The Waiting: A Supernatural Thriller(49)
The cool air was a blessed welcome against his skin, and he slammed the door shut behind him and finally gave in to the pleadings to run. He jogged to his car, and after climbing inside, took deep, cleansing breaths and waited for the boiling anxiety to abate. After a minute it did, but when he reached to start the van, he noticed his hands still trembled.
An electronic chirp issued from the backseat, causing his slowing heart to stutter again. Evan twisted, fumbling for the computer case and dragging it onto his thighs. When he opened the laptop, the strong Wi-Fi signal in the upper right-hand corner caught his attention. He glanced at the house again, then lowered his eyes to the email that had caused the signal of new messages. The first email was from Jason. Evan clicked on it, the mere sight of his friend’s address a comfort.
Ev, I spoke to Justin about the article. He said that’s not something he’s looking for right now, but he’d be happy to hear any other ideas you have. Sorry, man. Hope you and Shaun are well. Call me soon. – Jason He reread the words several times and his shoulders slumped. A different idea? After everything that he’d learned?
But what have you learned?
The voice sounded snide and superior.
You found the ravings of an obviously insane man and brought up some of the town’s oldest, dirtiest laundry. Sordid affairs and possibly murder, but to what end? You’re going to solve a mystery that’s over ninety years old? Oh, wait, I see, there’s something else you’re digging for. That little idea that came into your mind the moment you read the article about the hit-and-run, and now the old bat in the house said the words that have been percolating in that f*cked-up brain of yours out loud. You think it’s possible? You really think it is? Then if you do, you’re more disturbed than ever.
“Shut up,” Evan growled, gritting his teeth.
His phone chimed from the center console. He jerked in his seat as if it were a biting snake. A slightly familiar cell-phone number graced the display.
“Hello?” he answered.
A short puff of breath came from the other end, and then silence.
A cold dump of adrenaline entered his system, flooding his veins with a cocktail of weakness and dread.
“Becky?”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
Becky’s voice came out less than a whisper, like dead leaves sliding on concrete. The sound rolled a wave of goose bumps across his skin.
The call ended, leaving him with dead air in his ear.
Frantically he punched the number into the phone and waited. It went straight to voice mail.
“Shit!”
He dialed Becky’s number again while slamming the van into drive. As he rounded the turn and headed down the driveway in a flurry of dust, he threw a look at the house, barely noticing the curtains beside the front door shift back into place.
16
Evan held the pontoon’s throttle wide open.
The steely water reflecting the sky rose in short waves that the craft burst through and surged over. The wind, mostly calm before, now pushed and tugged at his shirt, causing him to shiver with each gust. He hadn’t been able to reach Becky again on the hurried ride back to town, and he’d lost track of how many times he’d hit the redial button.
The Fin grew and grew on the lake’s choppy surface, and Evan strained his eyes, squinting against the wind to see the house through the trees.
No fire. That was good. Becky’s boat was still tied to the dock. That was good too—she hadn’t run off and left for some strange reason, and she hadn’t taken Shaun anywhere.
Please, please, please let him be okay.
As the details of the island became clearer, he saw that two figures waited on the beach, one seated and the other standing a short distance away.
“Thank God,” Evan said, relief washing over him in a warm wave.
He saw Shaun’s small form nestled in his chair. The boy was moving, but something was wrong. Shaun wasn’t wearing a coat, or even a sweatshirt, and his feet dangled down low enough that the washing waves rushed up and covered them. Becky stood a few steps away, staring at Evan as he approached.
“What the f*ck?” Evan said, cutting the motor down to guide his way to the dock.
He drifted the last few yards and let the front end of the craft bump into the planking. In two strides he stood on the dock, and looped a rope around the pontoon’s railing. Then he was moving again, anger filling the void left by panic.
“What the hell’s going on here?” he asked, hurrying past Becky to where Shaun sat.
His anger flared brighter when he saw the blue tinge to his son’s lips and they way he shook from the cold.
“Fucking shit,” Evan said, peeling off his long-sleeved shirt before unstrapping Shaun from his chair. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He tugged his shirt over Shaun’s head and picked him up. Shaun shivered and pressed his face into Evan’s neck. When he turned back toward the water Becky still hadn’t moved.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said, as he stepped before her.
Becky’s half-lidded eyes stared across the lake, toward town. Her lips hung apart, revealing her teeth clenched together, her jaw muscles contracting over and over.
“Becky, are you okay? Are you hurt?” he said, moving closer. “Why did you come down here?”