Six yards to go.
She peered over her shoulder to ensure that she could still see the light from the cabin. It seemed a great distance away. Still, she moved forward, the sound of the river trickling over the rocks concealing her progress. With the poker raised above her head, she took another step closer and a twig cracked beneath her boots.
Up ahead, someone muttered something unintelligible.
Sadie turned on the flashlight.
An ethereal face with wide doe eyes stared back at her.
“What are you doing out here?” Sadie asked, baffled.
21
Before her stood a young girl—eight or nine years old maybe—wearing a white bath towel over her head and body. Underneath, she had on a white cotton nightgown with a yellow peace sign on the front.
Liquid pools of blue blinked once, twice, from beneath thick, dark lashes. “I’m sorry,” the girl said in a trembling voice.
“For wha—?”
A solid weight slammed into Sadie’s back. The poker and flashlight flew into the air, and as she hurtled toward the ground, she flung her arms out and braced for the fall. She hit the frozen ground, knees first, and slid onto her stomach, her palms skidding, burning. She let out a pained gasp, then closed her eyes, her heart beating frantically against her chest.
It would be so easy to lie here… die here.
Footsteps tramped through the woods—away from her. She lifted her head, but saw only fleeting shadows. Her fingertips grazed cold metal. She retrieved the poker, then struggled to her feet and searched for the flashlight.
But it was nowhere to be found.
“Wait! Who are you?” She tipped her head, listening, but the woods were silent. “I won’t hurt you. I just want to…”
What did she want?
She turned in the direction of what she hoped to God was the cabin. In the encompassing darkness, she couldn’t tell. As she carefully maneuvered between bushes and trees, she paused every now and then to listen for the river. When she broke from the woods, she found herself on the beach, the cabin a few yards away. She strode toward it, throwing anxious looks over her shoulder.
Someone had attacked her. But who?
She had felt a strong body behind her, but had seen nothing, heard no one. Except the girl.
“No children around here,” she muttered. “Yeah right, Irma.”
Someone living nearby obviously had a daughter.
Infinity Cabin welcomed her, undisturbed in its solitary existence. Cursing herself for losing the flashlight, she fumbled in the dark and lit the oil lamp. With determination, she strode toward the back door and slid the deadbolt into place. Staring at it, she didn’t feel safe. Not one bit. So she pushed the armchair in front of the door.
“Let’s see you get through that!”
As a final measure she jammed a broom handle against the sliding door frame. No one would be able to open it without removing the broom first. She grabbed another rum and cola and dragged the comforter from the bedroom. Then she curled up on the sofa, the poker propped up within reach.
Just in case.
Morning crept into the cabin, and an ominous sound boomed through the air, then dwindled into a low drone.
Foggy-headed, Sadie sat up. She flung back the blanket and sucked in a deep breath as pain shot through her knees and hands. She stared at her palms, noting the fresh scrapes and dried blood. Her gaze went from her clothes—the same ones she had worn yesterday—to the grandfather clock, and then to the simmering fireplace.
She frowned. “Okay… why am I out here?”
The clock gonged again. It died midway, as if someone had gripped its innards in a chokehold.
Sadie looked at her watch. “It’s ten o’clock and all you could manage were two gongs?” She caught sight of the chair by the door. “What the heck was I doing last night?”
She rubbed her forehead, trying to remember.
A girl! She had seen a girl in the woods.
“Or did you?”
Doubt plagued her, especially when she noticed the open bottle of rum on the counter. She staggered into the bathroom, took one look at her unkempt reflection and made a face. She picked up the hairbrush, intent on getting the tangles out of her hair, then frowned and dropped the brush on the counter.
Why bother? No one would see her anyway.
Except maybe the girl…
“You’re seeing things. That’s what it is. You haven’t had booze for so long, you’re hallucinating.” She snorted. “And talking to yourself.”
Confident that she had solved the previous night’s events, she decided to have a luxurious bath. She had to boil water on the Coleman stove and in the fireplace—three pots at a time. It took fifteen pots of hot water and a few cold ones to fill the tub halfway. Hell, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do.
Sadie soaked for a long while, allowing the past week’s anxiety to melt away. She shampooed her hair, then rinsed it in the bath water. Closing her eyes, she slid underwater until she was completely submerged. She held her breath as long as she could, and when she came up sputtering for air, she was disappointed. Drowning herself was definitely out of the question.
After she towel dried her hair, she shrugged on her jacket and reached for the sliding door. The broom handle in the track made her pause. She tugged at it, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. What was she trying to keep out?
Sweeping her thoughts under an imaginary rug, she grabbed her laptop and purse, then headed down the path. Once she reached Irma’s cabin, she could hear the elderly woman singing inside. It wasn’t a harmonious sound.
Sadie hesitated. Should I invite her into town with me?
As soon as the thought blossomed, she squashed it. Getting too involved in a friendship right now wasn’t fair. Not to Irma.
The Mercedes was right where she had left it. She climbed in and the engine purred the moment she started it. The sound was comforting, and she backed the car out of the clearing and ambled onto the road. When she looked into the rearview mirror, Irma was standing near the freezer, watching her.
“Back so soon, Sadie O’Connell?” Ed gave her a sly wink and set down the glass he was drying. “Just couldn’t keep away from me, could ya?”
She peered over her shoulder. The table in the corner was empty. No hecklers today.
“Yeah. Plus my laptop is dead and I need to charge my cell.”
“Your cell?”
She held up her phone.
“Ah,” Ed said with a nod. “Never did get me one of them things. Gives you brain cancer, I hear. You be careful, young lady.” He nudged his head toward the end of the counter. “Plug is over there on the post.”
She thanked him, slid the laptop from its carrying case and set it on the counter. Once the laptop and phone were plugged in and charging, she settled into a stool, elbows propped up on the polished wood of the bar.
Ed slid a steaming mug toward her. “You look like you need this. Didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?” His eyes strayed to her damp, messy hair and gaunt face.
“You could say that.” She took a sip of coffee and let out a contented sigh. “This is heaven, Ed. Thanks. I still haven’t figured out how to make coffee back at the cabin. Percolators are a bit before my time.”
Ed swung a dishcloth over his shoulder. “The trick is to use a half a scoop less and a dash of cinnamon. And don’t boil it too long.”
“How about you just deliver me a carafe of coffee every morning,” she suggested jokingly.
The grin that spread across the old man’s face could have lit an entire town. “That’s the best offer I’ve had in… well, decades.” His face reddened, as if he just realized he’d spoken out loud.