The Girl on Shattered Rock: A gripping suspense thriller

by Matt Hilton

  A qualm of unease threatened to loosen her bowel, and she had to tense her abdomen muscles to avoid an unfortunate accident. Questions spooled through her mind, who-what-where-when-how, but mainly why? She took a quick glance at the door to the balcony, but could see only her reflection in the glass. Her face was pale with shock. She looked like a terrified child, her features hollowed out, shoulders rounded…gripping a kitchen knife that suddenly felt a woefully inadequate weapon against the monster lurking beyond the cabin. She quickly turned away from her haunted reflection and approached the table, and the laptop on it. She couldn’t bring herself to touch the bracelet; she used the tip of the knife to hook it off the computer and transfer it to the tabletop. Again the knife was employed to tease the bracelet into a better position where she could scrutinise the initials she’d noted on it before. MJK. She could only make out the inscribed letters because she knew what to expect, because since she’d last seen the bracelet an attempt had been made to score them out. A pin or other sharp object had been scratched repeatedly over the lettering. Alongside the original initials two more had been added, etched into the gold with the same sharp object: LD.

  ‘Leah Dean.’ She intoned her name in a sense of disbelief. The knife clattered on the table as she snatched up the bracelet. She wanted to believe the freshly etched initials were only random scratches, but knew in her heart they weren’t. Who had scratched her initials into the bracelet, then returned it to her as if it were a token of their affection? Nobody of sound mind!

  Who on the island even knew her name?

  All the guys at the beach had learned her real name after her denouement as Diana Leigh, but there was only one of them who had fixated on her in an unhealthy fashion. And once more she wondered if he had visited the island the day before the rest of the group had arrived, and that he was the one who’d spied on her in the shower, and later entered the cabin to steal the bracelet.

  Anger replaced fear. Pushing the bracelet in a pocket, she rushed to the open door, and leaned out.

  In the waning hours of night the darkness had almost solidified, but as she craned to see, the dimmest of shapes began morphing from the murk. The mist had dispersed, so now she could make out the ragged grasses of the glade, and also the thick blot of shadow marking the edge of the forest. Midway from cabin to forest a deeper darkness reared from the grass. As she stared at it the shadow moved. Being exposed, and backlit in the doorway, Leah knew that the figure stared back at her with equal intensity.

  ‘Dom? Is that you? What the hell do you think you’re playing it?’

  No reply.

  ‘Hey!’ Leah shouted. ‘What gives you the bloody right to sneak in my cabin? Is there something wrong with your head?’

  Again there was no reply.

  Leah took an angry step from the cabin. The stoop was slick and cold against her bare soles. ‘Dom,’ she shouted again. ‘If that’s you, you’d best get away right now or else I’m going to—’ Her words faltered. What exactly could she do? It wasn’t as if she could go and chase him off: she didn’t fully understand his motive for tormenting her — stalking her — but a direct confrontation wouldn’t end well.

  ‘I’m radioing for help, you creep,’ she announced. ‘You’d best bugger off back to camp and get ready to leave. You don’t want to be on this island come morning!’

  The figure began moving towards her.

  Leah retreated inside the cabin, still watching. ‘Get the hell out of here!’

  The figure halted.

  It wasn’t through her forceful command. He — the figure was definitely male — snapped on a torch and shone the beam directly in her eyes. Leah reared back, throwing an arm over her face. Footsteps thudded on trampled grass. Panicked anew, Leah groped for the door and slammed it shut. She threw her weight against it as she fumbled for the latch, bracing for impact. If she couldn’t engage the key in the lock she’d no hope of holding back a guy half her weight again, he’d burst inside and knock her to the floor. She groped, found the key in the lock and turned it, a second before her stalker crashed against the door. Leah squeaked in alarm. Frantically she looked around for a weapon, spotted the knife on the table where she’d dropped it. But to grab the knife meant leaving the door, and it required the extra reinforcement of her body or it could easily be kicked off its hinges.

  The flat of a hand drummed on the door. Maddening laughter accompanied the thundering impacts.

  Leah screamed to be left alone.

  She couldn’t reach the knife, but the table was in reach of her feet. Without taking her shoulder from the door she strained to get a toe around the nearest leg and began to drag it towards her. The old pine table stubbornly refused to budge. So she took the risk, bracing her left hand flat against the door while she stretched for the table with her other. She grasped it by its edge and dragged the table to her. She could reach the knife, but didn’t go for it — she was deluded if she ever thought she could skewer another human being on a blade — her intention was to use the table as a barricade. As the hand again drummed on the door, making it rattle in its frame, she yanked the table around and wedged it in front of the door. She braced her thighs against the table, grabbed up the knife, because she wasn’t averse to using it as a visual deterrent, and stood shivering because of the adrenalin coursing through her.

  The torch beam flared through the French doors. Leah faced the new direction, bringing up the knife. She could make out nothing of the figure behind the torch. ‘Get away from me!’ she screeched.

  The torch blinked off.

  She was unsure if she should abandon her position or not. Had her stalker only flashed the torch through the balcony door to lure her away, so he could burst inside when she wasn’t reinforcing the barricade? But he could as easily smash through the glass doors if he found a rock or lump of wood outside. He could crash his way inside via any of the windows.

  Leah rushed for the bunkroom and yanked open the cupboard housing the radio. In the dimness the bright green LED was like a beacon. Thank God the battery had charged! She snatched out the battery, and reached for the transmitter. Her fingers groped through empty space. She slapped around, trying to locate the radio. But all she found was the heavy base unit. ‘Where are you?’ she wheezed, and again swept her hand through empty space. She distinctly recalled seeing the radio alongside the charging unit when last she’d checked the electric cable was seated properly in its socket. Nevertheless she checked the lower shelves of the cupboard, feeling only dust and a tiny screw that rattled around the cupboard with each sweep of her hand. ‘It has to be here! It has to be here!’

  But she knew it wasn’t.

  When her stalker entered the cabin to deposit the bracelet where she’d find it, he’d also made a trip to the bunkroom and stolen the radio.

  Light blazed behind her, and she swirled round in fright. The torch beam stabbed through the bunkroom window, seeking her. Leah fled to the hall, a useless battery in one hand, the knife again in her other. She was shouting words that sounded foreign even to her ears. As she raced into the living room she looked for somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere she could even crouch where she wouldn’t be visible from the kitchen window or balcony doors. She slapped off the overhead light, though a wash of light was still cast in the room from the hall. She lurched towards the kitchen, ducking below the counters and forcing herself into the angle formed between the sink unit and cooker. Her precarious position only offered limited concealment, but it was better than nothing. Two and a half feet behind her at most, her stalker flared the beam through the kitchen window, the slatted shadows cast from the venetian blinds dancing on the ceiling overhead.

  Leah remained in her crouch, breathing rapidly, her slick palm squeezing desperately on the knife handle. She longed to scream in challenge, but that would give away her position. Not that it would take much figuring out. He knew exactly where she was, and was teasing her by flashing the light above her. In the next instant he might return t
o the door.

  The slats of alternating shadow and light on the ceiling grew dimmer.

  Dimmer agin.

  It took a moment to realise that her tormentor was retreating, albeit continuing to hold the torch’s beam on the window. As Leah craned out for a look she still caught chinks of light through the blinds but it was steadily lessening in intensity. She poked her head over the counter, watching and could tell that her stalker had backed away to the middle of the glade, and was moving now for the trail out of sight to the right. At a crouch she ran for the door, thrusting aside the table with her hip, and unlocked it. She only cracked open the door enough to spy through, and again spotted the retreating figure. She couldn’t discern features, or much of the body shape because the man wore a padded jacket that disguised his build, but he was marginally shorter and stockier than Rob Cooper. Who else could it be than Dom? She had fixated on him as a suspect, perhaps fairly enough considering his behaviour since first they’d met, but who knew? Rob and his group had trespassed on the island, what was to say someone else hadn’t done so? No. It had to be Dom. The son of a bitch!

  Should she be genuinely fearful of him though?

  Was his actions designed to tease her, a nasty prank to appease his sick sense of humour? Surely he didn’t really intend her harm, not when there were so many witnesses to his crime. He’d be crazy to touch her when he was certain to be punished for it.

  That thought gave her a modicum of courage she hadn’t felt moments ago. She was tempted to go after him, berate him all the way back to the camp, and then tell all the others exactly what he’d been up to. Rob and Effie needed to know what kind of sleazebag they employed. He shouldn’t be trusted with any of the girls in the group, or any future clients either.

  20

  Leah wasn’t normally bitter, but anger fuelled by fear had that effect on even the kindest of individuals. She rushed to find her boots and jacket, intent on chasing Dom back to the cove where she’d reveal him for exactly what he was. The sick son of a bitch should lose his job over this!

  But caution pinged in her.

  Dom could be waiting to attack her on the trail.

  If he ambushed and dragged her into the woods, she’d have little hope of raising the alarm before he did who knew what to her. She returned and collected the knife, but knew in her heart that she couldn’t bring herself to stab him…or could she? Threatened with rape she’d gladly cut off a certain piece of his anatomy!

  Bolstered by that thought, she locked the door behind her and strode out into the glade, her own small torch leading the way. She kept the knife ready in her right hand, although down by her side. As she progressed the wind abruptly stopped, as if the angry sky had suddenly run out of breath. The waves would calm, and her visitors would leave. She was as equally determined to get off the island, and might even beg a seat in one of the kayaks rather than await McBride’s return.

  She paused ten feet shy of the trail, her momentary courage now trickling away when she was about to plunge beneath the trees. Somehow the silence was more unnerving than when the wind in the canopy had roared like a turbulent sea. At least a break in the stillness would warn her if anyone were creeping close by. Before her nerve fled altogether, she rushed into the trail, jogging along the hard packed dirt for the cliff tops. Her head was on a swivel as she ran, ears listening for the faintest of warnings, eyes huge. She’d found the woods creepy before, now they had taken on the eeriness of a cursed forest in a Brothers Grimm tale. More than once she jerked away from tree stumps that loomed in her vision and took on the forms of crouching predators. Her heart felt as if it rode higher in her chest, and her throat was pinched tight.

  She stumbled to a halt.

  There was a swathe of beaten down grass at the edge of the trail. She daren’t follow it into the forest but was certain that something had been dragged off the trail and into the thick carpet of pine needles beyond. Hopefully Dom had broken his leg on the way back to camp and crawled off to suffer in agony!

  She ran on. The distance from cabin to cove seemed twice as long as normal, but that was simply an effect of fear, as was the continued clenching of her throat. By the time she staggered to the top of the bluff and scanned the beach below, she was on the verge of collapse from lack of oxygen.

  The faintest glow came from the fire pit, and also from within one of the tents. There was nobody evident in the camp, nobody prowling around the tents or down by the water. Everyone had apparently retired, grabbing some sleep in preparation for an early departure. She thought that she’d have caught up to Dom by now — despite hoping he’d crawled injured off the trail it had only been a sour wish — but he could have made it back in the meantime. Perhaps it was he who’d lit a lamp inside his tent and hadn’t settled down yet.

  As she picked her way down the steep cliff, she was inclined to shout out and rouse the entire camp, but she didn’t have the breath for it. She was saved the trouble when the zip was lowered on the lit tent and a head poked out.

  ‘Is that you, Cooper?’ a woman called out mirthfully. ‘You dirty stop out.’

  ‘It’s Leah…’

  As the woman clambered out of the tent, and stood, Leah recognised the sturdy form of Effie Spelling. Behind her another head emerged from the tent flap: it was Becks Howell, Effie’s girlfriend. The two women stood together staring up at Leah as she descended the last few steps.

  ‘Where’s Rob?’ Effie ventured, a second before Leah asked the same. ‘Isn’t he with you?’

  Leah approached them, and their attention fixed on the knife she wielded with not a little concern. They took subtle steps backwards, and Becks’s fingers crept into Effie’s.

  ‘This was just for protection while coming through the woods,’ Leah explained in a rush, then quickly shoved the knife into her waistband, and covered it with the hem of her coat. ‘Isn’t Rob in his tent?’

  ‘He didn’t come back.’ Effie shared a glance with Becks, before looking again at Leah. ‘We kind of assumed that he stayed over with you?’

  ‘Rob walked me back to my cabin, but that was it. He immediately set off back here; he said you were planning an early start in the morning.’

  ‘How long is it since he left you?’ Effie looked worried.

  ‘Hours ago. Not long after midnight. Are you sure he isn’t in his tent?’

  ‘He didn’t come back,’ Effie stressed.

  ‘Can’t you check?’

  Without bidding, Becks strode to one of the tents and pulled up the unzipped flap. Leah shone her torch inside, but it was unnecessary. Rob wasn’t there. Effie gave Leah an “I told you so” expression.

  ‘Where’s Dom?’ Leah changed tack and tone.

  ‘In his sack,’ Effie said. She indicated a tent at the end of the camp furthest from them. ‘He’s been there for a while.’

  ‘We need to check.’ Now it was Leah stressing the point.

  ‘He came back about an hour after you and Rob left together,’ said Becks. ‘The drunken idiot had fallen down and blackened his eye. He went to bed feeling sorry for himself.’

  ‘And he hasn’t left his tent since then?’ Leah was doubtful.

  ‘Take a look for yourself,’ Effie said, and the three walked towards Dom’s tent.

  ‘Dom?’ Effie called. ‘Dom? Wake up.’

  Becks shook his tent. It fluttered like bats’ wings.

  Dom groaned deeply, then there was the sound of him rolling clumsily to free himself of a sleeping bag. He zippered it down. ‘Uh? Whassup? Jesus, man, what are you doin’? It isn’t even light yet.’

  ‘Dom, you’d best get up,’ Effie said. ‘We might have a problem.’

  ‘Whu? What the fuck?’

  Leah turned back to the women. ‘Are you positive he hasn’t been out of his tent in the past hour?’

  Effie and Becks checked each other for confirmation, before Becks said, ‘Pretty certain.’

  ‘He fell asleep,’ Effie added. ‘He was snoring like a buzz saw. Always
does, that’s why he was chased to the furthest tent from ours.’

  Leah frowned. She’d come to the camp with the intention of embarrassing Dom in front of his friends, maybe even demanding positive action from his employers, but unless the women were sorely mistaken Dom wasn’t the one responsible for terrorizing her. She had a horrible sense that she might have misconstrued her visitor’s intentions. Had it been Rob? She thought about the beaten down grass she’d recently spotted at the edge of the trail, and how she hoped Dom had fallen and broken a leg. What if Rob was the one who’d fell, had perhaps bashed his head and it was he that had returned to the cabin seeking help? No. That didn’t fit. There had been maliciousness to her visitor’s actions. Rob would have surely called her name, begged for assistance not laughed crazily while hammering on the door. He wouldn’t have gone from door to window flashing the torch inside. Those actions were intended to frighten her. Plus, there was the issue of the open door and the return of the bracelet to contend with: surely those had not been down to Rob, injured or otherwise. She wasn’t fully convinced that Dom hadn’t had a part in it, but that only lasted until he poked his head out of the tent and peered groggily up at them. One eye was puffed up, almost closed.

  ‘Whassup?’ he croaked again.

  ‘Rob’s missing,’ Effie said.

  Dom screwed up his face in concentration. ‘He’s probably still up at what’s-her-face’s place, gettin’ his leg over.’ It took a second or two for it to dawn on him that one of those faces peering down at him was what’s-her-face’s. Leah snorted as he blinked rapidly at her. He grunted something, but it wasn’t an apology. He touched his fingers to his swollen eye. ‘What the fuck?’