2.

Cara woke up as dawn was breaking, a faint light leaking through her window blinds. It felt quiet and let down, the way it always did after a big rain, with the slow drip-drip-drip of water off branches and leaves.

She crossed the cool bedroom floor in her bare feet. Her room was at the back of the house, on the bay side, which meant she had a view—over the porch roof that sloped down beneath her window, through some feathery branches—of the water and the sky across Cape Cod Bay. If you flew straight inland, her mother had once told her, you would see Plymouth Rock and the fake Mayflower ship they kept moored there for tourons.

Max’s room faced south and Jax’s north; her parents used to sleep in the big single room of the attic, right under the sloped roof, with a big glass skylight overhead. Her mother liked to lie in bed and look up at the stars.

She walked lightly down the stairs. Rufus was curled up on the runner in the front hall; he’d kept a vigil there every night since her mother had disappeared.

“Come on, Roof,” she said. She snapped on his leash and slipped into her flip-flops.

They walked along the pretty residential streets bordering the marshes till they got to a lonely sand road that wound past a small, reedy shellfish cove. The ground was covered with tiny fiddler crabs that skittered into their holes in great waves. She and her mother used to walk Rufus here together; her mother had pointed out those tiny crabs, as well as the big osprey nests on their manmade posts rising out of the wetlands.

There was no one around, and the sand was wet from the rain. She listened to the crunch, crunch, crunch of her sneakers across its grainy surface.

“OK, Rufus,” she said finally, and unclipped the leash. At the end of the road, sticking up on the other side of a dune, was a modern-looking beach house that was all glass and sharp angles. It was a rental property, and outside the high season it was mostly empty. “Run!”

In the cool of the morning she watched him go—further and further away, till he rounded the bend of the dune and was lost to view.

Then she started walking after him, her mind wandering. Her dad had said hurricanes to the south were bringing the storms, and this was hurricane season. He said the hurricanes were getting bigger these days than they used to be, growing more powerful and coming more often.

She felt a shiver of foreboding.

“Rufus!” she called.

The sun slanted off the roof of the big modern house as she shaded her eyes to squint at it. Maybe, she thought, he’d found something at the waterline, a fish to gnaw or a crab to paw.

But then he reappeared, running. Nearer, nearer, nearer, and she saw he was wagging his tail. He looked happier than he had the whole summer. And just as she’d thought, he was carrying some kind of bone in his mouth.

“Hi again, boy,” she said, and rubbed behind his ears.

Instead of worrying the bone, he dropped it in front of her. It was actually a piece of wet driftwood.

“I don’t want that, Roof,” she said. “I don’t chew on sticks like you do. Remember?”

He nosed it toward her feet and knelt, paws together, in front of it. Tail still wagging, tongue out.

“You want me to throw it?”

She picked it up and tossed; he wheeled and fetched it.

“Let’s keep walking,” she said. “We can play fetch when we get home.”

But he dropped it in front of her again and barked once, loudly.

“Geez, Roof,” she said, and picked it up. She would have to carry it.

Then she noticed.

Lightly scratched words. The letters were so thin she could barely read them.

CONSULT THE LEATHERBACK.

She turned it over and there was one more word.

CARA.

She dropped it, shocked. Her hand was shaking.

“Who gave this to you, Rufus?” she asked the dog, leaning down and gripping his sandy snout in her hand.

He just kept wagging his tail.

Maybe it was one of her friends, messing with her head. Maybe Hayley or Jade? But Hayley didn’t come up here, as far as Cara knew. Plus these days she was busy in the mornings because she went to work with her mother, who ran a hair salon. She helped out with the shampooing.

And Cara’s other best friend, Jade, had gone up to Maine with her family till school started. They didn’t like the crowds.

Anyway this was way too weird for either of them.

When she and Rufus reached the end of the road, and the tide was practically lapping at her feet, she couldn’t see anyone at all. Not even a fishing boat on the water. The big modern house looked locked up and empty.

Rufus gave a low woof, his sound of recognition.

“What now?”

And then she saw something in the waves—round, small and brown. Dark eyes. She was astounded: it was another otter. She could hardly believe it. First the ocean side, now the bay…it was a plague of otters, practically.

She had to remember to ask Jax about it. Maybe, with global warming, otters were migrating differently these days, or something.

After all, two summers ago great white sharks had been found swimming in the waters off Chatham. That June, dozens of dead sea lions had washed up on the shore. And a couple of summers earlier, a Florida manatee had swum into the mouth of the Hudson River and then headed past the Cape, too.

None of that was supposed to happen.

And now, two sea otters. Sea otters that were supposed to live in a whole other ocean.

But there was no sign of anyone who could have given Rufus the piece of wood. All she saw was the high tide lapping at the toes of her sneaks.

When the waves pulled back they left tiny airholes in the sand.

Ω

Jax had left by the time she got home, picked up by the camp carpool, and Max and his friend Zee, short for Zadie—who wasn’t his girlfriend though Cara thought maybe she wouldn’t mind—were getting ready to ride their bikes to the tennis courts before it go too hot.

“Look,” she said to Max, and held out the driftwood.

He turned it over and over.

“Uh, that’s great, Car. A piece of wood. Real awesome find.”

She grabbed it back and studied it. It was dry now, and you couldn’t really see the words anymore—they must have been etched too lightly, because all that was left was a couple of lines where the C and K had been. They looked like random chicken scratches.

“They’re gone,” she muttered.

“What?”

“The words. Max, someone had scratched a message on it—my name and the words Consult the leatherback.”

Max stopped putting his helmet on and looked at her curiously. Then he laid a hand across her forehead.

“You cool? Don’t go getting spooky on me, sis,” he said. “We don’t need two Jaxes in the family.”

“C’mon, Max,” called Zee from the street. She was already on her bike, impatient. “We barely have time for a set. I gotta be at the boat by 10:30!”

“Coming,” he called, and pushed off, jumping the curb. She watched them pedal away, dipping and weaving their bikes playfully under the pitch pine and bear oak trees.

She couldn’t blame him. Max was the practical one in the family, even if he wasn’t his usual friendly self lately; and the words definitely seemed to be gone…she felt lonely and wanted to call Hayley, but Hayley was still working. Her mom got mad when she talked on her cell at work.

Consult the leatherback.

Ω

Her dad was supposed to drive her to the Hyannis mall to buy school clothes. But she knew he’d only agreed to it to be a dutiful parent, so her heart wasn’t really in it either.

“I can just buy stuff online, if you want,” she said to him in the kitchen, where he stood drinking his last cup of morning coffee. The kitchen windows faced the water, and lately her dad had a habit of just standing there staring out, his mug forgotten in his hand.

“It’s Jax’s last day at camp,” said her dad slowly. “How about we pick him up and go on a whale watch? Teddy Soderstrom’s boat has empty seats since it’s the end of the season. He just called to see if we wanted to hitch a ride. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Teddy was an old friend of the family who was also the captain of one of the whale-watch boats in Provincetown.

“OK,” she said.

As they drove to Jax’s camp Cara considered telling her dad about the driftwood. What if it was someone stalking her or something? Danger.

Then again, maybe she’d made up the words. Maybe, as Max had hinted and she herself feared, she was losing it a bit. And her dad already had enough to worry about.

“Why don’t you go find your brother,” said her dad when they pulled into to the parking lot. “I’ll wait here.”

She wove through the milling crowds in the nature center lobby till she found Jax standing beneath a display on crabs, with a giant pink crab model in the middle. He was typing on his phone.

Of course, it was more than a phone. It was one of those all-you-can-eat smartphone deals: GPS, video, Internet, blah blah blah. You could point it at a star in the night sky and it would tell you the name of the constellation.

Jax was the most teched-out family member by far. He had to be, according to him. Data is key.

“Hi, Cara. The European green crab, Carcinus maenas, is believed to consume approximately $44 million in New England shellfish per year,” he said, then looked up from the phone and smiled sweetly.

“Very interesting,” she said, taking his hand. “Want to go see whales?”

“Carcinus maenas is among the 100 worst invasive species in the world,” he went on.

“I need to talk to you in private,” she said, steering him out through the front doors toward the car. “Once we’re on the whale boat. Dad’ll probably get talking to Teddy, and then come and find me. OK?”

“Sure,” said Jax easily, and slid into the back seat.

“Hello, Jackson,” said their dad. “Did the camping session come to a satisfactory conclusion?”

“Enh,” said Jax, and shrugged. “I give it a 6.8. High marks for red-tailed hawks, eels and square-backed marsh crabs. Low marks for food. Too much Chex mix. Mid-range marks for so-called leadership. I like that guy Robin, he’s nice, but Amy, the other counselor? Everything she says goes up at the end like a question. Even if it’s not an interrogative at all. ‘This is a nature experience? So I’d like you to put away all your portable electronics? That means you Jax?’ Or when I was collecting specimens, she goes: ‘I don’t think picking that up is too appropriate?’ Like that.”

“Possibly insecure,” said their dad, nodding sagely.

“Dim bulb,” said Jax.

“So we’re going to P-town to see whales,” went on their dad. “Did Cara tell you? Last time we were out on a whale-watching boat, you were five. Do you remember?”

“There is ample evidence that cetaceans are stressed by whale-watching ecotourism, which can affect their behavior, migration and breeding,” said Jax.

“But you’re the guy who brings baby frogs into his bedroom, then leaves them under a cushion,” said Cara. “Doesn’t that affect their behavior, migration and whatever?”

“Few frog species participate in seasonal migrations,” said Jax.

“Argh,” said Cara.

Ω

At the end of the gangplank her dad was clapped heartily on the back by the captain, an old friend. Like his namesake, Teddy was big, puffy and comforting.

“Welcome aboard, Sykes family,” he boomed. “Lemme show you my latest gadgets,” and he toured them around the boat, pointing out computer hardware and fancy seat covers.

He was trying to be jovial, Cara could tell, but once he leaned close to her dad and said something low. Her dad shook his head and Teddy gripped his shoulder as though to strengthen him.

They were talking about her mother, obviously. Her parents’ friends didn’t like to ask about her mother being missing in front of her or Max or Jax, she’d noticed—as if, when they acted like everything was business as usual, that would keep the kids happy….

Finally the boat motored away from the pier and Cara was able to get Jax alone at the rail while their dad, who barely knew Mac from PC and claimed to believe that cell phones “might well be the Devil’s handiwork,” pretended to be interested in Teddy’s new high-tech gadgets.

She told Jax about the driftwood message, quickly and half-whispering.

“Max thinks I’m crazy,” she said when she finished, and rolled her eyes, ready for Jax to make fun of her too.

But his small face looked serious.

“Jax? What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he said solemnly, and shook his head. “But it has to do with her. Just like he did.”

“He?”

“The man in the rain.”

“You didn’t tell me he had something to do with Mom!”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I just have a feeling.”

She looked into his blue eyes and knew he believed it.

“Max would say we’re both crazy,” she said.

“Then don’t tell him,” said Jax.

“By the way,” she said, remembering. “I also saw two otters. I swear! One yesterday, another one this morning. I was going to tell you before, but then I figured—actually, I was thinking about the last time you spied on me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” said Jax, and looked down, a bit ashamed.

“Mmm,” said Cara.

“I didn’t mean to, you know,” he mumbled after a pause.

“I guess,” said Cara.

But even if that was true—and she thought she believed him—in a way she didn’t care, because the point was that whether he had meant it or not, it had still been really, really embarrassing. No one should be able to see the truly private stuff.

“Anyway,” she said awkwardly. “Have you ever heard of otters around here?”

“There are still river otters in some coastal marshes,” said Jax slowly, “but I wouldn’t think there’d be any on the Cape.”

“The first one I saw was at Nauset Light. Floating on its back.”

Jax shook his head, perplexed. “But lying on their backs is a sea otter behavior. There shouldn’t be any sea otters for thousands of miles!”

“That’s what I thought,” said Cara.

They didn’t talk for a minute, staring down at the boat’s white wake as it curled away behind them.

“So what do you think the message means?” she asked finally. “Consult the leatherback made me think of an old book or something. But it’s actually a kind of big sea turtle, right?”

“I have to think about that one,” said Jax.

“Look! There!” said a tourist lady. “A whale! Spouting!”

The engine throttled down as the boat came about.

“That’s a pilot whale,” said Teddy.

All Cara could see was a grayish hump—that was her problem with whale-watching. It was all humps that looked like rocks. Whales were cool but you could see more of them on nature shows.

Still, it was probably better to be here than dragging around the mall while her dad asked her questions like Why do some of the boys wear their pants so ridiculously baggy, and the others wear them so tight?

Jax pulled out his phone and took a picture.

Ω

Later, lying in bed, she had a long talk on her own cell phone—basic, not smart—with Hayley, in her own bed a few doors down the street. They had a plan where the minutes were free if you waited till late enough.

She told Hayley about the driftwood.

“Are you smoking something?” asked Hayley. “First there were those ocean beavers, now this.”

“Not beavers, Hay.”

“Chillax. You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

Hayley moved on to other subjects—who would talk to them at school this fall and who would ignore them; whether her mom would give her a big enough allowance for her to “accessorize.” She and her mom often struggled pretty hard with money, and Cara thought it made her feel better about it to treat it like it was trivial, like all it would affect was her fashion stylings….

After they hung up, Cara fell asleep with her reading light on. The next thing she knew Jax was tugging at her arm. Since her mother left, he did that sometimes—came in at two or three in the morning to ask if he could sleep in her room.

“What is it, Jax?” she asked blearily, propping herself up on her elbows. “You want to sleep in here?”

Her little brother, in ancient pajamas speckled with dinosaurs, shook his head.

“You sure? It’s OK if you do.”

“It’s not that,” he whispered. “It’s that he’s…here.”

Cara sat bolt upright.

“He?”

“You know. The guy.”

“Here where?”

“Outside the door. The front door of the house.”

“Should we get dad? What should we do?”

“He doesn’t want dad. He wants us.”

“But I—you said he didn’t have a—a signal.”

“He doesn’t. But he still communicates.”

She didn’t want anything to do with it. It was giving her a sickening feeling.

TAKE CARE OF THEM…

Who? Jax? Max? Who else could it be?

“Why should we talk to him? It’s night, Jax. It’s scary!”

“I have to. He calls and calls, Cara. Into my head. It’s like someone’s yelling at me. He won’t stop till we go down to him.”

“It’s not safe, Jax. Let’s wait him out, just wait until he leaves. You can go up to dad’s room. Or stay in here tonight. With me.”

She patted her coverlet.

But Jax shook his head.

“I can’t. He’s blaring at me.”

Maybe Jax is making this up, she thought hopefully. After all, we’re talking about Jax here: a pretty weird kid. Maybe this is all in his head and if I’m supposed to take care of him, then it’s my job to listen. And watch him.

“OK,” she said slowly. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He turned, and she got up and followed.

Outside her room she flicked on the hall light, then the light over the stairs. Every light switch she saw, she flicked. Anything to make it brighter and more everyday.

Down they went, Jax padding ahead of her in his sock feet.

Their front door was old, thick with multiple coats of paint; the top half had a rectangular window with diamond-shaped panes.

“Is it locked?” she whispered.

Jax nodded.

“It’s too high up for me to get a good view,” he said.

So she stepped in front of him. She stood at the door and reached over to the wall, to the light switch for the porch.

She flicked it upwards.

And gasped, jumping back and banging into Jax.

There he was.

The glass in the door pane made things blurry, but it was definitely him. He stood on the porch steps, facing right at them, his arms hanging at his sides. He had the same dark coat on, with the hood, but now the hood was back so she could see his face—sort of. It was long and pale, with dark hair plastered down on the forehead, soaking wet. She couldn’t make out the features on the face that well; he might be young or old or somewhere in between.

He was dripping, it looked like. Or maybe that was just the distortion of the glass.

The worst thing was that his lips were moving. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his lips were moving. And as they moved she felt a kind of coldness come over her, moving up from the soles of her feet like it was radiating from the floor…it was a sick cold, the cold of lonely graves, the cold of a hospital bed that you knew, in the pit of your stomach, you would never leave….

“You have to open it,” whispered Jax. “He won’t leave otherwise.”