Page 220 of Secrets Along the Shore
Then I felt the phone.
No. Not the phone. Not glass or wood. I moved my hand over it until I was certain it had a rubber tread.
A boot. I was touching a boot.
I recoiled slightly, my fingers trembling, then reached forward again, cautiously. Both hands now. I traced the outline—thick laces, a pant cuff. A leg.
A leg that didn’t move.
My breath caught in my throat. I followed upward, higher—knee, thigh, hip. Fabric. Denim.
Then flesh.
I touched a torso. Still. Cold. Unyielding.
There was a person under the stairs.
And they weren’t moving.
I opened my mouth, a scream rising from my lungs. But stopped hopefully before a sound emerged.
Someone could still be in the lodge.
My scream died in my throat. I pressed myself back into the shadows, heart thundering in my ears. My body screamed to flee, but my instincts held me still.
They had destroyed the panel. Left a body. But whose? I had to get out of the house.
My only hope to escape was to use the darkness to slip back outside and drive away. I looked up to the ceiling, wondering if they would be waiting for me. Were they walking through the house right now? Without my sight and hearing, I was down to two senses while they had all of theirs.
I wrapped my arms around myself and stared into the dark,desperate for my eyes to adjust. But the shadows remained impenetrable.
This wasn’t random.
I curled tighter beneath the stairs, beside the body, wishing I could disappear into the cement. My mind raced—who was the person beside me? Evan? No. No. Please, no. He only wanted to help me.
But I didn’t know. I couldn’t know.
And whoever did this wanted to make sure I never knew…anything.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
The stairs scraped beneath me,splintering my hands with each slow crawl. I knew each step was a slow betrayal of my presence, but I still held my breath and tried to remember how to move soundlessly, like I had as a child sneaking through the dormitories. I couldn’t hear the noise I made—my deafness more cruel now than ever—but I imagined every brush of fabric, every shift of weight on old wood, reverberating like thunder.
I reached the top of the stairs and crouched low in the kitchen, scanning the shadows for movement. Slight moonlight filtered through the curtains, fractured and faint. I crawled across the floor, my knees pressing into the worn linoleum, inching toward the back door. Every instinct in me screamed to run, to bolt through the door, but I couldn’t risk it.
The knob turned easily in my grip. I pushed the door open, wincing as it swung inward. Cool night air greeted me, brushing against my sweat-slicked skin like a warning. I slipped onto the back deck, then darted toward the stairs that led to the yard below.
But I froze at the top.
A figure stood near my car. A silhouette framed in moonlight. Broad shoulders. Still. Waiting and stopping me from going anywhere.
I shrank back into the shadows of the porch. My throat swelled, and I knew I couldn’t squeak out a sound. There was no way to the car,no way past them. My breath came shallow, the air burning my lungs. I looked around for another option.
The lake.
I could see it beyond the trees, still and black beneath the stars. A sliver moon shimmered across its surface, just enough light to guide me. My rowboat was still tied to the dock. If I could reach it…
