Dark Water: A Siren Novel

by Tricia Rayburn

  “There was a sign.” I leaned toward the cashier. “I think it said $49.99.”

  “I’ll go check to make sure.”

  “No, that’s okay, I’ll—”

  But she was already gone. Behind me, the first guy joined the second. They smelled like salt, nicotine, and raw salmon. They talked about hooks and bait in a way that suggested fish wasn’t what they were looking to catch.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” the first guy asked, raising his voice.

  Given that we were the only people in the store besides the cashier, I assumed this question was directed at me.

  “Not really,” I said, without turning around.

  “Didn’t think so. We couldn’t forget that face, could we, Griff?”

  “Definitely not.” Their stench grew stronger as they stepped closer. “We kind of pride ourselves on getting to know all the pretty girls in town. It’s, like, our thing.”

  “That’s nice.” Now I wasn’t sure whether to be scared or relieved. They were being rather aggressive, while most guys were stunned into shyness unless encouraged to interact. Maybe they really were like this with all girls. Maybe it had nothing to do with the fact that I was nothing like all girls.

  “Know something?” the first guy said. “It was a long day. I’m pretty hungry … and could go for something sweet.”

  It didn’t matter what their motivation was. The last word was spoken near my ear. Fear won.

  “I changed my mind!” I backed up, toward the store entrance. “Thanks anyway!”

  Outside, I forced my feet to walk, not run, the short distance to the car. I glanced at the store as I climbed in and saw the two guys talking to the cashier, who’d returned to the register. She was older, so they probably weren’t interested in her the same way they’d been in me. And if they still tried to stir up trouble, she was surrounded by pocketknives, screwdrivers, and other tools. Certain she could ward off unwanted attention if necessary, I felt only a mild pang of guilt as I started the car and hit the gas.

  Eddie’s Ice Cream was nearby. Deciding I might as well pick up dessert so that I had something to show for the trip to town, I drove there and bought three sundaes and as many gallons as I could carry. Though I hadn’t directly caused last summer’s storms I still felt partially responsible, which made me partially responsible for this summer’s slow business. The least I could do was help Eddie move his inventory.

  Back in the car, I took back roads to avoid passing the hardware store on my way home. I’d just turned down a narrow residential street when headlights appeared behind me, in the distance. My pulse quickened then slowed again as the car, an old orange pickup, turned down another road and disappeared.

  I put on the radio for distraction. Reached for my purse in the passenger seat, found my cell phone, and placed it in the cup holder. Grabbed a handful of pretzels from the emergency bag in the middle console and washed it down with the bottle of salt water I’d brought for the ride.

  I was about to check my phone for messages when the orange pickup skidded to a stop at the next cross street. My foot came off the gas and the SUV slowed. I waited for the truck to turn out ahead of me, but it stayed there, engine grumbling.

  It’s okay … they’re just lost … they probably want to drive down this way but the street’s so narrow, they need you to pass first.…

  I pressed the gas. The sun had set by now but as I neared the truck, it was still light enough to make out the fishing rods hanging out the back, the brim of a baseball hat inside the cab. I slid down in my seat, rested one elbow by the window, and tried to hide my face with my hand. I looked straight ahead as I passed.

  The truck didn’t move.

  I held my breath as I continued driving, watched the rusty hood grow smaller in the rearview mirror. By the time I reached the stop sign at the end of the street, I couldn’t see it anymore.

  Exhaling, I turned left, toward the ocean.

  Behind me, headlights appeared.

  They came closer, grew brighter. I sped up but that only made them do the same. I went faster. The speedometer needle inched toward forty. Forty-five. Fifty. The speed limit was twenty in town and strictly enforced, but I didn’t care.

  Neither, it seemed, did the young fishermen.

  Reaching the next T intersection, I veered left without stopping. The SUV flew up and around curves that the old truck had a harder time maneuvering. I relaxed slightly, confident that at this rate, I’d be home with the iron gate closed behind me before the truck caught up … but then I realized what that meant.

  They’d know where I lived. Even if they were too far back to see which driveway I pulled into, they’d still have a pretty good idea. This road, though long, wasn’t lined with many houses. It ended at our cul-de-sac. Which meant I’d be safe tonight … but what about tomorrow? The fishermen might simply be playing games right now, but what if they felt like tracking me down and doing something more serious later?

  I slammed on the brake. The SUV swerved and I used the momentum to spin it around, change direction. I shot past the truck a quarter mile down; it slowed instantly and began to turn.

  The speedometer needle hit fifty-five. Sixty. Sixty-five. Keeping one hand clamped on the steering wheel, I reached for my phone. I started to punch in the number I could still dial in my sleep even though I hadn’t called it in months … and then hung up before the last digit.

  My instinct was to call Simon. To tell him I might not be okay, because once upon a time, he’d wanted to know. So he could help. He’d taken care of me at the lake house the other day, but that was only because he probably felt like he had no other choice—I was right there, next door. And if we had any chance together, the choice always had to be his. Just like it had been Mom’s.

  I tossed the phone on the passenger seat and sped back toward town. The truck caught up as soon as I was slowed by stop signs and the occasional car. I turned down random roads, hoping the lack of direction indicated I was trying to lose them, to throw them off, so that they wouldn’t think to return to the winding street set high above the ocean.

  This lasted minutes but felt like hours. I’d just blown past the Winter Harbor Library when red and blue lights flashed in my rearview mirror. They were so bright, I couldn’t see past them—or if the old truck tailed the police cruiser—but I pulled over anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, when the officer reached my open window. “I was speeding, I know, and I’m so sorry. But these guys in an old truck followed me from the hardware store and are chasing me all—”

  I stopped. What was the point? The officer was male, young, and already smiling. He appeared to be listening, but I knew he didn’t really hear what I was saying. On top of which, besides our cars, the road was empty.

  The fishermen, at least for now, were gone.

  CHAPTER 7

  V! Emergency staff mtg. this a.m. Can you be at restaurant at 9? xo, P

  BTW, supershort notice, I know. So sorry!

  Missed you at mtg.! Hope everything’s OK. Will fill you in when you get here. P.S. No rush. Place is dead.

  Wow, ridiculous choice of words. Me: Idiot! You: Forgiving?

  Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite person? Like, ever?

  I finished reading Paige’s texts, pushed the blankets aside, and sat up—or tried to anyway. My shoulders lifted but my chest wouldn’t budge. My entire torso felt weighted down, like my lungs had been replaced with cinder blocks. I shifted my arms and pressed my elbows into the mattress for support, but my torso rose only an inch or two before falling back again. The effort made my head spin; I closed my eyes as I reached for the water bottle on my nightstand.

  I always woke up weaker than when I went to sleep, and so thirsty, I could down a gallon of salt water in less than a minute, but this felt different. Like I might be coming down with the flu or some other real illness. I hadn’t gotten sick since my body’s transformation last summer, and I wondered how it might affect
my other physical challenges.

  My cell phone message light blinked red. Still drinking, I opened the text folder.

  Louis explosions reaching record-breaking decibels. Come soon??? xoxo

  I wrote back with one hand.

  On my way. –V

  I finished the water bottle and waited a few seconds for the liquid to reach my limbs. My chest was still heavy when I tried sitting up again, but the rest of me was strong enough to pull it upright. I took two more water bottles from the small refrigerator Mom had placed in my bathroom and kept fully stocked, and guzzled both before putting on my swimsuit and venturing outside.

  It was late morning but the sun hadn’t yet burned the chill from the air. I rubbed my bare arms as I jogged across the patio and started down the stone steps. Halfway to the beach, my chest grew heavy again and my knees threatened to buckle. I debated going back inside but quickly decided against it. I felt bad now, but I’d feel a million times worse if I skipped my morning swim.

  My energy started to return the second my feet hit ocean. I pushed through the break and then dove under, relishing my body’s instant weightlessness. I breathed deeply and succumbed to the current, letting the waves carry me toward the horizon and bring me back toward shore. Eventually, I tested my arms and legs; when a single motion propelled me forward several feet, I changed direction and aimed for the beach.

  “Are you okay?”

  Seeing the boy standing there, wearing cargo shorts and nothing else, I stopped in the break. My body didn’t move as water crashed into it.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  Colin looked at me and pointed at the kayaks behind him. “I came to get these since the house is off the market. My mom asked your mom, who said I could stop by anytime and—” He blinked, shook his head. “Are you okay?”

  I was tempted to retreat below the surface until he gave up and left. But there was a good chance he’d return with professional medical assistance, so I crossed my arms over my chest and hurried across the sand instead. As I passed him, I noted the T-shirt, fleece, and sneakers lying by his feet. The fact that he’d been about to come in after me prompted me to answer his question.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “But you were under, like, a really long time,” he called after me. “Most people couldn’t … I mean, how did you … without a tank or …”

  I stopped again, this time by the rocks leading to my bedroom patio. Not because I wanted to keep talking but because as quickly as it’d returned, my energy was waning. A swim like the one I’d just taken usually kept me going until early evening. Was it the surprise? The stress of some stranger seeing me do what no one could? The terrifying thought that he’d tell others?

  Whatever the reason, my body was shutting down. My knees sank toward the rock. My palms landed next to them.

  “It’s okay,” I said, fighting to keep my voice normal. “I’m fine, I just need to—”

  His hand pressed against my back—barely, like he was afraid he’d hurt me—but the contact fired a bullet of strength that exploded through my chest. I gasped at the sensation, which made him pull away.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Please. Can you just … would you mind …?”

  I didn’t even know what I was asking. Fortunately, Colin did. He took me firmly by the arms, guided me to a seated position on the rock. He lowered himself next to me and then tensed. I did, too, but only briefly. The urge to close my eyes and lean against him was too powerful.

  The second our bare flesh met, his arms were around my waist.

  It’s okay … it’s just Simon … my Simon, taking care of me the way he always does.…

  “Are your parents inside? Do you want me to—”

  “No.” I wrapped my fingers around his forearms, squeezed gently. “I just need a minute. Please don’t go.”

  He tightened his hold until I could feel his heart beat fast against my back. After a minute, he released one hand to brush my damp hair off my face. I felt stronger—and guiltier—with each passing second. As soon as I felt able, I wanted to pull away and run up the steps … but to be on the safe side, I knew I needed to do one thing first.

  “Colin?”

  His head lowered next to mine, giving my body another surge. I shifted in his arms until our eyes met, and then I struggled not to look away.

  “Thank you for staying.”

  “Are you kidding? There was no way I was leaving after you—”

  I pressed my palm to his cheek. His mouth froze as he seemed to forget what he was saying.

  “I didn’t do anything.” I tried to smile as my thumb traced his jawline. “Nothing worth mentioning to anyone else anyway. And I’d really, really appreciate it if you—if we—kept this morning to ourselves. Would that be okay?”

  He swallowed. Nodded. His eyes lowered from my eyes to my lips. As his face neared mine, I turned my head and focused on the sun’s glinting across the ocean’s surface. His mouth landed near my temple and lingered there. I gave it a few seconds for good measure before sitting up and explaining I had to get ready for work.

  Back in my bedroom, I watched him go. He wandered around the beach a minute, as if confused about why he was there, but then he focused on the kayaks and started dragging them across the sand. When he was out of sight, I dashed to the bathroom to shower and dress. My energy was holding, which helped lessen, though not eliminate, the sting of guilt.

  Ten minutes later, I hurried through the house, looking for my parents. Despite the many glass walls, it was still possible to miss each other as you moved from one room to the next, so I tried calling both their cell phones once I reached the empty kitchen. When the calls went to voice mail, I headed for the garage to check for their car—and found a note and a separate envelope taped to the door.

  Dear Vanessa,

  Your father and I have been waiting for the perfect time to give you your graduation present. We knew you’d refuse it unless you really, really needed it … and that you’d have to get to work while we were at appointments today. So please do your best to enjoy it. If you absolutely must protest, we’ll be available for dissuasion later this afternoon.

  We’re so proud of you and love you more than you know.

  Below Mom’s neat handwriting, Dad had added a separate message in his crooked chicken scratch.

  Electric windows and a functioning defroster will take some getting used to, but I know you can adjust. Because you can do anything.

  Also, please remember to buckle up. Your mother didn’t want to cloud her note with overprotective notions, so I’ll cloud mine on her behalf. Safety first!

  Electric windows? A functioning defroster? Buckle up?

  I had to give them credit. Because if they’d been home when I opened the door and found the brand-new, forest green Jeep Wrangler in the garage, I wouldn’t have climbed in. Or taken the key from the envelope and turned the ignition. But since they weren’t and I had to get to work somehow, I did.

  I grinned as the engine rumbled to life. I’d never had my own car before; the closest I’d come was Dad’s ancient Volvo, which I used until it wheezed to a slow, final stop last spring. Because we were supposed to spend a lot of time together this summer, the plan had been to share the SUV—or so I’d thought. I realized now my parents had probably decided to do this months ago. Maybe even as soon as I’d been accepted to Dartmouth. After all, were they really going to drive me to and from New Hampshire for every break or new semester?

  But new cars weren’t cheap. Could they afford such a generous gift, especially with Mom taking such a long leave of absence from her job? And when they were concerned about selling the lake house so we could pay for the beach house?

  Get over it. That’s what Justine would say if she were here. She’d tell me it was their decision and they wouldn’t do it if they couldn’t. For further reassurance, I told myself that the gift wasn’t extravagant; it was practical. Safe, reliable transportation would hel
p my parents as much as it helped me. So after calling their cell phones and leaving long, grateful messages, I buckled up and backed out of the garage.

  I’d found the Jeep with the top down and as I sped toward Betty’s, the moist, salty air provided a fresh infusion of energy. I felt so good, I even managed not to dwell on everything that had happened prior to finding the note taped to the garage door. It had been a fluke, a onetime thing. Now that Colin had taken what he’d come for, I’d never again emerge from the water to find him waiting for me. Which meant I’d never again be shocked, instantly drained, and in desperate need of his attention.

  “Vanessa!” Paige waved and jogged toward me as I pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “Thank goodness you’re here!”

  I stopped near the entrance and hopped out.

  “Nice ride.” Paige smiled as she checked out the Jeep. “Beamer in the shop?”

  “Beamer’s with the parents. This is actually—”

  I was cut off by a loud bang. Paige spun around. I looked past her to see one of the construction workers shrug sheepishly as he lifted the wood plank he’d just dropped onto the new porch.

  “They’ve made a lot of progress,” I said. The porch appeared to be complete except for missing railings, and the front of the restaurant had been given another coat of purple paint.

  “Yeah.” Paige nodded. “I think one of the new guys has a little thing for me. It’s amazing what some old-fashioned flirting can do.”

  I looked at her. She started toward the restaurant.

  “So we had a minor catastrophe first thing this morning,” she called behind her as I hurried to catch up. “Carla came in twenty minutes before her shift started and Louis went ballistic.”

  “Because she was early? Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Usually.” Reaching the porch, Paige gave the cute, young construction worker a quick smile. He dropped the wood plank again and lunged across the porch to open the door. “Unfortunately, it was pre-caffeine for our favorite chef—and he let everyone know it.”