But I was painting, she said, waving her hand limply.
Considering the canvas flew over the edge, Id say youre done for now.
Her gaze held his for a moment, then she sighed. Youre right. Who was I fooling anyway? The last bit was muttered under her breath.
Keeping one hand around her waist, he handed the box of paintbrushes to her and gathered the easel under his spare arm. Ready?
I guess. She looked at the edge of the cliff where her canvas had gone over.
Trust me, you wont find it. Gabe urged her toward the cottage. And if you did, you wouldnt be able to get to it. That part of the bluff is too steep to climb down and back up.
She smiled, a short quirk of her lips. The sun seemed to come out, then fade away as quickly as it rose in her face, her green eyes darkening with her frown. Really, I can walk on my own.
Prove it by walking with me first.
She let him walk her several yards away from the edge of the cliff before she glanced up at him. See?
Gabe reluctantly let go of her waist, a strange feeling of loss resulting from the separation. He wanted to keep her tucked safely in the crook of his arm. Must be that waiflike appearance she had about her. Her pale skin only emphasized the dark circles beneath her eyes, adding an air of mystery and tragedy to her beautiful features.
They crossed the distance between the cliff and the cottage in silence. Gabe didnt want to start questioning her until he was certain he wouldnt be picking her up off the ground again. A chair would be nice. And apparently, Ms. Davies wasnt anxious to talk right away, either, her lips pressed into a line, the frown furrowing her forehead more worried than angry.
When she reached the cottage and pushed the door open, she paused. Wont you come in?
Thank you, Ms. Davies. Gabe stepped inside and leaned the easel against the wall. The cabin was like so many other cabins along the coast, decorated in light, durable furnishings in keeping with summer vacation beach residences. The open living space had a large picture window facing the ocean.
Call me Kayla. Ms. Davies makes me sound old. She set the box of supplies on an end table and headed for the kitchen. One after the other, she rummaged through the cabinets, her movements brisk and efficient, but Gabe noticed the way her hands shook a little as she unearthed a teakettle.
Gabe stepped up beside her and grabbed her hands, kettle and all. Sit. He led her to the dinette table and pulled out a chair, forcing her into it.
For a moment, Kayla looked as if she was about to argue, but then the fight seemed to leach out of her. She stared out the window, her face blank, expression closed. I thought it was my nightmare.
What? Gabe sat across from her and continued to hold her hands in his. What did you think was your nightmare?
The scream. Her gaze shifted from the window to his face. I thought it was part of my nightmare. I did nothing.
His stomach did a flip-flop, the desperation in Kaylas face making him want to pull her back into his arms and shield her from whatever ghosts haunted her. He squeezed her hands in his. So you heard a scream?
Yes. I woke from a bad dream and was just going back to sleep when it happened.
What time?
Around midnight. I thought Id drifted off. I thought the scream was me.
And what do you think now?
I wasnt asleep. I know that now. She dragged her hands from his and buried her face in them. She screamed and I just lay there.
You couldnt have known.
When she looked up, he saw that her face was streaked with tears. I could have helped.
Or been just another victim.
If Id realized what was going on, I could have called the police.
Likely the man would have gotten away by the time we got there anyway. He took one of her hands in his again. You didnt kill her. Someone else did.
Her eyes widened and her free hand went to her throat. H-h-how did she die?
Gabes gaze focused on the yellow markings on her neck. Without having an autopsy report, I cant be certain, but she showed signs of strangulation.
Kayla gasped. Oh, God, no.
What?
No. She shook her head, more tears slipping down her cheeks before she buried her face in her hands again.
Kayla, whats wrong? He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.
Her body trembled beneath his touch.
This is my fault.
What? No, Kayla, I told you. Youre not responsible for what the killer has done.
Yes, I am. You dont understand. She looked up, the expression on her tear-streaked face deadly earnest. Im the reason it happened.
Gabe released her shoulder to reach down and take her hand. Does it have to do with the bruising on your neck?
She stared up into his face, but there was a vacant look in her eyes that made him uneasy, as if she didnt really see him there. He followed me, he must have.
Who followed you?
I dont know. Her hand clenched tightly around his. Hes come to kill me. And instead, hes killed that girl, that poor girl.
Who, Kayla? Gabe was filled with confusion. Was someone truly after Kayla? Uneasily, he realized that she did fit the same physical profile as the victimpetite frame and dark red hair. But did that really mean that someone was after her, or was her imagination running out of control? He didnt know her well enough to say.
Who do you think killed the girl? Who do you believe has come to kill you? he asked.
I dont know. She touched the fingers of her free hand to the bruises on her neck. I just know that he tried to before and almost succeeded.
Some of the blankness faded away. Her green eyes were steady and focused as they stared into his, and she spoke again.
Hes going to try again.
A few hours later, Kayla was alone in the house again. Officer McGregor had left after hed gotten the basic story of her attack. Hed promised to contact the Seattle Police Department for the official report in case the incident truly was related to the murder of the girl on the beach, but he had assured her that a connection was unlikely.
Cape Churn was a three-hour drive from Seattle, and by her own report, hardly anyone in Seattle knew where she had gone. The odds were very slim that her attacker would know how to find her. And yet, as Kayla stood barefoot at the window overlooking the road, she felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage.
The scenery out the front of the cottage wasnt quite as picturesque as out the back overlooking the ocean, but she could see when people drove up or passed by on the road.
For now, the ocean view had lost its appeal. Her easel stood beside the back window, the view as glorious as the day before, the sun high in the sky, casting brilliant light over rocky cliffs and steely gray water speckled with white-capped waves. But Kayla couldnt find the right colors on her palette to start, an image of a body floating in the current swimming through her mind, taking away from all the glory of nature.
A woman had died pretty much outside her cottage the night before and she had heard her cry for help.
She couldnt stop thinking about what would have happened to her if someone had not heard her cries for help back in Seattle. What if her attacker had finished her off, taking her lifeand her babys lifethe way someone had taken the life of the woman found on the beach?