Page 23 of Dearly Departed

It’s highly unfortunate that the plane is the only landmark we have to go on. It’s even more unfortunate that Raymond Harris is still with the plane.

I don’t know how far we’ve gone when Catherine tugs me treeward and puts her hands on her knees, gasping for breath.

“Can you—see him?” She tries to straighten up, but doubles over again. “I have a stitch in my side.”

“I don’t see him. But we should probably go a different way.”

Catherine lets out a groan. “Because of our footsteps, right? Because we’re leaving a trail that leads right to us.”

“Yes.”

She gathers her hair in one hand and stands tall, peering into the darkness under the trees. The forest is relatively thin closer to the sand, but the shapes of the trees disappear into what looks like complete darkness.

Insects sing. An ominous clicking sound travels through the trees in a pattern I don’t recognize.

I let my breathing slow and listen for footsteps on the beach.

Oceanside property is, of course, treasured for its proximity to the ocean. The white-noise roll of the waves is usually a redeeming quality, particularly if you’re not fond of things like sand and sea creatures.

It’s not redemptive tonight, when I’m trying to hear if Raymond Harris is approaching. I can’t hear anything but the waves behind us and the undisturbed hum of the forest ahead of us.

“I don’t have any idea where we are,” I announce to Catherine. “The original plan was to go to Montserrat, and I’d disappear from there. If Harris followed the plan in the beginning, the flight wouldn’t look out of the ordinary to anyone on the ground, and wouldn’t arouse suspicion.”

“So we could be near Montserrat,” says Catherine. “But we could also be…anywhere else.”

“Not anywhere. We must be in the Atlantic.”

“I guess that narrows it down a little bit, then.” She swings my bag off her shoulder and repositions hers, then searches through it until she finds her phone. The glow brightens her face like concentrated moonlight. With the color in her cheeks from our escape, she’s stunning. A Botticelli painting come to life. A thing of beauty that should not be on an island with me. “And I still don’t have any service, so I can’t find us on Maps. Should we try yours?”

“I don’t have mine. I left it at the hotel.”

“I know. I brought it with me. It’s in my bag, it’s just probably at the bottom. I turned it off so it wouldn’t be dead.”

“We should wait. You might want to turn yours off, too, kitten.”

“Yeah,” Catherine says softly. After a few seconds, the light goes out. “So…we don’t know where we are, and we have no idea what kind of wildlife is going to be in those trees.”

“We do not.”

“You haven’t developed a secret interest in wildlife, have you?”

A guffaw bursts out of me. The trees echo it back.

“Shh.” Catherine holds a finger over her lips as if I might not understand her meaning. “He could hear you!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But no. I have not—I would never develop a secret fascination with the outdoors. I’m thrilled to participate in excursions on horseback through beautifully maintained ancestral properties. I would be delighted to while away an afternoon in a cabana with staff service. I have no interest—and will never have any interest—in the unspoiled outdoors. Not even for research purposes. So anything could be in there.”

Catherine releases a breath. “Okay. No more wildlife after this, right? Like, we’re never going to go anywhere in the wilderness again.”

“Never. I swear on our marriage. You’ll never see an unapproved insect again.”

Catherine shudders. “Let’s not talk about insects. I really don’t want to see or touch any bugs. I think the right thing to do is pretend they don’t exist.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do unless there are…circumstances.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

There’s a moment of dead silence after that. I hold my breath until I’m sure my lungs will give out, and then Catherine lets out a nearly silent ha and that’s it—I can’t tolerate it any longer.