“Marcy!” Harper snapped, cutting off her train of thought. “Luke is Alex’s friend. He has parents and a life. Let’s hope for their sake that he’s okay. And we’ll leave it at that.”

“Okay.” Marcy turned the computer screen back toward herself and inched her chair away from Harper. “I didn’t know it was such a touchy subject.”

“It’s not touchy.” Harper let out a deep breath and softened her tone. “I just think we should be respectful in times of tragedy.”

“Sorry.” Marcy was quiet for a moment. “I should probably get back to looking up fines anyway. I have lots of phone calls to make.”

Harper tried to go back to reading the book, but she hadn’t really been that into it anyway. Her mind wandered back to Luke and his senior picture that tried too hard. She’d never felt anything for Luke, not anything more than friendship, but he was nice. They’d shared a few awkward, strained moments together, and they’d even kissed once. Now he might never come home.

Though she didn’t want to admit it, Harper knew that Marcy was probably right. Luke wasn’t coming home alive.

“I need a break,” Harper said suddenly and stood up.

“What?” Marcy looked up at her from behind her ridiculous eyewear.

“I think I’ll just go across the street and grab a Coke or something. But I need to just…” Harper shook her head. She didn’t know what she needed exactly, but she wanted to stop thinking about Luke.

“So you’re gonna leave me here alone?” Marcy asked, sounding frightened at the prospect of having to deal with patrons.

Harper glanced around the empty library. “I think you can handle it. Besides,” Harper said as she pushed back her chair, “I abandoned my sick sister yesterday to help out. You can cover for me for like thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes?” Marcy called after Harper as she walked out the door.

Just stepping out in the sun helped alleviate some of her unease. It was too beautiful a day to imagine anything bad happening. She tried to shake off her discomfort as she went across the street to Pearl’s Diner.

The diner was run-down and dingy, so it managed to keep away a lot of the tourists, who hung around the beach. It didn’t have an over-the-top seafaring theme like most of the places by the bay, aside from one painting over the bar. It was a huge picture of a mermaid sitting on an open clamshell, holding a big pearl.

A few booths lined the large front window, and stools covered in cracked red vinyl ran along the counter. Pearl had a few pieces of pie displayed in a glass case, but she only served two kinds—lemon and blueberry. The tiles on the floor were supposed to be red and white, but the white was more of a beige now.

It was usually only the locals who went there. That was what was so weird about Penn and her friends coming to Pearl’s. They frequented it so often, they’d nearly become regulars, and they weren’t even from Capri.