Page 27 of Dearly Departed

It can’t be a house, because there’s no reason for a house to be sitting here on this island. There aren’t even any signs of life here, other than the bugs. I’ve heard a few animals moving around, too, and tried not to think about what they might be. It’s one thing to have an animal jump out at you when it’s light out. It’s another thing in the dark.

So far, nothing’s jumped out at us, but that doesn’t mean it won’t. The trees here are close together, and the plants are thick in places. There’s still plenty of room for something to make a leap, if it wants to.

“Jacob, that’s—” Not a house. He’s tired. I’m tired. We’re very tired, and that’s why he thinks he’s looking at a manmade shelter that we didn’t have to build ourselves.

But then I see the line of the roof, and the planks that make up the siding, and moonlight glinting off a window.

It has a window.

“That’s a house,” I whisper.

Is this what it feels like to become religious? I’m suffused with hope and love and gratefulness. I have a sense of awe.

That is a house.

My sense of awe crashes back to earth when my brain kicks back on. That’s a house, and this seems like a weird place for a house to be. It might not only be a house.

It might also be a trap.

I want to run for it so badly. If it has a window, it probably has a door, and it might even have a lock. I know better than to think it’ll keep Raymond Harris out forever, but it would feel so good to have a lock between us and him, even if we’re only safe for a little while.

“We shouldn’t run. We should go slowly. In case there’s anyone in there.”

“I don’t see any lights.”

“I don’t either, but…still.”

Jacob squeezes my hand.

We make our quiet way down the path that’s opened up in front of us. It’s not a very wide path, and doesn’t look much different from where we’ve been walking—in the natural gaps between trees. Is that on purpose? Did whoever built this house want it to blend in?

Probably they did. They put a house on a deserted island, after all.

Maybe it’s not as deserted as I thought.

“Did we jump to conclusions?” I ask Jacob in my softest whisper to counteract the intense urge to break into a dead sprint and fling myself into that house. “Do you think people live on this island?”

“I haven’t seen any other houses, but I suppose it’s possible.”

“I wonder if Raymond Harris knows the people who own this house.”

“If he did, he’d be here already.”

“Not if he’s more interested in—you know. Murder.”

“I don’t honestly see how he could be interested in anything but a nap after he flew us here, crash-landed, and then unsuccessfully tried to kill us. He’s been walking around as long as we have.”

“True.” And he also has some sort of head wound. I think Raymond Harris’s is worse than Jacob’s. There was a lot more blood.

I make my footsteps as quiet as I can.

The path opens into a clearing, with the house—a cabin, really—on one side, and a waterfall on the other. I gasp at the sight of it. I can’t help myself. It’s not a loud, crashing waterfall. It’s a small one, bubbling out of a rocky formation and filling a pool underneath.

“Surprise,” Jacob says. “I picked a resort with a waterfall.”

“It’s perfect.”

“It will be if we can get inside. And if there’s nobody waiting to kill us.”