Children of the Fog (20 page)

"Thanks for the walk," she said when they returned to Infinity Cabin.

Irma squinted at her. "You're too young to be cooped up inside, dear. Life is meant for living. Don't forget that." With a wave, she puttered off down the path.

For the rest of the afternoon, Sadie worked on editing the manuscript for Going Batty. Until her laptop died. Frowning, she pushed it aside and made a mental note to go into town the next day to charge the battery.

Supper was a generous chef salad with shredded Canadian cheddar and bacon bits. Seated on the sofa in front of the fireplace, she thought of Philip. He would have been appalled if she had made a salad for supper. He was a meat and potatoes man. Take-out was bad enough. And God forbid if they didn't eat at the dining room table like
normal
people.

A mischievous grin crossed her face. "To hell with normal."

Once the dishes were washed, she stretched out on the sofa and stared into the flames. It was hard to resist the impulse to dive right in. In one hand, she held her cell phone. In the other, a glass of rum and cola.

"You can do this. Just one drink tonight."

First, she called her parents. They were concerned about her, naturally, but she assured them that she was taking a little holiday and getting lots of rest.

"Well, you sound okay," her father said.

Strangely enough, she felt okay. In fact, her mind had never been clearer.

"I love you, Dad. Mom too."

After a few words with her mother, she hung up and stared at the drink in her hand, swirling it leisurely.

"One more call," she said, gulping back the last mouthful.

But she just couldn't dial the number.

Half an hour later, she finished off her third glass, then made the call. After explaining to the man on the other end that her call was urgent—a family matter—she was put on hold while a guard located Philip and escorted him to the phone.

"Sadie? I was wondering when you'd—"

"I just wanted to tell you that you won't be able to contact me for a while, Philip. I don't have electricity."

"What do you mean? Where are you?"

She took a long, thoughtful sip of her drink.

Where was she?
Nowhere.

"Sadie, are you all right?"

She stared at Sam's photo. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I heard you took my car." His voice was tight, measured.

"How the heck—? You talked to Leah. Why?"

"It doesn't matter why. Listen, Sadie. I left some important documents in the trunk. Do you think you can pack them up in a box and mail them to me right away?"

"Sure," she said, miffed. "Next time I drive into town."

"Damn, I almost forgot. There's a problem with the starter."

"The starter?"

"On the car. If it goes you'll have to take it in to a shop."

There was a long pause.

"Sadie, do you need—?"

"No. I don't need anything. I have to go now."

"Wait! Tell me where you—"

"My cell's dying," she lied. "Bye, Philip."

She hung up on him, wondering why she had called him in the first place. Maybe so he wouldn't file a missing person's report or send someone after her. She was tempted to call Leah, give her a piece of her mind. But courage wasn't her middle name.

In the end, she found comfort in another glass of rum.

No mix.

A bird screeched beyond the bedroom window, without a care for the occupant inside. As the raucous chatter found its way into Sadie's restless dreams, she rolled onto her stomach and dragged the blanket over her head.

"Cawww!"

"Shut up!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she moaned and scrunched her face. Her head throbbed, as if crushed in a vice. She threw back the blanket and when she opened her aching eyes, she was relieved to find that the bedroom was pitch black, except for a faint glow from the battery-operated clock on the nightstand. The double-backed curtains in the window were a godsend. But they didn't muffle the bird's incessant squawking.

She sat up on her elbows and glared at the clock.

"Two in the morning? You've got to be kidding."

Another shriek brought her stumbling to her feet.

"Okay, enough already!"

She lit the lamp, then strode toward the window, intending to shoo the irksome pest away. Hooking a finger between the drapes, she inched them back and was startled by the darkness that loomed beyond. What freaked her out most were the two black eyes on the other side of the glass.

The crow—the
same
one from last night—stared at her.

"Get lost!" She knuckled the window, but the bird didn't move. "Jesus! What's with you?"

Another shriek from the crow. Then its beak struck the glass.

Tap! Tap!

She resisted the urge to strangle the damned thing. Barely.

"Don't tempt me, you black-feathered minion."

She was about to step away from the window when something shifted in the bushes near the back stairs.

"There
is
someone out there."

Instantly, she was dead sober. She strode into the living room where she slipped into her jacket and boots. Then she tiptoed to the sliding door.

"Spy on me, will ya. I don't think so."

The door slid open unhindered and she stepped out onto the veranda, accompanied by a flashlight and an iron fire poker. She waited. Then she took a tentative step forward and the beam of light swept across an object near her foot.

A card-sized white envelope.

She picked it up and examined it. It was blank. No address, no stamp, nothing. Cautiously, she opened it, but it was empty.

She thought of the chocolate bar in the cooler.

"What the heck's going on?"

Someone giggled nearby.

Sadie flicked off the flashlight. There was enough light from a slice of moon and its reflection off the river that she could see her way down the steps to the grass below. She crept around to the back door, sticking close to the side of the cabin. Her boots made quiet crunching sounds, and she held her breath, hoping that whoever was out there wouldn't hear. Even in the crisp night air, her palms grew sweaty and it became difficult to hold the poker handle. She almost dropped it, twice.

She paused, listening.

There was a faint rustle of foliage not far from where she stood. Then a quicksilver flash of white whipped through the trees.

The ghost child from last night?

She moved onward with reckless persistence, one boot planted in front of the other. When the ground dipped, she lurched forward, her foot hovering for a second in midair. Thrown off balance, she hooked an arm around a tree trunk, spinning around it in a half-circle, like a square dancer at a barn dance.

Catching her breath, she squinted into the dark.

Where are you, damn it?

Then she saw the child—if that's what it was—half hidden by a tree. Crouching low, Sadie waited until the white shape moved away before dashing toward the woods. She made it without mishap and leaned against a tree.

"This is crazy," she scolded herself. "What are you doing?"

She covered her mouth, partly to muffle the sound but also to hide the mist her breath was making. Her heart thumped in her chest so loudly she was sure it could be heard.

The white shape was just ahead.

Guided by the moonlight, Sadie continued through the trees.

Six yards to go.

She peered over her shoulder to ensure that she could still see the light from the cabin. It seemed a great distance away. Still, she moved forward, the sound of the river trickling over the rocks concealing her progress. With the poker raised above her head, she took another step closer and a twig cracked beneath her boots.

Up ahead, someone muttered something unintelligible.

Sadie turned on the flashlight.

An ethereal face with wide doe eyes stared back at her.

"What are you doing out here?" Sadie asked, baffled.

21

Before her stood a young girl—eight or nine years old maybe—wearing a white bath towel over her head and body. Underneath, she had on a white cotton nightgown with a yellow peace sign on the front.

Liquid pools of blue blinked once, twice, from beneath thick, dark lashes. "I'm sorry," the girl said in a trembling voice.

"For wha—?"

A solid weight slammed into Sadie's back. The poker and flashlight flew into the air, and as she hurtled toward the ground, she flung her arms out and braced for the fall. She hit the frozen ground, knees first, and slid onto her stomach, her palms skidding, burning. She let out a pained gasp, then closed her eyes, her heart beating frantically against her chest.

It would be so easy to lie here…die here.

Footsteps tramped through the woods—away from her. She lifted her head, but saw only fleeting shadows. Her fingertips grazed cold metal. She retrieved the poker, then struggled to her feet and searched for the flashlight.

But it was nowhere to be found.

"Wait! Who are you?" She tipped her head, listening, but the woods were silent. "I won't hurt you. I just want to…"

What
did
she want?

She turned in the direction of what she hoped to God was the cabin. In the encompassing darkness, she couldn't tell. As she carefully maneuvered between bushes and trees, she paused every now and then to listen for the river. When she broke from the woods, she found herself on the beach, the cabin a few yards away. She strode toward it, throwing anxious looks over her shoulder.

Someone had attacked her. But who?

She had felt a strong body behind her, but had seen nothing, heard no one. Except the girl.

"No children around here," she muttered. "Yeah right, Irma."

Someone living nearby obviously had a daughter.

Infinity Cabin welcomed her, undisturbed in its solitary existence. Cursing herself for losing the flashlight, she fumbled in the dark and lit the oil lamp. With determination, she strode toward the back door and slid the deadbolt into place. Staring at it, she didn't feel safe. Not one bit. So she pushed the armchair in front of the door.

"Let's see you get through
that
!"

As a final measure she jammed a broom handle against the sliding door frame. No one would be able to open it without removing the broom first. She grabbed another rum and cola and dragged the comforter from the bedroom. Then she curled up on the sofa, the poker propped up within reach.

Just in case.

Morning crept into the cabin, and an ominous sound boomed through the air, then dwindled into a low drone.

Foggy-headed, Sadie sat up. She flung back the blanket and sucked in a deep breath as pain shot through her knees and hands. She stared at her palms, noting the fresh scrapes and dried blood. Her gaze went from her clothes—the same ones she had worn yesterday—to the grandfather clock, and then to the simmering fireplace.

She frowned. "Okay…why am I out here?"

The clock gonged again. It died midway, as if someone had gripped its innards in a chokehold.

Sadie looked at her watch. "It's ten o'clock and all you could manage were two gongs?" She caught sight of the chair by the door. "What the heck was I doing last night?"

She rubbed her forehead, trying to remember.

A girl!
She had seen a girl in the woods.

"Or did you?"

Doubt plagued her, especially when she noticed the open bottle of rum on the counter. She staggered into the bathroom, took one look at her unkempt reflection and made a face. She picked up the hairbrush, intent on getting the tangles out of her hair, then frowned and dropped the brush on the counter.

Why bother? No one would see her anyway.

Except maybe the girl…

"You're seeing things. That's what it is. You haven't had booze for so long, you're hallucinating." She snorted. "And talking to yourself."

Confident that she had solved the previous night's events, she decided to have a luxurious bath. She had to boil water on the Coleman stove and in the fireplace—three pots at a time. It took fifteen pots of hot water and a few cold ones to fill the tub halfway. Hell, it wasn't like she had anything better to do.

Sadie soaked for a long while, allowing the past week's anxiety to melt away. She shampooed her hair, then rinsed it in the bath water. Closing her eyes, she slid underwater until she was completely submerged. She held her breath as long as she could, and when she came up sputtering for air, she was disappointed. Drowning herself was definitely out of the question.

After she towel dried her hair, she shrugged on her jacket and reached for the sliding door. The broom handle in the track made her pause. She tugged at it, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. What was she trying to keep out?

Sweeping her thoughts under an imaginary rug, she grabbed her laptop and purse, then headed down the path. Once she reached Irma's cabin, she could hear the elderly woman singing inside. It wasn't a harmonious sound.

Sadie hesitated. Should I invite her into town with me?

As soon as the thought blossomed, she squashed it. Getting too involved in a friendship right now wasn't fair. Not to Irma.

The Mercedes was right where she had left it. She climbed in and the engine purred the moment she started it. The sound was comforting, and she backed the car out of the clearing and ambled onto the road. When she looked into the rearview mirror, Irma was standing near the freezer, watching her.

"Back so soon, Sadie O'Connell?" Ed gave her a sly wink and set down the glass he was drying. "Just couldn't keep away from me, could ya?"

She peered over her shoulder. The table in the corner was empty. No hecklers today.

"Yeah. Plus my laptop is dead and I need to charge my cell."

"Your cell?"

She held up her phone.

"Ah," Ed said with a nod. "Never did get me one of them things. Gives you brain cancer, I hear. You be careful, young lady." He nudged his head toward the end of the counter. "Plug is over there on the post."