Encouraged, I helped him untie the kayaks and lift them from the car roof. Not wanting to chance a technological malfunction in the event of unpredictable waves, I claimed thirst and popped back into the Jeep. As he fiddled with paddles, I drained a water bottle, dropped in the voice recorder, tightened the cap, and placed the bottle in my inside jacket pocket. It wasn’t perfect waterproof protection, but it was better than nothing.
Back outside, Colin and I carried the kayaks, one at a time, down a steep, rocky path that led to the beach. A third trip was made for paddles, and then we dragged all the equipment toward the water.
“It’s all about upper body strength,” he said. “The waves will kill you if you let them. The trick is not letting them.”
If this was a lesson, Colin was a questionable instructor. Good thing I was already well learned in wave maneuvering.
“Got it,” I said. Then, “I just need one thing before we get started. If it’s okay with you.”
He turned to me. I held open my arms, relieved when they didn’t shake.
“It’s going to be us against the water, right? So as teammates, I think we need to start over. With a clean slate.”
He frowned and his chin lowered toward his chest. He looked at the ground like he was trying to work out something in his head. A moment later, he looked up, offered a tentative smile, and let me put my arms around him. I tried not to tense as his arms encircled my shoulders—or think that in this position, he could easily snap my neck if so inclined.
Fortunately, he didn’t kill me right then and there; in fact, his body relaxed against mine, and I considered this progress. Even if I couldn’t get a direct confession out of him, I hoped to use my abilities to either earn his trust or make him feel so strongly about me, he eventually agreed to whatever I asked—including an afternoon trip to the Winter Harbor police department.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked once we’d separated.
“Can you think of one reason I shouldn’t be?”
His gaze shifted and focused on something behind me. I turned—and was startled to see the sky darkening to gray in the distance. It was the first time it had been anything but blue in months.
“We’ll be fine,” I said, turning back. “There are no clouds here, and it’s barely drizzled all summer. I’m sure that’ll clear up long before it reaches us.”
“If you say so.”
He continued toward the water. I took off my sandals, rolled my jeans up to my knees, and followed him in. It took some effort getting the heavy plastic boat past the break, which kept shoving it back to shore, and I was glad Paige and I had practiced our new, weird version of spin the bottle twice more since our first attempt with Jaime. I still fatigued easily, but felt better than I had in weeks. And our game participants, two servers at the Lighthouse Resort, where Paige and I had enjoyed a few meals, had been happy to play and none the wiser.
Once the kayaks were far enough out, we hopped in and started paddling. I kept my focus on Colin, who stayed a few feet ahead of me. I followed his lead when he turned to travel parallel to shore and was surprised to see how far we’d gone. Our cars were barely visible on top of the cliff we’d climbed down, and the beach was a narrow beige strip about a quarter mile away.
“Am I doing this right?” I called out, intentionally adjusting my technique so that the paddle cut too deeply and my rhythm was off. The kayak swerved all the way to the right, a little to the left, and all the way to the right again. By the time Colin reached me, my back was nearly to him.
“Not bad for a beginner.”
He demonstrated how to hold the paddle and I noticed he seemed even more relaxed now. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who benefited from time spent on the water. I asked him a few more questions about proper form and positioning, as well as how he’d come to know so much. The more he talked, the easier the words came—and the surer I felt that this could work. For good measure, I made sure our hands brushed together, and sat incorrectly so he had no choice but to reach over and correct my posture by touching my back or shoulders. Not only did these brief moments of contact seem to help him warm up to me, but combined with the occasional saltwater splash, they kept me energized enough to keep going.
I felt so solid physically, when he asked if I’d like to head out to a sandbar another twenty yards away, I agreed.
Unfortunately, the storm we saw in the distance a half an hour earlier was coming closer as we paddled, and the waves were growing taller. By the time we reached the sandbar, the blue sky had been taken over by fat, dark clouds. Cool droplets began to fall, the wind to pick up.
“Maybe we should turn back!” I called out. “Save this for another day!”
Up ahead, Colin didn’t answer. Perhaps he didn’t hear. He rode the waves, paddling every now and then as he watched the water beneath him. After a few minutes, he gripped one end of the paddle and shot the other end into the water like a spear. The paddle anchored and Colin held on, triumphant. Using his free hand, he tied what looked like a surfboard lead around the paddle, then climbed out of the kayak. The boat bobbed on the ocean’s surface, tethered to the paddle that was lodged in the sandbar. Under normal conditions, I guessed he could stand with the water lapping around his ankles; under these, the water knocked against his knees.
“That’s not going to hold!” It took all my strength to cut through the water toward him. “The waves are too big!”
He opened his mouth to answer just as a bolt of lightning shot into the horizon, slicing the sky in half. A ground-shaking boom, which I felt despite my distance from the ocean floor, followed three seconds later, suggesting the storm wasn’t as far away as it looked. The deluge came next, washing the salt water from my skin and making the dark green Atlantic pop and bubble as if flames burned somewhere below.
“I’m sorry!”
“What?” I yelled. Nearing the anchored paddle, I reached out to grab it—and missed. A wave started to carry me away, and I flung the paddle in and out, in and out, struggling to not drift too far.
“I didn’t mean to do it!”
My head snapped up. It was hard to hear anything over the rush of wind and water … but had Colin just said what I thought he did? Was he confessing here, in the middle of the ocean, in the middle of a thunderstorm?
“I didn’t know what was happening!”
He was. I released one end of the paddle and reached into my jacket pocket. The water bottle, with the voice recorder inside, was still there.
“If I knew … if I had any idea …”
I took the paddle in both hands again and pumped my arms as hard and fast as they’d go. “If you had any idea … what?”
He looked at me, rain streaming down his face. His eyes were clear, sad. He shook his head and said something else, but I couldn’t read his lips in the flash of lightning, and his words were drowned out by a second, louder clap of thunder. Before I could ask him to repeat what he’d said, a wave rushed from behind, slammed into his back. He managed to stay upright, but the anchored paddle was torn from its post and tossed away, taking his kayak with it.
For a split second, Colin froze. He stared at the boat, his eyes and mouth wide in panic.
In the next second, his face relaxed. And he dove headfirst into the water.
I sat there, breathless, watching the ocean’s surface, waiting for his head to break through. When it didn’t and his kayak continued to drift farther away, I climbed to my knees, gripped the sides of my boat, and scanned the dark depths. But the pouring rain and sloshing water made it impossible to see anything else.
At which point, I had two options. I could either paddle or swim back to shore and leave him there to accept whatever fate he had coming … or I could save him. So that he suffered a different fate, one that punished him for as long as the legal system deemed appropriate, later.
I still hadn’t made up my mind when a swell of water lifted my kayak and threw it back down. I toppled out before the small bo
at capsized, and was instantly sucked into a powerful current. It took hold of my waist and jerked me to one side, then the other. Before I could swim out of it, it grabbed my chest. My mouth. My forehead. It snaked around my neck and took hold, squeezing the water from my throat. Beneath my feet, I saw a second pair, kicking.
The water wasn’t dragging and choking me.
Colin was.
And he was strong. I elbowed him in the gut and freed my neck. I was spinning around for a better shot when he grabbed my arms and twisted them behind my back. The water was so rough, I couldn’t see his face, but it lightened overhead. Every few seconds, he gave a hard kick and gasped for air above the surface before sinking back down.
My arms burned as he clenched one hand around both my wrists. He clamped his other hand over my nose and mouth, trying to suffocate me. I shot both legs up and behind me, aiming for his groin, but the angle was too awkward. I couldn’t reach him. After several seconds of wriggling and writhing, the only thing keeping me from passing out was the water seeping between his fingers. I inhaled it greedily, hoping he didn’t notice.
I didn’t think he did, but either way, this was taking too long. I could feel it in his fist, the slight ease in pressure around my wrists. Soon he removed both hands. Before I could make a break for it, they were back around my neck, squeezing tighter this time. So tight, the white spots I’d become familiar with over the past several months reappeared. Only now they fizzled instead of brightening. The pain was so intense, I thought my head might just snap off and float away.
This was it. I was going to die. Here, in the water. Just like Justine had. And all those men last summer and fall. Was this what it had been like for them? So dark? So cold?
There was another boom. And another and another. Bright white flashes lit up the ocean. Convinced the end was imminent, I started to close my eyes against the glare … but something stopped me.
A paddle. From one of the kayaks. It had been sucked beneath the surface and now spun and spiraled near my feet.
Carefully, gently, moving so slowly Colin wouldn’t notice, I gripped the flat paddle end between my toes and lifted it up. I brought my arms forward. My fingers wrapped around the hard plastic pole.
And I swung behind me, as hard as I could. The paddle slammed into his back. His hands fell from my neck and I shot forward, away from him and into deeper, darker water.
My first instinct was to get as far away as fast as possible. But then I did a somersault and circled back toward the sandbar.
I found him, clinging to the hard stretch of sand that, by the end of this storm, would likely be broken up and resettled on the ocean floor. I could see him, too, his face reaching toward the surface, his cheeks bulging as he fought to keep the pockets of air from bursting. Tiny air bubbles streamed from his nose and pressed lips, and I knew if I left him alone, he’d be gone in seconds. He’d die certain he almost had me, never knowing I’d returned for him.
It might be what he deserved, but I couldn’t let it happen.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t teach him a lesson. So I sang. To get his attention. To let him know that I knew what he’d done, and that I’d make sure everyone else did, too. The note started softly, sweetly, and quickly grew louder. It stretched toward the sandbar, the ground, the horizon behind me, and overhead. Soon I could no longer hear the thunder roaring or the water rushing past my ears.
Neither, it seemed, could Colin. His fingers straightened. He released the sandbar and, despite the currents, drifted toward me. His cheeks flattened. His lips parted. Still singing, I kicked once and shot toward him. If necessary, I knew I could force the ocean from his lungs, but we didn’t have to go that far. He needed to be okay—physically, at least. So that on the drive back to Winter Harbor, we could discuss exactly what he’d tell the police.
It was a good plan. A great plan.
But then the current shifted, yanking him deeper. Pulling him away from me. I kicked faster, paddled harder, but it seemed the more I tried the greater the distance between us grew.
Until, several long seconds later, he smiled.
I stopped. The ocean fell silent. Colin continued toward me, arms outstretched, looking happier than I’d ever seen him. His hand had just grazed my stomach when the light in his eyes went out. His entire body fell limp.
At the same time, somewhere in the back of my mind, Paige’s voice was pleading.
Vanessa, help me. Please. Now.
I’m at Betty’s … and he’s after me.
CHAPTER 25
I TRIED TO SAVE HIM. I brought him back to shore. I pounded his chest and forced air into his lungs. Each time I pulled away and saw his lips turned up, I thought he was coming to, that his face was contorting as his body struggled to hang on … but he was only smiling.
“No.” I squeezed his nose between two fingers and pressed my mouth to his. His chest rose, fell, and stopped. I did it again, and again.
He grinned the whole time.
Vanessa … please hurry.…
I breathed more. Pounded harder. Rain poured down, blending with the tears streaming down my face, but I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel anything.
Neither did Colin. Every few seconds I checked for a pulse, but his veins were still. His heart was done.
Oh my God … he’s in here.…
I sat up and looked down the beach, in the direction of the restaurant. It was a few miles away, so I wouldn’t have been able to see it on a clear day, but I hoped Paige could somehow sense me tuning in, reaching out. I pictured her pretty smile, imagined her laugh, and answered.
Where?
I waited. When all I heard was the rain thrashing and water roaring onto shore, I tried again.
Keep talking, Paige. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Still listening for her, I leaned toward Colin. I lowered my mouth to his ear and spoke softly.
“I don’t know how you were involved with those girls … but I do know what you just tried to do to me.” I brushed at my eyes, which wouldn’t stop crying. “And I’m still sorry. You would’ve faced consequences eventually … but not this. Not from me.”
Unable to look at him, I kept my gaze averted as I climbed to my feet, pulled off my soaked denim jacket, and used it to cover his vacant eyes. I offered one more silent apology, then shoved my feet into my sandals, which were still on the beach where I’d left them before entering the water, and ran up the steep path to the parking lot.
The next several minutes were a blur. I reached the rain-filled Jeep and called the police to report a found body, give them the location, and tell them something was going on at Betty’s. I called Simon and left a hurried message saying that I was fine but Paige was in trouble, and asked him to go to the restaurant as soon as possible. As I started the car and gunned it backward, I called my parents and assured them that I was okay and would be home as soon as I could.
I didn’t think about what I’d just done. I couldn’t. If I did, I’d stop. I’d sit right there in my car with the top down, and let the freshwater pummel my skin until it began to slowly poison my body.
And Paige needed me. I couldn’t save Colin … or Justine or Charlotte … but I could still save my best friend.
I was so focused on this, I almost peeled out of the lot without noticing the car parked between a Dumpster and a sand dune. When I saw it, I hit the brake so hard, the Jeep lunged forward.
It was an empty orange pickup. With fishing poles hanging out the back. The fact that Paige was in danger even though Colin could no longer hurt her meant he hadn’t acted alone the past few weeks. Did he have help here, too? Were the fishermen lurking somewhere around the lot, waiting to finish the job?
Vanessa!
I shook my head and hit the gas. The tires spun in mud before gaining traction and shooting backward. I flew out onto the road, slid into a turn, and headed for town.
The storm worsened as I drove. The sky turned as black as night and the rain was a thick gray wall
my headlights couldn’t break through. I was actually grateful for the lightning, which managed to illuminate the darkness—and the road—every few seconds. I gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, thinking only of Paige. When my cell phone rang, I checked the number on the screen; but it was only my parents, so I let it go to voice mail.
Nearing town, I spoke again.
I’m almost there. Are you okay?
There was a long beat. I held my breath as I stared through the blurred windshield, following the fuzzy double yellow line. I was about to repeat myself, louder, when she answered.
Yes, she said, voice trembling. But he’s here.
Who? Where?
She spoke again but her voice was lost in an explosion of thunder. A shard of lightning lit up the sky before striking a tree to my right, splitting it in two. Seeing the halved trunk tilting toward the road, I punched the gas—but it was no use. The tree gained momentum on the way down and hit the pavement before I could pass. I skidded to a stop, avoiding a collision by inches, then backed up and tried to go around it.
But it was too long. It blocked the entire road and its top branches tangled in the woods twenty feet away. I threw open the door, jumped out of the car, and ran to the tree, determined to create a passable lane. I leaned into it with all my weight; it rocked slightly, but didn’t budge. Because it sat at an angle, it was too tall to simply drive over. On the other side, the road remained dark. This was the kind of storm people pulled over to wait out, so chances were slim that anyone besides the police would come this way and, when they couldn’t get through, give me a ride back to town.
I was still a mile away.
Inside my head, Paige whimpered softly.
There was only one option. I moved the Jeep to the side of the road. Grabbed my phone, purse, and keys. And ran.
My legs pumped beneath me. My feet flew over rocks and twigs. My heart beat quickly but consistently. Before I knew it, the dim lights of Main Street appeared.
Are you still at Betty’s? I asked Paige.
Yes …
Dark Water: A Siren Novel Page 25
