The Girl on Shattered Rock: A gripping suspense thriller

by Matt Hilton

  As she topped the steps, the wind buffeted her. Out on the open water, she guessed the conditions were bad. So maybe a boat ride on rough seas wasn’t the best idea for now. Just get back to the cabin, batten down the hatches, and think on what you really want to do, she decided. That second novel of hers wasn’t getting written, and when she thought about it, putting words on paper was why she’d came to the island in the first place. She glanced back at Rob. He was a distraction she should have avoided like the plague, but…well, the company wasn’t exactly unwelcome. She waited for him to join her at the entrance to the trail. She blinked as he flashed the beam of his torch over her, and he quickly swept the light past her and up the trail. The glow cut beneath the overhanging boughs as if they stood at the entrance of a deep tunnel mouth.

  ‘I have to admit,’ said Rob, ‘that looks real creepy.’

  ‘Having second thoughts about walking me home?’

  ‘No. But I’m having second thoughts about coming back again.’

  Now that Rob was out from under the prying gazes of his friends, he no longer appeared half as bashful, and she was positive there was an unspoken suggestion in his words. She only pulled on her wool cap, and set off up the trail.

  Under the wind-lashed trees it was difficult hearing anything other than the clashing of branches. If there was a dangerous animal out there, watching their progress then they’d no hope of detecting it if it followed. Leah shook her head at the thought: what kind of dangerous animal could be on this remote island? She’d already considered wild dogs, but there had been nothing to suggest the presence of a canine on the island, wild or otherwise. The screaming she’d heard had to have come from a natural inhabitant of Shattered Rock, a deer or seal. If pushed she’d have to go with the former, because she’d never heard of a seal capable of scaling the kind of jagged bluffs that ringed the island. She pictured a wild-eyed stag prancing through the woods, snorting and bellowing, but as hard as she tried she couldn’t imagine one screaming like an enraged predator. Whatever was out there it wasn’t a gentle woodland critter.

  Traversing the tunnel of tree limbs Leah tried to dismiss what could be stalking them but her mind kept going back to the series of weird incidents she’d experienced since her arrival on Shattered Rock. All, she assumed, could be logically explained, but being an author, with a vivid imagination, she easily conjured scenarios that weren’t as grounded in reality as she’d like. One strange incident she just couldn’t explain away: where the hell had the bracelet she’d found gone? When she got back to the cabin she was going to turn the place upside down until she found it: unless she was otherwise busy.

  She glanced back at Rob. He was walking a pace behind, slightly to her left. His head was on a swivel as he followed the beam of his torch as he zipped it back and forth between the tree trunks. The darkness swallowed even the intense beam of the Maglite within a few metres. In its backwash, she could see its reflection in his eyes. They were wide. Rob was feeling as creeped out as she was.

  ‘I’ve been trying to place your accent.’ Any conversation would help Leah take her mind off what or who could be lurking just beyond the beams of their torches.

  ‘I have an accent?’ Rob asked, as if surprised by her acute perceptiveness.

  ‘You’re not Scottish, even though you have a burr.’

  ‘You’re right, but only partly. I’m Scottish-Canadian.’

  ‘Did you grow up in Canada?”

  ‘As a kid I lived in a small town near Montreal. But after my parents divorced, I returned to the ancestral lands with my mom. Been here nearly twenty years now: it’s not often anyone notices I don’t speak properly.’ He smiled at his self-deprecation, but she’d no hope of seeing the curl of his lips. But Leah heard the humour in his voice.

  ‘I had a Canadian friend in college,’ Leah explained. ‘She sounded similar to you. She pronounced some of her words like “oot and aboot”; the way you do. To most ears it would sound Scottish if they didn’t have another point of reference.’

  ‘Funnily enough I contemplated naming my adventuring business Oot and Aboot but the other guys vetoed the idea.’

  Leah frowned back at him, wondering if he was serious.

  ‘They said it sounded corny, but I asked them if by that virtue does that mean I sound corny too?’ He smiled. ‘Dom—in his usual blunt manner—said “Nah, your voice suits you; we all know you’re friggin’ weird, mate.”’

  Breaking twigs crackled nearby.

  The smile on Rob’s face grew rictus as he darted the beam of his torch between the nearest boughs.

  A bird clattered away in fright, wings beating frantically through the branches. Rob exhaled loudly, and lowered his torch again.

  Leah wasn’t as easily relieved: the bird hadn’t broken the first twigs; it had been spooked by something moving close to it. She grabbed Rob’s sleeve, and he had no option but pick up speed as she strode up the path. She couldn’t shake the feeling that unseen eyes followed them every step, and by the time they reached the edge of the glade she almost broke into a jog for the safety of the cabin, but didn’t: she halted. She wished she’d thought ahead and left a light burning inside, because the cabin was in darkness, eerie beyond a carpet of mist that had risen from the damp grass after nightfall. The mist surprised her—the wind should have swept it away, and yet it appeared the gusts were relegated to the tops of the trees and never made it to ground level, almost as if a micro-climate existed at the heart of the glade.

  ‘And I thought the path looked spooky,’ Rob intoned.

  ‘You’re not kidding.’ Leah again wondered what in hell had possessed her to rent a decrepit cabin on a deserted island. Solitude. Suddenly the idea of solitude didn’t hold the romantic connotations it had when first she’d conducted her research of Shattered Rock. Solitude simply meant alone and vulnerable. Fleetingly she considered asking Rob inside, but knew what that would lead to: he was a good-looking guy, and she liked him — okay, she was attracted to him — but this trip was never about kindling a new relationship, it was about relegating the one with Pete Langston to the past. Pete was a bad chapter in her life’s story, and jumping directly into the arms of another man wasn’t how she’d plotted the next. If she didn’t deliver her promised book before the mid-December deadline, her immediate life story was going to be a sorry one. Briefly she thought of Pete — if he were there now, what would he think if he saw her clutching Rob’s sleeve so desperately? He’d no doubt crow that he’d been right all along, that her reason for sneaking off to a deserted island was so she could enjoy a secretive rendezvous with a male friend. He’d be pissed that her secret beau wasn’t Jerry Redmond as he’d assumed, and almost apoplectic for finding her with a virile young bloke like Rob. Things she was certain of: Pete would hurt her, but wouldn’t have the bottle to face Rob, who she was equally certain would kick his arse without any problem in her defence.

  The alcohol she’d enjoyed earlier had definitely had an effect on her inhibitions: she wasn’t a damn nun, and didn’t owe Pete anything. She thought about crying “to hell with writing the book” and dragging Rob inside with her, was only a second away from doing so. But her fingers slid from his sleeve and she took a step forward alone. Rob didn’t advance, and she couldn’t help a stab of disappointment after testing her own resolve. Had she read their mutual attraction wrongly? She was faintly embarrassed that she’d assumed his motive for walking her home was anything but chivalrous. She couldn’t avoid a backward glance, one that could be read as longing, if Rob had been looking at her.

  He had turned away. His torch beam stabbed the gloom of the path they’d followed.

  ‘Rob?’ Leah said tentatively. ‘Is there something wrong?’

  He didn’t reply. He swept the beam back and forward, even angled it upwards at the lowest boughs. Finally he allowed the frown to slip from his features. ‘Thought I heard a voice,’ he said.

  ‘A human voice?’ Even as she posed the question, Leah felt stupid. Wha
t other kind of voice could he mean?

  ‘More like a grunt or something,’ Rob explained. ‘It was short and angry. It wouldn’t surprise me if Dom’s followed us here, trying to freak us out after what happened earlier.’

  Although Rob referred to him going off in a sulk, she recalled Dom’s offer about protecting her from the scary monster in the woods, and thought perhaps he might have taken it on himself to play a prank, trying to frighten her by making stupid noises. ‘I barely know him but could believe it of him. Is he always as immature?’

  ‘Sometimes he’s worse.’ Rob waved down his comment. ‘I’m being unfair to him. He’s a good guy really, my friend. He’s had too much to drink, that’s all. He always acts the fool when he’s drunk.’

  He hadn’t been drunk earlier when he first came to her cabin, and Leah thought he’d acted like a dick then, but maybe she was being too judgemental. Rob knew Dom far better than she did, and must respect him enough to employ him as an adventure guide. Her own judgment could be severely questioned if her choice in ex-fiancé was anything to go by.

  ‘Dom?’ Rob suddenly called out. ‘Is that you? Show yourself, you nutjob.’

  His only answer was silence.

  Leah was positive she could feel the chill of the mist crawling round her ankles, its insubstantial fingers reaching for her knees. A shiver ran the entire length of her body.

  ‘Dom,’ Rob continued. ‘If that’s you jerking around, quit it, man!’

  The silence remained absolute. Rob cast a glance back at Leah, an apology for his drunken friend’s behaviour on his face. ‘Maybe it wasn’t Dom.’ He stabbed his torch towards the cabin. ‘Want me to accompany you until you can get the lights on?’

  ‘There’s no need, I’ve got this,’ Leah said, waving her own meagre torchlight, and immediately regretted her words. ‘On second thoughts, I guess I might need a hand with getting the generator restarted. I can’t hear it running. Can you?’

  Without reply, Rob came forward, and this time when they walked it was side by side. As they neared the cabin, the putter of the diesel generator grew louder, and Leah wondered if Rob had noted it too. She glimpsed at him, caught him in a sidelong glance of his own, and they both made nervous smiles. Leah was secretly mortified: was she coming across as a hussy, inviting him to the cabin when it was apparent to both there was no problem with the power supply? No, she told herself, you’re just overthinking things. Go with the flow, forget about Pete’s opinion and see where things lead.

  At the cabin, Rob angled his body, listening. The constant chatter coming from the adjoining shed was obvious. ‘The gennie’s running,’ he said.

  ‘The lights inside should be fine then,’ said Leah, ‘but can you wait until I unlock the door and switch them on?’

  ‘Sure I can.’

  She unlocked the door and pushed inside, reaching for the light switch. The sudden brightness caused her to blink, while black dots swarmed across her vision. Her immediate instinct was to check her laptop was where she’d left it. It was there, untouched. She turned back to Rob who hadn’t entered. He was on the stoop, his gaze sweeping the living space, and seeming satisfied that all was in order, his ward delivered safely home. ‘Want to come in for a cup of coffee or something,’ she offered.

  ‘I’d love to, but…’ He took a quick glimpse over his shoulder. When he again met her gaze he looked genuinely disappointed. ‘I’d best get on back to camp. I’m responsible for those guys back there and would hate for anything to happen while I was gone.’

  ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ Leah joked.

  ‘With Dom in a stupid mood, I dread to think. Look, Leah, I’m sorry we impeded on your private time like this, only, well, I’m also happy we met. It was nice getting to know you even if just a little bit.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Leah said, feeling heat welling in her chest. ‘It was for me too.’

  She stepped closer to him, but the doorframe still separated them.

  ‘I guess you’ll be leaving in the morning?’

  ‘At first light, if the wind has settled.’

  Leah nodded without answering, chewing her bottom lip. Rob took the hint. ‘Hey,’ he said, and clawed open a jacket pocket. ‘Why don’t I give you my business card? Incase you’re ever oot this way again and need a guide.’

  Leah accepted it, noting his mobile number emblazoned across the bottom. She snapped it against her thigh. Then she almost felt herself lunge at him, and plant a kiss on his cheek. Her lips were a fraction of an inch from the corner of his mouth, and she felt him adjust an equal fraction — thankfully it wasn’t away. His fingers were on her triceps, holding her, and the kiss lasted a second or so longer than Leah intended, but in contradiction much shorter too. ‘Thanks for seeing me back safely,’ she said as he released her and stepped back.

  ‘All part of the service, ma’am,’ he quipped. And she knew from the sparkle in his eyes that he was as equally happy he’d handed her his card, because she would ring him. He waved, and walked away with his torch beam bobbing with each light step, Leah watching him from the open doorway until the mist swallowed him up. Only when he was lost to the gloom of the forest did she turn and press the door shut behind her and throw the latch shut. She rested her backside against the door, thinking that she would rise early in the morning and go down to the bay to wave him off.

  19

  Leah fell asleep with the ghost of Rob’s kiss tickling the corner of her mouth. It was pleasant and warm, and a tantalizing promise of more to come. As she’d pulled the duvet over her, settled her head against the pillows, she expected she’d have a restless night as she played over her feelings about entering a new relationship so soon after the acrimonious end of her previous one. But the alcohol she’d drank did the trick, and she fell asleep seconds after snuggling down, and it was a good job she’d set the old wind-up alarm clock on the bedside drawers otherwise she might not rise before first light as planned.

  But the clock didn’t wake her with an incessant ring. She bolted upright, gasping and clawing at the darkness, a full three hours before it was due to go off. For one night she’d hoped that her recurring nightmare wouldn’t trouble her, but even coddled by alcohol fumes and pleasant memories, she couldn’t escape the terror of drowning. Fleetingly, in her panic as she thrashed free from the duvet, she glimpsed a form leaning over her, more solid than the gloom of the bedroom, and she knew that if she should throw on a light the phantom would wear her own face. But as she gasped her way to wakefulness the shadow disintegrated, and with it the overwhelming panic she always suffered in the dream. She swung her feet out of the bed, and sat on the edge of it with her face in her hands. She trembled, weakened and breathless.

  She found the light switch and was bathed in the lamp’s glow. Banished shadows melted into the corners of her bedroom. And as it always did, the memory of her nightmare equally faded. She padded barefoot out into the narrow hall, heading for the toilet, an urgent need to pee overwhelming her. She shivered in the cold, but didn’t give the low temperature much thought while she saw to her bodily needs. Only after she pushed out into the hallway again did she realise that not only was it chilly but there was a draught. She turned for the door that separated the sleeping quarters from the living-cum-kitchen area. The breeze under the door was icy against her ankles…and she understood its significance.

  A small measure of panic returned, clutching at her throat, as she backed into her bedroom. With shaking hands she found her jeans and pulled into them, all the while facing the hall. Then, recalling her fright from the night before she bent and fed a hand under her mattress, sliding her fingers along until they found the handle of the knife she’d secreted there. She withdrew the blade and held it in both hands before her as she stole back into the hallway. She was unsure if she should turn on the hall light or not – bathed in its glow she would make an immediate target for anyone waiting for her on the other side of the closed door. And yet, would she be any less a target in shado
ws, where she’d be less capable of defending herself? She reached for the switch and turned on the lights. Took a deep breath, then opened the door. She did it tentatively, fully expecting to alert an intruder who would either flee or launch at her in the next second. The door opened inwards, so she was in a precarious position until it swung clear and she was able to step into the living room, again thumbing on a light. Her gaze went immediately to the exit door, which stood wide open to the night. It creaked slowly as a gust of wind pushed inside her living quarters. Leah ignored the door — she’d guessed it was open the instant she detected the chill breeze on her ankles — and instead checked the kitchen to her left. It was the only place out of her line of sight where an intruder could be lurking. The kitchen was empty. She padded further into the room, knife again in both hands, angled upward from her navel for a desperate thrust. She scanned around her as she progressed, but her gaze kept going back to one item. Her laptop.

  She might have convinced herself that after waving goodbye to Rob and latching the door behind her, she hadn’t fully secured it. The wind that had earlier blown over the treetops had finally found its way down into the glade, and the insecure door, rattling and prodding it enough so that the latch popped and the door swung open. She would have been convinced but for her laptop. When she’d returned home it had been on the kitchen table, the lid shut. Now the lid was open and the screen danced with her screen saver, but that wasn’t all. The bracelet she’d found during her trek across the island was back. It was hanging from the right corner of the screen, a pendulum gently swaying in the breeze.