Chapter 11
Eleven
Emma hated screams as much as silence. Both symbolized Liz’s end. She must have shrieked as she fell, alone and scared. For a twin to leave the earth without anyone nearby was unnatural. They had entered the world together and should have been intertwined forever.
In the forest, Jennifer’s shriek bounced off every tree, echoing inside Emma’s head. Emma covered her ears with both hands, slapping her cheeks in the process. She winced at the pain, shutting her eyes. A flash of a memory tumbled loose.
The cabin door snapped shut. Liz had left after lights out.
In her frustration at her sister, Emma had rooted around in her duffel bag until she found the contraband portable CD player and headphones she’d packed that summer.
She wore only one headphone, in case the girls needed her, and hit play.
New age music she’d bought off a TV ad filled her ear with noise, and she drifted off.
No one woke her. She was the first out of bed in the morning. Her sister’s empty bunk had filled her with a cold dread that snaked from the top of her head, twisting along her spine, down to her curled toes. She had doubled over in pain, dry heaving. Then a knock on the door.
Jennifer’s scream could have been her own as Emma relieved those moments and the unnerving sense of her sister’s demise.
Emma dropped her hands to her throat, feeling no vibration.
She forced out a rough breath and raced to Jennifer.
Emma focused on the bumpy terrain, not eager to join her friend with an injury.
She knelt on the ground at Jennifer’s side.
Her foot pushed through fallen leaves and into a small animal’s forgotten burrow. Jennifer winced, sucking in sharp breaths. No one else made a move.
Emma grabbed her friend by the shoulders. “Stop,” Emma screeched. “Christine, Margaux, don’t move her. Don’t take another step.”
Christine froze and turned back, her eyes widening.
Margaux paled, turning a ghostly shade.
Emma knelt on the ground next to Jennifer. Jennifer’s mouth twisted into a contorted grimace, her nostrils flaring with quick breaths.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” Emma murmured in a soothing tone. She wasn’t sure who needed to calm down the most. Jennifer, Christine, Margaux, or herself.
“Lean against me for support,” Emma instructed. “Margaux, breathe in through your nose. Don’t give in to nausea. Christine,” Emma continued, meeting the woman’s watery gaze. “You need to carefully lift her foot out of the hole so we can assess what to do next. Can you help?”
Christine wiped at her eyes and sniffed, moving into position.
“On the count of three,” Emma said, not giving any moment for deliberation. In her experience, actions spoke louder than words. They could discuss what should have happened later. “One, two, thr—”
Christine yanked.
Jennifer yelped and panted, knocking Emma backward.
Emma pushed off the ground and righted Jennifer to an upright seated position. Where was Daniel? How had he fallen so far behind?
A branch snapped, followed quickly by another and another.
The crack of the splintering wood grew louder.
Emma curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her knees and shutting her eyes tight. The cacophony came too fast and too loud, causing a reaction inside of her she didn’t understand. Like someone tumbling down a hill? Had this been the noise Liz had made at the end?
“Emma, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Daniel knelt on the ground.
She dropped her hold and relaxed her shoulders, taking in a deep gulp of air and feigning a calm she didn’t feel.
Daniel cupped her face in his hands.
His gaze roamed over her like he was searching for something. She hated to break the spell. “Not me. Jennifer.”
“Oww, ouch,” Jennifer whimpered.
Christine knelt at her side, a hand on her shoulder. “Can you move it?”
Jennifer rotated her ankle a half a degree and sucked in all the available air. “Sort of,” she managed between pants. “I don’t think it’s sprained or broken. Just twisted.”
“That’s a relief,” Christine said.
“What do you want to do?” Emma asked. “Turn around? Should we all go back?”
Maybe this hike wasn’t a good idea. The chances of finding the time capsule were slim. The idea that the buried box might have a clue about what happened to Liz and who killed Owen was laughable.
“No, we can’t,” Margaux said, breathless. “We have to do this.”
Emma stared at her, hating the hair-raising feeling on the back of her neck. The sensation reminded her of the other night, outside of the front office, when she’d been desperate to avoid driving in the rain but couldn’t find Owen anywhere. Like she was prey.
Jennifer released a long, slow exhale. “I’ll be okay. Christine, help me take off my shoe and wrap my ankle. I can hobble back to the bunk and get some ice. If the swelling goes down, I’ll meet up with you.”
“Do you want us to go with you?” Emma asked.
“No, not at all. You keep going,” Jennifer said, waving a hand in a shooing gesture. “When you have kids in sports, you see plenty of injuries. This one is minor, and my stupidity shouldn’t hold the rest of you back. You go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you soon.”
“If you’re sure?” Christine asked, easing off the sneaker.
Jennifer winced and nodded. “Yes. I’ll be fine. This might be the last chance to make some better memories at camp.”
Danger lurked around every corner and from every possible source.
Christine produced a T-shirt out of her backpack and made quick work of tying a makeshift compression sleeve on the ankle. “I can’t wait for the kids to hear about this. You’ll never live it down.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes and chuckled between sharp inhalations.
Emma yearned for distraction now. A headache formed behind her eyes.
She didn’t want to but couldn’t stop her mind traveling back to the last night with Liz.
She needed space to herself to sort through the memory and the emotions trapped within.
She needed to be somewhere safe to lose herself in the pain.
“All done,” Christine said. “Get on your feet and test this out.”
Emma was impressed. With the tie-dye bandage, Jennifer’s ankle looked almost normal.
“If it doesn’t work?” Margaux asked.
Christine shrugged. “We abandon her in the woods. I can’t make a gurney out of branches and leaves.”
Margaux furrowed her brow.
“She’s joking,” Emma supplied. Where was Margaux’s sense of humor? No wonder she struggled with Jennifer and Christine. Margaux took life too seriously.
Daniel helped Jennifer to her feet. “Are you sure about this?” he asked with an arm wrapped around her waist. “Do you want to take a shovel as a walking stick?”
She wobbled and righted herself. “Yes, I can do this. And no, I don’t need to compromise the search.
You’ll need both shovels if you want to dig the time capsule out.
” She took an unsure step forward and then another, walking away from the safety of his arms. “See? I’ll be fine.
I’ll go slow. And I don’t have to worry about cutting through the forest. I’ll step in our footprints on the way back. ”
“Okay,” Daniel said. “I’ll take the lead now.”
Emma bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t care for that solution.
She liked the security of being near him and hated to think about what waited for her at the end of their trek.
Beyond their treasure hunt, she wouldn’t have more days with him.
As soon as Owen’s memorial service concluded, she’d go home, and Daniel would stay here.
Any chance for them to be something more would vanish.
Unless she made peace and remained. Could she?
“By all means. I won’t fight you,” Christine said.
Emma forced a chuckle, and the quartet fell into a new formation.
At the back, Emma glanced over her shoulder several times, monitoring Jennifer’s progress until she disappeared into the forest and the distance between them became too great for easy tracking.
Then Emma faced forward, not wanting another accident.
With her gaze focused on her feet, Emma almost didn’t notice the subtle change in a section of dirt.
The odd raised section, however, tripped her up.
She caught herself before falling to the ground, grateful no one saw her near collision after the jumpy nerves following Jennifer’s stumble.
She steadied herself and looked closer, realizing she’d stumbled over a dried tire track.
Had someone stashed a vehicle out here? Why drive off-road so far from the main passageways through the camp?
Unless it was a red sedan with front end damage.
She hated how quickly her mind latched onto paranoia.
She had to focus on the present. The only way through was forward.
So she kept plodding ahead and willed herself not to look—or think—behind.
Without Jennifer, the mood sobered quickly. If Daniel had found the constant chatter annoying earlier, he’d been foolish. The silence was deafening.
The crunch of leaves, snap of twigs, and occasional bird song didn’t alleviate the quiet. The group moved with an all-consuming, oppressive dread. He hated the negative swirl of his own thoughts. But he couldn’t ignore his gut instincts, honed with his profession.
Jennifer and Christine were fit, sporty ladies who enjoyed hiking. They’d trekked these paths already this weekend, and the group relied on their expertise to follow the overgrown trail.
So either Jennifer faked her injury—or timed was more accurate given the very real swelling they all witnessed—or someone set up a trap, creating the fake burrow and camouflaging it with leaves.
To hit that exact spot and twist an ankle seemed unlikely if a mysterious third party wanted to reduce their numbers.
But he believed Jennifer’s reaction and genuine surprise.
He’d watched her hobble off, and she never slipped and put weight on her injured foot.
If he accepted that she was really injured, could he also conclude the accident was a coincidence? He was too on edge.