11
Gavin turned over on his side, making the metal frame of the twin-size, sleeping-quarters bed creak and shake. He had almost drifted back to sleep when something pulled him awake. Had his phone buzzed? His mom didn’t text him on his overnight shifts at the fire station. So who was texting at this miserable hour?
He leaned over the side of the bed and felt around on the floor for the device. No luck. If anyone needed him, they could just call the station.
He flipped onto his back and closed his eyes.
Lights flickered through his eyelids. He groaned and forced his eyes open. Shimmering in the air above his bed was a glowing image shaking back and forth. Was that…a dark-haired woman in a white dress?
He sat up just in time to see it fade away. Was he dreaming?
Something scraped against the wall, and then he heard a muffled snicker.
Oh…you have to be kidding m—
The lights flickered on and off.
“Ahh!” Three grown men wearing white sheets rushed in the room shrieking. Gavin jumped a little out of pure reflex.
They started whooping in laughter, falling over, and slapping one another on the back.
Gavin shook his head. “Glynn County’s proud ‘Guardians of the Rock’ yukking it up.”
Jimmy pulled the sheet off his head, laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.
Gavin tossed his own sheet off and kicked his feet over the side of the bed. He stood and walked over to flip on the light switch.
Wow. He must have been sleeping hard earlier in the night, because someone had managed to string up a semi-translucent fabric screen near the foot of his bed. A projector hooked to a MacBook sat on top of a stack of books on the floor.
Gavin walked over to touch the screen. With the lights on, it was easy to see, but in the dark it had looked like a ghost. “You know, I’m not even mad. This is a legit setup. Where’d you knuckleheads get this idea?”
Jimmy wiped the inner corners of his eyes. “YouTube.”
“You say you aren’t mad now, but let’s see how you feel after the video of you goes viral.” Dan tapped the small video camera in his left hand. “This thing films in the dark.”
Great. More ways for people to laugh at him. “Well isn’t that special.”
“You sound like your mama—all grouchy.” Jimmy grinned.
“Maybe because it’s around four in the morning, and I could be sleeping.”
“How’d we do?” Dan shook the screen, making the ghost woman move back and forth. “This look like your Mary?”
Gavin walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. He started to slide on his shoes. “Not even close. Wrong hair. Besides. I didn’t see a ghost. I saw a real woman.”
“A woman who disappeared.” Jimmy wiggled his fingers.
Gavin stood, stretching his arms behind him. “A woman who left the area when I called out to her. I’m not sure what Luella and her tour saw at the lighthouse, but when I saw that woman on the beach, I had a sense that she needed help. Not that she was trying to find her ghostly betrothed.”
Dan closed the video camera. “You never know. Sometimes our hunches lead us to people who need us.”
Something scraped on the opposite side of the wall, near the bed. Gavin looked over at it.
Dan cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Bryan! You can stop with the scratching. It’s over.”
A few moments later the young man ran in. “Aw man, I missed it?”
The waves lapped at the shoreline mere feet from where Tara sat on a towel. She watched families play as the tide continued to steal the strip of sand between the water and the large rocks that protected the earthen embankment from erosion. Sunlight danced across the top of the water, and people fished from the nearby pier. Despite the searing heat and thick, humid air, she took a deep breath and dug her toes into warm, cushy sand.
It’d been a long day, a confusing day. She woke this morning to find a bill under her hotel door, thanking her for her stay. When she went down and talked to the management about staying longer, she was told the place was booked. She had to check out. The desk clerk was nice, even made some calls and inquiries for another place Tara could stay, but in the end Tara settled her bill and left her luggage there. She’d called a dozen places too, looking for a room, and had no luck. Her legs ached from a long day of walking, looking for her brothers and stepping into every hotel she could find. It seemed if she called a hotel, it might be easy for them to say they were booked, but she’d thought if she went to the desk, they might find something. They hadn’t.
It was nearing five now.
The bottom of her to-go cup was an inch deep in the sand beside her. She’d bought a large iced coffee with her brunch at a nearby restaurant and toted it with her the rest of the day. There were dozens of great places to eat within easy walking distance. Those things were nice, but nothing quite added up. The calendar on her phone said she’d landed here six days ago. Something had to be wrong with the app.
She wrote a text to each brother:
WHERE ARE YOU?
Darryl’s phone immediately pinged with the same annoying message about catching up with her soon.
How long from now was soon?
She pushed those thoughts aside and tried to enjoy the moment. On the upside of how bizarre she felt, she’d been sleeping a lot, so she was sure she’d sleep well wherever she chose to curl up for the evening. She’d talked to Hadley or Elliott for a few minutes each day, because they both insisted on hearing her voice regularly. Yesterday Hadley had kept her longer than Tara’s preferred supershort calls. Sundays were slower paced, and Hadley had insisted on a bit more time with her. These days Tara liked texting rather than talking. It was easier to hide her confusion and mounting fears in a text. When she’d texted Hadley about resting so much, her friend responded that was the best thing she could do right now.
What Tara hadn’t texted Hadley was that she’d yet to connect with her brothers and that she no longer had a room to stay in. As a child, when things got crazy like this—like when her mom disappeared for weeks at a time or when social services moved her in with complete strangers—she simply hunkered down, remaining quiet and not drawing any attention to herself until life began to make sense again. She could do this. Sean and Darryl had no idea how vulnerable and half crazy she felt right now, and she wouldn’t tell them.
She opened her wallet phone case. One place said they might have confirmation later today of a weeklong cancellation by a guest who didn’t think he could make it to St. Simons Island. She was hoping to receive a call or text from them, but her phone indicated she hadn’t. If worse came to worst, she could sleep on a park bench tonight, and if she did, when she saw Sean and Darryl, they’d hear about it for life.
The round bottle of Vicodin bulged in her capris pocket. Had she waited long enough to take another pill? Her head didn’t hurt, but it really took the edge off her worry, and sometimes she felt like one of those seagulls in flight. She didn’t think it was quite time to take another, though.
She set the phone beside her and picked up her coffee, reminding herself to relax. And hoping time didn’t jump again. Sometimes she checked the clock or date on the calendar, and it said one thing, and an hour later it showed that a day had passed. Maybe it wasn’t that she was losing her mind. Maybe it was the app. But she knew the drill. Keep her head down, tell no one anything, and wait out the madness.
Besides, there were some niceties of this vacation and a pleasant solitude while waiting for her brothers to arrive. But her chest carried a dull ache that hadn’t completely gone away since that man chased her down the beach four days ago. It’d felt like a dream—an ominous being in a fireman’s uniform chasing her through the darkness as rain blurred her vision. He’d appeared out of nowhere, a man with broad shoulders and a powerful stride trying to get at her. Had the incident really happened?
A panicked shriek pulled Tara from the depth of her lostness. It was like trying to wake from anesthesia. Warmth splashed up the back of Tara’s legs. Was she sitting in water? She looked down, and her heart raced. The tide was touching the rocks, and the strip of beach to walk on was under water. She blinked, trying to focus, and a terrified scream shattered every lost, swirling thought.
Was Tara dreaming?
“Mama!” A child screamed.
Tara blinked, desperately trying to see beyond the world that had held her captive of late.
“Daddy!” A little girl, maybe four, was calf deep in water as she clawed at the rocks, trying to hang on. “Somebody! Help me!”
Move!
The deep voice demanding she move startled Tara, and she jumped to her feet. Water was inches over Tara’s ankles now. How had it come in so quickly? She sloshed as fast as she could, holding out her arms. If the girl lost her balance, she’d hit her head on a sharp rock. “Come, sweetie.” Tara reached for the girl. “I’ll get you to your mama and daddy.”
The little girl looked terrified, but she didn’t hesitate. She slung her arms around Tara’s neck and held tight. The feel of a tiny body clinging tight was familiar, and Tara ached for bygone days as if something had stolen that time. Tara hurried to the wooden steps, grabbed the rail, and pulled herself out of the sinking sand.
The girl was a featherweight, so once Tara was standing on something solid, she easily scampered up the wooden steps with the child in her arms. A woman facing away from the ocean and toward the climbing trees was yelling, “Isabella!” But the girl in Tara’s arms was as limp and unresponsive as a noodle. Were they together, or was the woman looking for a different child?
“Ma’am,” Tara yelled as loud as she could while running down the boardwalk.
The woman turned, her face red and panic-stricken. “Isabella!” She had a stroller in front of her, and she wasted no time turning it around and running toward Tara. “I thought I heard her screaming. Is she okay?”
Isabella lifted her head. “Mama!” She reached for her mom and fell against her, sobbing. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you.”
The woman held her. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” She looked at Tara. “Thank you. My husband?”
Tara looked behind her. “I didn’t see anyone else.” Tara hurried back down the wooden walkway to the edge of the steps. The ocean water had risen and was above the third step now. She didn’t see anyone, and when she turned back toward land to tell the woman that, the mother was not there.
For a moment Tara wondered if any part of what had just happened was real. Then she saw the woman marching down the sidewalk as she held the little girl and pushed the stroller. “Where were you?” She stopped in front of a man carrying two large foam cups. She released the stroller and with the flat of her hand hit his chest. “She could’ve died.”
The couple moved their argument down the sidewalk, but their raw emotion felt familiar and consuming. Tara’s heart raced with panic as if she were the one faced with losing someone.
A few minutes later the woman returned and hugged Tara. She spoke kindly while introducing herself as Gwen and her husband, Craig. Tara nodded, trying to smile and look normal, but she felt detached and weird. If they noticed it, they didn’t call her out on it. The woman’s words were muffled, but the sentiment was clear—she was grateful not to lose a life more precious than her own. It made Tara grateful for her brothers. They were all she had, and their lives were more precious than her own. As the man and woman thanked her a dozen times, Tara reached into her pocket to check her phone.
Oh no!
She ran to the far end of the boardwalk. The waters churned, banging against the jutting rocks. Her towel was floating out to sea, but there was no sign of her phone.
“Did you lose something?” Craig was right behind her, peering at the water.
Tara saw no reason to make him feel worse about the incident. “Evidently a towel.” She pointed. “And my shoes.” At least she’d put Darryl’s rock in her suitcase this morning rather than carry it with her.
“We’re packed up to head home, and we have towels and a half-dozen pairs of sandals and tennis shoes in our car. Your feet look about my wife’s size.”
“Something for my feet would help.” The pavement was seriously hot, and sometimes the grass had prickly things.
“Sure. Come this way.” They walked toward the parking lot.
Did he say they’d checked out of a hotel? “I’ve been staying at the Lighthouse Inn, and I was hoping to find a new place to stay.” She reached into her other pocket and felt a few bills. That’s all she had now. The rest of her cash, along with her credit cards and phone, was in her wallet phone case.
“Have you checked into private home rentals along the marsh?” he asked.
She shook her head, her mind spinning about how to replace her credit cards. She’d have to call Hadley or Elliott. They’d have answers. Except…she couldn’t recall either of their numbers.
She tried to focus. “How do you get there?”
He gave her detailed directions, and Tara tried to take mental notes, but holding a thought had become so very difficult. Life felt like a dream she couldn’t wake from, or maybe it felt as if she’d somehow stepped through a portal into a land of scattered, broken thoughts and lost time.
Gwen was in the parking lot, standing outside a vehicle with its doors open. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. She lost her shoes in the tide.”
“Oh. Let us buy you a new pair.” Gwen reached for her purse.
Tara shifted from one foot to the other, unable to stand on the hot pavement.
Gwen passed her daughter to Craig. “But let’s deal with those burning feet right now.” Gwen opened the back of the van and tossed a towel onto the pavement.
Tara hopped onto it.
Gwen pulled a few pairs of athletic shoes from the back of her vehicle. “I have several sizes, ranging from six and a half to seven and a half.”
Something caught Tara’s eye, and she looked to her right. The man who had chased her down the beach four days ago was standing nearby. At least when she checked her wonky calendar on her phone earlier today, that’s how long ago it appeared to be. He was next to a truck, maybe twenty feet away, talking to another guy. Ready or not, she needed to get out of here. “Any size, really. Maybe a seven.”
“These. And”—Gwen reached into the vehicle—“socks.”
He’d worn a uniform the night he’d chased her but not now. A fireman’s uniform? Maybe. The fireman guy looked her way, and he seemed instantly fixated on her. Did he recognize her? If so, would he call her Mary like the others had when they saw her at the lighthouse? Hopefully he had no idea she was the one in the locked lighthouse or on the beach that night. Today she had on big sunglasses, a tank top, and capri pants, and her head was covered by a silky floral scarf. The head covering helped to protect her sutures from sand and sun. She had an inch-wide strip from her temple back that had been shaved, and ocean air tended to flip her hair in every direction, revealing her injury, so she’d covered it.
She needed to find her house and stay there, hidden, quiet, and out of this man’s way. Her house? Yeah…it had to be around here somewhere, didn’t it?
“Wait!” A man called.
Was it fireman guy calling to her or Craig? She didn’t stop to find out.