AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why are you so sure?” Neil asks.
“I’ve just—I’ve been looking into it, that’s all.” I don’t mean to go further than that, but suddenly the words start pouring out of me. It’s as if opening up to Neil about my past has loosened something inside me. I tell him how Cass and I searched Lucy’s room and social media pages. How Lucy had thoroughly researched all of us and used a fake identity to check in. I stop short of telling him how I stole Daniel’s phone—claiming I saw the video of Doug and Lucy on a guest’s Instagram. I’m not ready to share that piece of information with anyone, even Neil.
He watches, eyes wide, taking it all in.
“Do you think Doug could be behind all this?” I ask.
Neil shakes his head vehemently. “It’s not Doug.”
“Then what is going on? What is it with this island?”
His face carries a new emotion now, one it takes me a moment to recognize. But then it clicks.
Fear.
“Look,” he says with a deep sigh. “I agree. Something’s going on here that runs deep in the island. A reason tourists have died. But you need to trust me. I really don’t think Doug’s behind it.”
“Then who is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s just…” Neil looks behind him, checking to make sure no one’s listening in on our conversation. But other than the two of us and a bored waiter lounging on the front counter and playing on his phone, we’re alone. “There are rumors that it could be a group of locals. People who are resentful of thefarangswho come in and act like they own the place. Others think it’s the Thai Mafia, like Doug mentioned last night. They sell drugs on the island—they bribe the police to look the other way—and I know that they own at least one or two of the bars on Pho Tau beach.
“But the moral of the story is that you need to stop looking into this. Whoever’s involved, they’re dangerous. And I’m worried that if you try to get in the way, they’ll come after you.”
I nod, but I’m not fully convinced. Neil must see it too, because he wraps his hands around my forearms. I feel my breath catch as he gently pulls me toward him across the table so that our faces are mere inches from each other.
“I’m serious,” Neil says, his dark eyes round with kindness, and I feel the warmth from earlier return to my cheeks. “Since you came here, I’ve felt… I don’t know. It just seems like there are suddenly all these opportunities here on Koh Sang that I never noticed before. Things I didn’t think were possible.” He laughs, a small sheepish chuckle, but thankfully his hands don’t leave my arms. “Listen to me. I sound like a right git. I just don’t want you to get wrapped up in all this. If you got hurt—or, God forbid, worse—I’m not sure what I would do…”
Neil trails off, and before I even realize what I’m doing, before I can stop myself or think of the millions of reasons why I shouldn’t, I’ve leaned in closer to him, pulling my arms out of his grasp, placing my hands on either side of his face and resting my lips on his.
18
CASS
“Lift your right leg behind you, and raise it high toward the sky. And now reach that left arm back for it. That’s it.”
I’m still shaking as I arrive at the fitness center on the far side of the resort, Greta’s melodic accent floating out to meet me as I walk up the stairs to the yoga studio. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time processing the note—first staring at it in the kitchen, and then, when I realized Logan would be getting up soon, shoving it in my pocket and rushing out to my bike, to drive in circles around the island, thinking. So by the time I arrive, Greta’s already wrapping up her class.
I expected the studio to be empty after what happened last night, but it’s packed. Yoga mats litter the floor between the room’s two mirrored walls, the guests separated from one another by only an arm’s length. At the far side, the windows have been pulled open, and morning sun drapes the entire studio in incandescent light. The gentle breeze from the wood ceiling fans shakes the fragile flames of the candles Greta’s placed in each corner of the room, engulfing the studio in scents of lavender and eucalyptus.
The entire setting radiates calm, but it does little to slow my racing heart. The words from the note keep screaming in my head.This is all your fault.
I watch the guests in front of me gracefully balance on one leg as they follow Greta’s directions. I wish for a moment that I could be any of them, so removed from the outside world that they can turn off their brains long enough to mold their bodies in pretzel-like positions.
But I can’t.
Everyone is going to know the truth, soon.
“Hopefully this flow leaves you feeling reengaged and ready to tackle the day,” Greta concludes. “Namaste.”
I start to walk toward Greta, but before I can reach her, she’s rushed by guests. Adoring yogis, I assume, but as I drift closer, I realize why the class was so crowded.
“So do you know who did it? Do the police have any ideas?” asks a girl with a large, shiny forehead in a pink sports bra.
“Yeah, I mean, I got close enough to see him. His throat was slit—like how you see on TV—and there was blood everywhere. Is the person who did it still on the island?” A skinny guy with a hint of acne along his hairline looks up at Greta imploringly. The others nod along. Greta maintains her smile, but I notice her eyebrows move slightly together, a line forming in the middle of her forehead the only indication of her irritation.
Anger rips through me, incongruent with the atmosphere of the studio. I want to charge at them, pummel them with my fists, claw with my nails, anything I can to cause harm. I know these people. These attention-grubbing, greedy rubberneckers, falling over themselves to be closest to a tragedy but not close enough tobe actually affected. They’re always the same: my college roommate crying fake tears for the reporters as she told them she always thought there was something “off” about me; the “friends” who hadn’t bothered to reach out to Robin when our mother died all trying to outdo each other by posting the most sentimental RIP message on her posthumous Facebook wall; and now these people.
“I’m sorry, everyone, but I don’t have any information,” Greta answers. “I’m as in the dark as you all. But as soon as I learn more, I will be sure to share. So make sure to come to our ninety-minute Bikram session this afternoon.”
