The Lifeguard Read online

  “I think we’re too close to the water, Skip! Maybe we should—” Kelsey began, but she never got to finish her sentence.

  For one split second the waterfall around them seemed to part, revealing a long, dark shape sprawled directly in their path, a shape they gaped at, unbelieving, even as they went right over it.

  “What the—” Skip fought wildly for control as Kelsey screamed. There was the sickening feel of earth giving way beneath them, and the dizzy sensation of spinning—on and on through the rain—

  Kelsey felt herself hurtling through the air…felt the ground smack into her face…heard the crash, somewhere, beneath the thunder and wind and rain—

  “Skip! Skip, where are you?”

  The scream stuck in her throat, strangely metallic; she gagged on it and felt it rush, warm and thick, down over her chin. Blood. Blood everywhere.

  What did we run over? In horror she tried to lift her head, spitting out bloody water and sand. Her whole face felt numb…she couldn’t feel her nose at all…

  “Skip? Oh, God…”

  She tried to crawl then, to drag herself toward where she had heard those last awful sounds—but the world was a dark void and the rain beat down on her, pinning her to the ground—

  “I’m coming, Skip! Hang on!” Why doesn’t he answer me—why doesn’t he call? “Skip!” She pulled herself to her knees, her head exploding with pain, and scrambled to her feet as water sloshed over her wrists. Was she too near the water, she wondered frantically—inches from the waves? She had no idea how far she’d been thrown in the crash—and now it suddenly occurred to her that Skip wasn’t answering because the jeep had gone into the ocean—

  “Skip!”

  It all looked so much alike—water and sky and sand and rocks—but no, it didn’t, she told herself angrily, it didn’t, it was fear making it look that way, and if she could just calm down and get her bearings—

  She saw the jeep then. It seemed to leap out of the rain at her, about twenty feet away, and as she stumbled toward it, she saw that it lay uselessly on its side. She drew in her breath, dreading to go any closer.

  “Oh, Skip,” she said softly, and she was there now, trying to peer underneath, trying to steel herself for what she would find—

  She found nothing.

  Skip wasn’t there.

  Startled, Kelsey staggered back. There was nothing but sand and water and storm. She was alone.

  Panic engulfed her; she turned in circles, screaming, “Skip! Skip! Where are you?” It was crazy—he couldn’t have disappeared—it was impossible! There was no place to go except the cliffs, and no one with an injury would dare risk the climb, especially in this weather. Kelsey’s brain reeled, and she choked back a sob. He couldn’t have just left her there—why on earth would Skip just go off and leave her—without making an effort to find her, without calling to see if she was all right…?

  Help…I’ve got to go back and get help—She had no idea how far they’d come, how long it would take to get back—she knew Justin and Neale were out somewhere on the beach—if only they would find her, if only they would come—But I can’t wait. Sick at heart she knew she couldn’t take that chance. If Skip were lying unconscious somewhere, his life might depend on her.

  Ducking her head into the wind, she tried to run…stumbled…tried again. Her head was throbbing; her left leg felt pulled at a strange new angle. She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, pushing herself forward by sheer willpower.

  She didn’t see the body until she stumbled over it.

  Sprawling beside it, she cried out in renewed pain and fear, her mind registering much too slowly as her eyes grazed over the figure facedown in the sand.

  “Oh, no…Skip—”

  But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t Skip.

  Even as she said his name…even as her hand plucked cautiously at the shoulder, even as she leaned close to heave the body over, she knew with a dreadful certainty that this was the terrible thing that had caused their accident, and that it wasn’t Skip at all.

  This body was plastered to the sand.

  Kelsey gave one last shove and it came loose, flopping over on its back like a weighted rag doll.

  At first she thought he was screaming. His mouth was open. And then she saw the yellow teeth, and the tongue swollen twice its size…

  And the gaping hole where the eye patch should have been—

  And the long red scarf twisted around his neck.

  And then she realized that Isaac was quite dead and that the screams were coming from other places—the wind—the sea—the dark caverns of her mind…

  Isaac! Her head pounded mercilessly, her chest squeezed in revulsion. Isaac! Washed up on shore like all his helpless, innocent victims, and now Kelsey was safe…Neale…Justin…everyone, at last, was safe…

  In morbid fascination she stared down at the grotesque figure and saw something shiny in one of his hands, something small and blue and shiny, part of it still wedged between his stiff, clawed fingers, as if Isaac, even in death, was loath to give it up.

  Curious, Kelsey leaned over and reached for it. Suppose he’s not really dead…suppose he grabs me and pulls me into the water and—Kelsey snatched the object away and jumped back, a frown creasing her brow as she examined the thing in the palm of her hand.

  It was a key.

  And she had seen it—or one just like it—once before.

  Kelsey felt faint, yet she couldn’t wrench her eyes from that key. And while the rain pelted her unmercifully, she was suddenly standing in the bright sunshine in a spot not far from this very beach, on another day, defending herself against Neale’s anger…

  “Only the lifeguards have keys to it…”

  Only the lifeguards.

  Skip’s key had been gone this morning. He’d said he lost it last night in the water…diving after the victim that nobody could find…

  “Oh, my God,” Kelsey whispered. She stared down at Isaac’s contorted face, frozen in a cold mask of fear. She remembered how she had struggled with him…how terribly strong he had been…

  But someone had been stronger.

  Someone would have to be stronger to overpower Isaac.

  And Isaac must have fought desperately for his life.

  Desperately enough to rip a key away without his attacker knowing it…desperately enough to rip a key from a chain around someone’s neck and leave a burn…

  She couldn’t believe it,

  Kelsey began to cry. For Beth. For herself. For Isaac. “Oh, no…no…”

  Only the lifeguards.

  She saw the shape, then, tall and distorted, a staggering blur through the fog.

  He wasn’t hurrying. He was taking his time.

  “… the tracking … that’s the real fun of it…they don’t see you…but they know they’re going to die…”

  “Kelsey!” Skip shouted. “I know you’re there!”

  And Kelsey ran…

  And knew she was going to die.

  Chapter 22

  SHE NEVER EVEN CONSIDERED where she would go. Panic left her with no sense of direction, and she raced along the beach in a mindless frenzy. Where was he now? How close behind her? Would he kill her first and then throw her into the sea or—

  “No!” she cried, wrestling with twisted, blood-spattered images, as memory after horrible memory washed over her. Skip’s temper, Skip’s jealousy, Skip’s ugly threats to Donna—they were all making sense now. She remembered his candidness with her that night in his bedroom, the beautiful deer head hung on his wall surrounded by all those muscle-building machines—“I just take it”—“I get whatever I want”—“she deserved what she got…”

  “…they don’t see you but they know…”

  Kelsey, I think someone is going to kill me.

  Beth had known, had suspected all along that someone was after her. How long had he stalked her, Kelsey wondered now, waiting for his chance, enjoying her fear and helplessness, knowing all along tha
t he would kill her in his own time…

  “She trusted you!” Kelsey cried and fell facedown as wind and spray hit her full force. She had to get up…get help…but it was like trying to wade through quicksand. She could hardly move her legs anymore. How many others had there been, how many girls that no one even knew about? And the murders at Skip’s school…those nice girls who would never get in a car with a stranger…girls that had just disappeared off the face of the earth? So he had satisfied his urges wherever he went…

  She heard his footsteps, plodding along behind her.

  She pulled herself up and ran for her life.

  Isaac had known who the killer was, and now he was dead. And it was her fault. Her fault for telling what she suspected, for trusting Skip, for being so nosy and getting involved… Skip was systematically disposing of all possible witnesses—and if Isaac was dead, everyone would think the mystery was over. Except that she had seen Isaac now, and she knew better, knew that he’d been strangled before his body had ever touched the water…

  Skip had played games with her. Twisted, little games of spying and sneaking into her room and listening in on the phone when he’d been next door. Isaac had tried to warn her, and she hadn’t believed him. But now Isaac was dead, and she had found him, and she had seen the key.

  She knew who the real killer was.

  Skip couldn’t afford to let her live.

  Kelsey stopped with a jolt. The cliffs were high above her, blocking her escape, just as they had prevented escape for so many, many others through all the centuries past. With a cry of terror she veered off, following the base of the incline until at last she stumbled out onto the road.

  The road that led up to the lighthouse.

  With the gate unchained and open.

  Kelsey plunged ahead, dragging herself up the steep rise. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out—she couldn’t feel anything anymore. Every sound was Skip—Skip bursting out of the rain, out of the fog, out of the shadows, to kill her. Funny, she thought, and had a sudden desire to laugh at the absurdity of it all—Neale had hated Skip all this time, must have suspected him all along—and I was afraid of Neale…

  “Kelsey!”

  She froze.

  The scream came out of the rain, not behind her now but above her, and not the same scream, but a different one.

  “Kelsey!”

  Panting, she stopped. The road, the rocks, everything was deserted. Through the curtain of gray rain she could see the lighthouse like a tall, wavy ghost, and the vague outline of its door at the bottom…and the vague black silhouette of someone just inside.

  “Kelsey,” the voice implored her, full of fear and pain, “It’s Donna—help me—”

  Somehow Kelsey made it. Somehow she managed to pull herself the last few yards across the ledge and fall in at the door, exhausted, grateful.

  “Donna!” she gasped. “Donna, where are you?”

  But the wind had come with her, slithering in through the holes and the cracks, and the only sound that answered was its long, shrill, empty moan.

  “Donna?” Kelsey whispered, and her voice throbbed back again in a hollow echo…Donna…Donna… She got unsteadily to her feet, looking around in awe.

  Most of the floor had rotted away, along with the floors up above. Where Kelsey stood she could look up through broken boards and fallen ceilings, up into the yawning hole of the lighthouse dome…the shattered remnants of the old light tower. High above her the rain came in, pattering around her in sharp, tinny drips, making puddles around her feet. Where doorways had once been, groups of small black shapes now clotted over broken beams, and as one of the shapes gave an uneasy stir, Kelsey stepped back in alarm, watching its bony bat wings enfold it once again.

  “Donna,” she murmured, and her eyes swept the gloom around her, indistinct forms she couldn’t quite make out because they loomed so far beyond the pale light…

  Light…

  Kelsey’s heart stopped. Across the room there was a grimy lantern, spilling light weakly onto the bare rock floor. Someone was here…

  “Kelsey, help me!”

  She whirled at the cry, ice in her veins. “Donna!”

  “I’m hurt! I think I’ve broken my leg—down here!”

  Down here…but I could have sworn I saw you standing in the doorway… “Where?” A mixture of fear and relief took over, guiding her gingerly over the rocks, making her voice quiver. At least Donna was safe—but what in the world had she been doing in here where she knew no one was ever supposed to be? “Hang on, I’m coming!”

  Kelsey picked her way nearer to the lantern. Now she could see the stairwell—or what was left of it—a yawning hole in the floor flanked by a wobbly rail. “What did you do? Fall?” She paused, waiting for an answer, but there was nothing. “Donna?” she called softly.

  Picking up the lantern she started down. It was a winding staircase of rusted iron, and with each careful footstep the whole thing threatened to tear away from its shaky bolts. Kelsey strained her ears, forcing her eyes straight ahead, away from the slimy walls and the mold that clung there, the grotesque shadows pulsing around her. Every footfall, every beat of her heart seemed magnified a hundred times. She felt as if she were descending into a grave. “Donna? Please answer me—”

  Echoes. She heard echoes, mournful and empty—wind crying and rain lashing and the soft slurp—somewhere—of water…

  Water…

  Kelsey’s foot plunged down into nothingness.

  Screaming, she flung out her arms to catch herself, but the useless bannister twisted beneath her grasp, loosening from the wall with a horrible groan. The lantern swung in a crazy arc, and as Kelsey pitched forward, there was a wide swath of pale light—stone walls—wet rocks—bats—and more bats—squirming restlessly—wings quivering—

  She landed hard, the breath knocked out of her, so that all she could do for several long minutes was lie there and stare at the lantern through a haze of agony. Through some miracle the light hadn’t gone out. And now she could see the wall, the rocks, the mass of bats, all in their proper, horrid perspectives.

  She seemed to be in some sort of cave.

  She heard her own breathing, shallow and labored, surrounding her on all sides, as if others breathed with her. There was a horrible stench in the air, like rotten meat. She gagged and put up her hand—felt blood again on her face. Her leg, bent under her, was throbbing unbearably. My leg…

  “Donna—” she tried to raise herself on her elbow, tried to penetrate the void and find her friend— “Donna, I think I’ve done the same thing—” She clutched at her knee, flinching, trying not to faint…trying to think what to do… “Donna, we were wrong…it wasn’t Isaac, it was Skip—we’ve got to get out of here, do you hear me? Donna, where are you?”

  But the voice that floated out of the darkness began to laugh…like Donna might have laughed…

  “Oh, Kelsey…Kelsey…” and it sounded so amused…

  Only it wasn’t Donna.

  Someone was trying to sound like her…but it wasn’t Donna…

  The voice laughed again, and it was the same laugh that Kelsey had heard once before…when she’d been alone that day…alone in the lighthouse…

  And still the voice laughed.

  And laughed…

  “Donna can’t help you,” it said.

  Chapter 23

  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE with her?” Kelsey shrieked. She struggled into a sitting position, bracing her arms against the cold, damp ground. How did he get in here? How could he have gotten here without my knowing? Her own pain and that awful smell rocked the blackness around her.

  The lantern cast a circle of sickly light upon the stone. Just beyond that circle, where the light couldn’t reach, a pair of shoes squished wetly and stopped.

  “Donna!” Kelsey was crying now, out of her mind with fear. “Where is she, Skip? What have you—”

  “Kelsey,” the voice admonished gently, still that high, sings
ong voice that was not—could never be—Donna…could never be human. “Kelsey, you made me make a very bad mistake…giving Donna your jacket the way you did…”

  Eyes wide, Kelsey listened, tears streaming down her face. “Where’s Donna? Tell me where she is—”

  “I mean, how was I supposed to know you weren’t wearing your own jacket? And there I was—with the wrong body on my hands—such a terrible waste…” The feet shifted, stirred the shadows, fell silent again.

  “But why?” Kelsey tried to move, to back away, but her leg wouldn’t hold her. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why?” the voice threw back at her, and it came from all directions, the whole cave resounding with mockery. “But it gives me so much power, don’t you see? So much…shall we say…inconspicuous attention? Why, I can walk right through a crowd and pick out my victim in broad daylight. Talk to her. Make her feel special.” The voice grew dreamy. “Take her out and show her a good time…” The voice grew sad, “Make her fall in love with me.” There was a brief, reflective silence, then it spoke again. “And—this is the funny part—she never even dreams that I’m going to kill her…never has slightest clue that I have her life…in my hands.”

  “You don’t have to do this! You have everything anyone could want!” Desperately she tried to stand, but slid down again on the slimy rocks. She knew he was watching her, smugly enjoying her struggles, and she backed farther away, farther away from the light.

  The feet moved forward. He was trying to keep her in sight.

  “But Beth cared about you! She trusted you!”

  “She did trust me. But then…they all did, really.” Another long pause, another touch of sadness. “I didn’t want to hurt Beth. But she found out about me, you see, so I had to. I had no choice. Sometimes people really don’t, you know.”

  She was stalling for time, inching her way back, wrapping herself in darkness. Surely the stairs were back here somewhere—if only she could grab hold—pull herself up—

  “I don’t have a choice now, you can see that, can’t you? I wanted you to stay here on the island…but now you know too much and you might tell, and then they’d put me away…”