The Night Swim(90)

“You listen to me, you slutty little bitch,” he snarled, lifting up Jenny’s head by her hair as he spoke to her. “If you ever tell anyone what happened, then we’ll do to your little sister what we did to you. But worse. Much worse. Do you understand?”

Jenny nodded.

“You learn fast.”

He ran to join the others, leaving us lying in a heap on the beach, clutching each other as we watched the truck reverse, its headlights on as it sped out of the parking lot.

“Jenny,” I choked. “Are you all right? Let’s go home. Can you walk?”

“No,” she mumbled. “I need an ambulance.”

“The telephone booth is broken and there’s nobody around to help. I can’t get an ambulance.”

“The gas station,” she whispered. “It’s still open.”

“Come with me,” I sobbed. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Can’t walk.” Jenny groaned. “They’re gone now. I’ll be okay. I’ll wait for you here.”

Reluctantly, I left Jenny curled up on the beach and trudged through the sand. Sharp stones cut into my damaged feet as I crossed the parking lot and walked along the shoulder of the road to the gas station. I blocked the pain, focusing on getting to the gas station before it closed for the night.

It was shutting down when I arrived. Fortunately, a light by the cash register was still on. I entered through the automatic doors, unaware that I was leaving a trail of blood across the white-tiled floor. “We’re closed,” said Rick without looking up.

“I need help.” My voice trembled. Snot ran down my face, mixing with tears. “I need to call an ambulance.”

He looked up and saw the bloody trail that I’d left on the floor and immediately passed me the phone. While I dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance, I heard him complaining about the mess of blood and mud that he’d have to clean up. But by the time I’d hung up the phone, Rick seemed shamefaced at his initial reaction. He drove me back to the beach in his truck so I could wait with Jenny for the ambulance to arrive.

I jumped out when he pulled into the parking lot. I limped onto the beach toward the smoldering remnants of the bonfire. Jenny was all curled up in the same position that she’d been in when I’d gone to get help. It was only when I was very close that I understood that she wasn’t there at all. What I thought was Jenny was the shirt that Bobby had put over her to keep her warm.

“Jenny?” I called out. “Jenny?”

I wandered aimlessly across the beach, looking for Jenny, until the dark sky was colored by the bright lights of sirens. Uniformed figures ran down to the beach. I stumbled toward them, stuttering that my sister had gone missing. I shivered as I watched them stand on the beach and comb the water with powerful flashlights.

“I see something,” someone called out from near the jetty. He waded waist deep into the water, while another held his flashlight unsteadily pointing into the ocean.

I ran to the edge of the surf. The policeman who’d gone into the water was coming out, pulling something through the white foam of a broken wave. It was Jenny. Her blond hair had spread across the water like a mermaid.

“Jenny?” I screamed. Her eyes were open, but they were unblinking. “Jenny!”

I fell onto her the moment they pulled her out of the water. She was cold. Ice cold. Someone pulled me away from her. “She’s gone,” he said as I heard a siren approach. “She’s gone.”

I screamed, but not a sound came out.





52



Rachel


The jetty groaned under the assault of wind and midnight tides as Rachel walked into the black mist that shrouded the coastline.

When she reached the end of the jetty, she looked out to sea but saw nothing. It looked as if the ocean and the sky had merged into a black abyss. She stood with both hands on the rail, her face whipped by the icy Atlantic wind as she enjoyed the sensation of being alone with the elements.

A sliver of moon from a shifting cloud eased the darkness enough for Rachel to see her surroundings. That’s when she realized that she wasn’t alone. A figure in the corner had been observing her.

Hannah was shorter than Rachel, with cropped dark hair and bright eyes. She wore a black crocheted cardigan that reached down to her knees, and dark jeans with black high-heel boots. She waited shyly for Rachel to approach, uncertain of what reception she’d get.

Rachel moved toward her wordlessly. When they were close, she wrapped her arms around Hannah in a warm embrace.

“I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through,” said Rachel, her voice thick with the sadness that had clung to her since she’d read Hannah’s final letter.

“I’m so grateful that you came,” said Hannah. “I was worried that I’d have to do this alone.”

They rested their backs against the jetty handrail, buffeted by wind, as they looked out to shore, waiting for Jenny’s killer to arrive.

“Maybe it’s not him,” said Rachel with a shiver when minutes passed and he still hadn’t arrived. A breaking wave splashed across the weathered timber beams, soaking her sneakers and wetting her jeans. She zipped up her waterproof jacket and put the hood over her head to cover her auburn hair, which had become unruly in the wind.