High Tide (9781481413824) (12 page)

I sat up groggily, then squinted at the clock-radio. Ten-thirty. With a yawn, I turned the radio on.

“No chance for fun in the sun today, beach lovers!” the announcer declared cheerily. “The forecast calls for driving rain and gusty winds well into the evening. Beaches are closed to swimming, water-skiing, and all water craft. Unless you're a fish, you might as well plan to stay inside today.”

I snapped the radio off and stretched. No work today, I thought. Good. I could use a day off.

Yawning again, I gazed around the room. Ian's bed was rumpled and empty. Already at work, I thought. The boat-rental place never closes unless there's a hurricane.

Still groggy from my troubled sleep, I stumbled into the shower. As I stood under the hot spray, bits and pieces of last night's dream flashed into my mind.

The water scooter rocking across, the waves.

Mitzi falling off.

The scooter spinning around, cutting toward her through the water.

The blood.

Then what? Something different, but what?

Forget it, I told myself. Don't try so hard. Maybe it will come back to me if I just put it out of my mind.

As I shook the dream away, another image flew into my head.

Joy.

Floundering in the waves. Screaming desperately for me not to leave her alone.

Not to let her drown.

Another nightmare.

I shivered in spite of the hot, steamy shower. Could I ever put that nightmare out of my mind?

I shut the water off. Then I got dressed and hurried into the living room. My stomach had been growling since I woke up. Might as well feed it, I thought. It couldn't care less about your nightmares.

The cereal bowl still sat on the coffee table in a
puddle of milk. I cleaned it up, then opened the refrigerator.

Three cans of soda. An almost-empty carton of milk. One apple, half a chocolate bar, a piece of cheese with blue-green fuzz growing on it.

My stomach grumbled again.

You've got a choice, I thought. Stay here and starve. Or slosh through the rainstorm to the grocery store and stock up on supplies.

Definitely the store, I decided. It's better not to sit around anyway. If I sit around, I'll just think. Better to keep moving, even if I do get soaked.

Ian had borrowed my new windbreaker again. As I searched through the closet for my old one, I suddenly thought of Leslie.

She worked the morning shift at the coffee shop next to the grocery. She'd be there now.

Go see her first, I told myself. She was furious the other night, but she didn't mean what she said. Besides, I missed her. I should try to make up with her.

Do it now, I ordered myself.

Shrugging into the old jacket, I jammed a baseball cap on my head and hurried to the door.

As I reached for the knob, the phone rang. I went back to the kitchen and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Be careful,” the hoarse voice whispered.

“Who is this?” I demanded. “What do you want?”

“You'll find out,” the caller whispered. “Soon.”

The dial tone hummed in my ear. The caller had hung up again.

Somebody's after me, I thought with a shiver. But who? Sean? Leslie? Was Leslie angrier than I thought?

At least I'm not imagining this, I told myself as I stared at the receiver. I can still hear the dial tone. I heard the voice and the words. The threat is real.

With another shiver, I hung up the phone, then left the apartment.

Outside, the wind slammed against me, almost knocking me sideways. Raindrops pelted my face and dripped down the back of my neck.

As I hurried down the path and into town, I kept glancing over my shoulder. But no one followed me.

By the time I reached the coffee shop, the rain had started to soak through my jacket. The little bell over the door jangled as I hurried inside. I slammed the door against a gust of wind, then stood there, dripping and glancing around.

Not much business this morning. Only a couple of men sat at the counter, eating eggs and chatting with the waitress.

Leslie sat in a back booth, sipping coffee and gazing out the window at the lashing rain.

She must be on a break, I thought. Perfect timing.

As I walked toward the booth, my sneakers squished loudly.

Leslie turned away from the window, and her gray eyes narrowed when she saw me.

Still angry.

Angry enough to threaten me?

I didn't know.

I stopped in front of the booth and took a deep breath. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She gazed at me for a couple of seconds, then
drank some coffee. “You're dripping on the table, Adam.”

“Sorry.” I ripped off my hat and jacket and tossed them onto the seat. Then I slid in after them and faced Leslie across the table. “Leslie, listen,” I started. “About the other night—”

“Forget it,” she interrupted. She tucked her dark hair behind her ears and stared out the window again.

“I don't want to forget it,” I told her. “I want to talk about it. Clear the air, you know?”

“The air's already clear,” she declared coldly. “You lied to me. You told me you were feeling bad, and then you went out with somebody else.”

“I know,” I admitted. “It was a lousy thing to do.”

“No kidding.”

“But I went out with her only that one time,” I insisted. “I know I made a mistake. I don't even want to see her again. It wasn't that big a deal.”

“Obviously not,” she snapped. “Since you went out with
two
girls the very next night.”

I frowned. “But Raina and Joy—' ”

Leslie held up her hand. “I know, I know. Old friends from high school, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.

“Maybe so, but it doesn't matter.” She leaned toward me across the table. “Adam, I
cared
about you. I worried about you. About your nightmares. Your hallucinations  . . .”

She sighed. “I thought you were getting worse or something. And then I find you out dancing and having a great time! How do you think that made me feel?”

“Rotten,” I replied.

“Good guess.” She picked up her cup, then slammed it back down on the table. “Rotten and furious!”

“Okay, okay.” I sighed. “I guess coming here wasn't such a great idea.”

Leslie didn't speak.

I started to slide out, but then I stopped. “You know, I thought you'd be more sympathetic after what happened yesterday afternoon,” I blurted out.

“Huh?” Leslie looked confused. “What happened?”

“Don't you listen to the radio or read the newspaper?” I asked. “A girl drowned in the ocean yesterday. A girl I couldn't save!”

She gasped. “Huh? Are you serious?”

“No, it's just a big joke,” I said sarcastically. “Of course I'm serious. I was there! I tried to save her, but I couldn't. I was too late.”

I shook my head. “You ought to know I wouldn't joke about something like that.”

Leslie bit her bottom lip. “I watched the news last night,” she told me. “They didn't say anything about a drowning.”

She reached down beside her and slapped a newspaper on the table. “And this is today's paper. Look.”

Leslie flipped the paper around and showed me the main headline:
TOURIST BEACH RENTALS A RECORD HIGH.

“A drowning would definitely be the biggest story, right?” she asked.

“Let me have that!” I snatched the paper and
scanned the rest of the front page. No story about Joy.

I suddenly felt cold all over.

I frantically riffled through the rest of the paper, reading every headline.

No news story about Joy.

Nothing at all.

“W
hat's wrong, Adam?” Leslie demanded. “What's happening?”

I stared at her. “I'm not sure,” I muttered in a shaky voice.

Ian said it was real,
I remembered.

Ian said it wasn't a hallucination. It really happened.

“It—it happened,” I stammered. “Leslie, it really happened. Joy drowned yesterday. For some reason, the newspaper is trying to keep it secret.”

“Adam, you're not making sense!” she cried. “And your face is so pale. Are you okay? Do you feel faint? Put your head down on the table or something!”

“No, I . . . I'm okay. I mean  . . .” I grabbed my jacket and hat and slid out of the booth. “Listen, I've got to get out of here, Leslie. I need some air.”

She started to say something, then bit her lip. “Fine,” she told me with a shrug. “Don't tell me anything. Don't explain. Just go!”

I knew she was angry all over again, but I couldn't help it. What could I tell her? How could I explain anything? I didn't
know
anything!

Throwing on my jacket, I hurried outside. The rain had let up a little. But a thick, swirling fog had rolled in.

Keeping my head down, I hurried across the road, then took the path that led to the boardwalk.

No one strolled along the wooden walkway today. I had the whole place to myself. Perfect for thinking. For figuring things out.

Except I couldn't figure anything out.

Why didn't the newspaper have the story about Joy? A drowning at Logan Beach during tourist season had to be a major story.

The paper should have plastered it on the front page. The TV should have sent reporters and a camera crew. Everyone in town should be talking about it.

Why weren't they?

Ian knew about it. He said the police were there. He said the head lifeguard brought me home.

He felt so bad for me. He knew how a
second
ocean tragedy would mess me up.

Mess me up . . . mess me up . . .

My head spun. So much to think about. So much to figure out.

What about last night? I wondered. I saw Joy on the beach. Heard her speak. Found her footprints.

Except it couldn't have been Joy.

Joy is dead.

Drowned. Because of me.

I should call Dr. Thall the second I get home, I told myself.

Confused and scared, I walked on through the thick fog to the end of the boardwalk. As I started down the wooden steps, a voice called to me.

“Adam? Why, Adam?”

I spun around.

A girl stood a few feet down the boardwalk, staring at me. I couldn't see her face.

“Why, Adam?”
she repeated in a sad, lost voice.
“Why did you let me drown?”

I shook my head, blinked hard.

“Are you real?” I asked her. “Joy—is it you? Are you alive?”

She didn't answer.

The thick fog swirled around her. She faded into it, as if part of the fog.

As if made only of mist.

“I—I can't see your face,” I stammered. “Joy—is it you? Please tell me. Is it you?”

“Adam
 . . .” She called my name again in that soft, faraway voice.
“Adam
 . . .”

“Joy, I tried to save you!” I cried. “You've got to believe me!”

I held out my hand. “I tried to save you. You know I wouldn't just leave you out there. I came for you, Joy—but I was too late!”

The wind shifted. The fog swirled.

As the fog drifted around her, Joy faded into it. I squinted, struggling to see her face.

Stop her! I thought Don't let her get away.

Go after her. Grab her arm and shake it. Go find out if she's real or not!

But I couldn't move. I stood frozen as the wind gusted again. The fog rose and fell like a thick gray blanket.

When it lifted again, she had vanished.

“Joy!” I took a running step and slipped on the rain-slick boards. I fell to my knees and scrambled up, then raced down the boardwalk to where she'd been standing.

Gone. Vanished.

The cold fog closed in again. With a shiver, I hurried to the end of the boardwalk. As I leapt down the steps, I glanced back, half expecting to see Joy behind me.

But I saw only the thick gray curtain of fog.

Shivering again, I started home. But I changed my mind and walked back to the coffee shop.

I should talk to Leslie again, I decided. Tell her everything that's been going on. She said she cared about me, didn't she? So give it a try.

But when I reached the restaurant, Leslie had already left. “She took off for some reason,” the other waitress told me. “Just lit out of here like a firecracker. Didn't tell anyone where she was going.”

Still furious at me, I thought glumly.

Leaving the restaurant, I hurried into the small grocery store next door and stocked up on bread and milk and stuff. A few minutes later, I staggered into my apartment with a sack of groceries in each arm.

“Ian!” I called out. “You back yet?”

No answer.

I dumped the bags on the kitchen counter and wolfed down a banana as I put the food away. My clothes were soaked again, so I hurried into the bedroom to change.