“I like winter too,” says the brunette. “I like all seasons, really.”
“That’s why you’ll stay here,” says the blonde. “In Washington, I mean. Me, I want to live in Hawaii.”
“Hawaii—what will you do there?”
“Nothing. I plan to marry well.” The blonde erupts in laughter, and her friend joins in.
Then the blonde jumps up, lithe and swift, taking out a photo camera from a small backpack. “We should take a picture. Maybe I can set it up somewhere.” She turns around, facing Sara. She’s wearing big sunglasses, but enough of her face is visible for Sara to see that she’s quite pretty. The girl walks over to a big rock, puts down the camera, and looks through it. “Stand up, will ya!”
The brunette leaves her rock and turns halfway around. She’s wearing the same big sunglasses—they slip off her nose a little and she pushes them back, waving at the camera with her other hand. Then she pulls the bandana over her chin and mouth.
“I got it—ready?” the blonde girl yells. She runs back to her friend and puts an arm around her, and with the other she quickly pulls the bandana down from the brunette’s face, exposing a set of cute dimples. “We’re taking a picture, silly. You can breathe dust for two seconds.” The camera clicks and whirs.
The girls gather their belongings and head back down the path, giggling and chattering about their plans for the night. Slowly they disappear out of sight.
Chapter 7
Sara opened her eyes. Her room was dim, the edges of her window barely lit by the first hesitant signs of dawn. She flicked the switch on her bedside lamp and sat up. She desperately had to pee. The bathroom looked dark and uninviting. Had she not left the bathroom light on last night? She was quite sure she had. Maybe the light had broken? Pulling her comforter closer around her, she decided her pit stop could wait a little longer.
The dream, albeit benign, had irritated her. Even though she had expected the dreams to start up, she had still hoped this time would be different. No such luck. She was tired of dreaming about other people’s issues. Why couldn’t these people just come forward in her dreams and say, “Hey, this is what’s bothering me. Can you fix it?” Why did it always have to be such a tiresome, drawn-out affair? One in which she would inevitably get too emotionally invested?
Her bladder gave an urgent pinch. Reluctantly she got out of bed, walked to the bathroom, and turned on the light. It flickered a little, then held steady. Feeling like an early start, she turned on the shower. When steam began to rise, she stepped into the shower, the hot water dousing her body, dulling the aches from yesterday’s skiing disaster. With heavy arms, she reached for the shampoo and squirted some in her palm.
The room went dark. She stood stock-still with her hands in her lathered hair. Her heart skipped a beat as needles pricked at the base of her neck—someone was watching her. A cold, clinging draft wafted by, and she hugged her arms around her chest. Her goosebumps failed to mellow under the hot water still running over her body.
“H-hello?” She had meant to say it loudly, but it came out as a whisper.
No one answered.
She cursed softly. Why had she not left the bathroom door open wider? Her eyes were slowly adjusting, but there was very little light. She turned the water off.
Something squeaked on the shower glass.
Sara held her breath. Pressing herself against the tile shower wall, she heard her heart thumping against her ribs. She attempted to speak without quivering. “Bailey, this isn’t funny. Can you turn the light on, please?”
The squeaking stopped.
Except for the occasional drop of water falling onto the tile floor, the room was deadly quiet. Seconds passed by. Fighting the scream that was building up inside her, Sara pressed her fingernails into her palms. The urge to flee won over. In one desperate, swift movement, she snatched up the towel hanging next to the shower and covered herself. Dripping water on the warm tile floor, she slid across to the bathroom door, which was open just a crack, and pushed it wide open.
The bedroom was empty. The door to the hallway was closed. Pivoting, she took in the bathroom—empty. She could have sworn… She flipped the bathroom light switch, but the room stayed dark. She flipped it again, and this time, the lights came back on.
The bathroom looked as warm and inviting as it had before. A little embarrassed, she leaned against the doorframe. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Shampoo trickled into her eyes, making them sting. Warily, she stepped back into the shower.
Her tearing eyes caught a glimpse of the fogged-up glass. The letters there were clear.
Leave.
Someone had written on the glass shower wall—while she was showering! She turned around and stormed out of the room, heading straight for Bailey’s. The girl’s door was half open, and soft snoring traveled into the hallway. With her hand on the doorknob, Sara checked herself. No doubt the girl was faking being asleep, but if she stormed in there demanding an explanation, with shampoo in her hair and dressed in nothing but a towel, Bailey would have a field day. And Sara would be out of a job.
Some rustling caught Sara’s attention. It was Peaches, lying in the middle of the hallway, wagging her stumpy tail. “I wish you could talk,” Sara whispered. “The tales you’d tell…” She took a deep breath, turned around, and went back to her room. This time, she locked the door.
During breakfast, she was curt with Bailey, who had actually managed to get out of bed on time. Cassie was chattering away about her family, coaxing the girl to eat more and asking too many questions. Sara was still debating how to broach the shower subject with Bailey when they finished eating.
When they were finally alone, before they had started lessons, Sara decided to be straight with her.
“Bailey, what you did yesterday was mean. What you did this morning was creepy. Please don’t ever come into my bathroom again.”
Bailey raised her eyebrows convincingly. “I’m sorry, your bathroom? What was I doing in there this morning?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
The girl frowned. “Why would I be in your bathroom? I’m not a pervert. Like I’d want to be there. Seriously.”
“You’re denying it?”
“Yeaah. Trust me, I would not want to be in your bathroom. Were you naked?” She pulled a face. “Ew. No desire to see that.”
Sara felt her face heat up. “Someone was there. And you were the only one close by.”
“Maybe it was Nick. I wouldn’t put it past him. Or maybe we had an intruder. Or maybe you’re crazy. That’s my guess.”
Sara forced herself to count to ten. “Fine. Let’s drop it. But if this behavior continues, I’ll have to talk to your father.”
Bailey shrugged. “Be my guest.”
The next few hours were a struggle. It wasn’t the schoolwork—if anything, Bailey was ahead of the pack, especially in math and science. She seemed to have inherited her mother’s affinity for numbers. And even though the girl wasn’t engaged in the material, she still took pride in getting things right. Every once in a while, a flicker of interest even seemed to ignite. Their interaction was, though, painfully polite. Sara was still fuming but trying to hide it, and Bailey was her usual grouchy self.
At lunchtime, Sara was relieved to dismiss Bailey with some homework. Since both Cassie and Nick were around, she decided to leave and surprise David. His office was empty, but her second stop proved more fruitful. She found him having a sandwich at the Hideout.
She snuck up to him from behind and surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. “Hey! Mind if I join you? We seem to be meeting here often.” She ditched her jacket on one of the empty chairs and plopped down next to him, ready to peruse the menu.
“They have the best sandwiches,” David mumbled with his mouth full.
“As well as the world’s most annoying bartender,” Sara said softly, eyeing Terrence behind the bar.
“He’s really not so bad once you get to know him.”
David shrugged. “We’re not besties,” he said, winking, “if that’s what you’re asking. He’s all right, though. He served in the Army, overseas. It changed him a bunch. I can respect that.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Sara bit her lip.
He gave her a mustardy kiss on the tip of her nose. “That’s why I’m telling you. I know he’s a womanizer and he likes to gossip—obviously he picked the right job—but you don’t have to deal with that if you don’t want to. You just have to order your food.”
“Fair enough.”
“Today lunch is on me. What would you like?”
When David came back from ordering her sandwich, he asked, “Don’t you have to be at the lodge for lunch? I thought you were babysitting?” He grinned.
“I’m tutoring, thank you. And she’s hardly a baby. Yet not old enough to be left alone at night.”
“Frankly I don’t understand how the father is comfortable leaving her alone with a virtual stranger, but that’s me.”
“Well, Nick is there too, although I haven’t seen him much. Lord knows what he does all day. But you’re right, that crossed my mind as well. Can we not talk about her right now, though? I really don’t want to.” She leaned forward and whispered, “It’s happened again.”
David’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, no!”
“Shhh, not so loud!”
David chuckled. “Sorry, I was pulling your leg. I have no clue what you’re talking about. What’s happened?”
“It!” Sara whispered fiercely. “The dreams?”
“No shit! Really?”
“Shhh!”
“Okay, okay. What happened?”
“It all started when I touched a hairbrush,” Sara explained, and filled David in on the experience in Bailey’s room, as well as last night’s events. She was in the middle of retelling her dream when Terrence placed her sandwich in front of her.
“Nirvana?” He gave her a toothy smile. Of course he had been listening in. “I wouldn’t think they were quite your taste, and maybe you’re a little too young for them, no? I saw them in ’94—one of their last concerts. Man, those were the days…”
Sara shook her hair out of her face. “Some music is timeless.”
He gave her a surprised nod. “True that.”
When Terrence had left, David chuckled. “You might have just changed his opinion of you. I didn’t know you liked Nirvana.”
“I don’t. But I know a little about them.”
After she had finished rehashing her dream, she asked, “So, what do you think?”
“I think you look sexy eating a sandwich.”
Normally she would have reveled in the compliment, silly as it was, but now she wasn’t sure whether he meant it or he was being facetious. She suppressed the turmoil in her body and opted to ignore the comment altogether. “That’s not what I meant. What did you think of the dream?”
“Two girls, hiking a trail around here?” He shrugged. “I’d say it’s a pretty boring dream, nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, did they discuss anything important?”
“Summer. Escaping to Hawaii. When they walked away, they talked about the next season of Seinfeld; they couldn’t wait for it to start.”
“That and Nirvana screams the nineties to me. A camera with film, no smartphones. The baseball cap with the W… maybe the second girl attended the University of Washington? It’s still vague. Why was this scene important? Did you recognize either of them?”
“No. I couldn’t really get a good look—those big sunglasses were in the way. Besides, I’ve been more preoccupied by Bailey’s behavior, to tell you the truth.” She told him what had happened in the shower that morning.
“Are you sure it was Bailey? What about Nick? What if he’s some sort of pervert? It worries me that you’re alone in that house. And that stuff with the hairbrush in Bailey’s room just creeps me out.”
“Me too. Trust me. I wish I knew whose presence I was feeling. At first I thought maybe it was the mother—Lauren. But why would she knock down her own picture?”
“Bailey’s mother isn’t the only person who died recently. The previous tutor, remember?”
“I didn’t forget.”
“Maybe you can find out the story behind the hairbrush?”
Sara grunted softly. “I suppose. I could ask Bailey, but I doubt she’d tell me.”
“Well,” he placed a hand under her chin, softly pressing his thumb against her lips, “I have to get back to my office, but call me anytime…”
Her body was giving off all sorts of disturbing signals now. She gingerly bit his finger. “I’d rather come with you.”
He gave her an evasive smile. “Not today,” he said, checking his watch. “Gotta work. And if I’m not mistaken, you do too.” He got up and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before leaving.
His flirting should be doing wonders for lifting up her self-confidence, she thought, but it wasn’t. David had known his advances weren’t leading anywhere. Work was a convenient, legitimate excuse. What was she supposed to do next weekend? Her insecurity took over as she thought about the other night. If she had to spend another night with David like the first one they shared, she’d rather sleep alone.
She quickly excited the Hideout before Terrence could strike up a new conversation. Outside, she glanced around. David was gone. But she did notice a black Jaguar parked across the street. Not many people around here owned Jaguars, but the Sinclair family had two of them. One was in Seattle right now, and the other was with Nick. She couldn’t see if he was in the car, since the windows were tinted. A little uncomfortable, she turned and walked to her own car. There were many reasons Nick could be in town, she told herself. Maybe Bailey had wanted a ride.
But when she returned to the lodge, Bailey was there.
That evening, after Cassie left, Sara warmed up her dinner and ate by herself. Bailey had eaten early, and afterward she disappeared into her bedroom. Nick was just as elusive as he had been before. She didn’t even know whether he had come back from his little outing. Some protector, she thought.
Sara cleared her plate and went upstairs, again leaving the lights on in the hallway and trying hard to ignore the pair of eyes she was sure was watching her.
Bailey’s door was open. She was reading a book on the bed.
“Hey,” Sara said. “What are you reading?”
The girl raised her head. Instead of one of her usual snarky comments, she answered, “Harry Potter.”
“I liked those too. I thought you had read them all.”
Bailey shook her head. “I was reading them with my mom, but we only got to the fourth book. I’m rereading the ones we read. I haven’t touched the last three.” Her eyes were glossy.
Sara felt her throat tighten and she struggled to find the right words. Finally she said, “It’s hard. Learning to live without the people you love.”
Bailey shrugged. “Whatever. Like you would know.”
Sara stared at the teddy bear sitting at the head of the girl’s bed. It was missing an eye and one of its legs was showing some of its white stuffing. She swallowed hard, her heart crumbling. “I don’t know what it’s like to be you. But I lost both my parents over a year ago, in a car accident. I know what it’s like to grieve, to hurt, and to miss—to deeply miss someone. I know what it’s like to feel lost and utterly alone. It sucks.” She gave Bailey a sad smile. “Goodnight, Bailey. Call me if you need anything.”
Once inside her room, Sara couldn’t bear to lock the door. She left it open a crack. With a deep sigh, she fell onto her bed. Preston would come home tomorrow. That left tonight to get through. It was, as far as she was concerned, one night too many.
Chapter 8
The smell of freshly mowed grass drifts through the air. The bright green leaves on the trees suggest springtime. Butterflies flutter around her, searching for the best flowers in the beds bordering the lawn. There�
��s a faint murmur of voices in the background, a gathering of people, the sounds blending together. Sara turns toward it. On a hill, a crowd of people make their way to a group of chairs.
She climbs up the hill to get a better view. Down the hill is a large mansion, shining bright white in the sunlight. The grounds are lush with flowers and shrubs, the lawn meticulously maintained. The chairs are arranged into rows before a white pergola, decorated with flowers. A cherry tree next to the structure is showing off its vibrant soft pink blossom. Beneath it stands a man in a dress.
It’s a wedding, Sara realizes. The voices quiet down and music starts playing. She moves closer until she reaches the front row of chairs, all empty. From the other side, a man in a handsome suit—the groom, she assumes—comes over and stops in front of the priest, who is not wearing a dress, she sees, but his usual attire.
Sara knows the groom. His glasses are different, but his blond curly hair gives him away. It’s Preston—only a much younger version of him. He smiles nervously at the priest, who slaps him encouragingly on the back. A giggle bubbles up inside Sara; poor Preston looks like a lamb going to the slaughter.
People are rising from their seats. Cameras flash; the bridesmaids file in alongside the groomsmen. When they finally reach Sara, they move to their designated sides of the aisle. Sara is on the bride’s side, now swimming in a sea of lavender satin. The last bridesmaid gives Preston a radiant smile, which catches Sara’s attention. The girl’s hair is done up all fancy, but Sara is certain it’s the same summer-loving blonde she dreamed of before. One of the other bridesmaids looks familiar too, but Sara can’t place her.
Suddenly people start gasping; cameras click frantically. The bride must have arrived. Impatiently, Sara waits for her to come into view.
Someone screams in the distance, ruining the idyllic atmosphere. It’s disruptive, Sara thinks, a little annoyed. She can’t hear a thing now over the incessant screaming…
The Secrets of Sinclair Lodge Page 6
