His smile slipped, and sadness filled his eyes. “It will also give you some time to grieve. I am sorry, Quinn. Please believe me.” He reached for my face and I turned away from him. I didn’t want him to touch me right now, could barely think of the words I would hurl at him. He let out another sigh. Out the corner of my eye I watched him stand and walk away, back towards the path; the trees and greenery swallowed him up as if he had never been there. I turned and went back to staring out at the water, hearing it, even tasting the spray as it splashed on the rocks as the wind brought it to me. But I could go no closer. What was I going to do? I couldn’t afford to stay at the hotel for more than the three nights I’d already paid for. I would have to go back to Victoria and commute between there, and Tofino as I searched for Ashling.

Slowly, testing the Barrier at every step, I made my way back to the Wickaninnish. The manager—John, by his name tag—looked up as I came in.

“The police were here, looking for your Ms. Lorcan. They asked you to call them when you came back. Something about leaving the hospital without doctors orders.” John lifted an eyebrow as he handed me a business card for the RCMP officers that were looking for me. I took the card and tucked it into my pocket. He gave me a soft smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

John nodded then lifted his hand, stopping me.

“There is one more thing,” he paused then continued, those soft eyes again showing me the compassion that made me wish I could curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. “The Wickaninnish Inn would like to extend to you their condolences on the loss of you sister. We would like to offer you to stay here, free of charge, while the details of her passing are handled.”

My jaw dropped open. The tears did spill over then, and I stepped around the desk and gave John a hug.

“Thank you so much, thank you,” I whispered. He nodded and cleared his throat.

“If there is anything else we can do to help you, please let us know,” John said. I nodded and made my way back up to the room.

There was a text message from Sheila; they’d found my mother’s rental car in a deserted parking lot at the beach, with nothing around for miles. The police were suspecting foul play.

Tremors racked my body, my heart squeezing painfully with each beat. I walked to the window and looked over the edge at the ocean. I tried calling my mother’s cell phone again, on the off chance that Sheila was wrong, and my mom had just turned the phone off—that the police were wrong, and she’d just taken a left hand turn when she should have gone right.