Page 11 of Hide Me Darling

Chapter 5

Hydessa

Deciding to settle into my rental home before I explore more, I return to my car and drive the short distance further into the heart of the island and away from the beach. Pulling up to the address, I stare in awe.

The information on the website didn’t have any exterior images and only a few interior ones. It was enough to know that it would suit my purposes for however long I needed to stay here. But now, looking up at the large house, I’m wondering if I should have taken one of the short term rentals instead.

The place looms before me, its dark brick exterior giving it an imposing presence. The white trim offers a stark contrast, making the structure stand out even more against the backdrop of the dense forest behind it. The trees seem to crowd in on the house, their branches intertwining to create a thick canopy that blocks out much of the daylight. It’s beautiful and eerie all at once.

For a moment, I wonder if it’s the oldest or the first house that was ever on the island. It looks far bigger than all the others I have seen, and it is separated from its closest neighbors by a good distance.

I step out of the car, the crunch of gravel under my feet breaking the silence. The air is cooler here, the scent of pine mingling with the salty tang of the ocean. I take a deep breath, the smell is so different from what I’m used to at home, but somehow I like it even more.

Unlocking the front door, I push it open with a creak. The interior is just as impressive as the exterior, with high ceilings, hardwood floors, and large windows that let in plenty of natural light. The furnishings are tasteful and comfortable, a mix of modern and vintage pieces that give the house a welcoming yet sophisticated feel. I wander through the rooms, familiarizing myself with the layout.

There’s a spacious kitchen, a cozy living room with a fireplace, and several bedrooms, each with its own unique charm. It’s large enough with enough hidden spots that I feel like I could get lost in it.

I set my bags down in the largest bedroom upstairs which offers a view of the forest. The bed is inviting, covered in a plush duvet and soft pillows. I can already imagine myself sinking into it after a long day. But for now, I have work to do.

First, I get to checking every square inch of the house for any surveillance. I have seen enough crimes in the city with hidden cameras and listening devices used in rentals that I have learned to be careful. You never know who is watching or who could be listening and it is up to me to ensure this case stays silent until I have found the murderer or murderers.

Maybe even then it can stay silent. I can take them out and dispose of them the same way they have with all their other victims. They can rest beside all of the bodies they already took from the world.

As fitting as that may seem, I don’t know if my parents would approve of it. And at the end of the day, I am out doing this job for them.

Once I’ve cleared all of the rooms, I head back to the main bedroom to unpack a few essentials. Once it feels like I am a little more settled, I make my way back to the kitchen and brew a fresh pot of coffee, thanking whoever decided to leave a small supply of the liquid gold for me.

The aroma fills the house, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise still atmosphere. I sip my drink as I stand by the window, looking out at the forest. There’s something about this place that feels both peaceful and unsettling, a perfect reflection of my own inner turmoil.

Picking up my laptop bag and taking that along with my coffee to the small office setup, I feel a sense of purpose settling over me. There are far more rooms in the house than I will ever use, but at least they have an office set up in one of them with a large iron and glass desk. Placing my bag and coffee onto it, I look around the room for a moment. The walls are a medium gray but offset with the white trim and a large window that takes up most of one wall, looking out at the forest.

Frowning, I carefully move the desk further away from the wall it faces, allowing me more room to move in front of it. As I open my bag and take out the pile of papers I have inside it, I consider how best to organize the information I have. I don't have any photos yet to work with, but I do have some information already.

Looking at the first sheet of paper, the blog post I saw that started this obsession, I frown and glance back up at the blank wall. I can't use pins—I can only imagine how unhappy the real estate office would be with me if they came in to find the wall full of holes after I leave. Reaching into my bag again, I pull out a roll of tape and start taping the pieces of paper to the wall, being sure it doesn’t pull at the paint.

I also take out a pad of post-it notes and start writing little notes to stick up on the wall as well.

Did no one hear the screams? Did the killer clean up the blood so no one saw it? Where are the bodies? Could someone be covering it up?

I place a map of the island in the center, looking over areas that could be potential murder sights. When I finish my coffee and step back to survey the wall, it's like a makeshift investigation board. The questions and notes taped to the wall are starting points, breadcrumbs leading me deeper into the mystery of Amity Island.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven't eaten anything apart from the croissant earlier. It's already past lunchtime, so I grab my purse and the house keys, lock up and start to walk toward the beach again.

There isn't much noise this far away from the main tourist hub, and it's almost peaceful. It isn't long before I'm passing other houses and see the occasional person here or there who offers curious looks and waves in greeting. Everyone I have come across so far seems polite and friendly. If I didn’t have the intuition towards evil that I do, I wouldn't be able to imagine that there is someone here killing people based on the front everyone puts on. It only takes twenty minutes at a leisurely pace to reach the beach, but there is still a decent walk along the beach to reach the strip of shops and the main tourist area.

Taking off my shoes, I bury my feet in the sand and breathe in the smell of the sea. Having lived close to the city for my entire life, I have barely spent any time at the beach. There is something about it that calms the soul.

Taking my time, I walk along the water's edge. There are a few people out this far, taking advantage of the quieter areas to swim and do some beach fishing. Like all the others I have come across, they smile and wave even though they don't know me. It feels strange but nice.

It feels normal.

Eventually, I reach the main town, taking in more detail than I did last time. There are other buildings surrounding the main tourist ones and cafes that I hadn’t noticed.

Towards the outer edge near the bakery I visited this morning, there is an industrial looking gym that I make a mental note to check out soon. There are also a bunch of tourist shops with souvenirs along with the cafes and restaurants, and what looks like a little doctor’s office toward the center next to the small police station.

Further along the street, a little tattoo parlor is tucked in between some boutiques. On the water side of the street there appears to be a lifeguard stand with a large balcony. I can see a couple of people keeping a watchful eye on those in the water which makes me feel like they are concerned about safety.

Next to that there are several custom surfboards on display along with some used boards in a stand. From my angle, I can just make out the front of the building that has art on display through the glass windows. I get the impression that the artist is the same one that created the beautiful surfboards.

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