How to Keep a Secret

“I’m going to look for her.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t sit around here doing nothing. Can I take your car?”

“Yes. But, Lauren—”

“Keep your phone on. If she comes home, call me.”

She tried to think about all the places Mack liked on the island. There was that little boutique close by. She liked the beach. But which beach?

She drove along the road that bordered the cycle trail, looking for signs of her daughter. It was still cold and the beaches were empty apart from a couple of people walking their dogs.

She slowed as she passed the entrance to one of the large houses.

Could Mack be on one of the private beaches?

The houses rented for exorbitant sums during the summer, but were often empty at this time of year.

She drove on, occasionally glancing at the beach when the road allowed.

Mild anxiety thickened into dread.

Should she call the police?

What would she say? My daughter got up unusually early. I think something is wrong.

They’d think she’d lost her mind. And then they’d want to know all the reasons she was scared for her daughter, and Lauren would have to relive the horror of the last few weeks.

Still, better that than find Mack’s body washed up on the beach.

She reasoned with herself as she drove. Mack wouldn’t have hurt herself. If she were that unhappy she would have said so.

Wouldn’t she?

Just how well did she know her daughter these days?

She wasn’t sure whether it was instinct or impulse that made her drive to the marina, but as she drove through the entrance the first thing she saw was Mack’s bike propped against the wall.

What would she be doing here? Flooded with panic, Lauren started to shake so badly she almost drove the car into that same wall. She pulled up and was out of the car in a flash.

The bike was there, but there was no sign of Mack.

Her imagination was already in overdrive, and she glanced at the water, terrified of seeing clothes floating or, worse, a body.

And then she heard the sound of an engine.

A boat was chugging into the marina. Scott was at the helm and there, sitting in the front, laughing as if she didn’t have a care in the world, was Mack.

A sweet rush of relief—thank you, thank you—turned to anger.

She strode down to the jetty on legs so shaky that she stumbled twice.

The moment Mack noticed her, the laughter stopped.

Lauren struggled to speak. She couldn’t get air into her lungs.

Finally she managed to make a sound. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”