High Tide (9781481413824) (13 page)

The window shades were still down and the bedroom was dark and full of shadows.

Flipping on the light, I peeled off my jacket and went to the closet.

I almost tripped as my foot hit something on the floor. I glanced down, expecting to see a stray shoe or a wadded-up towel.

“Hey—how did
that
get there?” I cried out loud.

One of my sweatshirts lay near the foot of my bed. With a confused frown, I bent down and picked it up.

And gasped as a dead sea gull dropped to the floor.

A butchered sea gull. Its head chopped off. Its body ripped open. Its feathers slick with blood.

As I stared at it in shock, I spotted a piece of paper poking out from under its blood-soaked body.

My heart pounding, I nudged the bird away and peered down at the words scrawled across the blood-spattered paper:
THIS IS YOU. YOU'RE NEXT.

Y
ou're next.

The words echoed in my mind as I walked to work the next day. The storm had passed and the sun blazed in the sky. Beachgoers hurried along the boardwalk and over the dunes, carrying coolers and towels and boogie boards.

I hardly saw their faces. Barely heard their happy, excited voices.

I couldn't stop thinking about the torn, blood-soaked sea gull and the note wrapped in one of my sweatshirts.

This is you,
it said.
You're next.

No way was that a hallucination. And neither were the threatening phone calls. I'd heard the voice on the phone. I'd held the bloody note in my hands. I'd
cleaned up the dead sea gull and dumped it in the trash.

All that was real, I thought. It really happened.

Someone is definitely out to get me.

Who? I wondered. Who hated me so much that they wanted to rip me to pieces?

Leslie? Sean? The misty ghost of Joy?

Head down, I shouldered my way through the crowd and onto the beach. As I started toward the lifeguard station, someone reached out and clutched my arm.

“Sean!” I spun around, ready to fight if I had to.

But it wasn't Sean.

Instead, Raina stood there, gazing at me with a relieved expression on her face. “Adam, I'm
so
glad to see you,” she declared. “I've been looking all over for you. I never got a chance to thank you. For saving my life.”

“Then it really
did
happen?” I gasped.

Raina frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It's just that nobody else seems to know about it,” I told her. “It wasn't in the paper or anything. I can't figure it out, Raina!”

She held on to my arm. “Listen, Adam, I have to talk to you. Can we meet later?”

“Can't we talk now?” I asked eagerly. “I really need to talk about this. I need to figure out what's going on. Raina, I really need you to explain—”

Raina shook her head. “I . . . I can't explain it,” she told me. “I have to show you.”

“Huh? Show me? Show me what?” I demanded. “Raina, please—”

“Meet me tonight. At seven o'clock,” she replied. “At the dock, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed. “But can't we talk now, Raina? I—I keep seeing Joy. I keep hearing her—”

She shook her head tensely. “I'm sorry. Not now. Just meet me, Adam. Seven o'clock.” She let go of my arm. Then she turned and ran off toward town;

I watched her for a second, my heart pounding. Why couldn't she talk to me? What did she want to show me?

Why was she being so mysterious?

Why did she seem so afraid?

At least I hadn't imagined the whole tragic afternoon.

Raina thanked me for saving her life.

It happened. It all really happened.

With a shrug, I leapt down to the sand and strode along the beach to the lifeguard station. Sean slouched in his chair. He didn't even turn his head when I climbed up.

What's his problem anyway? I wondered again as I stepped over his feet and sat down. What is he so steamed about?

I took a deep breath. “Listen, we've got to talk,” I told him.

No answer.

“Hey. Sean.” I turned and stared hard at him. He sat like a statue, gazing out at the beach. “Did you hear me?” I asked.

“I heard you,” he muttered. “Loud and clear.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What's been eating you?” I demanded. “Why have you been acting so weird?”

Sean glanced at me quickly, his dark eyes snapping
with anger. “I've got nothing to say to you,” he declared. Then he turned back to the beach.

“Great.” I sighed in frustration. “You know, you could give me a break,” I told him. “It isn't asking a lot. Not with everything else that's happening in my life.”

He grunted.

“You could show a little sympathy,” I said. “I mean, after what happened the day before yesterday. After Joy drowned. Did you ever think about how I feel after a thing like that?”

He grunted again. “Bad, huh?”

“It's been so rough,” I admitted. “Sometimes I feel as if I'm totally falling apart.”

I sensed Sean's eyes on me. I kept watching the beach.

Was I getting to him? Was he finally going to open up and tell me what was on his mind?

“And then last night,” I told him, “I came home and found a bloody sea gull in my bedroom. Somebody ripped it to pieces and wrapped it in one of my sweatshirts.”

I glanced quickly at Sean.

He gazed back at me, a look of total surprise on his face. “In your sweatshirt?” he asked.

I nodded. “A nice gruesome present for me. Scary, huh?”

He snapped his head back toward the ocean. “Yeah. Real scary,” he agreed. Then he glanced at his watch. “It's my break time,” he muttered. “Be back in twenty minutes.”

I sighed again as Sean climbed down the ladder and hurried off. Had he been faking that surprise when I told him about the sea gull?

I couldn't tell.

Oh, well, I thought unhappily. I
tried to
get through to Sean. I
tried
to make things up with him.

I don't know what more I can do.

I sat back in the chair and scanned the beach and the water. Everything seemed calm. Nobody was in trouble.

The sun grew hotter, making me thirsty. As I reached into my duffel bag for some water, a shrill scream suddenly pierced the air.

I dropped the bottle and leapt to my feet, my heart pounding.

More screams echoed across the beach.

Trouble, I thought. But where?

I gripped the railing and scanned the ocean.

There! People floundering around in the water, shouting and screaming and . . . laughing.

Laughing because the wind had turned their Sunfish over and sent them sprawling into the water. Laughing as they struggled to flip the little boat right side up again.

Nobody's hurt, I told myself. Nobody's going to drown.

They're just having fun.

I let go of the railing and sank into my chair. My hand shook as I picked up the bottle of water.

Fun, I thought.

I don't even remember what that is.

• • •

I trudged up the lane to my apartment at six-thirty that evening, feeling tired and hot.

And really steamed at Sean.

After treating me like the Invisible Man all afternoon, he split early. Again.

At least nothing went wrong, I told myself. The only time I had to blow my whistle was when two kids got in an argument and started swinging their boogie boards at each other.

But something could have gone wrong, I thought. And I would have been on my own. Again.

Sean used to be a good lifeguard. But lately he was pretty irresponsible.

Shaking my head, I let myself into the apartment. I dumped my bag on the couch and headed straight to the refrigerator for some ice water.

As I reached for the handle, I heard a noise.

A soft creak.

I tensed up, but then I relaxed as I heard another creak.

It's just the squeaky floorboards in the bedroom, I thought. Ian must be home. Good. I can tell him not to borrow my car tonight, just in case he was thinking about it. After the day I'd had, I felt like driving around by myself until it was time to meet Raina.

“Ian?” Forgetting the water, I hurried across the living room. “Hey, buddy.”

I stopped in the bedroom doorway—and froze.

A hulking figure stood in the room, his back to the door, one hand raised high over my bed.

What was that glinting in his upraised hand?

A butcher knife?

I
drew in a deep breath. “What are you
doing?”
I shouted angrily. “What's going on?”

His back still to me, the figure leapt away from the bed and stumbled into the closet door.

Furious, I charged into the room.

And stopped, stunned and terrified.

My bed had been slashed to bits. Gouged over and over and over, down into the mattress.

Pillow feathers floated in the air and drifted down onto the shredded quilt. Deep, savage slashes ripped through the sheet and into the mattress. Mattress stuffing littered the bed in thick, wadded clumps.

My sweatshirt lay on top of the sheet. Slashed to pieces.

It could have been me, I thought.

It was
supposed
to be me!

The intruder turned. Raced toward the open window.

Sunlight slanted across his face.

Sean's face!

With a cry I vaulted across the ripped-up bed, sprang through the air, and tackled him around the knees.

Sean bellowed in anger and struggled to keep his balance.

But fury made me stronger for once.

With another cry I grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed him onto the floor.

The knife flew through the air and skittered out of reach under the bed.

“What are you
doing?”
I screamed.

Planting a knee on his back, I twisted one of his arms behind him and yanked up hard. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Adam?”

Gasping, Sean twisted and squirmed under my weight. “Let me go. Let me go. You don't—”

I yanked his arm higher. He gasped in pain again. But I didn't care.

He's the one, I thought. Threatening me with those phone calls. That torn-up bird.

Sean is the one who's been driving me nuts. Trying to terrify me!

“Why have you been doing this to me?” I demanded. “Tell me, Sean! Why are you torturing me?”

“You?” Sean's face twisted in surprise. He lifted his head from the floor and tried to look at me. “What does it have to do with
you?”

“Don't pretend you don't know!” I shouted, pressing
down harder with my knee. “I just caught you sneaking around my bedroom with a knife.”

“But . . .”

“And what about those phone calls?” I reminded him.
“You're going to pay for what you did to me.
Don't tell me you didn't make them!”

“Okay, okay, I did,” Sean admitted. “Let go of me. Let me up. I—I—”

“You what? You got the wrong number?” I asked sarcastically.

“No! I thought . . . I was trying to . . .”

“You were trying to torture me,” I cried. “You called and threatened me. You left a bloody sea gull in the room, wrapped in my sweatshirt. And now you've slashed my bed to pieces!”

“Your
bed?”

“Yes!”

Sean let his breath out in whoosh. I felt his arm go limp as he stropped struggling.

“Oh, man!” he groaned. “Adam, listen—I thought
Ian
answered the phone that night. It
sounded
like Ian! I didn't know it was you.”

“Huh?” I gasped.

“That's right,” Sean continued. “And that sweatshirt I wrapped the bird in? I saw Ian wearing that sweatshirt the other day, so I thought it was his. Just like I thought it was
Ion's
bed when I saw the sweatshirt lying there!”