Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CORINNE WILDE - PRESENT DAY

According to the screen in front of us, Taylor is here.

At Foxglove, or at the very least near it.

The house, the meadow, and parts of the woods are encompassed in a green circle.

At the top of the screen, there’s a warning that our weak Wi-Fi signal may affect the accuracy, thanks to the storm, but this is more hope than we’ve had all evening.

At once, Lewis closes the laptop, and we dart out of her room. We barrel through the house, shouting her name.

“Taylor!”

“Honey, where are you?”

“Can you hear us?”

“Taylor, this isn’t funny!”

“What’s going on?” Greta calls from the living room, but I don’t have time to answer. I can’t. I’m exhausted. My bones hurt. My voice hurts.

As my body grows angrier, it’s as if the storm outside responds to it. Thunder quakes and lightning strikes; the rain screams like thousands of tiny pebbles firing at the roof.

As if Mother Nature has awoken at the sound of my rage.

Lewis opens the front door and disappears outside.

I catch sight of him darting past a window, drenched from the storm. In the living room, Benji and Greta are watching us. Conrad is in the kitchen preparing the tea.

“What can we do?” Conrad asks, pausing.

“Just stay here,” I mutter before charging down the hall.

I make my way into my bedroom and shove the rug out of the way. My hand shakes as I pull the door up. I glance outside quickly, just once out the window, but I do a double take.

Up ahead, Lewis is facing away, shouting into the storm.

Something flashes in the corner of my vision, toward the meadow. The blood drains from my body for the split second that I think it’s Taylor. I’m wrong, but I do see something. I squint, moving closer to the window.

Several feet behind him, I catch sight of movement again.

A person.

Someone else.

My breath catches as they come into view.

Someone in a dark rain jacket is following him.

I hurry to close the cellar, to chase after Lewis and warn him, to scream, but everything in me freezes as I hear it.

A cry. A muffled whimper coming from down below.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.