Dare (22 page)

After a few short minutes, Fallbrook slowed the car and Brynna lifted her head, trying to listen to everything. She heard his window roll down and the muted voices of the funeral procession floating through the car window. She could make out Mrs. Shaw thanking someone for coming.

Brynna's heart went crashing against her chest.

“We'll be right over,” Brynna heard in the distance. “We're just waiting for Brynna.”

Her whole body seized. It was her father's voice.

“Shhhh,” Christopher said from the front seat. “Remember our game.”

Sweat and rage poured through Brynna and she struggled, trying to scream. If he was going to kill her, he could do it right now. But Christopher simply rolled up the window, stepped on the gas, and went right along humming to the radio.

They could have driven for minutes or possibly hours—time ceased to exist in the blackness where Brynna lay pinned—when Christopher turned down the radio.

“You know,” he said, “I am being so rude. You asked me a question and I didn't even answer it. What was the question again now? Oh, right, don't trouble yourself; I remember. You asked me why I was doing this.”

Brynna winced, tasting salt tears and metallic blood on her lips.

“Well, obviously you've figured some of it out by now, haven't you, Brynna? I mean, I know you're relatively smart. You were doing pretty well in my English class. Too bad you won't have a chance to bring that grade up. It did take you a long time to catch on, and I left you so many signs. Well, Erica did. If she can't speak, I figured I should speak for her.”

Brynna gritted her teeth, trying to pull her palms apart, trying to will the plastic tie to loosen.

Christopher clucked his tongue. “Nice room, by the way. You might want to remind your pops to lock the doors the next time he goes on a bender.”

Heat exploded in Brynna's cheeks, and she found herself feeling strangely ashamed, as if impressing a psychopath was something she should do. Then she thought of Mr. Fallbrook—Christopher, whoever he was—walking around her house when she wasn't around. Sweat broke out on her brow. Or had he been there when they were asleep? Had he been in the house while her mother worked upstairs, painting, oblivious to the world outside?

Fallbrook went on, and Brynna wished she couldn't hear him. “My name is Christopher. Shaw, not Fallbrook. Fallbrook was my stepfather.” Christopher's voice tightened into a low growl. “Talk about an evil son of a bitch. Bastard paid me no mind unless he was beating the snot out of me.” His voiced lightened again, the quick change eerie. “Don't worry; he paid for it. I made sure of that. See, that's kind of what I do. I make sure that the people who are responsible for things—bad things—don't get away with it. The world would be a very fucked up place if we let people get away with murder, wouldn't it be, Brynna? Don't answer that; I know you're listening. So why did I do this…”

Brynna pressed against the floor as the car shifted. She felt the motor slow down, and her fear became a striking terror.

If
he
slows
down, he's going to stop. If he stops, he's going to kill me.

Brynna worked against the restraints on her hands and ankles, not caring as the thin plastic tore into her skin.

“Remember when I put up that one daily topic? It was,
Write
about
a
time
you
were
really
scared.
Do you remember that, Brynna? I remember. I remember what you wrote. You wrote, ‘I don't remember ever really being afraid.' And I got your paper and I thought, hmm, that's funny. Because I would have been scared in the ocean at night. I would have been scared if someone I loved went into the water and was left there to die. Don't you think that'd be scary? I know it was scary for Erica. I know, because I saw it.”

Brynna's stomach dropped.

“I was following her to keep her safe. I always tried to keep her safe. And I did until you and your stupid dare.”

Everything inside of Brynna broke down. She stopped struggling and cocked her head to listen, feeling the tears loosen the back of the duct tape.

“Did you like the phone call, Brynna? The little replay of memory? I thought it was neat. I replay it a lot. There's more of it, you know. It keeps going on. It keeps going on to the point that Erica was begging for her life. You should have seen her out there, trying to hang on. She was a good swimmer that one, and feisty too. She begged me to help her. She kept saying, ‘Pull me in. I need to come in so I can help Brynna.' She knew you weren't a good enough swimmer.”

Brynna opened her eyes behind the strip of tape. Erica was looking for her? Erica didn't drown? Her heart started to thud as a dark realization came over her.

“I told her I would help her. She was my stepsister, you know? What kind of brother would I be? I got down on the pier ladder—I don't swim—and held an arm out to her. And you know what that little bitch did? She told me no. She told me she could climb up the ladder by herself.”

Brynna remembered Erica's words, so haunting that night as she pulled the blinds over her bedroom window: “It's probably my creepy stepbrother… He's got some crazy obsession, Brynnie.”

“It didn't take long for her to get desperate. The tide was pretty heavy. She got close enough and I grabbed her. Just grabbed her arm. She still flinched. I mean, I was risking my life to save this little bitch—I was in water up to my waist! And she flinches. But I caught her. Caught her by that beautiful long hair of hers.” Brynna could hear him breathe deeply. “I was going to save her. I pulled her toward me and she struggled. She said some awful, hateful things. But it was nice having her body against me, struggling like that.” He giggled, a sound so evil it made goose bumps shoot up all over Brynna. “And then I pushed her down. It made her struggle more, you know? Being held under the water. I wrapped my arms around her and held her there. I could feel her kick and scratch.”

Brynna's body wracked with sobs. She wanted to make Christopher stop, would have begged him if she could talk.

“She fought real hard for a minute and then…then I could feel it when the life left her body. It was magical. I never felt anything like that. I couldn't wait to do it again. There was another girl, at a pool where I used to work. But she wasn't like Erica. Erica was special. That spot, Harding Beach? Special. I knew there was only one way to get the feeling back.”

Brynna bit back bile, the tears coming so full and so hard that her whole body shook, the zip ties continuing to dig into her limbs. Finally, her body thunked against the seats when Christopher lurched the car to a sudden stop. She strained, listening for anything she could use, anything that could help her. She prayed for noise, for people, but everything was silent in the car until she heard the click of Christopher's seat belt.

She held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut and doing her best to make herself smaller under the blanket as she heard Christopher round the car and pull open the back door. He pulled off the blanket, and shards of light flit in through the gaps in the duct tape over Brynna's eyes.

But she didn't need her vision to know exactly where she was.

In one fell swoop, faint light burned Brynna's eyes, and her skin screamed from the quick rip of the tape. Christopher was smiling down at her, the smile that looked so calm behind his desk in her English class looking nothing short of maniacal as he studied her. He took a heavy, deep breath, and Brynna craned her neck, looking around her. Twilight was setting in.

“Don't you love that smell, Brynna? The sweet sea air. I don't think I can ever get enough of it.”

He reached in and grabbed her by her clothes, dumping her with a thud in the parking lot on the edge of Harding Beach. He shut and locked his doors, and Brynna found herself laughing uncontrollably, the idea of a murderer locking his car doors against burglars suddenly seeming incredibly ridiculous to her. Christopher whirled.

“What the hell are you laughing at?”

Tears were running down Brynna's cheeks. She was hysterical, knowing that Christopher wanted to kill her—was going to kill her. He crouched forward, his face screwed up in fury, and ripped the tape from her mouth.

“You're going to die today, Brynna. You find that funny?” He gave her a swift kick in the ribs, pain shooting out like a starburst from her chest. She whimpered.

He gathered her up, and even through her clothes, Brynna's skin crawled when his body made contact with hers.

“If you really loved Erica, if you were a really good friend, you would have stayed out there to help her. You could have saved her.”

“But you…it was you.”

Christopher shook his head sadly. “If you had been there for her, if you had been looking out for her, then I wouldn't have had to. I wouldn't have gone into the water. I was just trying to save her, but she started to scream.” A biting anger crept into his voice. “I was just trying to put my arms around her to keep her afloat, but she kicked and she bit me. She called me a freak.” He paused, eyes flashing silver. “You should have been there. You should have been there when she stopped kicking.”

He looked at her with a bizarre kind of sorrow in his eyes, and Brynna's mind raced, trying to figure out what to do. She could scream, but Harding Beach was far back off the road and off the beaten path. Even if she could run, there was nowhere she could go.

“You don't have to do this now. You don't have to.”

He kicked her feet while he held her up, his lips at her ear. “I have to do this. You
made
me do this. You and Erica. You could have stopped me.” He paused, his knife-sharp eyes burning into hers. “But you just let her die.”

“No,” Brynna mumbled. “I didn't know. I didn't know where Erica went. It was dark and I couldn't see her.”

“She was so, so scared all alone out there. Especially before she knew I was watching her.”

Brynna's stomach churned.

“And now I've been watching you.”

She tried to turn away, but he pressed his lips harder against her cheek, wrapping her hair around his hand. “I've learned a lot since Erica though.”

He gave her another kick and lifted her as they slowly made their way to the beach. The tears rolled over Brynna's cheeks, and she did her best to look around, eyes darting for anyone who may be nearby. She saw the remnants of a bonfire—a couple of smashed red party cups and a forgotten, sand-covered blanket—but no people. Christopher's eyes followed hers and then he grinned. “No one to hear you scream.”

His voice sent a tremble of fear shifting down her spine, and she lost her breath when he swept her up and carried her to the tide line.

“Don't do this. Oh god, please don't do this.” Brynna struggled against her restraints, feeling her feet and hands move just a slight bit more than they had in the car. Not by much—not enough to free her.

Christopher gazed down at her then rolled her from his arms. She landed with a sickening thud, her body falling like the dead weight that it was, smacking against the wet, hard-packed sand. Brynna struggled to catch her breath, tried to steel herself against the sudden pain ripping through her whole left side.

Christopher pulled her onto her back, bracing himself over her. Brynna's hands and feet dug into the wet sand, doing anything to put distance between the two of them.

“Wondering why I didn't just toss you off the pier? So I could hold you under like I did Erica?”

The glee on his face—the brightness in his eyes—was nauseating. Tears rolled from Brynna's eyes into her ears but were immediately washed away by the tide coming in. It was shallow, just about an inch, enough to wet her hair and flick a few drops into her ears.

“It'll take longer this way. When the tide comes in, I can watch you die.” He grinned, a hideously dark grin. “It will take a long, long time.”

Christopher pushed off her, sitting up on his knees, watching as the tide went out. Brynna stared at him, paralyzed. He shot her another grin then pushed her up on her side so that she was facing the water, facing the crashing waves. He patted her head. “Don't worry. We've still got time.”

Brynna watched in terror as the tide came in, wave after wave crashing over her. She turned her face away as best she could, avoiding the first few crashes of water, but as the tide got higher, the water splashed over her chin and her lips then washed over her nose. She tried to remain calm, to hold her breath, because just as soon as the tide would come in, it would go out again.

She watched Christopher stand up, still with that weird, serene smile on his face, and walk behind her. She could feel the sand fall as he burrowed one foot under her then kicked her again. She flopped on her stomach, and the water crashed over her, an icy wave breaking over the back of her head, flittering sand into her eyes, nose, and mouth. She coughed and he laughed, then the water was back, crashing over her. She watched it recede, the terror ratcheting up each time she noticed that the tide would go out less and less, the depth of the water increasing, closing the gap between the water and Brynna.

“Please, Mr. Fallbrook, don't do this!”

“Or what?”

Brynna had no answer. Her neck ached from arching it back each time the water closed over her. Her ribs felt splintered, broken and useless. Sand and salt water burned at her eyes.

She wanted to beg for her life—or beg for a quick death—but she didn't want to give Christopher the satisfaction. Besides, she had let her best friend die. If she had just waited for Erica…

A wave came, this time deeper, and Brynna's full body was plunged under. She held her breath, her lungs screaming with the effort as the water seemed to recede more slowly. When it finally drew back, it licked at her right shoulder, splashed over the arch in her back.

“Won't be much longer now.”

She felt Christopher's foot dig underneath her again and she winced, holding her breath even as every inch of her exploded in pain. The wave crashed as he lifted her, and suddenly, she was weightless, free, being sucked into the surf.

The water crashed over her head and plunged her down. She tried to claw, to paddle, but her hands were bound uselessly behind her. The water swirled, and she kicked her legs together, trying to find ground, trying to find a way to push her head out of the surf. Tension burned all through her, the adrenaline breaking into a hot, coursing rush through her system.

She wasn't going to die this way.

With a burst of strength that almost seemed otherworldly, Brynna cracked the zip tie that bound her ankles. The water sucked her in, disappearing behind her, spitting her out onto the rocky curve of shore.

She edged herself onto her feet, waves behind her, just in time to see Christopher rushing toward her, his face twisted in anger, his mouth open as he released a primitive scream that Brynna knew would stay with her whether she lived or died.

The waves crashed into her back and shoulders just as Christopher rushed her, knocking her hard against the water. She felt her whole body fly and then plunge back into the water, the rush of the ocean cruelly spitting her down. Her forehead hit the sandy bottom and she gasped, drinking in a mouthful of salt water. It burned her nostrils and felt as if it were searing its way through her body. Her lungs screamed. She kicked, trying to right herself—and then Christopher was on her. He yanked her up, and she began sputtering and coughing as the cool night air hit her cheeks. She gulped desperately, feeling her bruised ribs protest.

Christopher bear-hugged her and pulled back toward the shore, but he wasn't fast enough. The water swelled and crashed over them, lifting them both, sucking them further out. She felt Christopher's fingers digging into her flesh, then his fingernails as he tried to hold on to her. He was crashing into her, struggling against her, and Brynna remembered he couldn't swim.

She took a chance, plunging into the surf, kicking toward the pier. Christopher's grip on her tightened before the waves crashed again, breaking his hold on her. She was buoyed by the swell and shoved hard away from him. She thought of Erica, of the nights they had raced lane to lane, and dove hard, kicking until her legs burned and her heart hammered against her chest.

She didn't know how far she swam, but when she turned, she saw Christopher go under, disappearing into the dark water. Behind him, an ambulance and a police cruiser roared down the beach, casting red and blue lights across the water. Suddenly there were people charging down the beach, and she could hear voices and sirens against the sound of the surf.

Brynna blinked, the feeling of déjà vu overwhelming her. Her whole body ached, heavy with effort, and her legs started to cramp. She felt her chin slip into the water.

“Brynna!”

She couldn't recognize the voice. She thought maybe if she just closed her eyes… The water swirled around her ears, blocking out any sound. The water felt good, finally, caressing her, easing her into the tide.

It's over now,
she thought.
It's all over now.

The water lapped over her face and she slid down low, looking at the milky moon above her through the swirling, clear water. All the pain left her body. All the anxiousness, the stress—it was all gone, and she was going to keep her eyes closed and just rest, just rest for a minute or two.