I watched every twitch in her expression.
She was scared.
She was exhausted.
She was pissed.
I could still see the fire in her eyes, though.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said suddenly.“I don’t know who this psycho is that put me on a list.I don’t know any of you that are connected to this.Why am I on the same list as—”
“You’re here,” I cut in, “because youareon that list.That’s it.That’s enough.”That was what we needed to figure out.
Her jaw worked.“But why me?”
“We don’t know yet,” Anchor said.
“But I think it has to do with the island,” she said quietly.Not a question.A statement.
Anchor and I both froze.
She glanced at the windows.“I remember this place,” she whispered.“Not the clubhouse.The island.The water.I always see it when I close my eyes.”
I shifted my weight.
“What do you remember?”I asked.
She swallowed.“I was young.Like, not even three.Lights.Screaming.My mother dragging me.The water glowing.”She wrapped her arms tighter.“I was a kid.And she never talked about it again.Just… never.”
Anchor’s eyes narrowed.“How long ago was this?Your mom never mentioned anything about it after?”
“Uh, well, I’m twenty-six now, and I think I was maybe two and a half?”Shay said.“And she never told me anything.Just that Skull Island wasn’t safe.That we were never going back.”
“And yet here you are,” I muttered.
Shay’s eyes snapped to me.“Not by choice.”
“Yeah,” I said.“I get that, but being here is likely the only thing keeping you alive.”
“You don’t know anything about me or why I’m here,” she snapped.“For all you know, I’m one breath away from ending up dead like Bernice.”
“Yeah, you could be right, but I don’t think you are.And I know enough about you,” I said.“Know your file photo wasn’t old.Know you were living in your car.Working.Keeping your head down while trying to get your life right.You were dragged into this, and you’re not going anywhere until we figure out who this psycho is.Your chances of staying alive are a hell of a lot greater being here with me than being a sitting duck in your car.”
Her shoulders sagged just enough for me to see the fear slip through her anger.
“I don’t know anything,” she whispered.“Not really.Just flashes.Feelings.”She looked at Anchor and me.“But none of you guys are in them.It’s just water, and bright lights, and…”
Anchor’s voice softened.“Whatever you’re remembering might not have anything to do with this.It could have just been a bad trip you and your mom took.”
She laughed once, harsh and humorless.“Well, that sucks.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.“It does.”But I thought it was too much of a coincidence for what she was remembering to not have anything to do with this.
She finally took a few steps forward and wrapped her hands around the coffee mug Anchor had poured.She didn’t drink it at first.Just held it like the warmth might seep into her bones.
She stared into the black surface.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she said again, but this time there wasn’t any fight in it.Just exhaustion.“You don’t know me.I don’t know you.If this guy is targeting me because of something that happened here…” She shook her head.“I don’t want you guys to be hurt because of it.I should go away and have this crazy guy follow me.”
