"What?" he said, taking the boy by the shoulder.
"I said," Matt told him as if he should have known, "I went to find Lilla and make her give you and Mom back. And she did! She really and truly did!"
"Lilla," Peg said dully.
Matt's eyes widened in excitement, in relief. "Yes, honest, Mom! She was in the cave. I went there and she was there. I was real scared at first because she was acting all funny, but then I told her what I wanted and she said okay, and then… then…" The boy's face darkened, and suddenly he was crying.
Peg carried him back to the car, Colin trailing and swinging the flashlight. As he watched them climb into the back seat, heard Peg's joyous laughter and Hugh's brisk professional manner, he shook his head and walked around to stand next to Lee.
"Lilla," he said.
"Should we look for her?"
"I'm tempted," he answered.
"Colin, no. I'll tell you the truth-I don't know what the hell it was we've just been through, and I don't think I want to know. Ever. Lilla, as far as I'm concerned, can rot alone in this hell."
He hated himself, but he nodded. "I only said I was tempted. I have no intention of finding her. I don't care what Matt says. She could have killed him out there, no matter what she was like after Gran was… taken care of."
"Good," she said. "Good."
He took the driver's seat, Lee beside him and holding his arm tightly. A false start and the engine caught, and he drove as fast as he could back toward the village.
As they passed the gas station, Hugh leaned over the back. "It's done, right?" ' "Damn right," Lee said. "You're sure?"
"Hugh," Colin said, "why don't you shut up?"
"I was referring to Lilla," Montgomery said before slipping back to his seat.
"Yes," he said, and turned to look out the window. "I know."
They passed Naughton's Market, the theater, the bank, the luncheonette.
"Hope you can run a boat," Lee said with a forced laugh as they drove toward the marina.
"I can," Matt volunteered. And when Peg hushed him with a mock scowl and Colin began to laugh, he crossed his arms over his chest and pushed himself into the corner. "Well, I can," he insisted grumpily. "Gee. Nuts. Goddamn."
EPILOGUE
December: After
Twilight. Silence.
The snow little more than flurries that looped and twirled over the bay's restless waters. A solitary gull coasted, wheeled away; the breeze faded with the light, gusted briefly and set the forest to trembling.
Colin stood behind the nail keg, a booted foot atop it, one gloved hand holding the binoculars while the other flattened the yellow wool cap closer around his ears. He imagined himself encased in a block of clear ice, a contemporary natural sculpture to be discovered by some astonished wanderer who would admire the realism and doubt the medium, and by the first light of Easter he would be a puddle on the landing.
He wanted to laugh, but the effort was too great.
A glance at his watch.
Three hours, not one minute of it passing quickly. It never had, not since he'd started. Every time he took position he remembered, and in remembering could not ignore a single moment. Three hours to relive a weekend no sane man should have survived.
And he'd wondered about that, fretted over it, examined it, and could not yet find an answer.
Sane. He didn't know anymore if he were indeed in his right mind. There were times when he truly believed he had retained his equilibrium, and times when he felt himself constantly, helplessly falling in maddening slow motion, with nothing below him but a pit filled with dead white eyes.
It certainly hadn't been sane that last day on the island, or the day after.
They returned to Peg's house and made the best of a night when no one could sleep. Hugh sat with Lee on the sofa, an arm around her shoulders while she spent the night weeping; Peg took Matt to bed with her, frowning when Colin stood in the doorway hoping to become a part of their waiting. When it didn't happen, he understood-too much had gone on, too many people had died, this wasn't the time for a walk into the sunset.
So he went to the study, sat at the desk and stared at the wall. He didn't know if he slept; perhaps he dozed off. But the next thing he knew, he and Hugh were at Gran's shack, sitting in his car, looking away from the damage the nightcrabs had started.
"We can't bury them all," Hugh said.
"No."
"You see, the police will want to know what happened, and all those graves…"
"Yes. I know."
The wind lifted tatters of clothing, strands of reddened hair; the sea had withdrawn to expose a beach as smooth as it must have been before the island had its people.
"And what about Lilla?"
"If Matt's right and she stayed down there in the cave…"
Then she was dead, drowned. No sense in hunting despite the fact that he could not imagine her gone with the others. She knew about Gran and knew what the old man had taught her, even after her mind had finally hidden itself in madness. If she were still alive, she was dangerous, more than anyone would ever believe.
"What'll we tell the police?"
"The storm is out," Hugh said immediately, taking away his one decent solution. "It was never that strong, and they'd never go for it." He turned. "Colin, there has to be a disaster here. It has to be storm-related, but it can't be the storm."
The wind blew steadily. It was a breeze in contrast to the Screamer of the night before, but a wind nevertheless, and even as he rechecked the island he didn't know who had the idea first, who seconded it, who decided they wouldn't tell the others. But it started with the market-a fire that fed on the cartons and boxes, ceiling and walls, was curiously dull in the dull morning air as it sparked to the church, which torched the library, which turned trees to matches and caught the building Peg's drug store was in.
A house was started.
The Anchor Inn, where they assumed investigators would notice the wires from the traffic light fallen during the night.
A second house, just to be sure, and the wind did the rest.
Without a word, using gestures only, they drove back to Gran's shack and piled as many bodies as they could into the trunk, into the back seat. The Adamses they returned to their own house; Hattie went to the library; Tess to her front yard under the wreck of Colin's car.
Hours transporting the dead to their temporary graves.
Then they wrapped Garve in a sheet and rowed him out beyond the jetty. Colin remembered the night on the beach, just before Gran's funeral, and knew at least that Garve wouldn't be alone.
The body sank without floating.
The fire spread, filling the island with the sound of wood crackling, of windows breaking, of tree trunks steaming as the sap boiled and expanded.
Then they found the boat Garve had hidden, rowed through the smoke to the mainland, and watched the light for almost an hour before they began the long walk into Flocks.
A block outside town Lee shook her head. "I'm not going in there," she said. "They'll stare. The questions…"
It took the rest of the day to reach the other side, check into a motel with the money they pooled. They slept. They heard the news on the radio-electrical fires and the Screamer. A number of questions and the promise of investigations. They heard the cars filled with families who had fled on Thursday, and more filled with sightseers passing on the highway.
On the third day Hugh displayed a credit card. "This," he said, "is going to get me away from this goddamned morgue."