Archer's Voice(29)

As I had been looking over the fruit selection for a dessert, I had remembered the blackberry bushes right off the beach. I didn't have anything else to do until it was time to be at Archer's, so I thought some blackberry picking for a cobbler sounded like a good plan. I'd pack everything up and head over to the lake at about four thirty to give myself a half an hour or so to collect what I needed. Might as well take advantage of summer fruit picking while I could. Plus, it was pleasant, mindless work that resulted in something wonderful. I liked it.

When I got back to my cottage, I got everything ready and packed it up in Tupperware containers and put it in my larger cooler. It would have to sit both on the back of my bike and on top of my basket rather than in it, but I thought that would be okay.

Phoebe was going to have to sit this trip out, but she'd survive. I'd take her for an extra long walk on the lake shore tomorrow.

I stepped outside into the warm, only slightly muggy air and smiled, happiness running through me. Why was I more excited to go show my strange, silent boy how to cook for himself than I had been making out with the town hottie on my porch last night? Whoa. I stopped and just stood beside my bike for a minute. My strange, silent boy? Not hardly, Bree. Just get on your bike and go show your friend how to make a decent meal for himself.

I left my bike leaned against a tree at the beach entrance like usual and walked to the wooded area next to the shore. I moved the branches and bushes aside very carefully as I peered through. There they were–a whole crop of blackberry bushes loaded down with succulent fruit, ripe for the picking. It would be a shame to leave all of that to rot and fall to the ground.

I stepped through the bushes gingerly and slowly, avoiding the sharp branches that poked out. Once I had made it through the initial overgrowth, there was a clearing that I could walk through easily enough straight to the berries.

I made my way to them and plucked one soft, ripe berry off the bush, popping it in my mouth. I closed my eyes as the sweet juice burst across my tongue and moaned softly. God, that was good. These were going to make a delicious cobbler.

I started picking them carefully and dropping them in the small basket I had brought with me. After a while, I started humming as I picked. It was cooler in here, the woods keeping out the heat of the late afternoon sun, only small patches of sunshine coming through breaks in the trees, the feeling of warmth caressing my skin as I moved through them.

I stepped further into the woods toward a lone blackberry bush holding an abundance of berries. I reached toward it, my lips curved in a smile, and suddenly, my ankle twisted harshly beneath me and I was grabbed violently from behind, arms everywhere, my head smacking into the ground before my entire body was catapulted up and off the dirt, into the air.

I screamed and screamed and screamed, but he wouldn't let go. He had found me–he had come for me. And this time, he was going to kill me. I struggled and thrashed and screamed, but his grip just got tighter around me.

It was happening again. Oh God, God, God, it was happening again.





CHAPTER 13


Archer



I laid the last of the stones in its spot and stepped back to survey my work. I was satisfied with what I saw. The circular pattern had proven to be a bit challenging, but in the end, it all came down to math. I had worked out the configuration on paper first, mapping out the diagram and spacing before I had even laid the first stone. Then I had used string and stakes to make sure the sloping was just right so that the rain flowed away from my house. It looked good. Tomorrow, I'd collect some sand from the shore and sweep it between the cracks and spray it down.

But right now, I needed to take a shower and get ready for Bree. Bree. Warmth filled my chest. I still wasn't a hundred percent sure about her motives, but I had let myself begin to hope that it really was just friendship she sought. Why with me, I didn't know. It had started with the sign language, and maybe for her, that fulfilled something. I wanted to ask her why she wanted to spend time with me, but I wasn't sure about the social rules there. I could figure out advanced masonry diagrams, but when it came to other people, I was lost. It was just easier to pretend they didn't exist at all.

Of course, it had been so long, I wasn't sure what came first, the town acting as if I was invisible, or me sending the message that I wanted to be invisible. Either way, I embraced it now. And Uncle Nate had definitely embraced it.

"It's good, Archer," he had said, running his hand over my scar. "There's no-one on God's green earth who can torture you for intel. You show 'em your scar and pretend you don't understand, they'll leave you alone." And so I had–but it hadn't been hard. No one wanted to believe any different. No one cared.

And now, so much time had passed I felt like there was no going back. I had been okay with it–until she came waltzing onto my property. And now, I was getting all kinds of crazy, unwelcome ideas in my head. What if I went to see her at the diner she worked at? Just sat right at the counter and had a cup of coffee like I was a regular person?

How would I order a cup of coffee anyway? Just point at everything like a three year old while people laughed and shook their heads about the poor mute? No way. Just the thought alone filled me with anxiety.

As I was stepping out of the shower, that's when I heard the distant screaming. I jolted and pulled my jeans on quickly, putting my t-shirt on as I ran for the door. Shoes… shoes… I looked around and the screaming continued. That sounded like Bree. Forget the shoes. I ran out of my house and toward the woods.