Run Away

by Laura Salters

  Then she saw it. A black tip shark pup darted past, fleeing from the group as soon as it sensed their presence. Kayla looked around, but nobody else had reacted. She was the only one to see it. Adrenaline flooded her senses and she grinned involuntarily, allowing water to slip around the snorkel and into her mouth. She bobbed her head above the surface, spluttering and coughing violently.

  Sam, swimming next to her, surfaced next. “You okay?” he grunted, licking his lips vigorously. Kayla knew how he felt—­the sea salt coating her mouth was crusty and thick. She was already desperate for a drink.

  “Yeah. I advise you not to smile and inhale at the same time.” She laughed, but found herself praying he wouldn’t snap at her for being idiotic.

  His face remained stony. “I don’t feel good.” In fairness, His face was completely drained of color. It was the whitest Kayla had seen him look in weeks.

  “Wanna get Fletch to take you back?”

  “I dunno,” he said. He looked like he might faint. “You think I should?”

  “You don’t look great, Sam. Maybe it’d be best?”

  “Yeah. I feel dizzy.”

  Fletch’s head cut through the surface of the water, and he shook like a wet Labrador. Water whooshed around his ears, spraying Sam and Kayla, his floppy, sun-­bleached hair matted to his forehead. He spat out a mouthful of water and yelled, far too loudly, “Guys! What are you doing? There are two glorious females down there! Just circling us like they haven’t a care in the world. You gotta see it, guys. Almost two meters long each. Beauties, they are.”

  “I, um—­” Sam coughed. “I gotta go back. Feel faint.”

  “What’s up buddy? Happens often, mind you. ­People get scared and freak out. They’re fine, I promise you. Lovely creatures. I still got all my limbs, ain’t I?”

  “No, it’s not that. I feel ill. Like I might throw up.”

  Fletch swept his hair out of his face and scanned around to make sure the others hadn’t traveled too far alone. Reluctantly, he said, “Well all right, then. If you don’t think you’re gonna feel better soon, we’ll go back. Such a shame, though. Amazing day for it . . . just amazing.”

  Sam looked ashamed. “I’m really sorry. I’ll go myself, though, you guys carry on.”

  “No can do, mate. Can’t be sending you off yourself through shark-­infested waters. We’ll all go back with you, drop you on the beach, then if the others are keen, we can all come back. That okay, buddy?”

  That was the moment Kayla realized just how bad Sam must be feeling. Ordinarily, he’d never even consider causing such an inconvenience. It wasn’t his style. But today he turned away and said, meekly, “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Yeah. There’s more going on than a bug.

  Chapter 27

  July 24, England

  AT A DESPICABLY early time—­barely even eight A.M., for goodness sake—­there was a tap on her bedroom door.

  Kayla groaned, pressing the only button on her phone to check the time; 7:49 A.M. Her background picture of the group at Tiger Temple induced a sharp pang in her chest.

  Another tap. “Kayla?” It was her mother.

  “Yeah? Com’in,” she mumbled, thick with sleep.

  Martha walked in timidly, as if Kayla was an animal that might lash out and bite her. She was wearing skintight white jeans, cork wedges with black straps, and a black jumper. And pulling a wheeled suitcase behind her.

  “Mum? Wh-­Where are you going? What’s—­”

  “Shhh, Kayla, don’t worry. Nothing’s wrong.” She abandoned the suitcase and perched at the end of the bed. Kayla propped herself up on her elbows, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the light. “I’m just getting the train down to Surrey for a few days. To stay with your auntie.”

  “Okay . . .” Kayla rubbed her eyes. Her mum was leaving? At a time like this?

  “If you need me here, I’ll stay,” Martha said quickly. “Of course I will. If you need me, I’ll be here. But . . . well, I booked this trip while you were in Thailand. Your aunt Elsie is so stressed with work, and I’m worried about her. I was going to take her away to a spa for a day or two, just to make her relax a bit, but . . .” Doubt flashed across her face. She frowned, accentuating the deep lines on her weary face. “Oh, Kayla, what am I saying? I shouldn’t be leaving you here. Not now. I’ll cancel—­”

  “Mum, relax,” Kayla interrupted. “It’s fine. It’s only for a few days, right?”

  A small smile. “Right. But are you sure—­”

  Kayla laughed. Nothing was funny, she just didn’t want her mum to feel guilty. She probably needed the break as much as Aunt Elsie. “Go. Have fun. Catch up with your sister. I’ll be completely fine.”

  Martha ran her hands through her dark hair, which she’d recently had cut into a bob. It suited her. “I’m so lucky to have a daughter like you,” she whispered. “You’re so strong.” She shook her head. “Much stronger than I am.”

  Kayla’s eyes felt hot. “Thanks, Mum. But I don’t feel it, most of the time.”

  Martha edged up the bed until she was next to her, leaned over and tenderly kissed her forehead. She hadn’t done that since Kayla was a little girl. “I’m proud of you, Kayla. I really am.”

  Kayla gulped. “Mum? Is it . . . is it safe to travel? I know there hasn’t been an attack for over a month now, but . . .”

  Something else flashed on Martha’s face. Was it fear? Anguish? Or . . . indifference?

  “Sweetheart,” her mother said, clearing her throat. “The government are urging ­people to travel as normal. We can’t let these . . . these terrorists win. We can’t show fear.” She stroked Kayla’s cheek. “Besides, isn’t lightning only meant to strike the same place once? You’ve suffered through two strikes. I think we’re immune from a third.”

  “Outside of your sessions with me, have you anyone to talk to about what you’re going through? Any friends around you?” Dr. Myers looked especially pretty today. Her skin was dewy and glowing, like she’d been spending a lot of time outside, and her eyes had the vibrant quality of someone who always gets enough sleep.

  Kayla hesitated. She never knew quite how much it was acceptable to share with Cassandra, especially where her secret relationship with DI Winters was concerned. “I’d love to say yes. It’s weird for me to admit how lonely I am. I was so sociable during school and had such a big group of friends . . . but we’ve all grown apart, I guess. Ever since Gabe died, it’s like they haven’t known how to act around me. So I haven’t really seen any of them since I got back from Thailand.”

  “What about family?”

  “Sort of. My mum’s away now, visiting her sister, and my dad works a lot. I mean, I’ve always been close to my nan. But it’s been weird lately. The atmosphere in the house doesn’t help. She’s away on a walking holiday this week, up near Oban. I already miss her being around. How sad is that? Even when we aren’t talking much, it’s just nice to have her there.”

  “It’s not sad at all. It’s lovely.” If Dr. Myers was shocked that her family were deserting her, she didn’t show it.

  A moment of silence. Perhaps Cassandra sensed that she wanted to say something else.

  “There are a ­couple of ­people I’ve been meeting up with recently,” Kayla began.

  Cassandra cocked her head. “Well, that’s good. Who?”

  “One is a guy I went to school with, the other is . . . just a friend. That police officer, actually. The one I told you about a few weeks ago. Sadie.” Kayla smiled weakly. “But now I’ve lost contact with both of them. My nan asked me to stop seeing Aran, and Sadie has been ignoring my calls since Saturday. Even Sam’s mum, Kathy, won’t return my messages.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. Still nothing.

  “Why do you think that is?” Dr. Myers looked genuinely intrigued. She’d been fidgeting absentmindedly with a dangly charm bracelet on
her left wrist, rolling the white gold dove between her fingertips, but was now focusing intently on her.

  “I have no idea,” Kayla admitted. “It does seem weird that everyone I’ve gotten halfway close to over the past two months has suddenly disappeared from my life. Not necessarily literally,” she added quickly. “Honestly, though, I feel like a leper.”

  “Why did your grandmother want you to cut ties with . . . Aaron, did you call him?”

  “Aran. If I’m honest . . . I was stepping out of line. Wanting to dig stuff up that related to my brother’s death. She found out and got really upset, said she couldn’t bear to go through all of that again. I completely understand where she’s coming from. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.” Kayla couldn’t meet Cassandra’s eye.

  “So you weren’t meeting him as a friend? Just to talk about what happened to Gabriel?” Kayla said nothing. “Oh, Kayla. I know it’s hard for you, I really do. It’s fine to talk about him—­great, in fact. Healthy. Just as long as you’re not searching for answers that don’t exist. I’m here to help you get through this, to guide you through—­”

  “I know,” Kayla snapped. “Sorry, I just . . . I think I’m going insane. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something. Yes, before you say anything, I know how mental that sounds. They were thousands of miles apart, three months apart. I know that. Maybe I was clutching at straws with Aran, but it helped.” She chewed her lip. “And my memory seems to be getting worse and worse, I can barely remember what happened yesterday, let alone in Phuket. How am I supposed to make sense of it all if my mind is so damn foggy all of the time? It’s just frustrating. I feel like my body is letting me down. If I don’t feel physically well, how am I ever supposed to heal emotionally?”

  Kayla dropped her head into her hands and groaned. “I’m sorry. This must be so frustrating for you. Have you ever had a patient so messed up her own body prevented her from grieving?”

  “You’d be surprised. The best I can do is talk it through with you, and hope that at some point, your subconscious lets down its guard. So we can work through whatever it’s trying to protect you from.”

  “You think my brain is trying to protect me from something?”

  Dr. Myers shrugged. “It’s certainly possible.”

  “Like what?”

  “That’s what we’re going to have to work on discovering. At what point do you usually feel everything start to cloud over, mentally?”

  Kayla thought. “Mostly when I’m thinking about Gabe or Sam. Not just them, generally. More like when I try and wrap my head around the nitty-­gritty details of what happened to them. And why. It’s the why that gets me.” Kayla sighed. She saw Cassandra jot something down on a notepad for the first time since she’d started seeing her. “I can’t make sense of the why.”

  Dr. Myers was quiet for a moment. There was something else bothering Kayla, but she knew it was even more ridiculous than not believing the police. She knew that if she voiced her thoughts, Dr. Myers would lose all respect for her. Hell, she might even have her locked up in a mental hospital.

  What the hell. What have I got to lose? “What if what happened to Sam and Gabe was . . . connected, somehow?”

  “Connected? Why would you think that?”

  Kayla squirmed in her chair. “Well, firstly, the way Gabe and Sam both acted in the weeks leading up to their . . . deaths.” The word tasted cold, metallic. “So twisted and resentful. And scared. I know, I know, their reasons have been explained. But it just seems odd, doesn’t it? For them to go in such similar ways. Fear, then blood. Most ­people go their whole lives never losing someone in such a . . . bloody way.” There was so much blood . . . “And yet it’s happened to me. Twice. In the space of three months. And they were both the men I loved most in the world . . . Doesn’t that seem at all strange to you?”

  “But Kayla,” Dr. Myers said, clearly exasperated. She dropped her pen onto the pad and shook her head. “What could possibly link Sam’s and Gabe’s deaths?” She flinched at her own faux pas. Nobody knew for certain whether or not Sam was dead. But her patient hadn’t even noticed.

  “Honestly?” Kayla swallowed. “The only thing I can think of is me.”

  KAYLA DIDN’T DRIVE straight home.

  Instead, she drove north. Specifically, to the northernmost town in England: Berwick-­upon-­Tweed. She’d had family here, once upon a time, but like everyone else in her life, they’d moved on to better things. Moved away from her.

  There was a spot. A spot she felt compelled to visit—­one that she could drive to in her sleep. In the month just after she’d passed her driving test, at the ripe old age of seventeen, she’d been to the spot six times. Her first love had just dumped her for another girl, and, at the time, it was the most inconceivably horrific tragedy that could possibly happen to her.

  Irony’s a bitch, she thought bitterly.

  Perched on top of a steep grassy bank, she had stumbled upon Meg’s Mount by accident while walking her cousin’s Dalmatian, Baxter, around the town’s historic walls one morning. It had been an early morning in late April, and the sun had only just risen over the horizon. The pale spring sky and bracing breeze gave her goose bumps. The spot overlooked the town’s burnt copper rooftops, forest green leaves, and vast expanses of glistening water. Much to Baxter’s horror, she’d sat down, enchanted, on the lone wooden bench, and gazed out onto the River Tweed as it flowed into the gray North Sea. Doves cooed, currents gushed, the scent of damp grass hung in the air. And she forgot everything else.

  It was a blank feeling she’d come to crave, especially in times like today, when her loneliness was paralyzing. She’d always found crowds to be triggering rather than healing; embracing solitude and turning to nature was, for her, a cathartic antidote. Not that she had an alternative these days.

  But today was different. She sat on the bench for nearly an hour, but no inner peace arrived. Maybe it was too busy, or maybe too late in the morning. Maybe it had been too long since she’d last been here, or maybe her pain was too severe. Because somehow, the spot had lost its magic. Or maybe all that’s happened is simply too much to come back from. Kayla fought the thought away.

  Delving into her jeans pocket, she checked her phone. No new e-­mails, no text messages, no missed calls. She hadn’t really expected anything else. She’d told Aran to stop working on his little project, without so much as an explanation. There had still been no reply from Kathy. And DI Winters? She’d been ignoring her since Saturday. Probably because I came on too strong. Got too personal, asking about her studies and her cousin’s death. What an idiot. Kayla didn’t know the hows or the whys. All she knew was that she was well and truly on her own. Yet again.

  Just as she was going to slide the phone away it vibrated in her hand. It was a text message. She frowned at the sight of the name. It wasn’t one she’d ever expected to see again, yet for a moment, deep down, she felt glad that she hadn’t been forgotten altogether.

  Kayla. I didn’t know whether I should tell you what I know. About Sam, that is. I’ve been going over and over the possibilities in my mind, and perhaps it doesn’t even mean anything but . . . it might. And I figured that “might” was enough to act on. Can we meet? I’m back in England. I’ll come up north to see you. Please. Oliver x

  Kayla’s mind raced. The idea of seeing Oliver again turned in her stomach like a slab of congealed raw meat. Was this just a mind game? Was he trying to trick her? It seemed a likely explanation.

  But what if he really did know something? Would it matter if he did, or was it already too late? Did she even want to know? Would she ever know the answers to these questions if she didn’t meet him? Without Sadie’s help, it’d be nearly impossible.

  Kayla knew what she had to do. She replied, hitting send with a shaking hand.

  Chapter 28

  June 12, England

  THE THIRD
TERRORIST attack was on Sam’s birthday. London Kings Cross.

  Huddled around the tiny television set, Kayla, Russia, and Bling watched as the news reader, who looked completely shaken up herself, shared footage of the explosion. Nineteen casualties. Countless more injured. Major roads blocked as many fled the city. The governor of the Bank of England was among the missing.

  Bling was crying silently. She couldn’t get through to her family. Her father worked in the City. Banking. Russia had made her a cup of herbal tea and was trying to console her, stroking her hair and murmuring something about being sure there was an alternative explanation for their radio silence. The apartment was hot and humid, reeking of old garbage and bleach, but Kayla had chills.

  It had become a rarity for the group to spend an entire evening together. Between Dave’s ill health, Sam and Russia’s conflicting work-­shift schedules, and Bling’s disdain toward the town’s sleazy nightlife, the fun nights out and thrilling adventures were few and far between. Tragedy has a way of pulling ­people back together.

  As happens with many friendship circles, the gang was beginning to realize that none of its members were perfect. Gone was the polite laughter at unfunny jokes and automatic accommodation of each other’s needs. They’d now gone beyond mere friendship into the murky realms of almost-­cousinhood that came from spending every second of every day together. It was nice, in a way, that they’d become almost like family. But it didn’t come without its downfalls. There were arguments. Lots of arguments.

  Sam came into the room. He’d been oddly withdrawn over the last few days, especially considering it was his birthday. His expression was pinched, his T-­shirt creased, and his hair sticking up all over the place. The exhaustion wafted off him in waves.

  “Can we get a rain check on tonight’s night out? I’m not feeling it,” he mumbled, his eyes flickering toward the TV. They barely seemed to register the attack.