Page 16 of Plot Twist in Pelican Point
The way his voice dropped when he said my name, how his expression softened just enough to make me hope, and how my breath stalled when he stepped too close. Even now, much later, the memory loops like a film reel I can’t turn off. It’s unnerving. Tempting. Dangerous.
So no, I’m not letting it be about him. Not tonight. This is about writing. Reclaiming my spark. Right?
Right.
I set my laptop aside and crack my knuckles. I’m restless, nerves humming like I drank an espresso instead of a chamomile tea. My little cottage is cozy and warm, but something in the air feels off. Like something’s just a few degrees out of alignment.
When I hear a soft metallic clink from outside, I freeze.
It could be a raccoon. Or a stray cat. Maybe even an alligator.
Or it could be someone walking too close to the estate fence at midnight.
I rise from the couch slowly, heart thudding hard against my ribs. I glance toward the bedroom where my phone sits charging on the nightstand, but I don’t grab it—stupid, maybe, but I’m acting more on instinct than logic. This is a charming little coastal town in Florida for god's sake, not some dangerous neighborhood in Chicago or New York. I snatch the small flashlight from its hook near the back door and slip outside, still barefoot but bracing myself with each step. The night air wraps around me, cool and laced with sea brine, and I edge forward carefully, alert and uneasy.
The night is cool, damp, and wrong. Sea fog clings to my skin like a second layer I can’t shake. It creeps into my bones, blurring edges, sharpening instincts. The mist curls low along the path like gnarled fingers reaching for anything foolish enough to wander through. Somewhere in the distance, a gull cries out—sharp, solitary, like a signal no one answers. The sound cuts through the fog like a flare, brief and unsettling.
I move barefoot across the slick grass that separates my cottage from Sebastian’s unfinished site. Each step is a cold sting, each breath louder than it should be. The flashlight trembles in my grip, its beam slicing through the fog in narrow flashes.
Shadows lurch across the temporary fencing—warped, twitching things that vanish before I can decide if they’re real. Every flicker of light feels like it’s about to land on something I can’t take back. Something waiting.
And still, I keep going. Because whatever’s out here… it already knows I’m coming.
A clump of sea grass rustles faintly—not enough to scream 'danger,' but enough to make my skin prickle. I glance toward the estate and pause. Is that a whisper of fabric catching on the wind? A faint creak of a board? My breath catches, ears strainingfor more. One heartbeat. Two. Nothing but the muffled crash of waves and the keening wind.
Still, I edge closer, peering through the slats of the temporary fencing like I’m trying to solve my own murder mystery, the smell of salt and turned earth thick in the air. I should turn around. I know that. But my feet won’t move. Curiosity’s a drug, and tonight I’m already high on nerves and bad decisions.
Movement flickers in the shadows—near the side entrance of the estate, just beyond the reach of the security lights. I catch what looks like the edge of a jacket, maybe a dark hoodie, something moving with purpose, not just some aimless midnight stroll. For a heartbeat, I swear I hear the crunch of gravel—too heavy for an animal, too deliberate to be the wind. It freezes me in place, every sense on high alert, focused on that one spot just past the fence.
I grip the fence tighter. “Hello?” I whisper, voice barely audible.
No answer.
A few beats later, a gust of wind tears through the trees, and I see it—one of the side doors of the old estate sways, slightly ajar. Light glints off something metallic on the ground. A crowbar?
Who the hell breaks into an empty mansion under renovation? Well not completely empty, but I know Sebastian is set up on the other side of the house. Does he even know he has an intruder?
I consider calling the police—but Pelican Point isn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. And technically, I didn’t see anyone. Maybe it was one of Sebastian’s crew. Maybe they left something open.
But my gut says otherwise.
I hurry back inside and grab my phone. No missed calls. No messages. Just me, standing barefoot in my kitchen, heart pounding with adrenaline and a growing sense of unease. I stare at the phone in my hand for a long beat, thumb hovering overthe screen. My stomach’s tied in a knot, every nerve on edge. I hate feeling like this—vulnerable, unsure—but the image of that swaying door and the crowbar on the ground won’t let go of my mind. I draw in a breath, willing myself to stay calm.
My fingers tremble as I hit dial, half-hoping he doesn’t answer so I won’t have to explain how scared I actually am or how I got his number—Emma’s a good friend to have for information like that.
It rings twice before he picks up.
“Kate?” His voice is low, tight. Alert.
“Hey,” I whisper, suddenly unsure how to say it. “I think someone’s on the property. I saw a door open near the side entrance. There was... I think it was a crowbar on the ground.”
A pause. “Did you see anyone?”
“No. Just movement. A flash of something—dark clothes, maybe a hoodie. But it wasn’t an animal. I’m sure of it.”
Another pause. I can practically hear the shift in his breathing. “You’re inside now?”
“I just came back in.”
