about property development, Mr. Sherman.”

  Sorrow wasn’t sure whether to scream in horror or laugh at Mrs. Oliver’s sheer nerve. Granted, Mrs. Oliver didn’t know Sorrow had overheard her talk with Balt, but could she seriously believe Charlie still had any interest in developing a town that was holding him and Sorrow captive?

  Charlie did the refusing for her.

  “Mrs. Oliver, I appreciate that offer very much and I’m sure Miss Hamilton does as well. But we’ve been told we cannot so much as leave the inn until Marshal Lewis has questioned us about the events of this morning. And after that, we must be going. Miss Hamilton’s father is expecting us back today; he’s going to be quite alarmed if the two of us don’t appear in Baltimore some time tonight.”

  Mrs. Oliver regarded them for a moment before speaking.

  “Marshal Lewis will not argue if you accompany me. He understands that I would hardly smuggle you out of town. And in any event, it’s likely that you will be unable to depart today. The marshal can be … methodical.”

  “And by that you mean ‘slow’?” Charlie said with a wry tone.

  “Precisely.” There was no corresponding wry tone in Mrs. Oliver’s voice.

  “Well, we’ve warned the marshal that her father is already very impatient to get his daughter back.” Charlie tipped his head towards Sorrow. “After all, he’s already got a son who has yet to return from this place. If the marshal takes too long, he may find himself getting some outside help when Miss Hamilton’s father sends in the cavalry.”

  While Charlie and Mrs. Oliver talked, Sorrow turned things over in her mind. This was her chance to see the place owned by the woman who appeared to know what was happening here and why. She wondered if Quentin would be there, lurking around. If he was, she wondered if she could get him by himself and persuade him to tell her what had happened to Henry. Assuming, of course, that the strange young man truly knew and wasn’t just acting out.

  “I think lunch at your home would be lovely, Mrs. Oliver,” she said. Charlie broke off and looked at her in surprise. Mrs. Oliver merely gazed at her.

  “I’m glad to hear that. Please, come along with me now.”

  Mrs. Oliver took a moment to speak to the Coopers about something, and Charlie edged close to Sorrow.

  “You sure about this?” he whispered. “You were scared half to death of her just a little while ago.”

  “And I’m still wary. But I want to see what she does. She’s been hot to get me over there since I arrived. Besides, if there’s any sign of Hal anywhere in her house, I need to find it.”

  Charlie shook his head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Sally.”

  She squeezed his hand quickly and gently, choosing to overlook his use of that hated nickname for the moment. “Let’s just watch out for each other when we get there. We stay together, no matter what. Besides, how likely is she to try something if she knows outside forces will come looking for us?”

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nbsp; Charlie’s brows knotted, as if he weren’t too sure about that idea. But before he could say anything else, Mrs. Oliver returned and led them out of the inn and up Water Street, which had become an expanse of mud after the morning rain. Sorrow lifted her dress slightly as she walked, avoiding puddles and hoping she could keep her hem from trailing on the ground and getting filthy. The morning rainfall had done nothing to alleviate the humidity in the town, and Sorrow swiped a hand over her forehead as they made their way up the main street.

  She marveled once again at the enormous cemetery they passed on the way up the hill. She could scarcely believe there had ever been this many people in the town in all of Tidepool’s history.

  And there was that odd sign again, darkened from the rain.

  If ye give not willingly, the Lords will rise.

  The Lords. Mrs. Oliver had mentioned them to Balt during their bizarre conversation. Who—or what—did that refer to?

  Somehow, Sorrow was not surprised that the enormous brick home looming at the top of the hill was Mrs. Oliver’s. The mansion was the only structure in Tidepool that didn’t appear to be on the verge of collapse. The emerging sun sparkled off the Atlantic as they followed Mrs. Oliver up the walkway to the front steps. Barren trees stretched over the front walk, and Sorrow half expected their branches to reach down and ensnare her and Charlie.

  Mrs. Oliver opened the large front door and motioned for them to follow.

  The house was not quite as opulent inside as Sorrow had expected, but it was still impressive. A polished wooden staircase ran up the right side of the dim entrance foyer. A large painting of a stern, almost cruel-looking man dominated the entranceway. His eyes made Sorrow shudder; they reminded her of Mrs. Oliver’s dark, pitiless stare.

  Charlie glanced back at Sorrow, and she smiled as if to tell him that she was all right.

  “Now, let me just see to things in the kitchen,” Mrs. Oliver said.

  “Don’t put yourself to too much trouble on our behalf, Mrs. Oliver,” Charlie called out.

  Sorrow was wondering if she and Charlie could steal away and start discreetly peering in rooms when Mrs. Oliver’s harsh, angry shout rang through the house.