The Girl on Shattered Rock: A gripping suspense thriller

by Matt Hilton

  She placed her palms flat on the table, bent at the waist, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the space where the bracelet should have been. Theories swirled in her mind. She had to consider if in fact the episode where she’d been wakened to find the bracelet swinging had all been a detailed dream. She had been under the influence of a mixture of alcohol and medication. Perhaps the entire episode didn’t really happen, but if that were the case then the knife she’d fetched from the kitchen shouldn’t have been on her bedside table this morning. Had she sleepwalked – in a chemical haze – and carried the knife to her room? Other possibilities were that there had indeed been an intruder, and whoever it was had returned to finish what they’d started when first entering the cabin. The only other idea she could come up with was that the cabin was bloody haunted and some mischievous poltergeist was up to its tricks. She wouldn’t even begin to give the latter idea any credibility. No, when she considered the balance of probabilities, only two scenarios held any weight for her: she was simply forgetful or someone had accessed the cabin while she slept. Of the two she would rather it was the first.

  Yes, that was it! She was forgetful. After looking at it during the night, when she’d halted its subtle movement she must have picked up the bracelet. She recalled testing the floor’s stability and watching the laptop and bracelet jiggle, and then going to dump her pills in the bathroom, an act she’d aborted, before again making a search of the cabin, ensuring everything was secure. She must have picked up the bracelet during her patrol, before she got the knife from the kitchen drawer. Distracted as she returned to bed, she must have then put the bracelet somewhere for safekeeping. That had to be it.

  Convincing herself wasn’t easy, but it was her only way of finding comfort in the absurd. She pushed all thought of the vanishing bracelet to the back of her mind, and headed for the shower. Maybe after a nice, warm, cleansing soak her memory would work better.

  11

  The bathroom was basic, not the largest of spaces, but it was the most modern room in the cabin. The water heater and shower cubicle looked as if they had been installed within the last ten years and worked fine, though it was cramped inside the cubicle: anyone larger than Leah would have struggled. As it were she had to keep rotating under the thin stream of water to ensure all the suds were washed off, and occasionally bumped against the cold glass. Before she was done she pushed open the door, there was little concern about flooding the bathroom as it had been designed as a wet room with a drain in one corner beneath the small window. Standing naked and exposed wasn’t much of a concern either. As she had sitting in her underwear on the decking, showering before a window left her feeling more liberated than she had in ages. Except Leah had never been an exhibitionist so was careful not to expose too much: she didn’t want to startle the wildlife again, she thought with a chuckle.

  She’d brought shampoo with her, and massaged it into her hair. She turned into the cubicle to rinse the soap from her hair, one hand braced against the wall for balance, her eyes squeezed shut as the shower did its work. She blew out her cheeks, shook her head and retreated a step, wiping back her hair so water didn’t pour down her face. Bloody hell, it was getting to a point where her aversion to open water was affecting her ability to enjoy a shower. Blind, she groped for the shower lever, found it and turned off the flow. She blinked soapsuds from her eyes as she stepped backwards out the cubicle onto the damp bathroom floor. A squawk leaped unbidden from her throat as a fleeting shadowy figure was reflected in the open glass door.

  Leah spun around, one arm covering her breasts, the other the juncture of her thighs, and she stared in horror at the window. There was nobody there – but there had been! Someone was spying on her as she’d showered and had jerked out of sight when she’d caught sight of their reflection. She was more angered than scared, and her instinct was to grab for a towel that she wrapped around her, then immediately went to the window. She could see nobody outside, and craned each way for a better look. Whoever was eyeing her through the window had moved away. Probably around the side of the cabin, the nearest end being where the bedrooms were situated. Ensuring the towel securely protected her modesty she rushed from the bathroom into her bedroom. She expected to catch some Peeping Tom staring through the window, but all she got was a clear view of the nearby woods. She angled around the bed and into the small space at its foot and glared outside. A bird flew by, wings beating furiously. Its shadow was a much larger twin swooping over the grass. Leah deflated, her ignominious fury replaced by understanding. Another bird flying past the bathroom window probably cast the shadow she’d caught reflected in the shower door.

  Yeah, and it was probably just a bloody bird that stole the bracelet, one of those thieving magpies, she told herself sourly. She snorted. Pulled the blinds shut — just in case — and dried off. She dressed in clean clothes from her suitcase. She hadn’t brought a hair dryer, but her hair was short enough that once she towelled it and brushed it out it didn’t look too bad. As an afterthought she opened the drawer in her cabinet: it was truth time. If there was no knife, then the events last night had all been imaginary. There was a knife. She picked it up, studying the sharp edge, and considered taking it back where it belonged. But she placed it near to hand under the mattress instead.

  She should contact Mr McBride, inform him that she believed she wasn’t alone on the island as promised and come and get her at first opportunity.

  McBride had warned there was no mobile phone reception on the island; not that she disbelieved him, but it didn’t stop her checking her phone again. The word Dodo came to mind. Still, she plugged in the charger so that the phone was fully charged. Next she checked out the radio that was in a small cupboard in the bunkroom. It was an old Motorola model, as large as a brick with a short antenna and thick black buttons on top. The top half – which was disconnected - snapped onto a heavy battery that was currently seated in a charging unit. The indicator light was dull on the unit. Frowning, Leah crouched and found the cable, and followed it back to where it emerged from the cupboard. The uncoupled plug was lying on the floor below the socket. She pushed the plug in and switched it on, and when she checked the light on the charging unit it now glowed bright red. She assumed she’d have to wait until the light went green before she could use the radio. How long would it take to charge? She had no idea, and by the look of the archaic technology, she wasn’t hopeful that it would be a few minutes. More like hours. Why hadn’t she checked her lifeline was in full working order before now? It was a stupid mistake.

  For reasons she couldn’t fully explain she suddenly needed to get out of the cabin. She had no way of hailing the boat to come rescue her until the radio was working, but the last thing she wanted to do was sit in the cabin waiting for the indicator light to go green. She’d go out of her mind with frustration, and being confined would only add to her sense of being trapped. Outside she was at least free to roam. She dressed in her coat and boots, pulled on the wooly hat she’d travelled in, and headed for the door. In the kitchen the blank screen of her laptop stalled her. Instead of giving in to a barely substantiated reason to fear, she should stay in the cabin and write. Lost in her work she could forget the odd little events that had made her nervous: in fact, she was certain that once she was working on her novel and her thought processes sharpened she’d probably recall where she’d put the bracelet for safekeeping. When she thought about it, the odds of someone having entered the cabin to steal the small item of jewellery were tiny, and a far more logical explanation for its disappearance was her own forgetfulness. A few hundred words into her book and the answer to its location would probably spring fully to mind. Then how stupid would she feel? She was a little happier now that the radio and phones weren’t working: if she’d cried wolf, summoning McBride to the island for no reason she’d be bloody mortified by embarrassment.

  So get on with your book, she decided.

  She walked on by and unlocked the door. She took one last regretful
look at the dead screen then went outside, taking care to lock the door behind her again.

  12

  Last time she’d explored she’d headed for the south-western side of the island, this time Leah struck out for the trail that would take her back to the sheltered cove to the north. The sun had climbed into the sky now, and its rays were warm where they caressed her skin. Perhaps dressing in a coat and hat was overkill, but it was better to be prepared for the worst. Sure enough, as soon as she entered the tunnel of branches on the trail the sunlight was relegated to the occasional twinkle through the canopy and the temperature dropped a few degrees. As she walked, the twittering of birds and the distant sound of pounding surf surrounded her. There was also a mechanical droning coming from somewhere far off: the engine of a boat out on the sea? When she’d dragged her bags to the cabin yesterday, the trail had felt longer than on her return to the cove. She came out from under the tree canopy into the valley between the cliffs in short time, and paused there, looking out over the sea towards the Kintyre Peninsular, as the ocean breezes buffeted her. The sea rolled grey and green, topped here and there by foaming white caps. Darker spots on the surface hinted at submerged rocks, or fields of kelp. Even to someone with a disliking of open water, Leah found the view dramatic.

  The engine noise oscillated in and out, and was as distant as ever. She scanned the sea closest to the mainland and finally spotted a trawler forging north towards Tayinloan. Its prow rose and fell, struggling to progress against the rough sea. She wondered at the type of people who made their living on the sea, and decided they must be hardy and brave: a different breed than her, she concluded.

  Waves boomed on the sea cliffs.

  From nearer by came a noise that sounded like a dull bellow that curtailed as a drawn out hiss. It had to be the sound of one of the seals, perhaps a dominant male stamping his authority. But she couldn’t be certain; the sound could as easily have come from a stag or some other indigenous creature she didn’t know about. The sound didn’t worry her, because it had originated from some point beyond the cliffs to the left and from far enough away that she’d little chance of running into a wild animal. Other sounds filtering from beyond the cliffs to the right were more troubling. At first she thought the low babble was from a flock of gulls out on the water, but as she listened the sounds became discernable as human phonetics, though she couldn’t quite make out what was being said. There were a number of voices all competing for notice, and dull clacks and thuds. Within seconds the prow of a kayak edged around the headland, a figure in a blue coat paddling furiously against the surging tide.

  Leah frowned down at the guy struggling against the waves, then her gaze snapped onto the second kayak to appear. It was followed by a bunch of four kayaks. All of them were tandem boats with two passengers each. Ten people all told, all of them calling out to each other, offering encouragement in their fight against the waves. She expected them to paddle past the cove, but that obviously wasn’t their aim. The leading kayak had already got past the headland and turned for the pebble shore. Leah shoved her hands in her coat pockets, staring down at the kayakers and exhaled in disappointment. Earlier she wanted to get off the island as quickly as possible, now was different. It was as if these noisy uninvited guests were an invasion force intent on destroying the tranquility. She’d booked the island for its privacy: they couldn’t stay.

  She moved forward onto the first of the steps down.

  To her left, rocks clattered. She snapped round and watched a stone tumbling from the cliff, and immediately she craned up, tracking its fall to its source. A shape pulled back from the lip of the cliff. All she caught was the top of a head, hunched down into shoulders, and couldn’t tell if it was man, woman or beast. She was tempted to retreat on to the valley trail where the angle would afford her a better view of the watcher. But already the group leader had pulled his kayak up the pebble beach, and was exhorting the others to come ashore. As the second kayaker jumped out, and dragged the boat up through the surf, he looked up and spotted Leah. He said something to the leader, who turned and looked directly at her. They both raised hands in friendly greeting.

  She should wave them away. She really should. But Leah’s hand came up as a welcoming gesture, even as she swore under her breath at her lack of resolve.

  13

  ‘Hi there!’ the first kayaker to make shore strode towards her as Leah descended the last of the steps. He was tall, broad shouldered and sported a few days’ beard growth that suited his equally shaggy brown hair and chocolate coloured eyes. His nose was slightly misaligned with his broad grin, as if it had been broken and poorly reset, but it only made his face more interesting. He put out a hand to shake, the open smile firmly in place. ‘I’m Rob Cooper. Wasn’t expecting to meet anyone on Shattered Rock.’

  Leah held her ground, arms crossed. ‘This island’s private. You’re trespassing.’

  Cooper’s smile flickered, he was unsure how to proceed.

  Leah checked out the group of nine behind him, who were busy pulling their boats higher up the beach above the tideline. They looked as if they were making themselves at home. ‘I paid to be here,’ Leah said. ‘Alone.’

  Cooper glanced back at his friends. He pushed a hand red with cold through his hair and rolled out his bottom lip. ‘We don’t mean to intrude,’ he said, and Leah caught an unfamiliar inflection to his accent. ‘But the conditions were getting a bit rough for some of the younger ones in our group. We’ve only pulled in until the wind settles down a bit.’

  ‘You came all the way out here and didn’t think to check the forecast first?’ Leah asked.

  Cooper grinned, and had the grace to look abashed. ‘The weather’s fine, it’s the tidal surge the wind’s pushing in from the Atlantic that caught us out. Some of the guys were getting in difficulty out there.’ He smiled conspiratorially. ‘Not as experienced as the rest of us.’

  ‘Are you some kind of rowing club or something?’ Leah said.

  Cooper nodded, and indicated the second guy to have reached the beach. Leah followed his gesture and saw a tall, rangy built guy in his mid-twenties with long copper-coloured hair. His mane was slick with seawater, finger-combed back off a high forehead. ‘That’s Dom. The woman over there,’ he indicated a short, muscular woman at the rear of the group, ‘that’s Effie. We take out groups from Machrihanish. We often come out here so our customers can check out the seal colony.’

  ‘Does Mr McBride know?’

  He frowned, not sure who she was referring to.

  ‘McBride owns the island,’ Leah said.

  ‘Ah, well that’s the thing. Normally we don’t put to shore, we just go to the reef to the southwest of the island. We don’t need permission from the owner for that.’ There was nothing facetious about his answer; Cooper was merely stating a fact. ‘I’m not going to lie to you: we have come ashore here before, for a rest break or emergency toilet, but this is the first time we’ve met anyone staying here.’

  His claim didn’t sound too unusual. If anyone were staying inland at the cabin they probably wouldn’t be aware of a group of kayakers beaching their boats for a short break. It was pure chance that Leah was where she was when first spotting them.

  ‘You said you were alone,’ Cooper said.

  Leah didn’t answer. She had said so, but she wondered why he wanted to know.

  ‘It’s just, well…’ Cooper shrugged. ‘Judging by the conditions, I’m not sure it’ll be safe to put back out to sea for a while. We have some food and drink; if you want to, you could join us. Picnic on the beach? My way of making up for our intrusion?’

  Leah shook her head. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

  Now Cooper didn’t reply. He looked back at the group. Some of the others were watching them expectantly. Even if Cooper hadn’t pointed out the pros, Leah could have easily identified the tourists from the uncomfortable way they adjusted their life vests or by their apparent fatigue. A couple of girls looked fit to drop, and one of t
he male youths had slumped on his backside in the shingles. Allowing them to catch their breath, to wait out the roughest conditions wasn’t really a hardship – or major inconvenience - to Leah.

  ‘Well,’ Cooper said again, and went to turn away, ‘if you change your mind…’

  ‘I haven’t said you can stay yet.’

  Cooper looked back at her, his mouth working but he didn’t offer argument. He sighed, then nodded in acceptance. ‘I’ll go and get everyone back on the water.’

  Leah shrugged. ‘No. Wait. I don’t suppose it’s doing any harm. You can stay for a while.’ Even to her, the proclamation sounded as if she were simply point scoring. She didn’t want to be a bitch, not when Cooper seemed like a genuinely nice guy, but she had to set some ground rules. ‘But like I said, I’ve work to do. I’d rather not be disturbed.’

  ‘You must be staying at that old research station?’

  She thought about what exactly she should admit to this stranger, but if not at the cabin where else would she be staying? Leah nodded.

  ‘All the way back there you won’t even know we’re here. I promise you that, ehm…’ He waited.

  ‘Leah. My name’s Leah.’

  ‘Right. I’m Rob.’

  ‘Yeah, you already said.’ She offered her first strained smile.

  He stuck out his hand. This time Leah had to take it or would appear downright rude. Cooper’s palm was icy to the touch.

  ‘Aren’t you chancing it paddling all the way out here?’ she wondered, recalling McBride’s warning about hypothermia. ‘I heard that the water temperatures round here are treacherous.’

  Rob touched the figure-hugging suit he was wearing under his life vest. ‘Not if you’re equipped properly.’

  Leah thought a moment. ‘But what if any of you do get in trouble? I mean, do you have some way of calling for help?’