She's Like The Wind (Angel Sands 2)

“… it’ll be fine. It’s not that far down.” Though the voices were clearer, they still sounded far away. It was only when she heard the reply – just as loud as Riley’s – that Ally realized she’d been butt dialed.

“It’s not that scary,” a voice said.

“Riley?” Ally called a little louder, trying to make herself heard. But still no reply. Just more muttering and a shout of laughter that reminded her so vividly of being a teenager. She smiled and went to end the call when she heard something that chilled her blood.

“Are you sure it’s safe to jump? The cliff is really high.”

That was Riley’s voice, she was sure of it. Ally sat up straight, her heart in her throat.

“Riley?” Ally shouted, not caring if she embarrassed the girl. “Can you hear me? Don’t jump off the cliff.”

Nothing.

“Riley? I’m calling your dad right now. Don’t do it. Don’t jump.”

Ally’s fingers were trembling as she ended the call and pulled Nate up in her contacts. She pressed ‘call’ and heard the dial tone repeat twice before his voicemail clicked in.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Nate, it’s Ally. Please call me back.”

She hit the end button and tried calling Riley, but that clicked to voicemail, too. Ally stood, her heart hammering against her ribcage and looked around her empty apartment, as though she might find a solution there.

Was Riley really going to jump?

Of course she was. And she wouldn’t be the first. Ally could remember the kids back in high school doing the same thing – leaping from the cliff just past Silver Cove, where the ocean was deeper as it crashed against the shore. She could remember one of them having his arm in plaster from the tips of his finger right up to his shoulder, too, where he’d clipped the edge of some rocks as he’d plummeted into the water.

Her heart hammering against her chest, Ally ran into the hallway and pulled on her running shoes, nearly falling to one side as she got them over her heel. Grabbing her keys, she ran as fast as she could down the stairs to the parking lot, jumping into her car and starting it up.

It took five minutes to drive from her condo to the cliffs, but each minute felt like it was stretched so thin it was almost breaking. She could feel her breath shorten as the adrenaline rushed through her veins.

Don’t jump, Riley. Please.

There was no parking lot at the cliffs, but she could see a collection of cars parked at the edge of the road, and she pulled in behind them. In the distance, at the edge of the cliff, she could see ten or fifteen figures, all clustered together and pointing at the ocean below.

The rain hadn’t eased off any since it had begun earlier that day, and the clouds had colored the ocean a foreboding dark grey. Ally felt the nausea rise up in her stomach as she saw the group step back, leaving a lone figure standing at the edge.

“Riley!” Ally called out, but the rain and wind swallowed her words. The girl wouldn’t have heard her anyway. The group of teenagers were too loud, and she was too far away.

There was nothing for it but to run.

The ground was wet beneath her shoes, the grass slippery from the rain. Her running shoes skidded against the earth as she tried to speed up her gait, still calling at Riley not to jump.

One of the girls noticed her, and elbowed another who turned around to look. They shouted at Riley, who was right at the edge of the cliff, peering over with her dark hair falling around her face.

Riley slowly turned to look at Ally, her eyes wide with shock. Ally was so close now – only twenty feet away, and she opened her mouth to shout again, certain that this time Riley would hear her.

But it was Riley who shouted first. “Look out!”

Ally had no idea what she meant. Not until her foot hit hard rock instead of soft, wet grass, and she flew up into the air, weightless for a moment, before she came crashing down, her head hitting a rock, and her foo

t bending beneath her as her ankle gave a sickening crunch.

For a second, Ally felt nothing at all. But a heartbeat later the pain rushed in, shooting like knives from her ankle, and throbbing like a bitch on her head. Her breath felt too shallow, like it was caught in her throat and unable to make it to her lungs. She needed to sit up, to get up, but her muscles wouldn’t move at all. It was as though she was pinned to the ground.

“She’s bleeding from her head,” someone said, leaning over her.

“Jesus, look at her foot. It shouldn’t be at that angle.”