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God, why did you not stop me?
The mounting anxiety was threatening to choke her.
“Are you okay?” Oliver’s concern sounded genuine. “Do you want me to stop? Turn around?” He took his eyes off the forest road for a moment.
“I have never been anywhere this remote. It doesn’t feel safe,” she forced the words out. There was no way she was keeping some old mill in the middle of a forest without a proper road or cell service. Maybe she should ask him to turn around.
“Open the window if you like. Take a few deep breaths.” He reached for her shaking hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
What was the grounding technique her counselor taught her? Five things to see. She scanned the forest as it slowly passed by her open window. Did the trees count as one? A squirrel scurried into the underbrush. The berries on the shrubs to the right. She was up to three. Deep breath in. Meghan looked at Oliver’s hand holding hers. Four. His eyes were filled with kindness, and perhaps even—she wouldn’t go there. Five.
“Better?” he asked.
She had to focus on four things she could feel. His lips on hers? Out of the question. Oliver’s hand tightened around her fingers. One. Was he thinking about the same?
Meghan, focus.
The smoothness of her useless cell phone. Two. A gust of wind blew inside the car, caressing her cheek and bringing in the summer chill of the mountains. As if woken from the dream, she noticed the birdsong, the rustle of the branches above, and then the sound of a rushing river. She could smell the water in the air mingled with the freshness of the pine needles.
Oliver slowed down as he entered a clearing. A large stone building towered in front of them. Her eyes took in the caved-in roof, charred walls, the broken second-story window, the large mill wheel stuck in place for decades, and the wide-open door calling her to enter. She looked to the right. A crow sat on the roof of a dilapidated barn.
One thing to taste. But this time, the exercise failed to ground her, for all Meghan tasted was fear. It hovered over the clearing much like the fog on top of the mountain—no wind could blow this dark cloud away. She felt that in her bones.
* * *
Oliver turnedoff the engine and glanced at Meghan. The feeling of guilt rose like a tsunami in his chest. From the expression on her face, he suspected she was struggling to chase away a panic attack. Why did he bring her here? Maybe he should have told her the entire story back in the village. But how would he find out if she had any information about the items the team was searching for? Perhaps Fred gave her some instructions or wrote a letter to Kate with an explanation, hinting at what this place was about. Oliver needed to know, without leading her on. Meghan was the only remaining link, and he couldn’t compromise whatever she may know, even if she was completely unaware of the value of the information.
“This is it.”
“I see.”
“Want to take a look around?”
This looks like a film set for a horror movie, only it is real.
“Let me call Stephen King first and send him a few pictures. He may throw an offer at me, and we could leave.”
“Great idea.” Oliver chuckled.
“If only I had cell service here.” She hoped that her snarky comment would lift the sense of doom that tried to swallow her. “Do you know what all those mounds of earth are all about? They look like small graves.”
“Fred was a bit peculiar, to say the least.”
“Hmm?” She frowned.
If only they had met under different circumstances, he would have wrapped his arms around her and told her that he knew of a thousand places they could enjoy exploring. Maybe he should do that. He could take her up the mountain to see the reservoir or ask her if she wanted to visit one of the natural spas in the area.
Get your head back in the game.
“Fred was digging around the mill. For years.”
“Digging?”
“Searching.”
“For what?”
So here they were. This was the perfect opportunity to tell her the truth about who he was and whom he worked for. Oliver’s eyes scanned the area around the dilapidated mill. On second thought, perhaps this wasn’t the best place.