“No. You can’t go back on shore.”
“But your husband…”
“He’s gone.”
Jessie’s eyes went wide.
“What? When? How do you… are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Just stay put. It’s my job to keep you all safe, and I intend to do it. No one goes back to The Rock.” Her hand dropped to her side, too weak to maintain its grip. Jessie was frozen in place.
The air still blew off the mountain, but the morning light warmed Emma’s face. The rot and decay gave way to the smell good dirt gives off when the sun hits it.
“We need someone in charge of rationing water.” Emma looked around at the other small boats and the people in them. There was Darren, and Lisa, and Steve. There was Zoe, looking around in panic and biting her nails. She could see everyone she had met on the island. But someone was missing. No bony fingers pinched at the frayed edges of her mind. She was alone in her thoughts. But among the huddled, blanketed figures she did not feel alone.
Whoever she had been running from, she was done running now.
Only then did she allow herself to think of David and let her fragile control collapse. She cried unselfconsciously, like a child. She howled until she couldn’t breathe, and when she couldn’t breathe her ribs wrung out her empty lungs. Jessie looked nervously back and forth, and others tried to hide the fact that they were staring. Red leaned forward and reached for her good arm. He put his hand on hers.
“It will be alright, I think.”
Emma blinked and struggled to get her voice back.
“Thank you.”
No Stone Tells Where I Lie is Madeline Kalvis’s first book. If you enjoyed it, please leave a rating or review on Goodreads or Amazon. Even better, tell your friends. And stay informed about the author’s next title by joining her mailing list at eepurl.com/hrCsXD or with the QR code below. Mailing list members receive updates about future works, as well as the exclusive short story The Prairie Rose Hotel.
– excerpt –
Cassie took in the dim hotel room with its unmade bed. A duffel bag spilled a cornucopia of old-fashioned cameras and recording equipment onto the floor, where a circle of candles smoldered. The half that were still lit dripped onto the carpet. She blew them out just to be safe. There was no sound in the room, no one in the bathroom, nothing in the closet.
Just as she kneeled to look under the bed, a small drip landed in the middle of the circle of candles. On the chintzy carpet it sounded like someone tapping on a hardwood floor. She looked up and saw the drop ceiling with its movable foam tiles. Two or three of them had turned a deep brown. She could get to them easily if she dragged a desk from the corner of the room and stood on tip toes.
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