Prologue
Shay
PAST
It burned. Everywhere and nowhere. Slices in my skin that made it feel as if hot lava had been poured into my flesh. I couldn’t count them, had lost track after the tenth. I tried to move, to somehow escape. Only my fingers twitched.
Sounds. Voices. Hovering above me. They were everywhere and yet nowhere. Pinpricks of light, like glimmering stars on the darkest night.
“Miss? Can you hear me?”
I managed a low moan. I only wanted the pain to stop. The agony tearing through my body. I craved a blanket of nothingness. An endless sea where I would cease to exist altogether.
“I’m an EMT. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
“Hurts.” It was the only message I cared about getting across. This woman might have the power to lessen the burn.
A hand slipped into mine, blood sliding down my arm to bind us together, the liquid already growing tacky with the passage of time.
“I know. Just hold on.”
I didn’t want to hold on. I wanted to float away to a world where none of this was real. Where pain didn’t exist—only light and peace and relief.
“Can you tell us who did this to you?”
My eyes fluttered. My cracked lips parted. I could only manage two words.
“My brother.”
1
Shay
PRESENT
I stepped over a tree root and avoided the rock that was a recipe for a twisted ankle. After three years, my feet knew this path by heart. From the meadow, through the thick forest, to the sea encircling this piece of land. Some people would feel claustrophobic, knowing that they were surrounded by water. It made me feel nothing but safe.
The constant sound of the sea lapping against the shore, the hint of salt in the air. All of it was a balm that soothed the worst of my frayed edges. Assured me I was protected. When I jerked awake from a nightmare, I had only to lean towards my window to strain for the sound of water, inhale deeply for the scent to know I was okay. Only the comfort of my mother’s arms would’ve been better.
I followed the path as it dipped down towards the water, the beach, and the dock. The majesty of the view never got old. The deep blue-green of the water. The other islands in the distance, popping up like forest green sea turtles. I could get lost in it. And if I were lucky, an orca might crest as the beauty held me captive.
I jogged down the steps built into the small cliffside, heading for the boat shed. I flipped the combination on the lock and pulled the doors open. Kayaks lined the walls, along with life jackets, floats, and toys. I grinned at the inflatable unicorn propped up against the corner. Lucy loved the thing. Last summer, she’d spent half her time here, tooling around our little cove, lying on its back.
I was ready for the Dowds to return. It had been months since they’d visited the island. As the kids got more involved in extracurricular activities, it became harder and harder for them to steal away from Seattle for a weekend or week at their vacation home. And as the caretaker for the island, that meant I was alone.
I usually soaked up that peace. It meant I could relax. I didn’t have to guard my words or make sure I wore long-sleeved shirts. I didn’t have to worry about letting something slip that might give me away. I was free.
But as the days dragged into months, the loneliness sometimes caught hold. And the more years that passed with me on this thirty-acre plot of land in the middle of the sea, with only occasional visits from my employer, the loneliness grew fiercer. I gripped the door just a bit harder as I glanced at my exercise mat and weights in the corner of the shed. I usually reserved mornings for my workouts, but maybe today I needed town. The bustle of people, even if I never said a word to any of them.
I snatched up the keys to the boat and made a silent promise to myself that I’d pull the weights out this afternoon. Heading for the Boston Whaler, I checked the waters around our little island. Not too many vessels out and about on this Tuesday morning. I usually avoided the high-traffic times—my nautical prowess was still on the beginner side. But at least I’d become comfortable navigating the massive speedboat to Anchor Island.
Our small chain off the coast of Washington had a number of populated landmasses. Shelter had more shopping options, but I always opted for Anchor whenever possible. Shelter had too many tourists, even in the winter months. I always feared I would run into someone who recognized me. Someone from my old life, or a random stranger that would put two and two together because they’d watched some of the relentless news coverage of my life—the near end of it anyway.
The boat cut through the water with ease, saltwater dancing up in an artful array. The ten-minute trip from Harbor Island to Anchor was over in a blink as I pulled up next to one of the town docks. I tied off the boat and grabbed the bit of cash I always kept in the cabin.
Anchor was still a bit sleepy this morning, but fishermen and a couple of charter tour companies made the dock feel busier than the rest of town. I sidestepped a man hauling a cooler onto his boat. “Morning,” he called.
“Good morning,” I echoed. It had taken me some time to get used to the innate friendliness of the people here. Having grown up in a city, it had made me wary when everyone I passed greeted me. Even worse when someone helped to load my groceries onto my boat. Even now, it was a careful dance. If I protested too much, people became curious. If I let them in too often, they could become overly familiar.
I’d stuck to warm greetings but refused offers of help. I imagined the guys on the dock had decided that I was just a hell of an independent woman. And it was true. I’d worked incredibly hard to build this life for myself, thinking of every possible pitfall and danger. Disappearing without changing one’s name or ID was a challenge, to say the least. But when you had no other options, you got creative.
I headed down the dock and towards The General Store. The island had one of those big grocery stores away from the quaint downtown area, but I preferred the heart of the little brown-shingled market and used it whenever I could. It helped that half my paycheck each month was deposited into my account there. No one could track my spending that way.
I pulled open the door, the warmth of the air soothing the chill that had settled into my skin on the ride over. “Shay!” a voice called from the back.
A smile stretched across my face as I made my way to the small kitchen at the back of the store. “I wasn’t sure you’d be in today.”
Caelyn made a face as she rounded the counter. She looked as if she might hug me but settled for a shoulder squeeze. I tried to let myself relax, but I still wasn’t used to people touching me. It felt awkward and unpracticed.
“I’m still here in the mornings, Monday through Friday.”
“Glad you’re not disappearing on me altogether.”
Caelyn had become my point of human contact—other than the Dowds. We’d formed a friendship of sorts over the past few years. I wasn’t sure that she thought of me as a friend exactly, but casual acquaintanceship for her, was a lifeline to me.
She grinned. “Never. How about a breakfast sandwich? I’ve got your order in the back, too.”
“A breakfast sandwich sounds great.” I slid onto the closest stool.