“Yes.” The shopkeeper brightened, proud of herself. “That’s her name!”
Mac had had enough of the beach. He’d spent the whole day trying to figure out what kind of “fun” thing he and his son could do together. They’d made an attempt at crabbing, but Levi wasn’t really into it. Now the sun was sinking into the horizon and storm clouds were just about to block it out completely. A glacial wind was trying its best to rip his coat from him. Levi was bundled in a hat and coat and all Mac could see were his nose and mouth. They were both frozen and trying to act like they were having a good time.
The Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department knew nothing more than they had the first time Mac had visited them. Mac got the feeling they wanted him to disappear and let them work their investigation in their own way. He didn’t blame them. He didn’t like interference, either.
So he’d taken the hint and brought Levi into Deception Bay with the thought of hanging out with his son, but the weather was sure as hell making that a dicey proposition. He was trying to think what he could come up with, some kind of entertainment they could both enjoy, when his cell phone buzzed. He saw it was Gretchen and was almost grateful for the intrusion.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“A helluva lot, actually. Maybe you should leave town more often and let the rest of us do your work for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What is it?”
“You know the DNA you got back on the Preppy Pricks? And the girls, too?”
“That proved Zeke’s paternity, yes.” Mac was trying to be patient, but he could hear the edge of annoyance in his voice.
“You only asked to know the baby’s paternity.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, the tech found some other—unexpected—information in that DNA, and he called this morning to give you the news. I took the call.”
“How long is this build-up gonna go?” Mac demanded.
“Ends right here, killjoy. Your little girlfriend’s DNA matches one of the others. They’re full-on siblings.”
“What?”
“Rebecca Ryan Sutcliff is Jezebel Brentwood’s sister,” she said with relish.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Becca stood with Hudson outside their car, the wind slapping her hair around her face. They’d started driving toward the tract of land the locals called Siren Song when Becca had suddenly insisted they head away from Deception Bay and to a neighboring town to the south. Hudson hadn’t asked her why at the time, but when she proceeded to waste away half the afternoon in studied silence, hugging her dog, he’d asked her what was wrong. She’d been incapable of telling him that she didn’t want to go. After all this, she—didn’t—want—to—go. It was laughable, really, as much as she’d insisted on learning the truth, an insistence that had sent them barreling toward the coast. But now, now that she was on the brink of real discovery, she was paralyzed with fear and she didn’t know how to explain it.
“What’s going on?” Hudson had finally asked in frustration when they turned the Jetta back toward Deception Bay. Becca shook her head and kept her eyes on the road, unable to verbalize the feelings tight within her. “Maybe I should drive,” Hudson said, for about the fifth time.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not acting fine.”
“I’m just—thinking.”
“Care to include me in that thinking?”
He sounded pissed and she didn’t blame him, but she really didn’t get it herself. She was running on emotion and sensation, and a deep fear for her baby’s life that seemed to have taken control.
He wants to kill you. He wants to kill your baby. She’d repressed her last vision, but after learning from the shopkeeper that Renee had asked about Siren Song, it had come to the fore, frightening her anew. She was desperately afraid for her baby. Afraid for Hudson. Afraid for herself.
Now they were at a lookout, gazing over the darkening ocean, gathering their thoughts. The lighthouse sat on its rocky mound to the south, and the murky island beyond had disappeared behind a fog bank. Night would be upon them very soon.
“Madame Madeline knew I was pregnant,” Becca said aloud. She’d said the same thing several times over the course of the afternoon.
“She seemed more like someone suffering from dementia than a ‘seer,’” Hudson answered. He’d also said the same thing over the course of the afternoon.
“I know you want to go to Siren Song.”
“I don’t have any problem seeing Mad Maddie first, but we need to make some kind of decision soon.” His eyes scanned the horizon.
“You don’t think it’s important,” Becca accused him.
“Renee got spooked by her,” Hudson allowed. “But she didn’t really learn anything from her.”
“Except that she was going to die.”
Hudson shook his head, his jaw tight. “Someone killed my sister by running her off the road. Someone I’m going to find. I don’t believe for a minute that Mad Maddie’s prediction had anything to do with it. This was murder, premeditated, because Renee asked questions and somebody didn’t like it.”
Becca closed her eyes and let the wind throw a shiver of rain at her. It was freezing cold but it felt oddly cleansing. She heard Ringo barking from the car, scolding them for leaving him inside. “I don’t want to go to Siren Song,” she admitted.
“What is it that scares you?”
He’s there, she thought. She wanted to say the words but couldn’t form them.
“When Renee called me,” Hudson said, “I think she’d just been there. Maybe she talked to them.”
“The cult members.”
He inclined his head. “She said something about colonies of people. She was excited. She meant Siren Song.”
“And I look like them,” Becca stated flatly.
“Yeah, well, that could mean next to nothing. I just want to talk to them. See if Renee asked them about Jessie, or maybe something else.”
Becca felt ridiculous, being so stubborn, when she’d been so gung-ho earlier. But it was like Jessie’s warning was playing over and over again in her head, an endless reel. Had that been what Jessie had been trying to tell her? Siren Song? But there were too many syllables in that message. Three, instead of two. So Jessie had to be trying to tell her something else, and Becca was sure it had to do with him.
Hudson pulled her into his arms. “I can go see them by myself.”
She shook her head, unable to explain the depths of her fear. She wanted answers as much as he did, yet now, suddenly, she couldn’t take the last few steps. She was profoundly frightened in a visceral, nonsensical way.
“I don’t want anything to happen to our baby,” she whispered.
“I won’t let anything happen.”
She didn’t say it, but she wasn’t sure he would be able to stop the cataclysm she sensed was coming for her.
Hudson suggested, “Let’s get another night at the B and B. I’ll take you there, then go see the people at Siren Song.”
“No, I’m staying with you. Don’t leave me.”
“Would you feel safer back in Portland, or Laurelton?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She turned toward him, burying her face in his jacket, clutching