Shadowlands (Shadowlands 1)

Another crash, this one closer. I whirled around and raced downstairs.

“Dad? Darcy?”

That was when I heard the laugh.

I screamed at the top of my lungs and lunged for the front door. My hands trembled as I worked the locks and flung myself outside onto the deck. The fog was so thick I could have balled it up in my hand. All I could hear was the hissing. The hissing and the sound of ragged breath.

“Please, no,” I whimpered quietly. “Daddy? Help me.”

The fog swirled dead ahead, and that was when I saw their bodies, all lined up in a neat little row. Darcy with the back of her head bashed in. My father’s leg broken, his throat slit. And Olive. Olive was…barely recognizable.

“No!” I screamed, backing away from them. “Nonononono.”

I bumped into someone, and a dry hand came down over my mouth.

“Miss me?”

I sat up straight in my bed to a deafening crack of thunder accompanied by a flash of lightning. Struggling for breath, I placed my hand over my stomach, which was clenched in pain. I grasped the sheets with my other hand and held my breath until it dulled into a mere ache.

“It was just a dream,” I said out loud. “Just a dream.”

Slowly, I lay back on my sweat-drenched pillows. This was the drawback of being on the third floor. There definitely wasn’t as much insulation up here, and I was sure I was hearing every raindrop, every rumble, much clearer than Darcy or my dad.

I got up, grabbed my iPad off the desk, and took it back to the bed. I’d tried several times today and still hadn’t been able to get any service, but it couldn’t hurt to try again. I had to at least check the news sites and find out if there was any new information about Steven Nell. Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe they’d caught him. Maybe tomorrow we’d be able to go home.

But when I clicked open the browser, there was nothing but a blank white screen and that colorful spinning wheel. I sighed and powered down the iPad.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I stared out the huge window, watching the lightning strikes over the ocean. Each jagged bolt lit up pockets of waves, pockmarked by the rain as the water raged and roiled. As I breathed in and out, in and out, slowly the nightmare faded.

Suddenly, I heard a whoop, and when the sky lit up its brightest yet, I could just make out four silhouettes out on the water, straddling surfboards. I scrambled up to my knees and leaned forward. People were surfing in this mess? Were they insane?

Two of the figures turned the tips of their boards toward the shore and started to paddle furiously. They jumped to their feet and rode a massive wave in, side by side, until one of them tumbled forward, careening face-first into the water. My hands flew up to cover my mouth and stayed there until he surfaced once more. He half swam, half staggered his way to the shore, where his friend greeted him with a high five. Soon after, another of the four rode a wave in and joined them near a red cooler in the sand. Rain pelted their shoulders, but they didn’t seem to care—like they thought they were invincible. I envied them. I used to feel that way, and I wished I could go back.

Lightning flashed again, and in that split second I recognized them. Kevin, Fisher, and Bea. The three of them talked for a couple of minutes before they all turned to look out at the water. I turned to look, too. The fourth surfer was still out there. He’d paddled out past the breakers and now sat, his legs dangling casually on either side of his board as he bobbed up and down on the rough sea like a buoy. He was turned out toward the horizon, just staring, his hands lying flat on his thighs.

My heart gave an extra beat. A sad beat. There was something about that lonely figure, something about the way he stared, that spoke of loneliness, of mourning, maybe even regret. Then the guys on the beach shouted something, and he turned his head just as the sky illuminated again. My breath caught. The angular face and wet, haphazard blond hair. It was Tristan.

For some reason I dove backward on my bed, landing on my butt with my knees akimbo. The second I did, I felt foolish. It wasn’t like he was going to look up and spot me. And even if he did, who cared? I lived here. I was allowed to look out my window. Besides, he’d spied on me enough. He was fair game.

I crept forward on my hands and knees and peeked out the window again. He paddled in front of a wave and popped up onto his board. I marveled at how graceful he was, how effortless he made it look, balancing barefoot on a soaking wet slab of waxed wood while rain battered his face.

Finally, he arrived safely onshore, tucked his board under his arm, and jogged up the beach. He laughed it up with his friends, slapping hands and shaking his wet hair back from his face.

I pressed my lips together as I watched, and suddenly a realization hit me so hard I gasped. Last night, Olive had left the party with Tristan. I’d seen them walking out together into the fog. It hadn’t meant anything to me at the time, because they were friends. Because she liked him. But then I remembered how eager he’d been to get away from me this morning at the general store. Did he know something about Olive? Maybe all this time, he hadn’t been watching me but watching Olive. Maybe he really was some kind of obsessed stalker, just not my creepy, obsessed stalker. I got a chill now, thinking about how I’d let him touch me. How I’d let him comfort me.

Arms and legs trembling, I crawled closer to the window, watching as the four friends popped open beers and clinked bottles. Tristan took a long drink, then tipped his head back and shook his hair away from his face, letting the rain pour down over him like he was being cleansed.

I curled my hand over the windowsill, gripping tight. Maybe Mr. Nell wasn’t the only threat out there. Maybe there was an even bigger menace much, much closer to home.

The sun was just hovering over the ocean on Friday morning when I zipped up my hoodie and slipped out the front door. There was a chill in the air, and I shivered as I gazed at the gray house across the street. The curtains were still. I looked left and right. There was no sign of anyone lurking, but for good measure, I flipped the hood up to cover my hair and hurried down the front steps.

Out on the ocean, a sailboat sliced through the water toward the horizon. Seagulls cawed, diving toward the whitecaps. Somewhere, a set

of wind chimes pinged happily. There was no humming. No laughter. Just the sound of my breath and the nervous but determined beat of my heart.

I speed-walked around the corner and almost ran over Aaron.

“Hey!” he said happily. He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “I thought I was meeting you at your house.”