Chapter 52
Helena peered at Erik and Karin’s names in the logbook. It was unsettling to think they had been here exactly a year before, like an ominous echo lingering in the cabin.
A gust of wind breathed into the chimney flue, making the fire roar. Maggie shuddered. “Is it just me, or does it feel like the mountain is trying to get in?”
The night seemed to press up against the windows, the breeze working its way through gaps in the panes. She could feel other drafts rising through the floorboards. Outside, the cabin had been bolted to the rock with two wire struts, and the wind hummed around them, making a cold keening noise.
“I keep thinking about that person we saw on the beach—going into the cave,” Helena said, fingering the horseshoe necklace she wore at her throat.
“Me too,” Liz said, shuffling closer to the fire. “It was the way they crossed the beach. Went directly to the cave. They knew what was inside, didn’t they?”
Joni stared into the flames, firelight dancing across her pupils. “I shouldn’t have taken the cocaine. I’m sorry . . .”
In the shadows of the cabin, Joni seemed smaller, sitting cross-legged on the floor, gaze on her lap.
Watching her, Helena realized that Joni hadn’t stolen the cocaine just for the laugh of getting high.
Maybe once, way back when, but not here, on the mountain, with them.
She’d taken it because she wanted to escape herself.
Helena could have reached out and asked what was troubling her. She could’ve stepped up as a friend, but she was too exhausted. Or maybe there was just too much history to stretch an olive branch that far.
Maggie said hopefully, “It’s possible that whoever was walking into that cave to collect the cocaine didn’t notice any was missing.”
Helena raised an eyebrow at that. “Think I’m going to crash,” she said, getting to her feet. Exhaustion was a wall and there was no pushing through it.
“Me too,” Liz agreed.
As she crossed the cabin toward the bunks, she glanced beyond the window and thought she caught a flash of light. At first, Helena assumed it could only be the reflection of one of the candles, but when she looked again, the light was moving.
It wasn’t a reflection. It was coming from outside.
“Did anyone see that?”
“What is it?” Liz asked, crossing the cabin toward the window.
Helena pressed her face closer to the pane, her breath leaving a circle of condensation. Then she realized what she was looking at. “Torchlight.”
There was silence in the cabin, except for another gust of wind breathing at the door.
They all watched as the torchlight traveled across the mountain pass.
“Someone is out there,” Helena said, “and they are heading this way.”