How had I done that to myself without even noticing or feeling it until now? And when had I done it? Swallowing hard, I felt my stomach roll as I shoved my arm under the faucet. The raw skin stung, adding to the already overwhelming pressure of unshed tears. Water ran red until it turned a faint pink against the porcelain basin.
Lifting my chin, I stared into my own frightened eyes. My heart threw itself against my rib cage. What would Mrs. Messer say about scratching yourself so deep that the skin tore? Probably the same thing she’d say about talking reflections. A strangled laugh escaped my lips. I doubt either of those fell in the normal range of coping mechanisms.
I took a breath, but it got stuck. There was most definitely something wrong with me. Crazy wrong.
When Scott returned home after baseball practice, I took my purse and my hastily scribbled directions down to the garage. I had a couple of hours before the sun set, so I managed to avoid most of Scott’s questions. I felt bad for being short with him, especially because he was letting me borrow his car, but I didn’t have much time.
It took me a little over forty minutes to reach Michaux State Forest and to find the summerhouse. Common sense told me that if I was going to start anywhere, it would be there.
Easing the car down the gravel road, I leaned over the steering wheel as a two-story log cabin came into view. Two garage doors were under the raised porch, and the entire front of the house was nothing but windows. A patch of land had been cleared around the front, and trees choked the back of the house. Parking the car, I clenched the keys in my hand and climbed out.
Shivering, I inhaled the scent of pine and rich soil. Something else lingered behind the scent—wet, familiar.
Most of the houses I passed on the way up had screened-in porches, but this house had a tiered deck. My sneakers crunched over gravel and tiny broken branches as I headed toward the steps. I tried to picture summers here, walking this very same path dozens of time.
The stairs groaned under each step, echoing and causing me to wince. A large, empty ceramic flowerpot sat in the corner. I went up the second set of stairs, to the main deck that appeared to wrap around the whole house.
As expected, the front door was locked. I crept along the railing of the porch. There was a can full of cigarette butts that looked newish. Mom and Dad claimed that the home hadn’t been opened since last September, but I doubted the butts would’ve retained their color that long.
Had someone been here? Did I smoke?
Shaking my head, I moved toward the back of the house, and there was the sound of something rushing, peaceful. It sparked the unrest inside me, stirring the abyss where my memories existed. The sound…
Water.
Excitement bubbled. I knew that sound—the lake. Hurrying down the back steps, I half slid down the sloping hill that met the heavy wooded area. The ground was covered with small rocks and fallen branches, and despite the fact that I had no conscious memory of the layout here, I navigated the area with ease. Maybe I had been back this way before? There was no other way to explain it. Anyone without some knowledge of the woods behind the house would probably break his or her neck wandering around at night. Pushing bare, low-hanging branches out of the way, I headed toward the source of the sound.
Up ahead, there was a boat docked. Angel. Recognizing the boat from one of the photos on my wall, I stepped on the dock, caught off guard when it bobbed under my feet. My gaze drifted beyond the boat, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
The lake was a deep, glossy blue and larger than I’d expected. The surface dipped and rolled gently in the breeze, holding a lifetime worth of secrets in its depths. It went on as far as I could see, curving around a bend. I lifted my gaze and couldn’t find anywhere nearby that would explain my memory of falling. There were just trees with tiny buds and boats docked all around the lake.
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, I trekked across the man-made beach, following the shoreline. Detective Ramirez had mentioned a waterfall, which seemed to be the likeliest place for someone to take a fall.
I rubbed my sleeve over the scratches on my arm, trying not to think about how they’d gotten there. The sand was eventually replaced by mud that formed a weathered trail. Trees began to crowd the edges of the lake, and the farther I went, the louder the sound of rushing water became. I inched around a large oak and came to a standstill.
Water spilled over a rocky cliff, slamming into the lake twenty feet below. Frothy white water bubbled over sharp, jagged rocks jutting out of the lake. As I lifted my gaze, vertigo swept over me. I reached out blindly, placing my hand on the tree for support.
Around a hundred feet above the waterfalls was a cliff. It wasn’t a smooth descent from there. Large rocks protruded from the side of the mountain, rising up between thick bushes and smaller trees. A stream of water snaked its way down the hill.
I had a hard time believing someone would’ve made that fall. There were too many bone-breaking obstacles in the way. But if someone was pushed…he or she would’ve cleared the hill. My eyes moved down the horrific drop. The person would’ve ended up in the lake below.
An unnerving sense of rightness settled deep in my bones. Pushed—Cassie had to have been pushed. And me? Did I take the same fall? I shuddered as I recalled the memory of falling…and falling. That had to be it.
Seeing the cliff didn’t spark any memories in me, but I knew—I just knew this was where it all had gone down. There had to be another way to get up there. The climb was too steep, and I doubted I would’ve made it. I needed someone who knew his or her way around here, who could get me up there. Maybe Scott? Carson? My belly warmed at the latter. He might know his way around, but running to him didn’t make sense, especially after seeing him with Dianna—
Snap!
I froze. What was that sound? Straining, I held my breath and listened. Birds chirped and the branches above swayed, but those weren’t what I’d heard.
Snap! Another twig snapped, followed a few more seconds by the distinct sound of someone walking. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose, and my heart leaped into my throat.
It came again, closer.
Spinning, I scanned the trees. It could be anyone—someone out walking or jogging. I strained to listen but heard nothing. Not even natural sounds. The whole forest had fallen deathly quiet.
A blur of black darted behind a tree up ahead. Catching it out of the corners of my eyes, I noticed that it was tall and definitely not bear-shaped.
“Hello?” I called out, my fingers clenching the car keys.