Chapter 30
After dinner, my mom boats back to her hotel still steaming about Vivek, and the Parkers head upstairs for the evening. I close the door of my guest room and exhale. Relief washes over me. I hit my socializing limit hours ago. My head swims in vodka and gin. Eric’s drinks pack a punch.
Outside, the crickets screech, an unrelenting chorus.
It’s not even eleven o’clock, and I can feel the hangover crawling through my gut, waiting to unleash hell.
I kick off my shoes and slide open the window, hoping the cool air will settle my stomach.
The scent of leaves and mist fills the room.
A lone frog croaks, swallowed by the crickets’ cacophony. He sounds lost. Out of place. Like me.
I flip on the light, the fan whines, and I meet my reflection in the full-length mirror.
I’m still young, but I can see the beginnings of age.
Small cracks run through my skin, a glass that’s been dropped and glued together.
My blond hair, wild from the lake, looks thinner than before.
A curled vein juts out beneath my left eye, and a faint age spot lingers beneath the right.
This afternoon’s scratches peek out through the bronzer.
No one else would notice, but I do. I see my future self. And I wonder if I’ll always be alone.
I stumble into the bathroom, grab my electric toothbrush, and scrub away the alcohol residue and the negative thoughts from my mind.
It was that fear of being alone that led me to Vivek.
Is it what’s leading me to Eric now? My memory snaps to Vivek in the woods, and the hairs stand up on my neck.
His predatory smile. His hands on my back.
The way he eyed me, like I was something he could take. Like prey in the forest.
I splash cold water on my face, trying to cool the rage beneath my skin. But it continues to divide and multiply, fogging my perception of everything around me. The floor beneath me shifts, and I clutch the towel bar to steady myself.
I stumble into bed, pulling the covers to my chin. The room spins. I close my eyes.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
* * *
A sound wakes me.
Crunch.
I blink, groggy, my head thick with booze. For a moment, I wonder if I’m dreaming.
Crunch.
I bolt upright. My eyes flick to the window. The curtains flutter in the breeze.
It’s open.
My body tenses, and I rub my eyes, attempting to clear the sleep and drunkenness from my vision. The curtains blow back and forth, obscuring the view outside.
I listen carefully, frozen in place in my bed, my pulse racing.
First the wind. Then the rustle of the trees. Then the crickets. Adrenaline rushes through my body, and my senses heighten. Beneath it all, something else.
Crunch.
Footsteps on gravel, the same as two nights ago, delicate and stealthy.
My mind scrambles for an explanation. Heathcliff? But then I remember.
Heathcliff is dead.
The sound grows closer.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Sweat beads along my legs. I sink deeper underneath my comforter as if I dive far enough, I can disappear.
I check the clock. It’s 12:15 a.m. Who could be outside at this time of night?
My thoughts tornado. Did Laelynn come back early?
Russ Neuman, finally fed up? Vivek, back for revenge?
My eyes flick to the drawer of my nightstand—the hunting knife.
Then movement. A figure drifts past my window. Shadowed, weightless.
And then it’s gone.
I rub my eyes, wondering if I’m hallucinating. But I know what I saw. It was a little girl, hair flowing in the wind. Could it be? The ghost of Big Island. The girl who fell off the Ferris wheel all those years ago.
I slap my cheeks. What am I thinking about? There’s no such thing as ghosts. It’s probably the mist, a trick of the starlight. And what am I doing hiding under my comforter like a scared little girl? I handled Vivek this afternoon. I can handle whatever this is.
And I did see something. Someone.
I creep out of bed and crawl toward the window, keeping my head low so as not to be seen. I peer through the screen, searching the yard, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. But the phantom is gone, whisked into the air like smoke.
I hear a giggle.
Soft. Lingering. Carried by the fog, a whisper from the past.
I rise from my crouch and search my room for a weapon.
An umbrella sits in a can next to the dressing table.
I open my door and follow the sound, fingers strangling the curved handle.
The last giggle originated outside of Eric’s office.
I tiptoe down the dark hallway, bare feet sliding along the warped wood, listening for another voice, another footstep.
But there’s nothing. Just the wind and trees and the lonely frog.
I reach the office door and push it open.
Dozens of glass eyes stare back at me.
My breath hitches.
The dolls.
Lined up along the shelves, watching me, their faces frozen in eerie painted smiles, like they know something I don’t. I raise my hand to my chest to still my heart.
Focus, I tell myself. I look out Eric’s window, hoping to catch the girl.
But again, there’s nothing. I tiptoe over to his desk and ease into the desk chair, peering out the window and listening.
I sit in silence for minutes, ears pricked, watching.
But it’s just me and the chrysanthemums and the forest. The phantom has vanished.
Then I see it. But it’s not a girl. It’s something different from before.
It’s a man.
Dressed in black, his steps heavy on the gravel. He’s carrying something in his hand. Something heavy.
I freeze.
But then I notice. His gait looks familiar.
It’s Carlos.
What the eff is he doing here?
He scampers toward the front of the house, a bottle of liquor in his hands. I see him approach the door and raise his fist like he’s going to knock. Is he crazy?
I fly down the hallway and open the front door before he wakes the entire house.
He flinches.
“Jesus, you scared me,” he says, hand to his chest.
“I scared you? What are you doing here?” I ask in a whisper that somehow rivals a yell. I shove him outside and close the door behind me, pushing him down the path away from the house.
A sheepish grin crawls up his face. He raises a bottle of tequila. “I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”
I release a breath and run my hand across my forehead. “It’s nearly one in the morning.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I had to cover a day shift and got lost en route. It’s so dark around here.”
“Yeah. Because it’s nearly one in the morning. How did you even get here?”
“I borrowed a friend’s pontoon boat. Want to see it?” He throws me a wink as though he expects a starlight rendezvous.
I instinctively cover myself with my arms. “No, I don’t. You’ve gotta go.”
His smile flatlines. “Seriously? I traveled all this way to visit you.”
“I texted you not to come.”
“What? I never got anything.”
He pulls out his phone and shows it to me. There’s a text from him telling me he’s on his way and no response from me. I slap my forehead and rub my eyes. This island.
“Regardless. Even if I had received the message, I wouldn’t have expected you to show up at one a.m., creeping through the yard.”
“Is everything okay, Charlotte?”
It’s a simple question, but from the way he looks at me, I can tell it carries a layered implication.
“Yeah. It’s fine. Actually, no, it’s not. This creepy guy from work came after me in the woods today. And now you’re here. I…”
His dark eyes soften, I catch a whiff of his hair product, and for a moment we’re right back at Maguire’s. God, I miss it so much. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I figured you saw my text and didn’t have a chance to respond.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
“Who is this dude who messed with you?” I notice a little East LA in the way he says it.
“It’s this guy Vivek from work. But you don’t need to worry about it. It won’t happen again.”
He chews on his cheek, and his pectoral muscles flex. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Okay. You just let me know.”
“Thanks.”
“Because I can—”
I raise my hand to stop him. “Good night, Carlos.”
He opens his mouth for a second, then closes it, his eyes penetrating, searching for the words I haven’t said.
“Good night, Charlotte.”
He retreats around the side of the house toward the dock, taking one last look at me as he walks away. I tiptoe inside, shut the door, snap the lock, and return to Eric’s office to watch Carlos leave. The pontoon boat roars to life, and he returns from whence he came.
I sink into the soft leather of Eric’s desk chair and spin around, rocking slightly, my gaze drifting from one macabre doll to the next. The air feels thick and smells of antiques.
What was Carlos thinking coming here? I can hardly believe it happened.
But that sound earlier. That girl I saw.
That wasn’t him. It was someone else. Something else.
Was I dreaming? Was I hallucinating? What’s in those bootlegs?
This island is like a funhouse mirror; everything is distorted, uncertain.
Now that I’m awake and half sober, it all seems so surreal.
I feel like every hour I spend here, a piece of my sanity slips away.
Time passes. The tension in my shoulders eases. My eyelids grow heavy.
Then my gaze lands on Eric’s fortune-telling machine in the corner.
Grandma.
The soothsayer.
Her eyes peer back at me knowingly, as if she has a secret to share, something the dolls won’t tell me. I smile and approach the machine, delirious with fatigue. “All right, Grandma, can you give me a happier fortune this time?”
I push the button, and she springs to life, running her hands over tarot cards and shaking her head from side to side, the candle flickering in front of her.
I watch her glazed eyes dance back and forth like she’s searching mine for some eternal truth.
The machine clunks. A hand-painted card drops into the holder. I pick it up, my breath shallow.
My shoulders drop when I read it.
The past haunts your future.
A shiver snakes down my spine.
Memories shock my mind like bolts from a Tesla coil.
My dad. The Ferris wheel. Olivia. Vivek. The girl. Carlos. The ghost of Big Island.
I clutch the card, my fingers trembling.
What if the past is already here?