by Lisa Jackson
As a kid, she’d loved riding her favorite mare at a full gallop across the dew-dampened fields and into the dark woods surrounding the estate. She’d spent hours following the old deer and sheep trails that snaked through the woods and along the coastline, exploring every inch of the island, even getting to know those places her parents had declared “forbidden.” Despite her mother’s warnings, she’d followed her favorite paths that took her past the dungeon-like walls of the old asylum and upward along the cliffs that fell hundreds of feet to the roiling surf that crashed against the shore. There were old cabins, a waterfall, the rock quarry with its mines, and other just as taboo spots.
Ava had made a point of visiting them all.
She passed through a gate and across the twin ruts of an access road to the fence line where the horses were grazing. Whistling, she caught the attention of Jasper, a bald-faced bay gelding. The horse lifted his head, flicked his dark ears, and snorted.
“Come on,” Ava urged, wondering why all the males in her life were so obstinate. “It’ll be fun. Promise.” Slowly, as if it pained him, the gelding approached.
“About time,” she whispered, and reached over the fence to rub the bay’s forehead. Jasper snorted, his breath warm as it clouded in the cool afternoon air. “I missed you, too. Come on, let’s go for a ride.”
For once, Jasper didn’t put up any resistance and followed Ava into the stable. Minutes later, she’d thrown a faded blanket and a saddle over his back, cinched the girth tight, and slid the bridle over his head.
Within minutes, she’d swung herself onto his back and guided him outside. She glanced at the house once and spied Simon working in the garden, and when he lifted his head to look in her direction, she quickly urged the horse away from the fence line. The fewer people who saw her, the less she would have to explain, and she was sick and tired of explaining her every movement. Besides, she didn’t know much about Simon, just that he and Khloe had a tumultuous, if passionate, marriage, and that at one time he’d worked in communications in the army.
Once through a final gate, she took the gelding into the open field again, leaning forward over his sleek neck. “Let’s see what you’ve got, old guy,” she encouraged, and urged Jasper into a canter.
Immediately the horse’s gait lengthened into a smooth lope, his hooves digging into the wet grass, propelling them past thickets of hemlock and fir that soared high enough that their tops were lost in the low-hanging clouds.
Faster and faster the gelding ran, until the countryside was a blur, the cold air rushing past, tangling her hair.
A bubble of laughter rose in her throat. How long had it been since she felt so free? So exhilarated? God, it seemed like forever! At the creek that cut a jagged path through the center of the field, Jasper didn’t break stride, just splashed through the flattened banks, spraying muddy water as he ran.
To the south, the abandoned asylum was visible, a concrete and stone fortress that was built on the sheer bluff over the ocean. Weathered iron railings sagged while streaks of rust colored the gray walls in reddish rivulets. Broken windows were boarded over and a flagpole stood tall, a lone sentinel, its rusting chain rattling in the wind.
A shadow crossed the wall walk and for a split second she thought she saw someone atop the thick rock wall and then, in an instant, the image disappeared into the darkening gloom. She shivered. Sea Cliff now seemed an eerie place, one she didn’t want to think about now, not when she’d felt a burst of freedom and happiness for the first time in years.
“No buzz-kills,” she whispered, the words thrown back in her throat from Jasper’s canter and the rising wind. Tugging on the reins, she forced the horse to slow as rain began to fall in earnest. They slipped into the forest of hemlock and fir and walked through the dripping boughs, the smell of the wet earth mingling with the salt air.
She saw Jasper’s steaming breath and felt a chill as the solitude of the island surrounded her. This was a lonely place, cut off from the mainland, but the isolation had never bothered her. In the past it had given her strength and peace of mind. Of course, that was before the tragedies . . .
The path wound ever upward where the trees gave way to a headland with a breathtaking view of the strait. From this point, other islands could be seen, dark peaks jutting out of the ever-shifting waters of this arm of the Pacific.
The last time she’d been here had been the morning after Noah had gone missing. She’d searched every building, every niche in the house, and finally she’d ridden through the woods to this very spot and had looked out to the sea, afraid she’d see his small body in the restless waters. She’d even attempted to climb down the dilapidated stairs that switched back and forth sharply to a bit of beach and dock that hadn’t been used in decades. Her jaw clenched. She’d been so frightened the night Noah had disappeared, so spurred by her need to find him, that she’d attempted to climb down the stairs that night.
The wind had buffeted her, the sea crashing below. She’d held her flashlight tightly in one hand, her other fingers steadying herself on the rickety, wobbling banister.
Slowly, carefully, she’d descended, a litany of prayers tumbling through her mind.
Oh, God, please let me find him.
Please let him be okay . . . please, please, please . . .
“Noah!” she’d yelled, her voice ripped from her throat, the roar of the sea deafening. “Noah!” Then, more quietly, “Oh, baby, please . . . come to Mama . . . please.”
Her hood had flown off, her hair flying in front of her face.
Step by step, she descended the unsteady stairs. One step. Two . . .
At the landing, she’d taken a deep breath, turned, then inched her way down the second short flight. All the while, the old staircase had groaned against her weight.
But she had to go down.
Had to find him.
Where was her baby? Where?
“Noah!!!”
Heart beating with dread, she’d eased onto the third landing, turned a hundred and eighty degrees, then stepped down.
Bam!
Rotting wood splintered.
The damned step collapsed.
Screaming, Ava had pitched forward. Her foot caught in the yawning hole, twisting her ankle.
Frantically she’d scrabbled for the rail.
Her flashlight flew from her hand, spinning, its beam of light spiraling wildly as it tumbled into the darkness.
“Help!” she’d screamed, one foot dangling, her fingers clawing into the unsteady rail, her head nearly to the next landing. “Help!”
Another blast of wind and the staircase shuddered, groaning against the rocky face of the cliff.
With all her strength, she’d clawed her way upright, pulled her foot through the step, and, determined to reach the bottom, to find her boy, had continued down in the darkness, carefully sliding her hands down the rail, feeling her way, unsteady but relentless.
The pain in her ankle had been excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the ache of despair she’d felt as she’d reached the beach, where, of course, there was no trace of her son.
None whatsoever.
She’d spent the rest of that night on the beach, huddled against the cold, crying softly as the surf rushed and pounded and the gods of all that was evil in the world laughed at her.
The next morning, once the storm had died down and the coast guard had found her, she’d caught snatches of phrases that had hounded her ever since.
“Out of her mind, poor thing . . .”
“. . . wonder if she’ll ever be right again . . .”
“. . . imagine . . . a terrible loss . . . she’s strong, but who could survive this . . . ?”
All well meaning. All voiced with more than a hint of concern. All worried as hell.
At the time she’d ignored them. Because at that time, Ava had still fervently believed Noah would be found somewhere on the island. Safe. Scared. But alive.
Over the ensuing hours and days and
weeks and months, her hope had dwindled, and now here she was, unsure if she would ever see her son again, at the top of the cliff-side stairs that had been barricaded since that night. The steps still clung to the wall of the island, bleached and faded, in worse shape now than they were two years earlier, the warning sign and surrounding fencing meant to discourage anyone intent on climbing down.
A sharp wind tossed her hair around her face while the rain drizzled steadily and low-hanging clouds obscured the horizon. She squinted to the west, where the strait stretched out to the Pacific. A few small islands barely visible and strung out like the ghostly spines of a giant underwater creature seemed to rise and sink with the ferocity of the tide.
Almost of its own accord, her gaze moved closer to the mouth of the bay, and she felt an involuntary shiver.
Her heart clenched when she thought of her brother and the night that had taken his life.
Dismounting, she let go of the reins, allowing Jasper to pick at the grass, his bridle jangling as he moved. She didn’t know why she’d felt compelled to ride here, to face a distant pain she’d rather forget, to ultimately destroy her fleeting elation, but she had.
She walked to the edge of the cliff where she stared at the mouth of the bay. Her throat tightened. Submerged in the depths beneath the deep water was what locals referred to simply as the Hydra. Invisible to the naked eye on the calm waters, but ever changing beneath a swift current, the neck of the bay was narrow and dangerous to those boat captains who weren’t familiar with the tight channel.
Ava knew only too well about the hazards of the entrance to the bay. Goose bumps rose on her arms as she stared at that long passage, to the spot where the rocks were hidden and part of the jetty had become submerged.
Chilled, she wrapped her arms around herself and in her mind’s eye, she saw the day as it had been then, nearly five years earlier, a day not unlike this gray afternoon—except an unexpected squall had unleashed all its fury upon Kelvin and his most prized possession, a new, sleek sailboat, out for its maiden voyage. . . .
CHAPTER 11
On the day of the outing the sky was darkening ominously as a storm gathered, dark clouds roiling, sea undulating madly. The four of them were all on the new sailboat: Kelvin, Jewel-Anne, Wyatt, and Ava.
“Get us home!” Jewel-Anne shrieked, her eyes round with fear, her face pale in the swirling rain. She clung to the rail.
“I’m trying. Batten down the fucking hatches and go inside!” Kelvin yelled.
“And be trapped? No way!”
“Jewel, please!” he snapped.
“Just hurry!” She clung on, as stubborn as a barnacle.
“Get inside!” Ava yelled as the wind keened, and the boat lurched violently.
“Shit!” Kelvin worked the helm as Wyatt dropped the sea anchor from the stern, hoping to keep the boat steady, but the waves were lashing at the Bloody Mary, spinning her wildly in the sea.
“Bring her around. Bow into the waves!” Wyatt screamed, then swore as a monster wave crashed over the stern and the boat shuddered wildly. “The storm’s blowing inland! Bow into the waves!”
“Nooo!” Jewel-Anne wailed as she stared at the rising wall of water. “Get us in! Hurry!”
“We have to ride it out!” With Ava’s help, Wyatt struggled with the trysail. Meant to help in a storm, the damned thing seemed as useless as the motor that Kelvin had tried and failed to start.
“Oh, please! Just get us home!” Jewel-Anne was crying now, her legs sliding around as she struggled for purchase, her arms wrapped around the rail.
Wyatt shouted, “We can’t get across the bar!”
“Then we’ll all die!” She blinked wildly. “All of us, including the baby!” Her gaze found Ava’s, beseeching her, speaking to Ava’s most maternal instincts.
“She’s right!” Ava said, thinking of her unborn child. Her child. Wyatt’s child. “We have to get to land.”
“Even if we get across the bar and into the bay, which we won’t, we won’t be able to dock,” Wyatt pointed out. His jaw was set, rain sliding down his face, his hair plastered to his head.
“For the love of God, get that damned sail down!” Kelvin demanded fiercely, his calm shattered with the magnitude of the storm.
Wyatt grimaced at the size of the next wave. “Keep her at ninety degrees!”
“I can’t. Shit!” Kelvin fought the wheel, and the rocks guarding the bar loomed larger. “Hang on!”
With a roar, the wave crested and drenched the boat. Icy water surged around Ava, who, already nauseous, fought to cling on. The small craft bobbed wildly, spinning with the force of the raging ocean.
Hair flying around her face, soaked to the bone, Jewel-Anne screamed as she clutched the rail near the helm. Her eyes were wide with fear, her skin ashen. “You have to hurry!” she cried, as if they could outrun the storm.
Kelvin ignored her, his jaw set as another wave slammed over the deck and the boat listed slightly.
“Get below deck!” Wyatt ordered.
Jewel-Anne was beside herself. “You’re going to crash! For the love of God! Kelvin! We’re all going to die! Watch out!”
“Shut up!” Kelvin didn’t so much as glance at her. Rain plastered his hair to his head; his arms strained at the helm. “Just shut the fuck up!”
Stomach churning and freezing from the water, Ava gripped the rail and strained to see shore, a light, anything to guide them. What had started out as a whimsical tour had turned quickly into this disaster, and now Kelvin was straining to get the boat to shore without hitting the rocks that surrounded the island.
“We’re not going to make it!” Jewel-Anne screeched as the wind howled, and the boat rocked.
“Get your fuckin’ life jacket on!” Kelvin insisted.
“I can’t!” Jewel-Anne was hysterical, her face as white as death. She grabbed his arm and nearly doubled over as the boat rocked crazily. “We’re all going to die!” Wailing, she dropped into a pathetic puddle at Kelvin’s feet.
“Get her away from me!” he told Ava. “Now!”
“Don’t you touch me!” Jewel-Anne was screaming again, glaring at Ava as she clawed at Kelvin’s arm.
“Come on, Jewel-Anne,” Ava said, but Jewel-Anne clung to Kelvin’s legs.
He tried to kick her away as he struggled to keep the craft afloat. “Get her below deck!”
“Nooo!” Jewel-Anne was having none of it.
Ava pulled on her cousin’s arm. “Come on, Jewel!”
“Leave me alone!” She scrambled to her feet, then grabbed the railing and nearly pitched headfirst into the swirling, storming sea.
“Jewel-Anne!” Wyatt leaped at the floundering woman while Kelvin tried to steady the boat in the huge trough. “Get the hell below deck!”
Jewel-Anne seemed not to hear him.
“Come on, Jewel,” Ava said as calmly as she could, though the boat was pitching crazily and her stomach was roiling, acid climbing up her throat.
“Jesus!” Kelvin yelled over the scream of the sea. “Get below!”
“So I can be trapped like a rat when you capsize?” Jewel cried.
“I’m not going to—Oh, fuck.” He turned his attention to the helm.
“It’s safer in the cabin,” Ava said tautly, trying to sound strong and convincing when her own heart was racing, adrenaline and fear pumping through her bloodstream.
“Liar!”
“Let’s go, Jewel-Anne!” Ava grabbed her cousin’s arm, the fingers of one hand curling over the slippery sleeve of Jewel’s jacket while she located a life vest below the deck seating with the other. God, her cousin could be bullheaded. “Put this on. Now!” She slapped the vest into her cousin’s hand. “Leave Kelvin alone. Let him steer us in.” She tugged on Jewel-Anne’s arm as the boat lurched.
“No!” Jewel lost her footing and cried out in pain as she fell.
“Get her the fuck out of here!” Kelvin roared, trying like hell to control his own panic as he navigated in the t
rough in front of a gathering wave.
Jewel-Anne whimpered and scrabbled away from Ava, looking as awkward as a crab on its back upon the wet deck. The hood of her jacket had blown off, and she was still not wearing the damned vest dangling from her fingers. “You stay away from me!” she hissed, panic rising in her eyes, rain lashing at her face and hair. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! We’re all going to die!”
Ava’s control snapped. She lunged forward and hit the slick deck. On her knees, she grabbed her cousin’s arm and shook it angrily. “For the love of God, Jewel, calm the hell down!”
Jewel screamed, “Shut up!”
Smaaack! Without thinking, Ava slapped her cousin across the face. “Get a damned grip!” she yelled over the screaming wind. “No one’s gonna die. Pull yourself together!”
Startled, Jewel-Anne stared at her as the boat pitched crazily. “You bitch!”
“Both of you. Stop it! Do something, for Christ’s sake!” Wyatt screamed over his shoulder. He was still wrangling with the useless sea anchor.
Rain lashed down on them, running off their jackets and hoods, their life vests little peace of mind against the vicious, angry sea and the rocks now mere feet away, the sea whirling around them. Ava pulled herself upright and tried to drag Jewel-Anne to her feet, but her heavy cousin was a dead weight, nearly impossible to force to her feet on the slippery, unstable deck. “Come on, come on,” she muttered as the wind screamed and the storm raged. Sheer terror gave her strength, and finally Jewel-Anne was standing again, bracing herself near the helm.
Despite the fact that all hell was breaking loose around her, she rubbed the red mark on her face. “Bitch!” she hissed at Ava. “This is all your fault!”
Wildly, the boat pitched and rolled, barely staying afloat.
Jewel clung to the railing, her eyes suddenly trained on the sea. “WATCH OUT!”
Ava followed her cousin’s gaze.
Her heart nearly collapsed as she saw the rocks. Black. Jagged. Menacing. “Sweet Jesus,” she whispered, fear scraping down her soul. They were too close! This trough was just too damned close to the rocks!
Jewel-Anne threw herself at Kelvin. “Turn about! Kelvin! Turn about!”