Chapter 7
Kitt
My arms hug my middle, tight around my downy coat, my UGGs sinking into the soft earth as I press forward. It’s only once I can no longer hear the loud rumble of the truck engine that I feel safe enough to move to the paved road.
I can see the lodge, its soft, welcoming yellow light. A tear slips down my cheek, cold in the wind, and I brush it away. It should be a tear of shame and humiliation. It’s not.
It’s one of anger.
Anger at him for doing what he did to me. Anger at my body for responding the way it did. Anger at myself for falling for the one-word text from an unknown number. As I reach the door of the lodge, another tear falls, this one from a wave of relief.
He let me go.
I turn the knob, the door left unlocked like every other door on this island. Here, the monsters are known. No need to bar the door against unforeseen predators.
Locks don’t matter when the Bayne boys are coming for you.
I close the door as softly as possible, tiptoeing to the room. As quiet as I try to be, Fiona blinks awake from her top bunk, the light from the hall coming into the dorm bedroom with me.
Sitting up, she brushes long, wild locks of red hair from her face. She’s a light sleeper, a fact I can attest to, sleeping below her creaking mattress as she tosses and turns.
Resting on an elbow, Fiona stares at me with bleary eyes. “I can’t believe you snuck out!”
“Shh, don’t wake Carol Ann,” I whisper. “You know how she gets when she’s tired.”
“Psh! She sleeps like the dead. Just look at her.”
I glance over at Carol Ann, fast asleep on her top bunk, an arm flung over her eyes, as she snores softly.
“Where were you?” Fiona hisses.
I tiptoe over to reassure my sleepy friend. When I reach her bed, we’re just about at eye level with one another. She stares at me with trusting eyes.
Guilt tingles in my belly at the lies I’ve got to make her believe. “I went to the police station.”
Her eyes widen. “We figured that much.”
I slip my hand into hers in comfort. “I did go, but I took your advice. I didn’t tell them anything.”
“Thank God.” She gives my hand a squeeze.
“I just told DI Collins I was mistaken. I dreamt I was sleepwalking.” The lies flow easily when you’ve grown used to them. “I’m done with all that now. I swear.”
“Good! But you could have called, couldn’t you? Didn’t you get all of Carol Ann’s threatening texts? Call us ASAP or I’m going to run your toothbrush over the toilet seat lid?”
I think of my phone, now in Bayne’s hands.
“Gross.” My nose crinkles, thinking of the threat. “She didn’t do that. Did she?”
“No. But don’t push her,” Fiona warns. She flops back down onto her pillow. “Don’t worry—Carol Ann’s all talk. She’s really all jelly on the inside.”
“Still, if she ever does anything to my toothbrush, swear you’ll tell me,” I say.
“Swear.” She offers me her pinky in promise, and I hook mine into hers.
“Night.” I let her hand go.
In the bathroom, I go through my bedtime routine, washing my face, still feeling the heat of his lips against my neck. By the time I pull the soft duvet up to my chin, Fiona’s breaths are coming soft and even.
I can’t sleep. Images from my time in the cottage flash in my mind like scenes from a movie. I stare up at Fiona’s white mattress through the slats of the wood.
It doesn’t help.
The memories are still there, my naked body on display, my wrists locked together high over my head. The black satin blindfold over my eyes. Him, wielding his belt.
Wet heat gathers between the tops of my thighs, accompanied by an aching need. One I want to rub away. My fingers slip below the covers, dancing over my loose sweatpants.
Fiona flips over, the mattress squeaking above me. Carol Ann moans in her sleep. I jerk my hand back over the covers.
Shame fills me.
How have I let him reduce me to this?
Last year, someone convinced me not to talk to the police. Over something that got someone killed. I didn’t know what to do. Wanting to be loyal to my friend, to keep them out of trouble, I kept their secret.
But it only led to more death.
Not a day goes by that I don’t regret my decision.
Turning over onto my side, I stare at the white-painted wall and try to sleep. Then early light wakes me, making me wonder if the Scots have thought about blackout curtains for when LA vampires visit for summers.
Already showered from last night, I dress quickly, choosing jeans and a soft, dark-green sweater, my black combat-style boots, and throw my Barbour coat over my arm so I don’t have to come back for it after breakfast.
Fiona’s already in the kitchen, preparing tea for everyone. One thing I’ve learned since arriving—these Scots love their tea. Apparently, every problem in Scotland can be solved by offering someone “a nice cup of tea.”
I slip my jacket over the back of a chair and grab my mug from the counter. Fiona puts too much milk in, so I try to snag my cup for her before she can fix it. “Thanks!”
“Welcome.” Her hair is now neatly plaited in a braid. Her eyes don’t meet mine, surely still thinking about my sneaking in last night.
The room is bustling with nosy interns.
Which I’m kind of grateful for, honestly, as I slice a piece of bread from the thick, fresh loaf in the bread box. It’s hard to get anything past Fiona and I’m not ready to tell the truth.
I think of the way the leather felt, sliding across my stinging skin. My ass is still sore, a lingering memory I don’t hate. And, of course, last night I checked out the stripes he marked me with in the mirror, heat rushing to my pussy at the sight of the red lines.
I may never be ready to tell anyone about last night.
Carol Ann slinks into the kitchen, stretching and yawning. The purple leather miniskirt she’s chosen to go over her black fishnets today is an exact match of the tips of her hair. She joins us, accepting the steaming mug Fiona offers her—white with two sugars.
“I needed this.” She eyes me as she brings the cup to her glittery pink lips, taking a delicate sip. I brace myself for a talking to, Carol Ann surely still mad at me for running off and not responding to her texts. Instead, the sleeve of her slouchy black cardigan sweater falls over her shoulder, exposing her bare skin as she shrugs. “Didn’t sleep a wink.”
“Why not?” Fiona holds a delicate pink teacup on a matching pink china plate.
Carol Ann’s flawless skin is free of the thick makeup she favors. “I keep seeing dead bodies.”
“Aww. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Fiona wraps an arm around her shoulders. “I still can’t believe they made you identify Clive.”
“I was the last one to see him. He’s quite the hermit. No family. I checked in on him from time to time.” She shrugs. “He looked peaceful at least. Died of smoke inhalation. They think he slept through the whole thing.”
“I still can’t believe he’s gone.” Fiona shakes her head. “He never bothered anyone.”
“That’s what I thought.” Carol Ann says. “Not in person at least.”
Fiona gives her a curious look.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Carol Ann shrugs. “The last time I was up at his place, it was weird—he had all these computers up in his cabin. And three screens. I don’t even know how he got a signal up there but as soon as I walked in, he’d shut them all down.”
Fiona’s brow knits together. “What would Clive be doing with all those computers?”
“I got a peek once. Walked in without knocking so the screens were still lit up. Pretty normal-looking maps of the area. Lots of the waterways our boats use. A couple with tracks charted out to get to the bigger city, Glasgow and such. On the other, some kind of strange emblem. Crop circle-looking thing.”
“That is strange.” Fiona says. She looks off in the distance, her eyes narrowing in thought. “What would hermit Clive be doing with all that? Sounds like he was into something. And then—to shut them down so quickly when he saw you.”
“I know. Something just didn’t seem right. But it’s just Clive, you know?” Carol Ann pulls her sweater tighter around her, giving a little shiver. “He was always a bit odd.”
I didn’t know Clive, so I hold back, unsure what to say.
“There was something else I remember, from the last time I was up there. He offered me tea but forgot the milk. He never forgets that I take it white with two sugars. Something was off.” Carol Ann lifts her cup to Fiona. “Thanks for this, by the way. I’m not sure if I thanked you earlier.”
Fiona wraps an arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward an open table. “Come, sit with me. Let’s talk some more.”
“I’ll make us toast,” I offer, hoping to be helpful.
Carol Ann smiles. “That would be great. Thanks, Kitt.”
I prepare two more slices. Once they’re warmed, I spread a generous amount of fresh butter over the bread, delivering a slice to each girl. I find myself devouring the delicious breakfast. It’s so much easier to eat my confusing, shameful feelings rather than analyze them.
Later while we’re wiping the last few crumbs from the counter Fiona comes up beside me and gives my arm a squeeze. “Are we good?” She raises her light brows at me.
“Yes.” I give her an earnest look. “I promise.”
“Good. Between your drama with the police and Carol Ann seeing dead people, we need to focus on something else. Something sexy. To make up for all the episodes you missed last night.”
My hand cups under the edge of the counter, ready to catch falling crumbs but my hand holding the warm damp rag freezes.
Something… sexy?
Does Fiona know where I was last night? Is abduction and sexual punishment of disobedient women common on this island?
Heat rises in my cheeks, thinking of him.
I hold my breath, waiting for her to finish her thought.
“Like counting codfish,” she jokes, giving me an elbow.
“Well, I am focused on large holes today,” I say, referring to the nets used to fish the cod. “Is that sexy?”
“Ick!” She wrinkles her nose “Certainly not.”
We laugh and I follow her out the door.
Luckily, the fire was in the rear of the center where the break room was. The computers and files were all toward the front. Help came to put the fire out in time to save most of what we needed from the offices to continue our research.
I wonder if the men with Bayne wanted to not only kill Clive, but also get rid of us too, destroying our research so they could go back to the days of fishing without regulation. That would explain the fire.
They didn’t win though, did they?
It will be a while before we get a check from the insurance claim and are able to rebuild. Working through Sunday to catch up from the fire, we move everything to a small building in town that the professor rented with grant money. It was the old newspaper office in the days when news was still printed on paper.
Island Chronicle.
We’re further from the water now, and Carol Ann’s taken the opportunity to do our morning water checks, saying she needs the walk to clear her head after her dreams.
The faint scent of smoke hangs in the air from what we brought from the storage units, but the place is cozy enough. Big windows overlook the main street, offering people watching as a nice break from my computer screen when I need it.
My computer faces the back wall, Fiona’s the other direction. No one can see my screen. I set my cup on the coaster I keep on the smooth tabletop and pull up my screen. I need to get back to my research, to document how many young cod can be saved just by putting larger holes in the nets for them to escape.
Googlecalls to me.
This is my only chance to communicate with the police without the girls knowing or to gather more information on him without my phone.
Realizing I don’t even know his first name, I type in Bayne.
An Island Chronicle article from ten years prior pops up. Written from the very news outlet we sit in now. I lift my tea to my lips as I scroll.
Hisface pops up.
I give a gasp, jumping back in my seat.
Fiona peeks around her computer screen. “Okay over there?”
“Tea was hotter than I expected.” I raise my cup to her in explanation.
“Needs more milk.” She smiles helpfully. “Let me make it for you next time.”
“Yeah.” I put the cup down, eyes glued on the screen.
He stares at the camera, all the hate in the world shining in those blue eyes. His jaw is locked tight, teeth clenched under a clean-shaven face. His dark hair is longer, curling at the ends, framing his younger face.
Bayne Leaves Court Victorious after Murder Trial