Читать книгу The Island - Heather Graham, Heather Graham - Страница 8

NIGHT MOVES.

He had expected them.

Someone on the island was playing games.

Innocent games? Searching for legends?

Or games with far more deadly intent?

Keith rose silently and waited just inside his tent, listening, trying to determine from which direction the noises were coming. There was a breeze, so the trees continued to rustle. But he had heard far more than the subtle movement of the palm fronds in the soft, natural wind of the night.

Whoever it was, they had slipped across the sand and into the dense foliage of the interior.

Looking for a skull?

Or was there something more, something entirely different, going on? Perhaps he shouldn’t have told his ghost story. But he had told it on purpose, watching the others closely for their reactions. In the end, though, he’d learned nothing except that everyone seemed awfully easy to spook.

But had he caused this movement in the night?

He eased slowly, silently, from the tent and started across the white sand. Just ahead, barely discernible, the rustling sound came again.

Suddenly there was a light ahead, as if whoever was there felt they had gone far enough not to be noticed.

With the appearance of the light, he knew for certain he wasn’t chasing some nocturnal animal through the trees.

He followed, quickening his pace as he left the beach behind.

FEAR KEPT BETH DEAD STILL for several seconds until her instinct to protect the girls rose to the fore.

She almost burst from the tent, to find…

Nothing. Nothing but the sea by night, the soft sound of the gentle waves washing the shore, a nearby palm bent ever so slightly in homage to the breeze.

She went still, looking around, listening.

Still nothing. She told herself she needed to get a grip. She had never been the cowardly type, and stories were just that: stories. There were real dangers in life, but she had always dealt with them. She didn’t walk through dangerous neighborhoods alone at night. She carried pepper spray, and she’d learned how to use it. She even knew how to shoot, since their friends included several cops, who’d taken her to the shooting range and taught her how to handle a gun, though she didn’t choose to keep one, since her house had an alarm system.

So why was she panicking?

Because in her heart of hearts, no matter what anyone said, she was certain she had seen a skull. And it hadn’t belonged to any long-dead pirate.

No one nearby, no sounds now. She still had to check on the girls.

First she looked down the beach. All the fires were out, and she could see the tents, silent in the night. Keith and his buddies had tied a hammock to a couple of palms, where it swung ever so slightly in the breeze. Down from them, another group of tents, and farther still, a larger tent, all of them quiet and dark.

She hurried over to the girls’ tent and looked in, her heart in her throat. But both of them were in the second of the two little rooms, and they were soundly sleeping. Their light was still on, turning their small bedroom into an oasis and everything around it into a black hole.

She exhaled in relief and started backing out—straight into something solid, large.

In her, terror rose and she screamed.

KEITH HEARD THE SCREAM and froze, his blood congealing at the terror in that shrill sound.

In a split second, he was back in action.

The scream had come from the beach.

Beth!

The light ahead went out, but he ignored it and turned, tearing through the brush, desperate to reach her.

SHE LET OUT A SECOND, terrified scream; then she swung around, ready to fight to the death on behalf of the girls.

There was no need.

“Dammit, Beth,” a voice swore fiercely in the night. “What the hell are you doing?”

She blinked, drawing back with just seconds to spare before giving her brother a black eye.

“Ben?”

“Who the hell did you expect?”

“You scared me to death,” she accused him.

“What’s going on?” Amber asked nervously, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she crawled from the bedroom.

Kim followed, and the four of them wound up in the small outer room of the tent, tripping over one another.

“Nothing,” Ben said irritably.

Just then, as Amber tried to stand, she bumped one of the poles and the tent collapsed on them.

Ben tried never to swear around his daughter, but tangled in the nylon, tasting sand, Beth could hear him breaking his rule beneath his breath.

“It’s all right. The tent just fell,” she heard herself protesting.

But when she twisted to free herself, she only became more entangled.

Then the fabric was lifted from her, and, looking up, she saw the face of Keith Henson, tense and taut as he stared down at her.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded curtly.

“Nothing,” she snapped.

“You screamed.”

By then Ben had managed to escape the mess of poles and nylon and make it to his feet. He was shaking his head disgustedly.

“Sorry, everyone.”

When she looked around, still on her back, she saw that everyone was there, flashlights shining. Had she really screamed that loudly?

Well, of course she had.

And she was still flat on her back in an oversize T-shirt riding up her thighs, staring up at everyone. Just as the thought occurred to her, Keith reached a hand down to her. At that particular moment, she didn’t think twice about accepting it.

His grip was powerful. She was on her feet before she knew it.

“What is going on?” Amanda demanded, swiping back an errant piece of blond hair. Even at night, Beth noticed dejectedly, Amanda looked great. Like a soap-opera character who awoke in the morning with perfect makeup and shiny teeth.

“Are you all right?” Hank asked, polite as always.

Roger, definitely the oldest in the crowd, set an arm on his daughter’s shoulder and looked over at Beth, smiling, as well. “Maybe we should avoid ghost stories at night,” he said easily.

She tried to smile. And then apologize. “I’m really sorry. I woke up, and went to check on the girls. And then, backing out, I ran into my brother, who was apparently checking on why I was checking on the girls. There were too many of us in too small a space. I guess I woke everyone. I’m sorry.” Except, of course, she was certain that she hadn’t awakened everyone.

Someone had already been up and creeping around the island.

Who?

It was impossible now to tell, because all of them were there. Staring at her.

Amber started to giggle. Beth stared at her, brows raised.

“Oh, Aunt Beth, I’m sorry, but it is funny.”

“Yeah, a real hoot,” Ben muttered.

“Hey, let’s just get the tent back up, huh?” Keith suggested.

Kim stared at him, obviously fascinated. “Oh, sure, thanks.”

“I can manage—” Beth began.

“Take the help when it’s offered, honey. Then maybe we can all get some sleep.” For once Amanda spoke without malice. There was even a teasing tone to her words.

Ben smiled. “Keith, if you’ll give me a hand, we’ll have this back up in two minutes.” He cleared his throat. “Beth, you’re in the way.”

“Excuse me.”

“Me, too,” Amanda said, and yawned. “I’m going back to bed. Dad, want to walk me back? Hank? Gerald?”

“If you guys are all set, we’ll go catch a little more sleep, too,” Sandy said.

“We’re fine. Good night all,” Ben told them.

Once again they parted for the night. Or what was left of it. Glancing at her watch, Beth saw that it was around four in the morning.

The girls’ tent was quickly repositioned, and their group, too, was ready to try for a few more hours of sleep.

Ben thanked Keith, as did the girls. “Hey, Aunt Beth. You could bring your sleeping bag in here, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about us,” Amber said.

“I’ll give you guys your privacy,” Beth told her, smiling.

Keith was staring at her, his gaze intent, as if he was trying to read something in her expression.

Then he smiled easily, without suspicion. “You all right?”

“Yes, fine.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you with my story.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of ghosts.” She couldn’t help the feeling that her eyes were narrowing. And she wondered if he realized she was telling him that she was scared, but not of any story—of him.

“Well, then, good night.”

With a wave, he started off for his own tent.

“Girls, go to bed,” Ben said firmly.

“Good night,” Amber said.

“Good night,” Kim echoed.

They went into their tent again. Beth winced as she heard them giggling.

“Beth, what the hell was going on?” Ben demanded.

She sighed. “I heard a noise. I was worried about the girls.”

He let out a sigh. “What’s the matter with you? You never used to be paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid.”

“Listen, Beth, we’re surrounded by people here, half of the people we know. Nothing is going to happen.”

“You scared me,” she protested. “Creeping up behind me like that. You might have made yourself known.”

“I didn’t know who you were,” he told her.

“Aha!” Beth declared. “You were worried. Admit it.”

He sighed. “Beth, nothing’s going to happen,” he responded. “Trust me, huh?”

“I do trust you,” she told him.

“Then act like it.”

“Okay.”

“Can we go to sleep now?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Beth realized that he was waiting for her to be safely tucked back into bed. She smiled and nodded ruefully, then crawled back into her own tent and into her sleeping bag, where she lay staring at the fabric above her in the deep darkness of the night.

She rolled over. It was better in that direction—the girls were still sleeping with the little lantern flashlight on.

She tried to close her eyes and sleep.

She had heard something.

Or had she? Maybe it had been only the natural rustling of the wind in the leaves. Had she simply made up something in her mind, and become truly paranoid?

Or, on the other hand, was she just being sensible?

Trust me….

She did trust her brother. He would gladly die for his daughter, she knew, and would probably do the same for her, and for Kim.

She just hoped to hell he was never called upon to do so.

She tossed again, yearning to go to sleep.

It was a long time coming.

AMANDA MASON WAS DEFINITELY a flirt. She made a point of crashing into one of the guys every time she hit the ball.

Usually himself, Keith decided wryly. He wasn’t letting it get to his ego, since she also liked to tease Lee—she’d seen the boat, and they’d all said it was his. She didn’t much mind brushing against Brad, either, even though he was here with his girlfriend. But so far, no one had taken their makeshift volleyball game too seriously. So far, everyone was laughing.

He, Amanda, Brad, Lee and Kim were one team. Sandy, Amber, Gerald, Matt and Ben made up the other. Roger Mason sat on the sidelines, being the ref.

So far today, they hadn’t even seen Ms. Beth Anderson.

“Outside!” Matt yelled in protest of Keith’s serve.

“It was not outside—you just missed it,” he returned.

“Where’s our referee?” Matt demanded.

“Sleeping, despite the noise,” Amanda said, chuckling affectionately as she pointed to her father.

It was true. Roger had leaned back in the hammock and gone straight to sleep.

“It was definitely outside,” came a voice.

Keith spun around. She was up at last, yawning despite her late appearance. She held a cup of coffee. Sunglasses covered her unique marble-toned eyes, and she was in a bathing-suit top and chopped-off Levi’s pedal pushers.

His serve hadn’t been outside, and if she had been watching, she had seen that. He wondered why she had decided that they were enemies from the first moment she had seen him.

Other than the fact that she’d been trying desperately to hide her discovery from him.

He forced a smile. “Hey, Matt, the lady says you’re right.”

“Beth Anderson, you’re blind!” Amanda protested irritably.

“It’s just a game, isn’t it?” Beth asked politely.

“I’m going to have to speak to the commodore and make sure you don’t ref any games at the club,” Amanda said, a teasing note in her voice that was meant to hide her still-obvious dislike.

Beth managed an icy smile and an easy laugh. “You do that, Amanda,” she said.

“Aunt Beth, come play,” Amber urged.

“I think I like Roger’s idea best,” she said.

“Sure—wake the rest of us up in the middle of the night and then sleep all day,” Matt teased. “I don’t think so.”

“No, of course not, come play,” Hank urged. “And you can ref my game any old day,” he teased.

“Come on, Beth, play,” Ben urged.

“I’d make the teams uneven,” she protested.

Roger, who had appeared to be so peacefully sleeping, rose. “I’ll join in and make it even,” he offered.

He walked past Beth, smiling. “Fifty-eight, and I guarantee I can take on you kids.”

It was interesting, watching the group dynamics, Keith thought. Everyone seemed to get along fine except for Amanda and Beth.

Was Beth jealous?

Or was it vice versa? Amanda was petite, ultrafeminine. Beth seemed…

Elegant, he found himself thinking. A strange adjective, since she was in beachwear, as casual as any of them.

The teams readjusted. Beth took the serve.

It was wicked.

From the rear corner, he barely returned it. Ben caught the ball, and Roger, bless him, attempted a slam. Amazingly, Beth caught it low, setting it up for her brother, who went in for the kill.

“Point,” Beth said calmly, reclaiming the ball.

The game was neck and neck from then on. Sandy was the weakest link, but she made up for it with her good humor and refusal to give up.

Beth was a superb player, in excellent physical condition. She wasn’t just shapely, she was sleek. Perfectly toned. She played not so much to win as simply to play hard. There was a vibrance about her, a love of life, of activity, a passion that seemed to come through in everything she did and said, in the way her eyes seemed to burn like a crystal fire when they met his across the net. She clearly loved a challenge.

He had the feeling she would always meet one headon.

At last Beth’s team took the final point, and they all collapsed, laughing.

“What’s up next?” Hank asked, lying flat on the sand in exhaustion.

Lee was up and staring at Keith. “Fishing?” he suggested.

“Yeah, fishing,” Keith replied.

They were fishing, all right.

“Not me, boys. I’m for lazing in the sun now,” Amanda said, rolling sinuously to her feet.

Ben nodded toward Lee’s yacht. “You asking us out on that?”

“Would you like to see her?” Lee offered.

Keith looked at Lee and knew just what he was thinking. Keep the current denizens of the island with them, occupied. Keep an eye on them. Know what they’re up to at all times.

Keep them fishing, not diving.

He stayed silent. In the end, there wasn’t anything they could do about people diving these waters. Still, if discoveries here had been easy…well, they wouldn’t be here now.

“You bet,” Ben said enthusiastically. “Looks as if she’s got every new electronic device known to man.”

“I like my toys,” Lee said with a shrug.

“I’m with you,” Ben said.

“Hell, I’d like to see her, too,” Hank said, grinning.

“Me, too,” Gerald agreed.

“Little boys, little toys, big boys, big toys,” Amanda teased.

“Me, I’d like to see the hammock again,” Roger said.

“I think Sandy and I are going to take a walk, explore…” Brad said. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Beth?” Lee inquired. “Girls?”

“I’d love to see the boat,” Amber said.

“Yacht,” Beth murmured beneath her breath.

“But actually,” Amber admitted a little sheepishly, “I hate fishing.”

“That’s cool,” Lee told her.

“Beth?”

“I’ll stay with the girls,” she said. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

“You don’t care if I go?” Ben asked his sister.

“Not at all!”

But she did. She cared like hell.

“Maybe I will join you men,” Amanda said with something like a purr. “The sun is actually much better on the water. And I can always escape below if all the testosterone proves to be a bit too much. I’ll just get my things.” She started to walk away, then turned back. “I am not, however, cleaning any fish.”

Keith watched her sashay toward her tent.

When he turned to study Beth again, she was studying him. The way she was looking at him caused a little pang to creep into his heart.

She was so suspicious of him.

Well, she had every right to be.

But this was a game he played often. And he knew how to play it.

And he knew damn well that he couldn’t let her get in his way.

Her eyes swept over him. Cool. Still assessing him.

Then she turned.

He had been dismissed.

BETH WAS DEFINITELY ANGRY with Ben, although she wasn’t sure he knew it. And she wasn’t about to lash out at him in public—certainly not with the public that was surrounding them.

He was so big about protecting his family, but show the guy a new yacht with all kinds of cool toys, and he was gone in a flash.

To be fair, he thought she was being paranoid and there was nothing to protect his family from. Maybe she couldn’t blame him. There had been nothing in the inland clearing, and last night she had awakened the entire island by screaming because she had run into him.

At this point she wasn’t even sure herself just what she had seen. Maybe it had been a conch shell, and what she had imagined, in a stomach-churning moment, to be human tissue only sea grass and debris.

It was so easy to question oneself, especially in the bright light of day. Except that the afternoon was waning.

Sitting on the beach with the girls, she looked out to sea. The dinghies were long gone, bearing the fishermen—and woman—out to sea. Roger was sleeping in the hammock. Brad and Sandy were laughing, and running in and out of the waves, being romantic, being a couple.

Good for them. It seemed odd that they were the only couple among the groups. That Amanda had come on a family outing seemed amazing to Beth, but then, she disliked the woman. Roger and Hank were always decent enough, and though she really didn’t know Gerald well, he seemed okay, as well. Was she jealous of Amanda? She probed her own psyche in a moment of introspection.

No. She really, truly simply disliked her. And she really, truly liked most people.

So that, she decided with a wry grin, really, truly made Amanda a bitch.

“Aunt Beth, what are you smirking at?”

“I am not smirking,” she protested, turning to her niece. “I’m just…smiling at the day.”

“It really is a cool weekend, huh?” Kim said, looking up from her star-studded magazine. “I was afraid of being bored, but…well, those guys are cool.”

“Those guys are way too old for you two,” Beth said sharply.

“Aunt Beth,” Amber groaned. “We know that. Can’t they just be nice guys?”

“We really don’t know them,” Beth reminded them.

“You sound like a schoolteacher.”

“Right, well, schoolteachers teach you things you need to know.”

Beth stood up, stretching, eyeing the water again. Lee’s yacht was almost out of sight. Brad and Sandy were still happily cavorting. Roger was sleeping.

She hesitated, looking at Amber and Kim, and then she headed for her tent. Returning, she dropped the little black pepper-spray container on the towel next to Amber. “If anyone comes near you, you know what to do.”

Amber looked at the pepper spray, then up at her. “Really, Aunt Beth. Are you expecting a giant grouper to leap out of the sea and accost us?”

“Don’t be a wiseass. Wiseacre,” she quickly amended. But not quickly enough. Both the girls were laughing at her.

“Amber, Kim, I’m serious.”

Amber forced herself to look somber. “We’re taking you very seriously.”

Beth really didn’t think there could be any trouble, not with the yacht out at sea. She offered a dry smile and started to walk away.

“Hey,” Amber called. “Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

“You’re going back to look for the skull, right?” Amber pressed.

“No.” She stepped back toward them. “And don’t go talking about the fact that we might have seen a skull, do you understand?”

Amber let out a great sigh. “No, Aunt Beth. I mean, yes. We won’t mention it again, okay?”

“Good. And scream like hell if anything happens.”

“Like you did last night?” Amber teased.

“Behave or I’ll tell your dad that every young guy in the theater department isn’t gay!”

“Hey, have a great walk, Beth. We’ll be little angels, sitting here. Ready with the pepper spray,” Kim vowed seriously.

Shaking her head, Beth started off.

The island was such a strange paradise, she thought, heading toward the path through the pines and scrub brush just behind the area they had chosen to stake out their tents. The beach was pristine, the water clear and beautiful. Of course, just beyond there were dangerous, even deadly, reefs. But those who knew the area and could navigate those reefs knew how to reach a real Eden. But behind the beach, the island became a very different place, the dense foliage creating little nooks and crannies, shadows and an eerie green darkness.

She had always loved it.

Until now.

Today it seemed the island itself was working against her. She lost the trail and almost emerged at the other end of the beach. Retracing her steps, she swore softly.

A large mosquito decided to take a good chunk out of her arm, and she slapped it furiously, taking inordinate pleasure out of the fact that she managed to kill it.

At last she wound her way back to the clearing where she had stood the day before with the girls.

She looked around, trying to assess the area. Fallen palm fronds seemed to be everywhere.

Had there been that many yesterday? She tried to remember exactly where they had been standing.

And then where Keith Henson had emerged from the trees.

In the end, because there were so many palm fronds down on the ground, she decided to examine them one by one.

She tried to make sure she didn’t miss an area. She had gotten to her fourth frond when she heard footsteps.

Someone else was heading for the clearing.

She forced herself to pause and listen. After determining the direction from which the sounds were coming, she headed across the clearing. As soon as she reached the shelter of the trees, she spun around, afraid that whoever it was had already burst into the clearing and seen her.

Through the trees, she could see something glinting.

She narrowed her eyes and swallowed hard. Whoever was coming was carrying a knife. A big knife.

A machete.

Staring intently at that deadly glint, she backed farther into the trees.

Suddenly she felt an arm reach around her middle, pulling her deeper into the foliage.

A scream rose to her throat.

But a second hand clamped tightly over her mouth, and no sound escaped.