Private 10 - Suspicion (12 page)

I lifted my shredded wrists and took in a long, broken breath. All that work, all that pain, all this blood . .. for nothing.

I turned around to face the ocean, curled my knees up under my chin, rested my face between them, and cried.

NO STOPPING HER

The sun streamed down from above, warming my face as I looked out over the sparkling blue Caribbean Sea. I leaned against the cool, metal guardrail in my little red dress, feeling the wind in my face as the boat pushed forward through the waves. The water curled against the bow, burbling happily into white foam. I tipped my head back, my hair ticking the bare skin on my back. I was free. Free and totally at peace. Nothing could touch me now.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

I turned and smiled at Thomas Pearson as he stepped up to the rail next to me. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans and looked perfectly gorgeous. Untouched. Handsome and tan and young and alive. Behind him, the sun was descending toward the horizon at a rapid pace, but it didn't bother me. Thomas was here. His hand on the small of my back. His touch was firm and warm. I leaned my head on his shoulder and breathed in the musky, clean scent of him.

"I love you, Reed. You're the only girl I ever loved."

"I know," I told him, lifting my head. "You told me." Thomas smiled, then looked at something over my shoulder. "Hey, man." I turned around. It was Josh. His curly hair danced in the wind and he was wearing that sweater I loved so much. The green one with the high neck that brought out his eyes. It was dusk now, the sky a rich purple, and stars were beginning to appear overhead.

"Hey," Josh said. He leaned in and touched his lips to mine. I melted all over.

"You love me too," I told him.

"Of course I do," he said, his hand sliding up under my hair. "I just had to do what was right. You know that."

"She does. She's fine," Upton said, joining us. He slid between me and Thomas, and Thomas stepped back with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll take care of her," Upton told them. "Don't worry." Upton slipped his hand into mine, our fingers entwined. We looked up at the now dark sky, where a blanket of stars twinkled and winked like huge, fat diamonds.

"I want one," I said.

"I'll get it for you," Upton offered with a smile.

"No. It's okay. I've got it."

I climbed up on the railing, my feet completely steady, and reached as high as I could. There was one star hanging impossibly low, just above my head, just at the edge of my grasp. I stood on my toes--for some reason I was wearing only one shoe--and stretched my fingers, reaching.. . reaching.. . reaching. . . .

"Reed, what' re you doing?" Thomas asked, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Don't. You're going to fall," Upton warned.

"Don't bother, man," Josh said, slapping Upton on the back. "There's no stopping her when she gets like this."

I looked down at them with a smile, ready to scold them for talking about me as if I wasn't there, and all of a sudden, my feet slipped. My heart swooped into my throat. I reached out, grappling for something, anything, to grab on to, but there was nothing. A scream of terror escaped my lips as I fell. Plunged right past the guardrail and the three smiling loves of my life. And that was when I saw it. The hooded figure. It hovered just behind them, out of their sight, marking my progress as I fell.

My heart seized with fear. Whoever it was, they were going to make sure they succeeded this time. They were going to make absolutely sure I never saw daylight again.

"Upton! Turn around!" I shouted. "He's right there!" But then I hit the water, and the salty, roiling ocean closed over my face. I couldn't breathe. I clawed and kicked and strained, but the water felt like pudding. It slowed my progress. Tired my muscles. It took everything I had to shove my way to the surface. When I finally got there, I gasped in a breath, ready to scream, but Upton, Josh, and Thomas were gone. The hooded figure stood alone at the back of the 120

boat now, staring down at me as the vessel moved steadily away from me. If I could just figure out who it was. If I could just see its face .. .

And then, the figure moved. Slim white hands lifted the hood away and long blond hair streamed out over the ocean in the wind. My blood stopped cold. It was Ariana. She was still trying to kill me. After all this time, she hadn't given up. Her lips were set in a cold, thin smile, her light blue eyes like ice as she gazed down at me. I was just about to let out a shout when something cold and slimy closed around my ankle and yanked me under. I opened my mouth and it filled with frigid, salty water. My lungs flooded. My heart exploded. And all the while Ariana smiled down at me. Down . . . down . . . down . ..

I gasped and sat up straight. My body shivered, my bones so frigid they were radiating cold from the inside out. I wrapped my arms around myself and held on tight, trying to abate the trembling. The sun was up, but not hot enough yet to melt away the cold. Definitely not hot enough to erase the nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to shove the images out of my mind. My pulse started to slow as my wakening mind began to accept the fact that it was all a dream. I wasn't drowning. Wasn't dead. Ariana was not here.

But neither was Upton. Or Josh. Or Thomas.

I wasn't dead. Wasn't drowning. But I was still alone. And stranded.

KARANA

My stomach grumbled. I hadn't eaten anything at the party the night before, since I'd been too excited about my night with Upton to even think about food. Lesson learned. Always eat at a party, just in case you're going to be kidnapped and left for dead. I forced a laugh, pretending my situation wasn't as dire as I knew it was, and pushed myself to my feet. Without my phone and with no watch to speak of, I had no idea what time it was, but the sun was hanging low over the horizon, so it had to be early. I wondered if there was anything to eat on this island. Any fruit-bearing trees or shrubs. If there were, I was going to find them. At least it would give me some -thing to do. A task with which to distract myself until Upton showed up with the cavalry.

Please, God, let Upton be on his way. He would pay those guys off for me, right? He loved me. Money was nothing when it came to a person's life. Especially someone you loved. Right?

Suddenly I found myself wishing we had known each other for more than a week. But I couldn't think that way. I had to have confidence in Upton. He was going to do the right thing. He was going to come for me.

I picked up the still-wet, balled-up T-shirt and opened it up, slapping as much sand off it as I could. Then I laid it out on a flat rock in the sun to dry in case the wind kicked up later. It would be nice to have another layer of clothing. I fished my compact from my purse to check the wound on the side of my head. There was a cut above my ear and my hair was caked with dried blood. I winced at the blood and touched my fingertips to the area. It didn't hurt too badly, and it seemed as if the cut had started to heal. At least that was a good thing. Pulling my scraggly, tangled hair back, I secured it into a low pony-tail using the bandana that was formerly my gag. Then I picked up the rest of my things--my purse, my shoe, and the black strip of fabric that was once my blindfold, and stashed it all behind a rock near the tree line. I was pretty sure no one was going to come along and steal it, but at least it would be safe from the elements. I was about to set off on my search when, on second thought, I took the shoe and the blindfold with me. If I found fresh water I could clean up my cut with the bandana. And if I needed to crack open a coconut or something I could use the heel of the shoe.

Did they even have coconuts around here?

Whatever. I was impressed with myself for even thinking of it.

I took a deep breath and started to walk. I stayed on the sand but kept to the tree line, checking every new bit of vegetation I found for any kind of apple, berry, or similar sustenance. There seemed to be nothing but leaves. Big, fat fronds and tiny curved buds and scaly-looking yellow things. But all leaves. No fruit anywhere. As I walked, the beach grew slimmer and slimmer, the waves crashing closer to my feet. There was a big outcropping of rocks up ahead, stretching right from the water all the way up to the trees. If I was going to get past it, I would have to climb over. I paused and stood on my toes, trying to see over to the other side, but the wall of rock was just a bit taller than I was. I looked back to my camp. The light blue shirt was the only speck of color on the beach and it was just that--a speck. I had already walked pretty far. I might as well see what this island was all about. Who knew? Maybe on the other side of this rock wall there was a happening Club Med with an open bar and all-you-can-eat barbecue. My stomach grumbled again. I tied the blindfold around my wrist, gripped my shoe between my teeth, and started to climb. The rocks were wet and slippery, but there were plenty of ledges and cracks to help me on my way. I slipped only once, slamming my elbow into a sharp edge, but the resulting throbbing didn't even slow me down. I was getting used to pain and bruises. At the top, I pressed my knees into the cold surface and shoved myself to my feet.

There was no Club Med. And this wasn't just a rock wall. It was a huge expanse of rocky terrain that made up the entire shoreline as far as the eye could see. The waves crashed against the uneven ledge, sending angry spray up toward the sky. A very unfriendly omen. There was no point in moving forward. If I was going to find food or shelter, I was going to have to double back and try the other direction.

Feeling defeated, I turned to make the slow climb back down to the beach. That was when I saw a whole mess of driftwood. It was floating in a wide puddle that had formed in an indentation atop the rock. The wood pieces were smooth and perfectly formed, like they were planks from a doomed skiff or rowboat. I walked over and picked one up. The edges were sharp, but the top and bottom were smooth as silk. I had no idea what I might use it for, but it seemed like it could come in handy.

I dragged the plank to the edge of the rocky steppe, threw it to the sand along with my shoe, then climbed down after it.

On the way back to my little stretch of beach, I walked along the water's edge. The tide tossed hundreds of shells being tossed forward and back. Every now and then I paused to pick one up and inspect it, then flung it out into the water. I thought of Sawyer and wondered if he and the rest of my friends knew what was going on. Had the kidnappers found Upton? If they had, had he alerted everyone else, or was he trying to keep the whole thing quiet?

Noelle might not be up for another few hours. How long would it be before she realized I was missing and not just squirreled away with Upton somewhere on a romantic rendezvous?

Suddenly I remembered her toast from the evening before. How she'd wished I'd have a drama-free year. Apparently that wish was not going to come true. I felt tears start to well up in my eyes and I swallowed them back. Shells skittered into my feet and ankles as the water rolled in, then skittered away again. I saw a big flat white shell start to dance its way, end over end, out into the water. When it was thrust back again, I bent down and grabbed it.

One of my favorite books in middle school was Island of the Blue Dolphins. In it, an Indian girl named Karana marked her time on a deserted island using a shell and a smooth plank of wood. Maybe that was why I had grabbed this piece of driftwood that was now tucked under my arm. Maybe my subconscious had been thinking about Karana.

I clutched the shell and walked a little ways up the beach. Then I sat down in the sand, took a deep breath, and cut a long, white line into the wood. One morning. My first morning on the island. Hopefully it would be my last.

In a good way, of course.

I sat back on my elbows and watched the water, looking for Upton's sailboat or Noelle's father's cruiser or anything, really. Anything that could save me. When I got off this island and found out who had paid those men to kill me, I was going to make sure they rotted in hell. I would tell my story five thousand times, testify in court, do whatever the hell I had to do to ensure they were locked up for a long, longtime. Forever wouldn't be long enough. And then I was going to make sure I never took anything for granted again. I was going to graduate from Easton with the highest honors and go to Harvard. I was going to kick ass in college and have fun with friends and take risks and say yes to everything. Except vacations to the Caribbean. That ship had definitely sailed.

And I was going to eat. All the time. I was going to get big and fat and be full, full, full all the time. I imagined what my first meal back on St. Barths would be. The burgers at Shutters were pretty damn good. That was what I wanted. A burger and fries and a chocolate milk shake. Maybe ten of them.

My stomach growled angrily and I put my hand over my abdomen as if I could somehow soothe it.

Please, just let Upton come for me today, I thought, looking down at the white line in the plank. Please. I just want to go home.

But he didn't come. No one did.

MEAT EATER

The rain came out of nowhere. At least I think it did. I was sleeping on the beach, curled up in a ball at the edge of the tree line, when suddenly I was being pelted with ten thousand zinging, stinging drops of ice-cold water. I woke up, gathered my things in my arms, and stumbled into the jungle in a state of semiconscious, panicked confusion. The sky was gray, meaning it was morning. My third morning. When I found someplace to settle, I was going to have to carve another line in my plank of wood. If I found someplace to settle. Gold water slithered down my back, and I looked around the forest for some kind of shelter. The drops were less fierce under the cover of the trees, but I was still getting soaked. I took a few tentative steps forward, my bare feet crunching over sand and leaves and twigs. The underbrush was so thick and scraggly that I couldn't even see my feet. It would be so easy to step on something sharp--a shell or a rock. Or worse, some kind of odd, poisonous bug or snake or spider. The thought sent dread slicing through me and suddenly I was afraid to move. I stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of the driving rain hitting the waxy leaves, wondering what kind of animals might be watching me at this very moment. Might be sizing me up for their breakfast.