Chapter Three
When Ana rejoined Mrs. Talbot on the stairs, Mrs. Talbot gave her a quick once-over, from her flyaway braids to the same yellowing Chuck Taylors that she had worn on her drive, and then a disapproving look, as if Ana should have more to show for the generous fifteen minutes of freshening up that she had been so graciously granted.
Still, Mrs. Talbot didn’t say anything, and so neither did Ana.
Ana followed her silently down the stairs to the hall, where they went left this time through another grand-looking room.
The house felt like a giant maze, and Ana felt lost and disoriented.
She tried to memorize the rooms and their orientation to one another, but again, Mrs. Talbot kept a brisk pace, which left no time to study anything.
They made their way out onto a white stone terrace that overlooked the back garden.
A young woman sat there. She had a tray on a table in front of her, and she stared out absently at the garden, her chin propped in her hand, as if she were deep in thought.
She wore a smart white jumper that skimmed her slender figure and showed off her deep tan, and her long dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders.
She was quite possibly the most beautiful person Ana had ever seen, outside of the movies.
“Miss Saoirse,” Mrs. Talbot called gently as they approached. Saoirse’s head turned toward them then, and it was like a switch went on behind her eyes when she saw them. Gone was the dreamy expression, immediately replaced by animated excitement.
“You must be Ana,” Saoirse said as she pushed back her chair.
Ana put out her hand, but Saoirse embraced her warmly, drawing Ana into her tall thin frame. She smelled of vanilla and elderflowers, delicate and fresh.
“It’s so good to meet you,” Saoirse said. “Ransom has told me all about you, and I feel as if we’re friends already. Please, join me.”
She motioned to the chair next to her, and Ana took it, feeling a little taken aback by such a friendly welcome.
“It’s great to meet you too,” Ana said, sinking into her chair.
“I’ll leave you girls to get to know one another, then,” Mrs. Talbot said. “Ring the maid when you’re done, Saoirse, and she’ll collect your tray.”
“Thank you, Tabby,” Saoirse said.
“Tabby?” Ana asked, when Mrs. Talbot was out of earshot.
“Oh, yes,” Saoirse said, leaning toward her and whispering conspiratorially. “Absolutely never call her that. She will flay you alive. I’m only allowed because I started when I was two. Couldn’t say my ot’s, and what kind of monster would scold a child with a speech impediment?”
“She’s been with the family that long?” Ana asked.
“Oh, longer,” Saoirse said. “I think they built her with the house.”
Saoirse winked, and Ana laughed.
Ana was relieved, really. Saoirse seemed neither sickly nor difficult. She was lovely, a breath of fresh air, especially after Ana’s encounter with Mrs. Talbot.
Still, Ana couldn’t help but wonder—this was the girl who had scared away three companions in as many weeks? She couldn’t square it.
“I heard you like horseback riding,” Saoirse said. “What do you say to a ride down to the beach?”
In the stables, they tacked up two of the most beautiful chestnut mares that Ana had ever seen, and then they were off, down a trail that followed the main road for a way before it veered off into the tall grass and made a gentle zigzagging descent down the hillside to the beach.
At the bottom, they found themselves in a little cove surrounded by hills on either side and, in front of them, the frothy mouth of the sea.
It was hot, the sun still overhead, and when they dismounted, Saoirse untied her jumper and shrugged out of it. She had a stylish one-piece lime-green swimsuit on underneath.
“What do you say to a swim?” Saoirse asked as she tied her hair into a knot at the top of her head.
“Oh, I didn’t realize we were going swimming,” Ana said apologetically. “I’m not wearing my suit.”
“It’s a private beach,” Saoirse said. “No one will see you here. And underwear is practically the same thing.”
Ana shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand and looked out at the water. The waves arched and crashed loudly onto the sand.
“Looks a little rough out there,” Ana said.
She didn’t want to tell Saoirse that she didn’t know how to swim, but she also didn’t want to be a killjoy, not on the first day, not when they were getting along so well.
“You have to run in quickly when the tide pulls out,” Saoirse said. “The bottom drops off a few yards out; that’s why the waves break the way they do.”
“Oh,” Ana said, her heart sinking. “So it’s too deep to touch?”
“It’s perfectly safe,” Saoirse assured her. “Trust me. I swim here nearly every day in the summer.”
Ana bit her lip, feeling panic in her stomach. “I think I’ll just sunbathe for a while,” she said.
“All right,” Saoirse said, clearly disappointed. “I’ll sit with you.”
They had brought a towel, a thermos of iced tea, and some cups. They spread the towel out on the sand and lay down facing the water.
“You’ll get funny tan lines in those clothes,” Saoirse said, glancing at her sideways.
Ana pursed her lips. She was hot and sweaty from their ride in the noonday sun, and she didn’t want to deny Saoirse something else when she had already turned down her offer to go swimming.
So Ana unbuttoned her blouse, undid the clasp of her shorts.
She folded them neatly into a pile on the edge of the towel and lay back down in her underwear.
She was secretly glad she had chosen to wear her new cream-colored underwire bra and a trusted pair of cotton briefs this morning: nothing fancy, but also not too dowdy or worn.
“Thirsty?” Saoirse asked, handing her the thermos.
“Yes, parched, thank you,” Ana said.
She took a swig. It was cold and sweet, with a bitter aftertaste that Ana couldn’t place. She wiped the corners of her mouth with her fingers.
“What kind of tea is this?” Ana asked.
“Persimmon with a hint of turmeric,” Saoirse said. “My own secret recipe.”
Turmeric. That must be what she’d tasted.
“I’m going to take a dip to cool off,” Saoirse said. “You sure you don’t want to join me?”
Ana shook her head.
“Suit yourself, then,” Saoirse said.
Ana watched her saunter toward the water, all slender long legs and bronzed skin.
When she was gone, Ana lay down on her back.
She hadn’t realized until just now how tired she was.
She had risen before the sun this morning to pack her car and make the drive up north.
And she hadn’t really slept much the night before.
She’d tossed and turned, her stomach roiling with anticipation and nervousness for the coming day.
She decided she would close her eyes, but just for a moment. The warmth of the sun covered her body like a comforting blanket, weighing down on it, pressing her into the sand. And the sound of the waves breaking on the shore was a lulling melody.
She heard Saoirse come back at some point and ask for the towel, and she’d scooted off it, still half asleep, and then she’d dozed some more.
When Ana woke, the sun had inched lower in the sky. The sand next to her was bare—Saoirse wasn’t there. Ana sat up quickly and scanned the water, but aside from some gulls lolling on the surface farther out, it was empty.
“Saoirse?” Ana called.
It took her a moment to realize that her clothes and shoes were also gone. So, too, was the thermos and, to Ana’s horror, both horses.
Jacqueline’s words from her interview the previous week echoed in her head: “Don’t be nice. They certainly won’t be.”
Saoirse’s friendly welcome had been merely a ruse, Ana suddenly realized. She’d wanted to lower Ana’s defenses, lure her into a vulnerable position so she could strike. Ana felt humiliated—how easily she had fallen for it.
Seething, Ana wrapped her arms around her middle.
The wind was picking up, sending a chill that raised goose bumps on her bare skin.
She had two choices: wait there in the hope that someone from the house would eventually notice she was missing and come find her, or walk back to the house, along the highway, in her underwear.
Ana stood up; she had never been the type to wait to be rescued.
The climb up the hillside was steep and long and treacherous, especially without shoes.
The path was rocky, the jagged edges cutting into the flesh of Ana’s bare feet.
Her thighs and glutes ached, and she gasped for breath as she neared the top.
She stumbled twice, dirt and rocks crusting themselves into the skin of her knees and the palms of her hands.
When she reached the road, she could see the house in the distance, about two miles away. The asphalt was hot but bearable to walk on, and she kept to the edge of it, facing oncoming cars. The road was not a busy one, and Ana couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
After a while, she could hear a car approaching from behind, and she glanced back.
It was a blue convertible with its top down and a solitary driver—a man.
She looked forward again and pulled herself up straighter, bracing herself for a humiliating encounter.
Perhaps he would honk or whistle at her, and she would flip him the bird.
But the car didn’t honk. In fact, as it got closer, Ana heard it slow to a crawl.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she thought longingly of the gun hidden uselessly back at the house, near the fireplace in her room.
Why hadn’t she brought it with her? She’d heard of the I-5 Killer, who’d raped and killed women all along Interstate 5, all the way from Washington down to California.
They’d caught him last spring, but still, there were bad people out there, and right now, she was an easy target.