Page 78 of Light of Day
Her feet werecold and wet. So cold. Every part of her body felt slow and heavy and sluggish, even her eyelids. It took a force of will just to drag them open to a mere slit.
What she saw brought them open the rest of the way. Ocean water was sloshing over her feet in rippling waves. She yanked them back from the edge of the water, the heels of her boots dragging across rough sand, the kind composed of broken shells and pebbles.
Sand? Where was she?
Her mind was so foggy. Brain fog. She’d always been afraid of brain fog, afraid of losing her ability to think, to solve problems. That’s why I don’t drink, she thought. Then she said it aloud. “That’s why I don’t drink.”
Hearing her own voice grounded her. She was Heather Gretchen McPhee. Twenty-seven years old. Born and raised on Sea Smoke Island. “I’m Heather McPhee,” she said out loud, looking around. “Where the fuck am I?”
Was she still on Sea Smoke? She didn’t recognize her surroundings, possibly because she couldn’t see much. It was dark in here, the only light coming from the same direction as the waves. A cave? The only caves she knew about on Sea Smoke were on Lightkeeper Inn property, and strictly off limits. They were considered a major safety hazard because at high tide they filled with water and it would be much too easy to drown there…
She scrambled to a kneeling position and felt above her head. Rock arched overhead, slimy with algae or sea moss or who knew what. She extended her arms to either side of her, feeling for where the walls might be. On her left, she touched rock almost immediately. To her right there was just air, which was a relief. She didn’t need this situation to be any more claustrophobic than it already was.
Who had brought her here, and why? She didn’t remember anything after she’d tucked the flash drive?—
She unzipped her sodden right boot and reached inside her sock to make sure the flash drive was still there. Relief filled her when she felt the lump of plastic and metal. Her sock, protected by her boot, was damp, not wet, so hopefully the drive hadn’t been ruined.
Was the flash drive the reason someone had hit her from behind?
At the memory, pain throbbed at the back of her head. A lump had formed back there, and she felt wetness—could be blood, could be residual wetness from being in the water. But no, she realized a moment later. The rest of her hair wasn’t wet, and her clothes were damp, but not drenched. Someone had brought her here in a boat. That meant they didn’t want her to die, because if they did, they could have just dumped her in the ocean like Denton.
That was good, right? Except…if this cave filled up with the tide, she might be trapped in here. Even if she could find a safe nook to keep her head above the water, if she didn’t get out of here, she’d die of exposure or hypothermia.
So many ways to die…
After tucking the flash drive into her bra, which was the driest spot she could think of, she shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms to get her blood moving. Propping herself on her elbows, she moved her legs in a bicycle motion that would hopefully do the same.
Who had bonked her on the head? Who had known she was in Room 232? Safiya? Of course not, that would make no sense. Why give her a flash drive, then knock her out and drag her to a cave?
Was it Judy Griffin? She wouldn’t put it past that intimidating dragon of a manager.
Maybe Heidi Ochoa had told someone where she was.
She racked her brain for everything she knew about these caves. Only a few people had access to them, she was sure of that. The Carmichael family, obviously, and their inner circle. The guests probably didn’t even know about them. The staff might. So she had to include them on the list. Islanders knew about them in a general way, but the Lightkeeper Inn was so strict in enforcing its boundaries that no one had actually seen them. They were considered almost like folklore, similar to the pirate shipwreck.
Someone in the Carmichael inner circle must have brought her here.
She crawled to the edge of the water and felt the sand. It was mostly dry above the lapping of the waves; that meant the tide was coming in. How far would it come? Maybe this particular cave wouldn’t fill up. She crouched down to peer out the opening, which was only about two feet high. If someone had brought her here in a boat, the opening must have been bigger at that point. So maybe it was close to high tide now. Would it be easier to swim out with an ebbing tide?
Her skin prickled at the very thought of getting into the water. She hated ocean swimming, having never conquered that particular fear. Besides, where would she swim to? She didn’t know the exact location of the caves. They weren’t visible from the shoreline. The only sure thing was that they were on the east side, on Lightkeeper property, and the currents could be hellaciously strong here. She might get swept out to sea the moment she exited the cave. Would she be safer staying put?
She became aware of her feet getting colder. Should she take her shoes and socks off and dry them out before anything else? Also, she was thirsty. Unless there was a freshwater outlet somewhere in the cave, she could die of thirst while staring at the ocean. She’d heard stories of sailors who went mad with thirst and drank the ocean water and perished.
So many ways to die.
Her busy mind, which had been occupied with calculating every angle to figure out what was going on, finally hit a wall. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. Would her mother know she was missing? It might take a couple days for her absence to sink in. Gabby didn’t have her phone. And Luke…
She’d blown off Luke. Why hadn’t she told him where she was going? Why had she automatically jumped to mistrust? He’d done nothing to deserve that.
Except be related to whoever had stuck her in this cave, most likely.
“Cunty Carmichaels,” she muttered out loud. “They think they can control everything. Like it’s their world and we’re just hanging around the edges begging for crumbs.”
Were they really so anxious about their reputation getting ruined that they were willing to commit murder and arson and now kidnapping? It didn’t really make sense to her. It was all so long ago, after all. The original John Carmichael and Hennessy McPhee were both long gone. No one would blame the current generation of Carmichaels. It would probably barely make a blip in the nonstop news cycles of this day and age. So what if over a century ago a greedy man had done whatever he could to clear the way for his hotel? The same kind of thing was probably happening on any given Tuesday around the world.
Why was someone directing so much energy toward squashing the truth? Greed, sure. Always a good motive. That YouTuber, Tatum DeBatum, the one who wanted to buy the hotel. Would he care about some ancient history? Probably not, especially because his whole schtick was about debating hot topics. He would probably think it was cool.
A sound from outside the cave had her head jerking up. A liquid sound, like paddles dipping in and out of the water…a kayaker!
