by Iris Kincaid
“You’re right that there are a few nasty storms out there, but they’re not coming in our direction. One is going to head down southeast, one due east, straight out to sea, and the other, northeast, straight to Greenland. They’re not going to get anywhere near Oyster Cove, and they’re not going to cross paths. They’ll rage out there for a little while, and then they will fizzle out. So, I do really appreciate your being worried about my family. But you’re a little off on this one. Way off. Don’t give up your day job.”
Martine took a deep breath. “You say that there’s a weather service that everyone uses before they go out fishing? Okay, show it to me.”
She pulled out her laptop and waited expectantly. Morgan saw no reason not to humor her. In fact, maybe this would help bring her back to her senses as long as she saw an official report that said everything was going to be fine.
“See. Here’s the forecast for boats heading out tomorrow, and they got the all-clear.”
“So they did. This is, uh . . . a really useful service. And you say everyone uses it?”
“Everyone. That’s how reliable it is. So how about some pizza?”
“That sounds really good. But I’ve got to finish up one job first, and then I’ll meet you over at Stone Hearth. At one o’clock?”
“You got it.”
After Morgan’s departure, Martine was able to find a comfortable seat and settled down to the job of hacking into the favorite weather channel of the local fishing industry.
*****
By early evening, the town of Oyster Cove was buzzing with the danger of the impending perfect storm. How had the forecast changed so quickly and so treacherously? It was an awfully good thing that the report had been updated before a lot of clueless people had blindly wandered into a killer storm.
Morgan stopped by the family home to wish them good luck and was greeted with the news that their fishing trip was sadly going to have to be postponed. Probably for a few days, just to be on the safe side. This looked to be the worst storm of the last ten years.
How could this possibly be? This was exactly what Martine had predicted. Was she some meteorology savant who could put the local forecasters to shame? Was she a jaw-dropping genius who was going to set the world meteorology on fire? Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Or was she a hacker, who he had just assisted into breaking into this very influential forecasting station and had changed the information in it to match her nutty and ill-informed predictions?
Absolutely furious, Morgan made out immediately for Martine’s apartment.
*****
But Martine knew better than to be waiting for him. She knew Morgan was going to want to have a word with her, and she really thought she wanted to delay that as long as possible. So, she was hanging out in the part of town that was not close to her apartment, not close to his boat, and not close to the Beaumonts’—in short, she really didn’t want to run into anyone she knew.
No such luck. Because walking down the street in her direction was not only one person whose face was familiar to her, but two others whose faces were familiar, simply because they all had the same face. They were triplets. It was the woman in black that she had bumped into at the grocery store and her siblings. They stopped right in front of her, blocking Martine’s path.
“What are you sorry about?” one of them demanded.
“Sorry? Sorry? Am I sorry?” Martine asked in confusion.
“When you touched me in the grocery store, you saw a vision, didn’t you? A premonition. Yes, we know who you are now. You’re one of the commoners who has brought Lilith Hazelwood back into our lives, if only one small slice of her at a time. You have her foresight. And you saw our future. What did you see?”
Witches. As if this wasn’t already going to be a difficult week, with an unsolved murder, a frightening contractor, a threatening con artist, and the boyfriend who was going to be really, really angry at her. Did she really need witches on top of all that?
“Sometimes, the future is so sad that it’s best not to know about it. Like Delphine said, it would just consume you with worry, and you still wouldn’t necessarily be able to avoid it. So best to take life as it comes, good or bad, don’t you think?”
“No, we don’t think. We want to know. And you’re going to tell us.”
“I guess that means you all can’t see the future. Delphine can’t either. Lilith must’ve been unusually talented.”
The trio grimaced at the mention of Oyster Cove’s most powerful menace.
“Lilith has no need for anyone to praise her now. What we have need of is to know what darkness lies ahead for us.”
Martine had gone to such great lengths to try and avoid fatal disaster for the Beaumonts, because they were a family that mattered to her so much. Well, here was another family before her. And she had no bond with them, and she certainly couldn’t relate to them, but weren’t they just as entitled to try to protect themselves and their future as anyone?
“I did see a really sad scene from your future. Two of you were attending the funeral of the third. So that’s what I was sorry about. I’m sorry for your loss. Your future loss. I hope that you . . . whichever two of you remain . . . are able to give each other the comfort that you need in such a difficult situation.”
It was sobering news, frightening, enraging news. And it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Give me your hands,” one of them demanded to Martine. “Give me your hands and tell us everything.”
They were a formidable group. The sooner Martine complied, most likely, the sooner they would let her off the hook. She reached out to hold the outstretched hands. The same funeral scene appeared before her.
“The two who survive are frightened for their own future. One of them says, ‘Her vengeance reaches from the grave. And now she will pick us off, one by one.’”
“One of us was killed by a spirit on the other side? Who is seeking vengeance? There’s only one person that could be. What are we going to do?”
This was the best thing that Lilith had heard since her own demise. Martine’s powers of forecast had finally led her to her killers. But somehow, she was going to be able to strike back at them. She was going to kill one of them. And because the strength of their powers was dependent on one another, the remaining two would be in such a weakened state that they could be easily finished off.
Even though she didn’t know how this glorious vengeance would come to pass, right now, it was enough to know that revenge and satisfaction were her destiny. Now that the Hatch sisters had become aware of their doom, she could enjoy their fear and suffering as well.
Martine listened to the Hatch sisters’ angry agonizing and slowly backed away.
“Sorry for the bad news. Gotta go.” And she scurried away, well aware that they could have stopped her had they been of a mind to. Fortunately, they were otherwise preoccupied.
*****
It was a confrontation that couldn’t be avoided indefinitely. Particularly since Morgan was camped out on the front steps of Martine’s apartment building. Perhaps she should have thought of staying in a motel.
“Tell me that you did not do what I think you did,” Morgan began.
“What do you think I did?”
“I think that you hacked into the weather forecast service that I showed you, and then you took away the proper, accurate, scientifically sound forecast for tomorrow and substituted your wild, unfounded predictions about this mega-killer storm.”
“That’s precisely what I did, and I hope you’d understand why. If you saw people you care about walking into danger, wouldn’t you do something to prevent it?”
“Sure, if it was based on reality. But not crazy amateur meteorology. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Not just to my family, which is huge. But the whole fishing industry up and down the coast. This was a really big trip. It wasn’t just a daytrip. It was an overnight five-day major haul, and they were going out deep. And my father and brother were going to come back with enough fish to
pay for four months’ groceries and college funds for the little ones. It was a big, big trip.
“And now, that is a huge chunk of money that they’re not going to have. Do you know how tight things get in the winter for fishing families? They’ve all got about six or seven months of income that has to cover twelve months of living, and that extra five months—keeping food on the table for that extra five months—that’s a big part of what these big-haul trips are all about.”
“Morgan. I hope you know how much I care about your family. I already love them. I do. So much that I was willing to do anything to keep them out of harm’s way. I know it’s hard to see that right now. But you will. By tomorrow night, you will. Now, I know you’re still mad, but it’s late, it’s been a really long day, and I have an appointment in the morning, so I really need to get some sleep.”
“An appointment? With Dr. York?”
“How did you know about Dr. York?”
“She was my mom’s psychiatrist after my uncle died. Mom really went off the deep end. Not just grief—it was almost like she went crazy. So, she was in therapy for a year before she really started coming back to normal. And I know it’s none of my business—although it kind of is—but I saw you with Dr. York, so I know you’re in some kind of therapy. I’m just wondering . . . I’m just asking you to consider whether you’re seeing things clearly right now or whether you’re—”
“Crazy?” Martine demanded to know.
“Confused.”
Even though part of her understood Morgan’s limitations in making sense of her actions, Martine still did not appreciate being called confused.
“Good night,” she said through gritted teeth, storming into her building.
Morgan made his way back to this boat that night in a very agitated mood. His girlfriend was a nutcase and his family was going to be broke.
*****
So far, Martine was none too impressed with Dr. Emily York’s insight. Of course, she was handicapped by her lack of knowledge of all things witch-related. And with that void, how could you possibly make sense of what was happening in Martine’s life?
“My boyfriend is so mad at me. I think he may break up with me. Which is so depressing and so unfair. I was only trying to look after his family.”
“How were you trying to look after his family?”
“I had a premonition. You’re one of the only people I can talk to about them, even though you don’t believe in them. But I saw that a terrible killer storm was coming and that two members of his family were going to die. So I hacked into the weather forecast service that all the fishing families use, and I put in a forecast about the storm and told everyone to stay home and stay safe.”
“Martine. I know that you have a very large imagination, so I’m not entirely sure whether this hacking into the weather system is another one of your visions or if it is a reality, but that seems so unlikely. How could you possibly know how to hack into this private broadcast station?”
“Uh . . . because of a hacker. Because it’s what I do. And because I’m very good at it. I can get into schools. I can get into stores. I can get into banks. And I can get into the police station. This weather channel? Piece of cake.”
“How can you be so sure that you’re not projecting an appealing scenario that you would like to be true?”
Martine pulled out her computer, pulled up her file on Dr. Emily York, and maneuvered her way right into the doctor’s bank account.
“Yesterday, you spent forty-two dollars at the hardware store, a hundred and twenty dollars for vitamins online, and fifteen dollars for Mexican food on your way home from work.”
Dr. York’s mouth dropped.
“I’m a hacker. Say . . . this is all privileged information, isn’t it?”
The doctor regained her composure. “You did do this. You went into this private website that people rely on for information to keep them safe, and you changed it. That was a terrible thing to do. You know, I have cousins in the fishing industry. This is something that affects so many Oyster Cove families. Martine, this is seriously criminal behavior.”
“But still privileged, right?”
The doctor glowered at her.
By the time Martine left the doctor’s office, there was already a blustery breeze going through town, and a light rain was beginning. It was the calm before the storm. Hopefully, her warning had been heeded. All she could do now was wait.
CHAPTER TEN
By mid-evening, helicopters and the Coast Guard were able to confirm Oyster Cove’s deadliest storm in recent memory. Well, it was technically the worst storm in a lifetime of memory, but it was not the deadliest because no one’s boat had gone out. No one had been caught unawares in this fearsome killer storm. Everyone was able to sleep snug and relieved in their beds. Yes, a lot of income had been lost. But even that could have been worse. Their ships would have sunk straight to the bottom, along with untold lives.
It could’ve been the most tragic day of the town’s life. Instead, it was the most grateful, the most deliriously relieved, and the day that would be spoken of for years to come.
*****
The rain was falling so heavily the following morning that Martine just listened to it from her bed, in no hurry to get up. It was slated to stop by midafternoon as the storm finally did veer off due east. Until then, she was just going to hunker down in her apartment and contemplate the messy confusion that had become her life.
A knock on the door made her wonder whether she had lost track of one of her hacker appointments. Hopefully, they wouldn’t mind that she was still in her bathrobe. But it was Morgan, sopping wet and absolutely speechless.
“Get in here. Nope. That’s far enough. Stand right there. This is a nice hardwood floor.”
She ran to get big terrycloth towels. “You came out in this horrible weather without so much as an umbrella, and you think I’m crazy,” Martine scolded as she helped pull off his jacket and dried his hair and beard.
Morgan took the scolding gladly, particularly since it involved having Martine so close to him, patting him dry.
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you. I will never be able to thank you for what you did. For what you prevented. For what you didn’t let happen.”
It always feels good to be right. Especially when the one who was wrong doesn’t begrudge you one tiny bit. The Beaumonts were safe. They were definitely both on the same side of that concern.
“Did you sleep on your boat?” asked Martine, thinking of the storm-tossed waves.
“No, I went to the house and slept in my old room with Anchor. But there’s no telling what got knocked around on the boat or what it might’ve banged into it. I was going to go by as soon as the rain stops this afternoon and take a look. Will you come with me?”
“Yeah. But you look really tired.”
“Anchor snores. I was really just so happy that he’s still alive to snore. But I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep, no.”
“Well, why don’t we take a little nap and wait the rain out?” Martine suggested. “An actual nap.”
She did not have to twist Morgan’s arm. He had almost lost everything that mattered to him, including Martine. And now he was the happiest man in the world.
As he slept in her arms, Martine flashed through a whole scrapbook of future memories, including a glimpse of Morgan in his early fifties, a sinfully sexy silver fox. Okay, if he was going to look that good, then she was definitely going to have to forgive him.
*****
Martine had told Morgan just the broad strokes about the search for Theodore Kingston’s killer and her assisting Jeremy, omitting mention of the unsavory characters she had run into recently. But as they strolled along the marina, having checked Morgan’s boat for damage, the human drama that she had become a part of unfolded before them.
“I know those people,” Martine said.
She was referring to Naomi Webster and Zachar
y Brooks, who appeared to be engaged in something of a heated argument. Martine gave Morgan a more detailed debriefing about the possible homicide and the frequent and mysterious appearances of Naomi Webster.
Naomi had been seen arguing numerous times with Theodore Kingston, which appeared to be his doing. But Martine had also witnessed her arguing with Brady over the sale of his business. And now she was arguing with the buyer of the business, Zachary Brooks. Why was she taking such a personal interest in the selling of this yacht business? Frankly, why wasn’t she just relieved to have Theodore Kingston out of her life? If he was murdered, was this some kind of connection with this woman? And if not, why did she keep popping up?
Of course, Martine had not forgotten that Naomi would eventually find herself on the wrong end of a gun’s barrel. But as for who held the gun, she had no idea. Warning Naomi would be doubly difficult, not knowing for sure who her assailant was and trying to convince someone that she knew something bad was going to happen to them. She had already given that a try very recently.
Morgan listened with interest and then with increasing alarm as Martine talked about her involvement in the investigation. “This sounds pretty intense. The sounds like police business. Why should you be putting yourself at risk?”
“It’s still a suicide, as far as the police are concerned. I’m pretty sure they’re wrong. Everything about this feels wrong. It feels like something is seriously going on under the surface, if we could just put two and two together.”
“We, huh? I don’t know if I like the sound of this Jeremy character. Is he good-looking?”
Martine gave him a playful shove. “He’s hella-cute. He’s also dating the mayor. He’s a really good guy. You’d like him.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
“Hey, that’s the guy I told you about. That’s the nephew, Brady Kingston.”
Along the promenade, Brady was standing next to his uncle’s black BMW with a For Sale sign on the back window, and he appeared to be negotiating with a potential customer.
“Book value is thirty grand. And she runs like a dream. But if you’ve got cash, I’m willing to take a hit. Twenty-two thousand cash, and she’s all yours.”
