Page 204 of Secrets Along the Shore
The wind whipped across the porch as I sprinted toward the dock. Her contorted face chased me in my mind, fierce and broken, a soundless scream that clawed through my skin.
I didn’t look back.
The boat beckoned, and I threw myself inside, clawing at the dirt to push it into the water. I fumbled for the oars to push me farther into the tumultuous lake.
The sky above had darkened further from when I made the trek across earlier. Streaks of lightning split the clouds as I pushed away from the shore. Thunderous vibrations rolled in me. The water was the last place I should have been, but I had no choice. I let the rain drench me, wash my eyes from all I had seen.
Becca’s image faded, but the echo of her accusation stayed in my mind in cadence with the thunder.
You killed her.
Had I?
No. I loved her. Like she was my sister, too. I knew that to the core of my bones.
But something had happened that night. Something my mind refused to show me. And until I remembered, I would never really know the truth.
And I would always be running.
After what had just happened, I accepted my fate.
I burstthrough the front door of the lodge, soaked to the skin and trembling from more than just the cold.
I barely remembered tying the boat to the dock or running across the gravel drive. My legs carried me on instinct, my hands already reaching for the staircase.
Upstairs. My room. Get to my room.
I climbed the stairs two at a time, my breath ragged, my heartbeat thudding in my head. Once inside, I threw open my suitcase and began shoving my clothes inside. Drawer by drawer. Sweater. Shirt. Jeans. It didn’t matter how neatly they went in—I just needed them packed.
I zipped it shut and yanked it off the bed.
I was leaving.
I didn’t care about the house or the inheritance or the secrets buried in the walls. I didn’t care what Scanlon had meant when he gave it to me. The truth wasn’t worth this.
I didn’t want to remember anymore. Especially if the truth meant I had something to do with Livvie’s death.
I dropped to the edge of the bed, breath catching in my throat.
No. I wouldn’t believe it.
But the only way to be sure was to find out what really happened. Even if it meant condemning myself as a killer.
But who would know the truth? Who had been there that night? If someone knew, why keep it secret all these years? Why not report it? Why not speak up for Livvie?
Either Scanlon killed her—and took it to his grave. Or I did—and my mind buried it so deep I couldn’t reach it.
Or the actual killer was still out there. Watching. Waiting.
Perhaps Scanlon left me this house not to torment me but to finish what he couldn’t—to find them. To find the one who took Livvie from us.
Or he left me this monstrosity to break me until I turned myself in for a crime I didn’t remember committing.
I leaned forward, head in my hands. Rain poured from my hair and onto the floor.
Scanlon had chosen me again.
But this time, not as a subject. Not as a test case. This time, he chose me to find Livvie’s killer…or to take the blame.
