“Couples talk, Emma. I’m sorry, okay?” Paisley said defensively. “And we are a couple in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I noticed, trust me,” she said. “You guys were very loud last night.”
“Sorry.” Paisley blushed. “I was drunk.”
“Derek wasn’t,” Emma murmured.
“I’m in love with him, Emma.” Her brown eyes were earnest.
“You can do better.”
“No, you can do better,” Paisley countered. “Nothing but geeks and freaks come into the Atomic Unicorn and most of them still live with their moms. The ones who aren’t are so into their computer games that a real, live girl goes completely unnoticed.” She frowned. “Or they’re total scam artists like my last boyfriend.”
“Paisley—”
“Derek pays attention to me. He makes me feel special,” Paisley said. “And he spends money on me. His own money.”
“Just because he has money, doesn’t mean he’s a catch.”
“Well, I love him. And I think he loves me.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!”
“I have to tell you something. About your birthday party—” Emma bit her lip. “Something happened that night.”
“Did you hook up with one of the artists?” Paisley asked. “Derek said that was probably the reason you ditched the art show. You don’t need to be embarrassed. It happens.” She grabbed Emma’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “Which guy was it?”
“I didn’t hook up with one of the artists. Derek made a pass at me that night.”
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Paisley guffawed. “He jokes around, Emma.”
“He wasn’t joking. He was being a jerk.”
“He was drinking that night.” Paisley sat back, her face bright red. “He gets stupid when he drinks. I get stupid when I drink. That’s why our relationship works.” Her gaze shifted. “What did he say?”
“He said that he liked my dress.”
“Well, that’s a cardinal sin.”
“It was the way he said it.”
“Oh, okay.” She plucked up a spoon and stirred her coffee noisily.
“He also tried to kiss me.”
Paisley seemed to take in the information before she continued. “Are you feeling like a third wheel, Emma? Because if you are, I’m sorry—”
“I’m not feeling like a third wheel,” Emma grated. “Derek made a pass at me.”
“My birthday party was several weeks ago. Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“I was going to,” Emma said. “I tried to talk to him about it yesterday. He apologized and said it was a misunderstanding, but after last night—”
Paisley’s eyes were wide. “What happened last night?”
“I tripped and…he grabbed me.”
“Well, how dare he stop you from falling,” Paisley said. “How dare he.”
“I’m not joking. He’s not just being friendly. He was coming onto me!”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, he did,” Emma argued. “Why would I lie to you?”
“I don’t know! You know what?” Paisley stood and stalked into the kitchen. She dumped her coffee into the sink. “You can finish the packing and cleaning by yourself.” Grabbing her backpack, she stuffed her leather jacket into it. “I think it’s time for us to go.”
“Paisley—”
“No.” She held up her hand. “You don’t like Derek. I get that.” She shouldered her backpack. “We came out here to help, Emma, but apparently, you’d rather be alone.”
Paisley slammed the door behind her. There was a tense and brief murmur of conversation outside before Derek walked in. Cold fury simmered behind his gaze.
“Way to go, Emma.” He silently rolled up their sleeping bag, his jaw working.
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he said loudly, “but if you’re trying to drive a wedge between Paisley and myself, it won’t work.”
“You made a pass at me last night and you know it!”
“Have fun alone, Emma.” He walked up to her and dropped his voice. “Don’t let the snakes get you.”
The cabin was silent after he left. Emma bit back tears of outrage and humiliation, her thoughts in turmoil. She stood and walked stiffly into the kitchen. Paisley’s mug and the remains of their breakfast dishes lay in the sink. After forcing herself to wash instead of smash them, she packed them away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMMA MOPED AROUND the cabin for the rest of the morning. She set some of the clothes Paisley had taken a liking to aside. Discovering one of Derek’s t-shirts beside the bed, she resisted the impulse to throw it into the garbage. She tossed it on top Paisley’s clothing pile instead. Her phone rang, and she ran to answer it.
“Hello?”
“What’s going on, angel face?” Gideon’s voice was concerned.
Her shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”
“Your friend and her young man just left. She seemed pretty upset. Thought I’d give you a call.”
“We had a fight.”
“About?”
“I don’t even want to go into it.” Emma let out a troubled sigh. “Just…stupid girl stuff.”
“Ah, well, I suppose I’d be no good at that.” He chuckled. “You two will patch things up. You’ve been friends for too long. You almost done packing and cleaning?”
“Getting there.” She wandered to the bedroom window. “What’s the update on your boat? I’m kind of stuck out here now.”
“Probably by the end of the week.” He paused. “I’ll give Nate a call and see if he can’t swing by in a couple days. He said he was passing by that way.”
“I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
“No trouble. Got enough food to last you?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll be in touch. Call me if you run into any trouble.” Gideon paused. “Sure you can manage out there by yourself for a while longer?”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Gideon.”
She hung up and continued to stare out the window. Minutes ticked by, and Emma felt no desire to do anything productive. She allowed herself to wallow in self-pity instead, breaking into the chorus of the Beatles’ With a Little Help from My Friends for good measure. Her voice echoed off the empty walls of the cabin.
She leaned her head against the cool glass. “Thank you, and goodnight.” Her breath fogged the window and she wiped it away.
Emma spent the rest of the morning half-heartedly boxing up the remainder of Fae’s belongings. She took no joy in her progress. The cabin seemed strangely silent and empty. All the while, she eyed the phone, half-hoping, half-dreading, it would ring. It remained silent.
Evening came. Distant rumbles of thunder indicated another storm was brewing. Emma cleaned up after eating a dinner she’d barely tasted. Her gaze was drawn to the bottle of tequila left behind on the kitchen counter.
“Stupid Derek. I hate him.” She started to toss the bottle into the garbage and changed her mind. Who cares if I get drunk or not? There’s nobody around. “Fuck it.” She filled a shot glass and held it up to the empty cabin. “Here’s hoping Paisley dumps your ass.” Tossing the drink back in one swallow, she grimaced at the bitter aftertaste.
Emma pushed open the bedroom window a crack and climbed into her sleeping bag. She picked up her grandmother’s journal and rifled through the pages. Her gaze fastened onto her name.
February 10, 1994
Avery wants to send Emma out for a visit. There’s nothing for a five-year-old to do here. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve ignored the phone several times since our last conversation. The child would much rather spend time with her mother, and quite honestly, I’d rather be alone. Avery is lost in his own grief over the divorce. I don’t know why Kate can’t get herself together enough to share custody. That’s what they’d agreed upon.
The journal entry only
added to Emma’s misery. She bit back tears and continued to read.
March 2, 1994
I was overdue for supplies and had no choice but to take my boat to the mainland today. Peter, one of the new fisherman, asked how I was doing on my cursed island. He said it in jest, but the look in his eyes told me not completely so. He’d just moved into the area, but I imagine the locals have already gotten to him. He saw the bruise on my collarbone and asked if I’d had an accident. I told him I’d gone on a hike and had fallen asleep beside a pile of rocks. This seemed to alarm him more than it did me.
March 14, 1994
Peter brought me extra supplies, which was thoughtful but unnecessary. He has his own family to worry about. He also brought me two bells. Odd gifts, but he made me promise to string them outside by the front door. He also insisted I place bowls of sea water under the window sills. He said it was to keep away pests. I think it must be some sort of superstition where he comes from. I did as he asked since I had no reason not to. He seemed nervous while he was here.
March 21, 1994
I’ve been sleeping a little better, but the dreams are still constant. It’s bitterly cold today, and yet, I must have sat beside that pile of rocks for hours. Yesterday, I fell asleep beside them again and woke with bleeding fingertips. I don’t remember digging or grabbing anything sharp. I probably should stay away from the place, but.…
I don’t feel alone when I’m there.
The last sentence was scrawled like an afterthought.
Unease pricked at her insides. “Cabin fever. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy,” she murmured. “There’s nothing underneath the rocks. A cave maybe. If I could find it.”
There was a rustle outside the bedroom window. She rolled over and peeked outside, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Her gaze fell upon the spot Derek had made a pass at her.
Frowning, Emma tried to pull the bedroom window shut to block the memory. The room suddenly tilted. Whoa. Okay, Miss Lightweight. She fell back onto the bed, unable to move her arms or legs. I only had one shot. This isn’t right…
She felt herself quickly spinning into unconsciousness.
Anxiety-filled dreams came, one after another. In one, she tried to call Paisley. She kept punching in the phone number, but it wouldn’t connect. In another, her calls were rerouted to Derek, who berated her for making a big deal out of nothing. In another, he was on top her and wouldn’t get off.
Sometime in the middle of the night, she half-woke, thinking someone had stroked her lips. Sweat beaded on her brow, and she pushed the sleeping bag down around her waist. She started to drift again when a quiet whistle sounded from beside her ear. Emma sat up with a start, her gaze searching the darkness. Her head pounded, and she felt disconnected and shaky. Fumbling for the bedside lamp, she was dismayed to find that the power had gone off during the night. She searched for her flashlight. It slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor with a thud. The low whistle sounded again from the living room.
Emma dropped to her hands and knees and searched the wood floor. Nausea welled inside her and she bit it back. Her fingers finally closed over the cold metal. Switching the flashlight on, the beam cut through the darkness. She stood and tried to gather her bearings. Cold sweat slid down between her breasts. She took a step forward and steadied herself against the doorframe. A sliver of light came from the kitchen. Perplexed, she walked toward it. The refrigerator door was open. The light slanted starkly across the kitchen. She jumped as something skittered past her feet.
That squirrel must be back. A small sigh of relief escaped her. She scanned the floor with her flashlight and crept into the living room. The beam weakened, barely pushing through the darkness. Searching for matches, her hand closed around a box sitting on the table. She tried to pull one out and dropped the box onto the floor, scattering them.
“Dammit!”
Her flashlight died, and Emma was plunged into darkness. Another quiet whistle sounded from behind and she bit back a scream. Shit! That’s not a squirrel. Her fingers finally connected with the cardboard box and she fumbled with it, striking a match against the striker. It lit with a hiss and the smell of sulfur hit her nose. She held up the small flame, heart pounding. As she turned, two things registered—a flash of white and a breath of air hitting her in the face.
The match went out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EMMA AWOKE WITH a throbbing headache. Her sleeping bag was tucked tightly around her. She weakly pushed it aside. Overcome by a sudden wave of nausea, she ran to the bathroom and vomited. Rinsing her face, she was taken aback by her shattered reflection. Aside from her bloodshot eyes and pale skin, bruises the size of thumbprints traced her collarbone. How did I get those? She ran her fingers over them.
Confused, Emma wandered into the living room. Wooden matches scattered the area. The matchbox lay on the floor. She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. The refrigerator was slightly ajar. Opening it, her heart skipped a beat. All the fish Derek had cooked were gone. The plates had been seemingly licked clean and the fish bones were nowhere to be found. Her gaze traveled to the bottle of tequila sitting next to the sink. I only had one shot. A cold realization hit her. Derek put something in it.
Biting back her anger, Emma opened the bottle and dumped the contents into the sink. She immediately chastised herself. “Shit! There goes your proof, Emma. Nice job.” She threw the bottle into the garbage. “Dammit!” She picked up her cell phone and contemplated calling Paisley to tell her what had happened. She’s not talking to me, though. And I don’t think telling her about this will make things any better. “If I had Derek’s phone number, I’d call and tell him exactly what I think of him,” she muttered. “Asshole!” Spent from her anger, she crawled back into her sleeping bag. I’ll feel better in an hour or so. I need to sleep.
The sun slanted through the bedroom window by the time Emma awoke again. The light seared her eyes. She groaned and rolled over. Crawling from her sleeping bag, the cold air hit her skin like a slap. She closed and latched the window shut. The lingering feeling that she’d forgotten something crucial nagged at her. Her muscles ached. Her head throbbed. She went into the bathroom and turned on the water to fill the tub.
Emma undressed and fingered the bruises along her collarbone. I must have stumbled into something last night. Sinking into the warm water, she lay back and stared at the wooden beams on ceiling. And that squirrel must have come back. Do squirrels eat fish? The last thing she remembered was reading her grandmother’s journal. There had been something else, though… The blank spot in her memory left her unsettled.
After a long soak, Emma felt a little better. She pulled on a pair of jeans, her warmest sweater and her parka. Searching through the extra supplies Gideon had packed for her, she found a small flashlight that would fit into her back pocket. Just in case I need one.
She told herself she was going for a walk to clear her mind, nothing more. As she ventured farther into the woods, Emma surrendered to the fact that, in spite of last night’s events and how crappy she still felt, she was determined to find the pile of rocks—for whatever reason. As she approached the ruins of the house, she quickly spied them a mere twenty feet away from where she’d found the broken doll. That’s weird. Why didn’t I notice that before?
Emma knelt beside the crevice and switched her flashlight on. The tiny beam barely cut through the blackness inside. She shoved the flashlight into her pocket and grabbed one of the larger stones with both hands, rocking it back and forth until it came free. Peering inside, she could see a narrow shaft leading down. An earthy odor emanated from below. She set her jaw in determination and eased her way in.
Emma felt like she’d almost reached the bottom when she lost her footing. Skidding the rest of the way, she fell in a heap onto a dirt floor, smacking the side of her face. She rolled over with a groan, her body a myriad of pain. “Way to go.” The filtered light from the shaft captured dust from her fall. An entombed silen
ce hung in the air. Her flashlight had fallen from her pocket. She hunted for her flashlight and found it wedged between two rocks. The glass was cracked, but it still worked.
The cramped space was about one hundred and fifty square feet. The stone walls looked to be solid with no other exit. The floor was earthy but dry. Not a sea cave then, Emma mused. And no way out, except up. Disappointed, she started to leave when something in the corner caught her eye. As she approached, the beam of light from her flashlight flickered and went out.
Emma shook it to no avail. I’ll wait for my eyes to adjust. There’s enough light to see. It’s probably a pile of dirt or something. Suddenly, a cloud crossed the sun and plunged the cave into darkness. Her sharp intake of breath echoed against the walls.
Something brushed across the scrape on her cheek. The scent of burning wood hit her nostrils. Backing away, she shook her flashlight desperately, hoping to squeeze some life from the batteries. A wave of sleepiness overcame her and she almost collapsed. Emma felt her way along the cave wall, her breath rasping in and out. Just as she looked up, the cloud passed and sunlight bathed her face. She quickly turned her attention to the cave again. It was empty.
Emma stared at the darkened corner. Whatever it is was there long before I barged in. She chewed her lip, hating the fear that uncharacteristically found its way in her belly. Heeding an inner voice, she quickly climbed up the shaft. And for now, there it will stay.
Emma walked back to the cabin, her body leaden. The scrape on her cheek stung and her head throbbed. She stepped in a puddle of muddy water, soaking her shoe through to the sock.
I’m done for the day. As she approached the cabin, she was surprised to see the front door wide open. “Hello?”
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