Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(94)

‘Look. Do whatever you want, Alice. I won’t wake the others. I won’t tell them I saw you, if you don’t tell them –’ She stopped. ‘I just lost my temper there for a minute.’

No reply. Alice stared at the ground ahead through half-closed lids. She blinked once, and her chest rose, then slowly fell.

‘I’m going back to the cabin now. You should too. Don’t disappear.’

Alice’s lips moved a fraction. There was a small noise from the back of her throat. Curious, Lauren moved closer. A small noise again. It was almost like a groan, but over the rush of the wind in the trees and the blood in her skull and the ache inside her, Lauren felt sure she knew what Alice was trying to say to her.

‘It’s okay.’ Lauren turned. ‘I’m sorry too.’

She barely remembered getting back to the cabin. Inside, three bodies lay still, breathing gently. Lauren found her own sleeping bag and climbed in. She was shivering, and as she lay down against the floorboards, everything seemed to be spinning. A hard ball pressed painfully in her chest. Not just anger, Lauren thought. Not sadness. Something else.

Guilt.

The word rose up, coating her throat like bile. Lauren pushed it straight back down.

Her eyes were so heavy and she was so tired. She listened out for as long as she could, but there was no sound of Alice creeping in after her. Finally, exhausted, she had to let go. It was only on the cusp of sleep that she realised two things. One: she had forgotten to take the phone, and two: her right wrist was bare. The friendship bracelet her daughter had made for her was gone.





Chapter 31



Falk climbed over the guard rail and onto the rocky surface. It was as slippery as ice under his feet. He made the mistake of looking down and felt himself waver, as the rock swayed beneath him. He gripped the rail and tried to focus on the horizon until the sensation passed. It was hard to tell where the land met the air, as the treetops bled into the deepening sky.

‘Lauren!’ Falk called, as softly as he could over the roar of the water.

She flinched at the sound of her name, but didn’t look up. She was wearing only the thin long-sleeved top and trousers she’d had on earlier. No jacket. Her hair was wet from the spray and stuck to her head. Even in the growing dark her face had a blue hue. Falk wondered how long she had been sitting there, freezing and damp. It could have been more than an hour. He was worried she might topple over from sheer exhaustion.

He looked back towards the trail, unsure what to do. The path was still empty. Lauren was so close to the edge it made him feel dizzy looking at her. He took a deep breath and started to inch his way across the rocks. At least the clouds had cleared for now. In the twilight, the pale sliver of the early rising moon cast a little light.

‘Lauren,’ he called again.

‘That’s close enough.’

He stopped and risked glancing down. He could only make out the bottom from the crash of the water. He tried to remember what Chase had said on that first day. A drop of about fifteen metres to the black pool below. What else had Chase said? It wasn’t the fall that killed people, it was the shock and the cold. Lauren was shivering violently already.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘It’s freezing up here. I’m going to throw you my jacket, okay?’

She didn’t react, then nodded stiffly. He took that as a good sign.

‘Here.’ He unzipped his coat and took it off, leaving himself in only a jumper. The spray from the falls immediately clung to the exposed layer and within moments it was damp. He tossed his jacket to Lauren. It was a good throw and landed close. She dragged her gaze away from the water but didn’t move to take it.

‘If you’re not going to use it, chuck it back,’ Falk said, his teeth already rattling. Lauren hesitated, then slipped it on. He took that as another good sign. The jacket swamped her tiny frame.

‘Alice is really dead?’ Her words were hard to hear over the rushing water.

‘She is. I’m sorry.’

‘In the morning, when I went back to the path and she was gone, I thought –’ Lauren was still shivering violently, struggling to get the words out. ‘I thought she was the one who was going to make it.’





Day 4: Sunday Morning


Bree wasn’t sure what woke her. She peeled open her eyes and was greeted with the cold grey stirrings of early dawn. The light leaking through the cabin windows was faint, and most of the room still wallowed in murky darkness. She could hear the gentle sound of breathing all around her. The others weren’t up yet. Good. She groaned silently and wondered if she could get back to sleep, but the floorboards were hard against her bones and her bladder was aching.

She rolled onto her side and saw the blood spatter on the floor nearby. Lauren’s, she remembered. She curled her feet up in her sleeping bag in disgust. The fight of the night before came rushing back and this time her groan was out loud. She stuffed a hand over her mouth and lay still. She didn’t want to face the others any sooner than she had to.

Bree slipped off her sleeping bag cocoon and pulled on her boots and jacket. She crept to the door, wincing as the floor creaked, and stepped out into the frigid morning air. As she pulled the door shut, she felt a footstep in the clearing behind her. She jumped, stifling a scream.

‘Shh, don’t bloody wake the others.’ Beth was whispering. ‘It’s only me.’