Still Waters. Heather Graham

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       3

      Night moves.

      He had expected them.

      Someone on the island was playing games.

      Innocent games? Searching for legends?

      Or games with far more deadly intent?

      Keith rose silently and waited just inside his tent, listening, trying to determine from which direction the noises were coming. There was a breeze, so the trees continued to rustle. But he had heard far more than the subtle movement of the palm fronds in the soft, natural wind of the night.

      Whoever it was, they had slipped across the sand and into the dense foliage of the interior.

      Looking for a skull?

      Or was there something more, something entirely different, going on? Perhaps he shouldn’t have told his ghost story. But he had told it on purpose, watching the others closely for their reactions. In the end, though, he’d learned nothing except that everyone seemed awfully easy to spook.

      But had he caused this movement in the night?

      He eased slowly, silently, from the tent and started across the white sand. Just ahead, barely discernible, the rustling sound came again.

      Suddenly there was a light ahead, as if whoever was there felt they had gone far enough not to be noticed.

      With the appearance of the light, he knew for certain he wasn’t chasing some nocturnal animal through the trees.

      He followed, quickening his pace as he left the beach behind.

      * * *

      Fear kept Beth dead still for several seconds until her instinct to protect the girls rose to the fore.

      She almost burst from the tent, to find...

      Nothing. Nothing but the sea by night, the soft sound of the gentle waves washing the shore, a nearby palm bent ever so slightly in homage to the breeze.

      She went still, looking around, listening.

      Still nothing. She told herself she needed to get a grip. She had never been the cowardly type, and stories were just that: stories. There were real dangers in life, but she had always dealt with them. She didn’t walk through dangerous neighborhoods alone at night. She carried pepper spray, and she’d learned how to use it. She even knew how to shoot, since their friends included several cops, who’d taken her to the shooting range and taught her how to handle a gun, though she didn’t choose to keep one, since her house had an alarm system.

      So why was she panicking?

      Because in her heart of hearts, no matter what anyone said, she was certain she had seen a skull. And it hadn’t belonged to any long-dead pirate.

      No one nearby, no sounds now. She still had to check on the girls.

      First she looked down the beach. All the fires were out, and she could see the tents, silent in the night. Keith and his buddies had tied a hammock to a couple of palms, where it swung ever so slightly in the breeze. Down from them, another group of tents, and farther still, a larger tent, all of them quiet and dark.

      She hurried over to the girls’ tent and looked in, her heart in her throat. But both of them were in the second of the two little rooms, and they were soundly sleeping. Their light was still on, turning their small bedroom into an oasis and everything around it into a black hole.

      She exhaled in relief and started backing out—straight into something solid, large.

      In her, terror rose and СКАЧАТЬ