A Killer Retreat (25 page)

twenty-five

I grabbed a flashlight
off the table, slipped on my jacket, and rushed out the door. I didn't exactly forget about the earring in my pocket; it simply didn't seem all that important. Any murderers still at large would be too busy celebrating Bruce's arrest to worry about love-sick yoga teachers. I only knew one person at Elysian Springs who was probably plotting my demise—and his name was Michael.

I intended to find him.

I started by scanning the area immediately around the cabin. Michael's car was still parked next to Sam's, so he couldn't have gone far. But where was he hiding? Michael didn't often sulk, but when he did, he liked company. He probably wasn't alone.

I headed off toward the more public areas of the center. As I hiked the main path to the office, I mentally berated myself. Who could blame Michael for being angry? I'd treated him like a bad case of chickenpox—itchy, unsightly, and highly contagious. And for what? I knew Michael was building up to something, but I didn't know what. It could be anything. It could be—

Oh, who was I kidding? Of course I knew what he was building up to.

He wanted to take our relationship to the next level. The kind that involved long white dresses, deep black tuxedos, and floral bouquets tossed at mortified singles. But I was afraid of change, even more than stagnation. If our relationship didn't move forward, I might lose Michael. If it did, I might lose myself. So, like an anxious racehorse afraid of the whip, I put on my blinders and ran full speed ahead, assuring myself that as long as I avoided the conversation, I could proclaim ignorance. And as everyone knows, ignorance is bliss.

Until it isn't.

It certainly wasn't bliss now. Right now, ignorance was wandering alone, in the dark, not knowing what I wanted, much less where to find it.

I headed across the foot bridge toward the main parking lot. A crisp breeze stung my cheeks; dark clouds obscured the stars; the electric smell of an impending storm filled the air.

The parking lot seemed eerily deserted—morbidly quiet. It wasn't surprising. Half of the guests had hightailed it out of Elysian Springs the day of the murder. The rest only stayed for the wedding. From the whispered words I'd overheard before Bruce's arrest, the only
retreat
anyone wanted was the hell off this island. Most of the guests were probably firmly hunkered down in their cabins, packing for the early morning ferry.

I looked for Michael everywhere I could think of, to no avail. First, I tried the spa. Completely empty. Not a single bather, naked or otherwise. I walked the perimeter of the garden, and trudged down to the main lawn. A “closed” sign decorated the office. The lending library housed nothing but books. I even stopped by Eden in case Michael was inside drinking away his frustrations. A sign on the door confirmed what Jennifer had said earlier: the restaurant was closed until breakfast the following morning.

My exhausted brain finally kicked into gear.
Call him, dummy.
I pulled the Yoga Chick out of my pocket and pushed the power button. She powered up briefly, then died.

Her feathered face seemed to scold me.
You know you're supposed to charge me, right?

I sighed, frustrated, and shoved the phone back inside my pocket. I might as well give up and head back to the cabin. With any luck, Michael was already there, waiting to continue our fight.

I plodded along the trail, shining the flashlight ahead of me. A few steps away from the cabin, the beam illuminated a pair of red,
glowing, wolf-like eyes. The coal-black creature behind them leaned
forward and intently watched me, as if ready to pounce.

“What are you doing in Sam's car?” Bella pressed her nose through the half-opened window and answered by licking my fingers. “This is their idea of taking care of you?” I reached through the window, unlocked the door, and grabbed Bella's leash, which was still attached to her collar. Bella, now rescued from her stint in solitary confinement, happily pulled me toward the cabin. “Some parents they'll be,” I grumbled as I stomped toward the door. “They could have at least rolled the windows up higher and taken off your leash. Anyone could have come by and stolen you!”

I knew one thing: two irresponsible pet sitters were about to receive a stern lecture from an angry pet parent. I reached for the door knob, fully prepared to start my tantrum—and froze.

What on earth was that sound? No need to press my ear against the door this time. The groaning reverberating through those walls was loud enough to be heard back in Seattle.

I wasn't exactly innocent. By the age of thirty-two, I'd had a few heated liaisons of my own. My subconscious mind
must
have known what was happening, but my conscious mind refused to believe. I peeked through the curtains …

And instantly regretted it.

Gross!

I rubbed my eyes, trying to erase the image now permanently scalded on my retinas. Suffice it to say that I'd just witnessed Sam's naked rear bouncing sunny side up. Rene was buried somewhere beneath him.

I flew away from the window, trying not to gag.
“
That's it, Bella. From now on everybody gets their own room.” Bella, for her part, seemed unconcerned. She sat patiently on the doorstep, head cocked to the side, waiting to be let in. I scratched her ears. “It could be awhile, honey.” I giggled. “At least Rene got over her morning sickness.”

What should Bella and I do now?

Obviously, we couldn't enter the cabin. I considered hanging out in the car, but that didn't sound like much fun, either.

“Well, girl,” I said to Bella. “Michael's obviously not here. Looks like you're going to get that walk after all. Want to see if he went to the beach?”

At the sound of the b-word, Bella jumped off the deck and dragged me in the direction of the water. We walked along the lighted main pathway for a couple of minutes, then veered off on the smaller, unlit path that led to the beach.

The night was completely black, almost obsidian; its darkness, impenetrable. A carpet of moldy leaves and fragrant pine needles crunched under my shoes. Bella and I passed several empty campgrounds, a few fallen trees, and a pair of beady red eyes that
didn't
belong to a German shepherd. I played the flashlight in front of me, grateful for its tepid illumination. With it, I could see the broken branches that were strewn haphazardly across the path. Without it, I'd be blind.

A sharp sound cracked behind me. Bella stopped, sniffed the air and looked over her shoulder. The hair on the back of my arms tingled.

“Hello, is anyone there?”

No one answered.

My internal critic chided me.
Come on, Kate, you're being silly. It's probably another deer.
I still couldn't turn my head to the left, so I pulled Bella in closer and slowly rotated my entire body in a full circle, shining the flashlight all around us. Nothing but plant life. I placed my hand on top of Bella's shoulders and whispered, mainly to assure myself. “It's OK, girl. Nobody's there.”

My words weren't convincing. The tingling sensation in my arms spread to the back of my neck. Something—or someone—was watching us.

A single, giant raindrop fell on my forehead. Then a second. Then a third. Bella jumped at a distant roll of thunder. I zipped up my jacket and turned back toward the cabin. “That's it, Bella, we're out of here.”

As if on cue, a million more raindrops joined the party, soaking our bodies in icy wetness.

“Bella, quick!” I yelled.

I ran back toward the cabin, barely even looking at the ground. A flash of light lit up the night, followed by another roll of thunder. Bella jumped to the left and yanked on her leash; a familiar, electric pain shot down my arm. The flashlight flew though the air, clattered to the earth, and turned off.

“Damn it!” I crawled on the ground and groped through the muck, desperately searching for that beacon of light. Cold, slimy mud oozed through my clothes and squished through my fingers. My hands found rocks, sticks, and clumps of rotting leaves. My fingers plunged into something furry, cold, and squishy, with a wretched, sulfur-like stench.

Don't think about it, just keep looking.
My hand finally wrapped around the flashlight's metal cylinder. “Found it!” A few solid smacks against the palm of my hand, and it turned back on. I yelled a victorious “Yes!” out to the universe.

A heart-stopping boom and a blinding white light hit at the same time. A fir tree crashed across the trail, split in half by lightning.

Bella reacted with pure, unstoppable instinct. She bolted, like a deer running away from a cougar. The leash slipped through my fingers and she crashed through the brush, off into the darkness.

“Bella, come!” I yelled. Bella and I had practiced this recall hundreds of times. In fact, that simple, two-word sentence had already saved her life once. But this time, I might as well have been yelling obscenities in Sanskrit. Bella was too terrified to do anything but run. I tore after her, screaming the useless phrase over and over. I had to find her before she got lost—or worse.

Frenzied heartbeats pummeled my chest. I considered going back to the cabin, but by the time I got help, it might be too late. Bella could be permanently lost. The leash she dragged behind her gave me no comfort. She could easily get it caught on a fallen branch and choke. Why, oh why, hadn't I left her in Sam's car?

Rain dripped off my nose and ran down my chin. Icy cold water
poured down the back of my shirt. But I barely noticed. My entire body was energized by numb, adrenaline-fueled fear. I stumbled along the trail, calling Bella's name. I tripped over a branch and fell again, face-first into the brush. Rough bark cut into my palms; jarring pain jolted up my right knee. I lay there for a moment and sobbed.

Pull yourself together, Kate. This is no time for self-pity.

The cuts on my hands, the stabbing pain in my neck, the torn pants covering my bloody knees—none of it mattered. All that mattered was finding Bella.

A snapping branch cracked to my left. I jumped up and whippe
d around, hoping—praying—to see Bella, but my flashlight illuminated a hooded form. His dirty brown work gloves reached for me, and I panicked. I screamed and tried to scramble away, only to slip and fall again. My shoulder twisted painfully as he grabbed my arm and roughly yanked me upright.

He pointed a flashlight in my eyes, blinding me.

“Kate, is that you? Calm down! What are you doing out here?”

Relief replaced panic, at least momentarily. I recognized his voice.

“Kyle,” I sobbed. “You have to help me. I can't find Bella. She's lost. We have to—”

He grabbed my shoulders. “Hold on, Kate. Slow down. I can't understand you. Who's lost?”

“My dog, Bella” I cried. “She must be terrified!”

“That huge German shepherd?”

I gulped back more tears and shook my head yes.

“I saw her a few seconds ago. I thought it was a deer, but—”

I cut him off. “Which way did she go?”

He pointed toward the water. “She was running up the hill toward Suicide Bluff.”

The full meaning of the words hit us both at the same time. The sign near the edge of the cliff taunted my memory: “Danger. Cliffs are unstable. Walking prohibited less than three feet from edge.” Bella didn't understand the risk. She wouldn't shy away from the unstable edge. In her panic, she might even run toward it—and its fifty-foot drop.

Kyle grabbed my arm. “Come on. We'll find her.”

“We should split up. One of us can go get help.”

“There's no time. If she slips and falls …”

He didn't need to say more. “Let's go!” I ran toward the trail.

He pulled me the opposite direction. “No, Kate. She went this way.”

We slipped, we slid, we stumbled, we crawled. Blinded by darkness, the rest of my senses became hyperalert. My skin quivered with the icy stab of each raindrop. The smell of wet, rotting decay assaulted my nostrils. The sour taste of fear burned my tongue.

We skidded to a stop at the end of the trail, in front of that ominous danger sign.

“Bella, come!” I yelled for the millionth time. Nothing.

Kyle pulled back the hood of his raincoat, exposing his striped cotton hat. He swept his flashlight across the horizon.

“Do you see her?” I knew the answer was no, but my grasping mind had to ask.

“Stay here,” Kyle ordered. “Don't move.”

He carefully made his way toward the cliff, playing his flashlight along the sharp rock outcroppings. Less than two feet from the drop-off, he knelt down and continued forward, crawling carefully on hands and knees. When he arrived at the edge, he pointed the flashlight's beam toward the rocky beach over fifty feet below.

His voice cracked. “I'm sorry, Kate. You need to come here.”

Warm tears dripped down my cheeks. “Oh, no,” I whispered. “Please, God, no.”

Kyle remained silent.

My mind clawed against knowing, clinging to denial. I couldn't bear to look. If I didn't look, it wouldn't be real. I would go back to the cabin, lie down, and go to sleep. When I awoke in the morning, I'd realize that tonight had been nothing but a horrible nightmare. Michael would laugh at me. Rene would harass me. Bella would make me feel better with warm, wet German shepherd kisses.

But only if I didn't look.

When I spoke, my voice sounded flat, as if I'd lost the ability to convey human emotion. “Kyle, tell me. What do you see?”

“I need you to come here. Now.” His voice was filled with regret.

I slowly, hesitantly moved forward, step by agonizing step. The dark cliff beckoned me, even as my heart resisted. Once I looked over that edge, there would be no going back. Once I saw her, it would be real. I sank to my knees and crawled next to Kyle.