After putting on a pot of coffee, I retreated down the hallway and crawled onto Eddie. “I need to go home for a bit,” I whispered.
He made a sound. “You are home.”
I smiled. I liked when he said that. “I mean Maggie’s. I need some clothes.”
His eyes weren’t even open yet, but he replied, “If you’d move in here, you wouldn’t need clothes.”
With a sigh, I laid my cheek against his back (he was lying on his stomach). His skin was warm to the touch. I wanted to move in. I did. But I couldn’t. I was held back by unknowns, by what the widow said. Eddie told me time and again it didn’t matter if I was Sadie or not. I believed him. I did.
But feelings were subject to change.
If I found out for certain I wasn’t the girl he lost, how could he not react?
I didn’t want to make this any harder on him than it already was. After all, I wasn’t the only victim here. Eddie was just as much as I. Even his friend Robbie was left scarred.
“Soon,” I whispered, hoping it was a promise I could keep. Maybe after today, I would have what I needed to take that step.
Eddie rolled onto his side, and I fell over onto the mattress in front of him. His arm came down, anchoring me in place. His eyes were still closed.
I poked him in the nose. “It’s light outside.”
He groaned.
I poked him again. “I made you some coffee.”
One eye cracked open.
“I love you.”
Both eyes opened, and I got a smile. “All right.” He caved. “I’m up.”
I pulled on the clothes I had on the day before, shoved my feet in my sneakers, and poured him a large travel mug of the hot brew. I wasn’t a coffee person. I’d drink it, but I’d much rather have hot chocolate.
The morning was cold and the grass was damp with dew that sparkled a bit beneath the bright morning sun. The sound of the waves was calming this morning, and from the look of the sky, I knew it would be a beautiful autumn day.
The second we parked in the driveway at Maggie’s, the front door opened and she poked her head out. “Don’t you try and sneak in the back door,” she told us. “Get in here! I’m making breakfast.”
“I like food,” Eddie called out.
“I’ll be up in a few. I’m going to change and stuff,” I told him once we were inside on the landing. He went up and I went down, the scent of pancakes following me into my room.
I still didn’t have a lot of clothes, something I planned to remedy once I got my first check from Loch Gen. I didn’t intend to go ham (ham = crazy; they said it on TV. I didn’t really know why ham and crazy were similar, but whatever) with the shopping, but picking out a few items I really loved for myself seemed like such a treat. I was pretty low maintenance now, something I really didn’t think would change, but it might be nice to be a little more feminine sometimes.
Not thinking too much about it, I pulled out a pair of faded jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and some socks. Tossing them on the bed, I went to the bathroom to get ready for the day, then came back and dressed. Before heading upstairs, I glanced at the small Loch Ness Eddie had given me from the store. I kept it on my bed.
The entire upstairs smelled like butter and tension. It wasn’t a very good combo, even though a lot of cooks would tell you butter went with everything.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Eddie was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the breakfast room with a mug in his hand. Maggie was at the stove, dressed in black leggings and an oversized kimono-style pullover with a colorful design.
She turned, pointing the spatula at me in accusation. “Rumor Island, Amnesia.” Her tone was intensely disapproving. “No way in hell, young lady.”
I blinked. Defying Eddie was one thing… but Maggie? That was a different beast entirely.
“Maggie—” I began, and she started shaking her head.
“Why in heaven’s name would you want to go there? After everything?”
“Because it’s not after everything. It’s still very much present in my life,” I explained.
Maggie spun back to the stove and flipped a few pancakes. “I still don’t like it.”
“I have to do it,” I said, going to her side and touching her arm. “Please understand.”
She was silent while moving the flapjacks onto a platter. When it was done, she flipped off the burner and set aside the spatula.
I glanced at Eddie. He winked.
Clearly, he wasn’t as bothered by this as I was.
“Take these to the table,” she said, handing me the platter loaded down with pancakes.
“This could feed an army,” I told her.
She shrugged. “Eddie’s here.”
We loaded our plates in silence, and I gazed out through the room made of windows into the trees, which were rapidly offering their foliage to the grass around them. Everything was in beautiful tones of brown, orange, and yellow. There were pops of vibrant red and even a few plum-colored explosions among it all. A fall breeze ruffled the branches, and I watched leaves drift down lazily.
It was beautiful and peaceful.
Maggie cleared her throat. “You really feel like you have to do this.”
Yanking my eyes from the view, I turned to her. “I truly do. Me. Not anyone else either. I have to see that place. I have to feel it.” That part scared me most. The feeling.
“You’ll take your phones? Call for help the second you see anything remotely dangerous?”
“I swear it,” Eddie put in. At the rate he was consuming carbs, I honestly was shocked he’d been listening.
Maggie’s eyes were still concerned, but she nodded. “Do you have a boat?”
Well, crap. Why didn’t I think of that? Had I planned on swimming?
“Figured I’d borrow Tom’s,” Eddie answered.
Well, at least he’d thought it through.
Maggie got up and left the room. I took the opportunity to slip some bacon under the table to Elmo. A moment later, she returned with a simple silver ring with a key attached.
“No more bacon,” she said, giving me the evil eye.
Eddie laughed. “She totally caught you.”
“What’s that?” I asked, adeptly changing the subject.
“It’s the key to Chris’s boat.”
Eddie looked up from his plate. “You still have Chris’s boat?”
She nodded. “He loved that thing, and I’ve never been able to part with it.”
“It was a great boat.” Eddie agreed.
“You’re welcome to use it today. It’s a bit larger, maybe a bit nicer than Tom’s old fishing boat.”
Eddie made a soft sound. “It definitely is.”
“But are you sure you want us to use it? It must mean so much to you,” I asked.
“Oh yes. It hasn’t been run in months. I usually have someone give it a few tune-ups each year, and once in a while, the mechanic takes it out on the water. But it just sits there. Chris would love to know someone is enjoying it.”
“I don’t know how enjoyable this trip will be,” Eddie intoned.
“Yes, well…” Maggie agreed. “Exactly why you should take the boat.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. Eddie echoed my sentiments.
“Of course. If you are hell bent on doing this, then at least I can be supportive.”
My chair made a sound when it scraped back from the table. I rushed over and threw my arms around Maggie.
She hugged me back with a chuckle. “Don’t hug me yet. I have a condition.”
“What is it?” I asked, pulling back.
“I want to see you both here for dinner. I will want details and to see with my own two eyes you’re okay.”
“Deal,” Eddie said, punctuating it with a huge bite.
I didn’t bother to sit back down. I was too nervous, too jittery. Instead, I paced in front of the windows, barely able to admire the view.
A second
later, Eddie stood from the table. “I think if we don’t go soon, her head may combust.”
I laughed nervously. “I can’t help it.”
“Please be careful.” Maggie cautioned.
“I’ll take care of her,” Eddie vowed as he pocketed the boat keys.
“Do you remember where our dock is?” she asked.
“I remember.” Eddie held out his hand for me, and I went to his side.
Finally, finally, we were on our way.
I understood why Amnesia wanted to go to Rumor Island. Hell, even I was curious about the place. Staring at it from shore my entire life, and more specifically the past eleven years, only built it up in my mind.
But fuck. This was stupid.
I was doing it, though. We were doing it.
Closure. To me, that’s what this was about. For her. Not for me. Seemed the closure I sought all these years wasn’t really needed anymore.
That made me feel guilty. But also, it made me feel relieved.
I didn’t know what that light we saw out there was, but honestly, it seemed like a long shot it was the man who kidnapped her. Who would be stupid enough to hang around? It was like asking for a prison sentence.
Or a grave.
I was a fan of the second option. Rotting away with the worms almost seemed too good for that motherfucker, but hey, I’d take it.
The water was calm today, moving gently with the current, no sign of a storm or even a disturbance in the near future. It was the kind of day fishermen loved, and there were quite a few out on the water.
Chris’s boat was docked at a local boat slip, where a lot of people here at Lake Loch kept their boats. There were also rentals available for those here on vacation. Maggie’s late husband had a nice slip. It was covered, a luxury very few here had. The “boat garage” looked like a little wooden shack on the end of a dock. The wooden shingles on the sides went down until they nearly skimmed the surface of the lake.
When Maggie said she had the boat maintained with tune-ups, I figured I would find it in usable shape.
Maggie lied.
It wasn’t just maintained. It was perfection. Far beyond just “usable” shape.
It was clear how much she loved her husband, because his boat still looked brand new. Knowing Maggie, it was one last thing she could do for him even in death.
“I don’t know much about boats,” Amnesia mused, “but I’m pretty sure this is a nice one.”
She was right. It looked good as new, and it started right up like it, too.
As the craft cut through the water, I hoped it didn’t look “too nice,” as in drew attention to our approach. That was the thing about boating to an island. Not much surprise or secrecy.
The way the house perched on the top, if anyone was inside, all they’d have to do was look out a window to see us coming.
I kept my eyes peeled, staying hyperaware of my surroundings for anything out of the ordinary… or anything at all.
I had no idea what to expect, and that meant I couldn’t trust anything.
I wanted Amnesia to get the answers she wanted, but deep down, I hoped nothing was over there, that the island appeared abandoned and we found nothing at all. Waiting for the dental records seemed like a hell of a lot better of a bet than what we were doing. Am couldn’t wait, though, and I couldn’t stand watching her suffer while she did.
Pulling my eyes away from our surroundings, I glanced at Am sitting behind me. She wanted to sit out front, but I wasn’t about to have her in front of me. If something happened and I needed to shield her, this would make it a lot easier.
She was staring straight ahead, eyes fixated on the looming island. It seemed a lot less intimidating from shore. Out here, as we drew closer, the size, shape, and almost wild appearance grew tenfold.
Tall trees jutted up from the rocky earth, towering into the blue sky like dark swords. The house took on a ragged appearance, as if over the years, the elements had not been kind and the owner even less so. There didn’t appear to be much maintenance to the residence; instead, it was almost falling into disrepair, in need of a serious paint job, some patching, and a brand-new roof.
I knew from talk there was a dock on the other side of the island, so I made a wide arch around it, taking care to study as much of it as I could.
So far, nothing seemed wrong.
But Rumor Island always appeared that way.
It was a deceitful place.
Leaving one hand on the steering wheel, I reached out behind me with the other, wiggling my fingers in the air. Seconds later, Amnesia slid hers against it, and I grasped, noting the cold feel of her skin and the way her fingers shook.
She was brave, far braver than she had to be.
Pulling her into my side, I leaned close to her ear so I didn’t have to yell. “You sure you want to do this?”
She nodded.
“I’m gonna pull up to the dock,” I told her, preparing to cut the engine and coast in. There were no boats here. I didn’t know what that meant, though. Maybe Widow West only had one, or maybe there were more and whoever else was here was already gone.
With the motor silenced, I listened intently as I secured the boat to the dock (which had seen better days). The only sounds I heard came from nature, which oddly made this eerier.
“It’s quiet here,” Amnesia whispered, as if she too felt the weird vibes in the air. “And is it just me, or does it feel colder?”
“Stay with me at all times. Don’t ever wander off. No matter what.” I was also whispering. As I laid down the rules, I tugged the ends of the green Loch Gen hoodie closer around her and zipped it all the way up.
God, I fucking loved her. Please, let me keep her safe today.
“What if we find him?” Her eyes rounded, and genuine fear flooded in.
Her terror made me feel fiercer, more prepared to fight. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through me.
“We’ll call the cops,” I said, patting the right front pocket of my Loch Gen hoodie where I put my phone.
They can come and collect his dead body. I didn’t bother saying that out loud. She was already frightened enough.
“I’m going to make him answer my questions.” Determination filled her voice.
“I promise.”
There was no more stalling. No more waiting and listening. I was first off the boat, reaching down to help her up onto the wooden planks that I didn’t trust at all. Instead of holding her hand, I wrapped an arm around her torso as we walked, just in case one of the boards fell out from beneath her and I needed to move fast.
The dock wasn’t very long. It went right up to the shoreline, which was rocky with no beach whatsoever. This side of the land was denser with trees and nature, not utilized at all. From the dock, there was a path that cut right between two tall trees, an entrance to what felt like a dark forest. Yes, that sounded a little dramatic. It wasn’t.
“This place is creepy,” Am murmured as we walked over the path toward the trees.
“Definitely not on my bucket list of places to visit again,” I quipped.
There weren’t many sounds of birds as we walked on the path. Or of small animals scurrying through the leaves and grass. Everything was still here, almost dead.
Or scared.
Up ahead, I saw the tree line thin out; just beyond it, everything seemed a little brighter.
“The house must be through there,” I told her, even though she probably already figured it out on her own.
Sure enough, the second we made it to the line of trees, the house came into view.
“How old do you think that place is?” she asked, voice still hushed as we teetered at the tree line.
“Older than me at least. It was here before I was born,” I replied. And by the looks of the white clapboard building, it definitely didn’t get any updates over the past twenty-five years.
“C’mon,” Am said, tugging my hand. She started walking, but I moved ahead, angling myself in front of her as
we went.
Wind carried through the trees, pulling at my hair and clothes. It did feel colder here; my cheeks stung a little from the bite of the air.
There was no way… no way she’d spent the last eleven years here on this island, so close yet so far away. This was a hideous place. I’d only been here a few minutes and already I couldn’t imagine staying for any length of time.
“Anytime you want to leave,” I told her, “just say the word.”
The ground was uneven, the grass grew in patches, and in between, the ground was rocky. I would judge the island to be maybe one and a half to two miles wide. The only building I knew of was the house, where we were heading first.
“The front must be on the other side,” she said, tugging me off to the side where a worn dirt path led us around.
There was an old-school laundry line not far from the house. Tall grass grew around the poles that held it up. Two thin lines stretched between them, bobbing in the wind. On one end, forgotten laundry blew around. The ends of the white sheet were tattered as if it had been left in the weather for a while. There was also a towel and a long white nightgown.
“There’s a garden,” Am said, pointing to a fairly large plot of land boxed in with wood and protected by a short row of metal fencing. “She must grow her own food.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “She didn’t come to town very often.”
“Are there any other towns nearby? Accessible to the lake?”
I thought about it and nodded. “Yeah, but it’s farther away. A longer boat ride.”
“There’s the door,” she said.
We stopped around the “front” of the house. It was only distinguishable as the front because of the faded red door in the center. Otherwise, it looked exactly the same as the other sides we walked around.
It was ominous the way it just sat there, towering above us as if it owned the land.
Amnesia’s fingers shook in mine, but her feet started forward. We walked up some crude stone steps that led to the front door.
“Should we knock?” She wondered.
This wasn’t a polite social call. I wasn’t about to announce my presence with a neighborly knock. Instead, I reached out and turned the handle. The door gave way, a loud creaking sound filling the air as it swung in.
Amnesty: Amnesia Duet Book 2 Page 8