Page 111 of Secrets Along the Shore (Beach Read Thrillers #1)

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

Tabitha Rooney trimmed the rosemary bushes with quiet determination, the blades of her shears reflecting the piercing morning sun.

The pungent scent lingered in the air, sharp and sweet, and I paused at the porch, overcome by a strange familiarity.

There were more of the bushes than I realized—tucked under windows, lined along the walkway, sprouting in the overgrown garden bed that wrapped around the lodge house.

The dream came rushing back: the sting in my ears, the needle gleaming gold in the man’s hand, the same pungent smell.

Rosemary. It hadn’t just been a dream. My body remembered it as the fresh cut herb wafted up, reaching the olfactory space in my cerebral cortex, awakening memories through my powerful sense of smell.

I stepped down the stairs as if in a trance, inhaling deeply to bring every detail of my past back. The sense of sound wouldn’t do it for me, but smell unlocked my brain to everything suppressed.

Including my name.

Katherine Nieves was me.

I was Katherine Nieves.

I knew it as though it was a part of me, because it was—all the way to birth. I hadn’t been abducted from the school, as the article stated. My name had just been erased—from the school, the world, and almost in my mind .

Why?

Sheriff McNealy’s cruiser pulled into the driveway, stealing my search into my resurfacing memories. He stepped out with a wary expression, eyes narrowing as they swept over me, Tabitha, and the surrounding property.

He said something I couldn’t make out because of the distance between us…or because my brain couldn’t read lips while it was also reading my memories.

I met him halfway. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

“You said there was a body,” he replied.

I nodded, suddenly dragged back to the present danger when all I wanted was to figure out the danger of my past. But I let the last twenty-four hours pour out of me.

“In the basement. Under the stairs. After someone slashed my tires, they then destroyed my electrical panel. I had no power and had to go down to the basement to try to fix it. I lost my phone light when I fell on a boot. A leg. It was so dark, I don’t know who it was.

But the guy didn’t move. I managed to run out and saw a man standing by my car.

I escaped in the rowboat over to Becca’s house and stayed there last night. I also want to show you a secret room.”

Sheriff McNealy turned and studied my car.

“The tires are fixed now. I think Evan must have come over and fixed them during the day yesterday.”

“I see,” Sheriff McNealy said, but from the way his brows raised, he wasn’t sure I was telling the truth.

“They were all slashed. All four. I’m not making it up.”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you are. But all this happened with the dead man last night? Why didn’t you call immediately? When you got to Becca’s?” He opened the front door, standing back to let me in first.

Becca stood by the fireplace, fear in her eyes.

I locked my gaze on her through the doorway and remembered my promise to her. And I would keep it.

“I’m not sure. I guess I was too freaked out. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He gave me a measured look and removed his flashlight from his belt, right behind his gun holster. “Let’s take a look together. Shall we?”

I glanced back at Tabitha and found her watching me, paused in her work, meeting my gaze. Her expression was unreadable, but something in it felt like a warning. Or maybe that was just my paranoia clinging to everything like a shadow now.

But the body would prove I wasn’t going mad.

I entered the house and led the sheriff to the basement door, needing to vindicate myself. We descended the stairs, but knowing I would see the dead man now in the light of Sheriff McNealy’s beam, I moved slowly as I came around to the back of the steps.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at nothing but empty concrete.

Nothing but my smashed phone.

No body. No blood. No scuff marks or evidence that anyone had ever been here, except for me.

“It was right here,” I whispered, pointing to the space under the stairs. “I touched him. He was real.”

Sheriff McNealy scanned the space with his flashlight. “There’s no sign of anything. No drag marks, no blood. If someone moved a body, they did a good job cleaning it up. Are you sure you didn’t grab that pipe along the wall?”

He shined his light on a long metal pipe that ran from one end of the basement to the other.

“It was a boot.” I said, pulling at my hair, trying to remember the feel of the tread on the sole.

Not metal. But the body was cold. Could it have been a metal pipe I grabbed?

Was I wrong? Had the panic and sensory deprivation made me hallucinate it all?

My knees buckled slightly, and I leaned against the wall.

“I believe you believe it,” McNealy said, holding his light up to his face so I could see his words. But all the beam did was cast him in a vicious light. Not what I needed at the moment. “Just like the tires. But you look unwell, McBride. When was the last time you slept? Or ate?”

“Too long,” I muttered, realizing I had other deprivations too. What did he mean by unwell? Like I’m losing my senses? Was I? “My tires were slashed. I know what I saw.” I looked at the concrete. “ And I know what I felt. I may be Deaf, but my other senses work fine.”

“Okay, let’s get some air. Maybe this secret room you mentioned has something more tangible.”

“Yes. I want you to see it all. Then you’ll know what happened in this place. And you won’t think I’m going crazy.”

I led him up to Scanlon’s bedroom and into the hidden study behind the bookcase. The air seemed minimal as I shared the space with this tall man. I pointed to the photograph I’d found—the one with Livvie and the man in my dream. I’d left it on the shelf when Becca found the syringes.

“Do you recognize this man?”

Sheriff McNealy picked it up, squinting at it. “Not a local. But maybe. Can I take this? I’ll cross reference it to other photos.”

“I think he was the man who performed experiments on me and erased my memory.” I moved to the cabinet with the syringes. But not it wouldn’t budge. “The proof is in here. Where’d that crowbar go?”

“Crowbar? Experiments? Okay, Scarlett, let’s go downstairs. This is an interesting study, and I can help you box all Scanlon’s things up and get them to his family. I think the task is exhausting you. Come on, let’s get out of this dusty place.”

Together, we returned downstairs, the photograph still in the sheriff’s hand. Becca was sitting at the table in silence, her eyes wary as we entered.

McNealy held up the picture. “Do you know him?”

I was glad he was asking. If this was the man Becca had been with that night, I wanted to see her admit it.

Becca took the photo in her hand. But all I saw were tears fill her eyes as she studied it. “Olivia was so beautiful. She would have been twenty-five now. I don’t have this photo.”

“But what about the man in it? Scarlett says this man abused her. Do you know him?”

Becca’s eyes widened as she glanced up at me. “He hurt you? I’m so sorry, Scarlett. You remember now? I thought it was just a dream.”

“A dream?” Sheriff McNealy’s raised eyebrows were back as he glanced my way. “You’re accusing someone based on a dream? Scarlett, I can’t do anything with that.”

I stepped forward quickly. “Becca, that night…Livvie tried to warn me. She didn’t want me to come to your side of the lake.

She said it wasn’t safe. She said you took her flashlight.

That you were with a boy. Sheriff McNealy—” I glanced back at the man “—tell her you heard that too. Ask her if this was the boy.”

Becca’s mouth twitched, then a small smile. “Scarlett, you were always so dramatic. What are you talking about?”

Stunned, I glared her way. “It’s time, Becca, to tell the whole truth. You want to know what happened to Livvie? Tell us about this boy.”

Becca looked at me for a long moment. Something moved behind her eyes—regret, maybe, or rage. Maybe both. Definitely a vacancy crossed her expression. She glanced at the photo and touched Livvie with one finger, tracing her sister’s face.

“She was so beautiful.”

I reached to tear the frame from her hands, but Sheriff McNealy was faster. He yanked me back before I made contact.

“She kidnapped me last night,” I blurted. My promise to Becca was over. I would spill all the details. “Look at my wrists. She put handcuffs on me when I went to her house for help.”

“Okay, McBride,” the Sheriff said, his face heavy with disbelief. “Maybe Becca’s right, and you do have a flair for the dramatic. If she kidnapped you, then why is she in your kitchen having a cup of tea? Nothing you’re saying is matching up.”

Sheriff McNealy turned to Becca. “I’m sorry, Becca. You don’t need this. Keep the photo for your collection. I can’t do anything with it. Scarlett, let me hire a moving company to pack this place up. It’s obviously too disturbing for you.”

“Talk to Evan. He saw the car. He must have fixed the tires.”

The sheriff’s phone buzzed, and he checked the screen and frowned.

“I haven’t seen him today. I need to head back to town for a real call.

I’m a little worried about you out here, Scarlett.

I don’t see any evidence of a body, but if it will make you happy, I can come back to test for blood. Will that make you feel better?”

I felt myself growing annoyed with everyone, including this lawman.

He was proving to be useless. But I still needed his help.

“I would appreciate that. Thank you. Also, can you contact Monroe for me? I’ll need him to fix the electrical box.

I’m not looking forward to another night of darkness in here. ”

“Will do.”

“Great, and when you talk to Evan, tell him he lost the listing. I’ll find another agent. Maybe Scanlon’s ex-wife. She’s the only one in this town who seems to be honest.”

McNealy nodded absently, still reading a message. “If you don’t like it here, then it might be time to leave this place behind. Are you thinking of settling here?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Then pack it up and walk away. Let the real estate agent and lawyers handle the sale. Take the money and go live your life.”

“I will. But not yet. I have some things I need to know first.”

“Like what? What could Scanlon’s old files and books possibly tell you?”

“Why he chose me, and not just back in school, but why did he leave this place to me?”

“Who cares? Take the money and run.”

Sheriff McNealy left, and I stood on the porch watching him go, while the rosemary swayed in the surrounding wind. The scent drifted toward me again, intoxicating and sharp.

Did I dare believe the responses it gave me as real memories?

I stepped off the porch and crossed to the edge of the garden where Tabitha worked.

“Why so much rosemary?” I asked.

She shrugged and faced me. “Scanlon liked it. Said it helped the children. Helped them heal.”

“How?”

“He refined it to oil. Oils from certain plants are medicinal. He always cared about your wellbeing.”

I kneeled beside her to see her lips clearly. “Did you ever see him do something with the oil?”

She clipped a branch, her hands steady. “I kept to the garden. That was my job. ”

“So, no, you didn’t see what he did with it.”

Tabitha turned to me, her eyes sharp now, clear. “What are you getting at?”

I swallowed hard. “It wasn’t for our wellbeing. Livvie was going to tell.”

She frowned. “Sweet girl. Too smart for her own good.”

My pulse quickened. “Too smart about what? What do you know that you refuse to tell me?”

Tabitha stood, brushing dirt from her knees. “That girl had always been troubled after her time here.”

“Troubled? Or trouble?” I wasn’t sure I read her lips correctly. “Are you saying she killed herself?”

Tabitha shrugged. “Like I said, these kids were…disturbed. Death brings peace.”

Air expelled from my lungs in a shocked rush. I stared out over the lake that took her life. The surface rippled gently in the breeze, but the picture Tabitha painted was uglier than I could have imagined.

Suicide?

I refused to believe it.

“I’m going to find the truth about what happened to her. To all of us. I’m the last one alive, you know.”

Tabitha nodded once. “They’re all resting now, free as they should have been.”

“You don’t think I’m free?” I demanded an answer.

Tabitha paused mid-snip. “Do you feel free?”

I thought of my dreams, never ending with no answers. But if the alternative was death, I didn’t want that either. I was faced with one choice only.

Walk away and forget it all.

My answer to both questions was the same.

“No.”