Ten

Jayla twists and her flashlight beam joins mine. "Shit. That really looks like it."

I touch it, and my finger comes back red. The blood is dry around the edges with a dull glint where the middle is still damp.

"There's more over here," Jayla says.

We follow the droplets. They lead to a custom-made sign.

WARNING! DEEP ROCK CREVICE AHEAD! PLEASE DON'T WALK UP HERE!!!

Yep, far too many exclamation marks, with a garish font in lettering as red as the blood below. I've posted three of these signs, plus I include it on the "Hazards" page of my visitors' book and there's a clause in the contract requiring that renters read that hazards page and share it with all family members. I've still had one person fall—bumps and bruises only—and one tumble in and get stuck. The latter said I should "block off" the crevice, as if I could just nail boards into rock to cover a twenty-foot-long crack.

There's a drop of blood on the sign. I'm examining that when Jayla steps past me and then:

"Motherfuckers!"

I glance over to see what prompted the extra-special profanity. She's looking at a flat pale rock just past the sign, the sort that invites graffiti, and I've had to scrub off initials more than once. What's on it right now is different. It's a circular design, drawn in blood.

I shine the light on it as I hunker down.

"Hex circle," Jayla mutters.

When I don't answer, she waves at it. "That's what it is, right?"

"I'm not exactly an expert."

"Compared to me you are. Don't tell me you didn't know that's what the thing on the crawlspace door was… and that you didn't look it up to see what exactly it meant."

I did, and it was a fairly standard hex, which made me even more certain it was fake staging. Do an internet search for "hex circle" images, and it's the first one that pops up.

This is different. It's not so much painted on as smeared. It also just… looks different. If it weren't drawn in blood, I'd think it was a renter's kid making a design on the rock. Finger painting—that's what it looks like. A rough circle with slashes and swirls.

"It's different from the other one," I say, "but I suspect they were in a hurry this time. They had some pig's blood or whatever and dashed something out." I start to rise. Then I pause and walk around to the other side of the circle. "From here it looks like stick figures. Two of them holding hands."

Jayla joins me. "Kind of?"

"Like seeing dragons in the clouds, right?" I shake my head. "If that's what they were going for, they did a shitty job of it. Strike all artists from the list of suspects."

"How fresh is the blood?" she says.

"Again, I'm the expert?"

"Tell me you don't have any idea."

I shake my head. "Fine. It's not wet, so it isn't fresh. There was rain two days ago, which would have damaged it. So maybe yesterday?"

She peers around. "This afternoon, we stood over there. We wouldn't have seen it. Did anyone walk over here after that? When we were looking for clues?"

"We'll ask if anyone noticed the rock. If so, then it happened after that. Oh, check out the lichen over here. It's crushed."

As I take another step, following the crushed lichen, she says, "Watch out for the crevice."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Just reading the helpful sign. Could you have added more exclamation marks?"

"Oh, I'd add fifty if it'd actually make people read it."

I'm looking at the crushed lichen when movement on the dark water catches my eye. My head jerks up, and for a moment, I'm so certain I see a boat that I open my mouth to say so. Hey, looks like Sadie's coming back. But then it's gone, and I'm left squinting and searching.

"Laney?"

"I thought I saw—" I take two more steps. "There!"

There's definitely something out there. Something pale against the night. It's not boat-sized, though. It's an odd shape, floating on the water but low and long.

A lost paddleboard? A canoe that came loose from its moorings? Or part of a canoe? It happens. New cottagers put up docks that get ripped away by the first storm. It's Lake Superior, after all. Entire carrier ships lie beneath this inky water.

I notice smaller pale bits moving on the lake, including some close to shore. Whitecaps? As if in answer, the wind whips through my hair. I'd noticed it picking up earlier but had been too preoccupied to give it much thought.

I stare up at the overcast night sky. Tell me that's not a storm approaching. I always check the marine forecast before coming out but, again, I'd been preoccupied.

Had there been boats on the lake when we came out? Boats tied along the shore? Damn it, why hadn't I paid more attention?

Because I expected to be back by now. Also, how much does a storm matter when I don't have a damn boat. It would just mean Sadie won't be able to send anyone out in the morning, and we'll be stuck here. Now that we've determined that anyone on the island with us is an asshole rather than a killer, that's more annoying than terrifying.

I squint out again. While I do definitely see whitecaps, the object that first caught my attention isn't that. It's still there, along with several other smaller pale things floating in the water.

Wait, is that—?

I take another step.

"Laney!"

It's the warning shout that does it, ironically. I wheel, thinking Jayla's in trouble, and my foot slides on the lichen. I scramble, clawing at the air as if that will save me.

As I plummet into the crevice, my flailing hands catch a root. Then my foot slams down hard, ankle twisting. I find myself hugging roots and vegetation, one foot down, the other braced against the rock wall. I test the foot that touched down. It's on something solid. I look down to see a ledge below me. A very wide, very stable ledge.

Okay, situation noncritical.

"Laney!"

"I'm fine," I call back with a slight laugh. "I fell onto a ledge. And even if I'd missed that, it's only another five feet to the bottom."

Only five feet, but tight, with no easy way out if you get wedged in there. Still, it's not like toppling off a fifty-foot cliff. At worst, I'd have needed to be hauled out, which is why I avoid this spot when I'm alone on the island.

I look up into Jayla's face, five feet above me.

She shakes her head, braids swinging. "You get yourself into some real situations, girl."

"Hey, it's not just me." I wave around. "Does this look familiar? Outdoor education class and someone had to get a selfie on the edge of a bank? Slid over the edge, caught herself, and flipped out… when she was barely a few feet from the bottom."

"And her best friend videotaped it instead of helping?"

"Jayla Hayes freaked out of her mind. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And the moment where you realized it you could just hop down? Priceless."

She lifts both middle fingers.

I laugh. "It was fun, though. That entire class was fun. Seeing you out of your element and trying oh-so-hard to play it cool."

"Some of us find this outdoor shit scarier than any dark alley, okay?"

"And then, you're down at the bottom, covered in dirt, and Zahra comes along, and you're trying to pretend you climbed down on purpose, checking out a fossil. How the hell could you not know you liked girls back then? You had such a crush on her."

"On Zahra? Pfft. I just didn't want to look silly in front of anyone."

"Such a crush. I thought you took the class to hang out with your best friend, but looking back now, it was all about Zahra."

"Keep it up, and I'll leave you down there."

"Oh no!" I flail my arms. "Help, I'm trapped in a shallow crevice! How ever will I escape?"

She stands up and steps away.

"Ahh!" I mock-scream. "Come back! Do not abandon me in my hour of need!"

"Walking away now," she calls. "Taking my light source with me."

"The dark? No, we are afraid of the dark, yes, precious? Afraid of the dark we are."

"This is why you and Kit make the perfect pair. You belong together, if only to save the rest of us from having to deal with your nonsense."

"Dark, so dark, so cold. Mommy, are you there? I can't see anything, and it's so cold. Mommy?"

"Walking faster now."

She's not, of course. She's standing just out of sight, listening to me goof around, as she always did when we were kids. She'd grumble and roll her eyes, far too cool for my nonsense, but she still listened, and she was still amused.

She's right about Kit. We shared the same sense of humor, and when we were younger, the two of us would get going, riffing off movies and books, being silly in a way the others couldn't bring themselves to be.

"Dark… cold…" I whisper. "Don't leave me, dearest friend. Do not abandon me to the void."

She covers a laugh with a snort. "Still not coming back. You got yourself into that mess. You can get yourself out."

I could point out that it was her sudden warning that actually sent me over the edge, but that would be rude. At least she still cares enough to warn me.

I look around for the best climbing route. Wow, it really is dark, isn't it? I dropped my flashlight into the crevice when I fell. I'll want to get that later—it's my good flashlight.

If you'd asked me five years ago whether there was such a thing as a "good" flashlight, I'd have laughed. Then my new husband built me a luxury vacation home on a private, off-the-grid island, where if the power fails, it can get very dark. For that, he'd gotten "good" flashlights—meaning expensive—and I'm rather fond of mine. Too fond to leave it at the bottom of this crevice.

I could ask Jayla for some light, but what fun would that be? I just need to find the right route. I also need to find it without, you know, stepping off the ledge that I can no longer see.

I feel my way along the ledge.

"I could help you," Jayla says. "Just say the magic words. I know you remember them."

I shake my head. The magic words are "Jayla is the most amazing person ever, and I'm so lucky to be her friend." Seems I'm not the only one who hasn't quite left childhood behind.

I tap my toe down. Yep, that's the end of the ledge, but the wall above me slopes inward, which isn't climbing-friendly. I feel my way to the other end of the ledge. Ah, there's what I want—a nicely angled rock wall with footholds and handholds. The only problem is that those footholds and handholds aren't directly above my ledge.

"Fine," Jayla says. "Just ask nicely, and I'll help."

"I've got it."

"Of course you do. Story of your life. While you're in there, maybe we can discuss this bullshit about you not accepting alimony from Kit."

"He gave me a million-dollar house. I don't need alimony."

I put one foot onto a nub of rock and test it. Seems solid.

"Are you punishing him, Laney? I don't know what happened, but with the way he's been moping, I'm guessing it was his fault."

"It was no one's fault, and if you think I'd punish him, you've forgotten everything you ever knew about me."

Her voice drops. "What happened, Laney? He was so damned happy. You both were, right? I wasn't imagining that. I know I wasn't."

My hand slips from its hold, and rock scrapes my arm before I catch my balance. "Can we talk about this later?"

"I kind of like this. You can't run away."

"I don't know what happened, okay?" I slide my foot up to the next hold. "We hit some bumps during the pandemic. He was having a rough time with the business, and I was dealing with Anna's cancer, and… it fell apart, I guess. Now, seriously, can we talk about something else? Anything else?"

A smell wafts past. The wind has been blowing from the lake, and that's all I've been able to smell, but now I catch a whiff of something that reminds me of that hank of hair, and my hand slips. I catch myself, but my fingers immediately start to slide.

"Jayla? Can you—?"

"Why did you post that dating profile for me?" she says.

I stop moving. "What?"

"Don't ‘what' me, Laney." Anger edges into her voice. "It was a shitty thing to do, and maybe you thought it was a joke, but it hurt." A crack in that anger. "It really hurt."

My fingers slip again, and I try to grab a jutting chunk of rock, but it's covered in lichen.

"Jay—"

"We were young," she says. "We tried dating, and it didn't work, and yeah, that was awkward. Maybe there were hurt feelings."

My fingers find another hold, and I exhale. Then I look up her way. "There were no hurt feelings, Jay."

She continues as if she didn't hear me, "Maybe you thought you were being funny, but putting up a straight profile for me, on that kind of site, with those pictures… You owe me an apology."

"I literally have no idea what you're—"

My hand and left foot slip at the same time. I plummet, scrambling, hands grabbing for something, anything. Yes, it's only a short drop, but it's rock. I can hit my head and—

"Laney!"

There! I catch something and grab on, but it comes loose and falls on top of me. Something big falling on top of me. A rock? A—

I strike down, my body falling as far as it'll fit as the crevice narrows. A smell washes over me. That smell. Decomposition. Something animal died in here, and I've pulled it on top of me.

I can't see anything. The dead thing is on top of me and blocking all light. When I move my leg, it won't budge. My foot is wedged down into the crack.

A diffuse light fills what little of the crevice I can see.

"Laney? Is that—" Jayla stops short with a little gasp.

"I'm stuck," I say. "My foot is wedged in. You're going to need to get the others."

"Laney?"

She must not be able to hear me. I lift a hand to push away whatever fell on top of me. As I do, I inwardly cringe, bracing for the touch of fur and decomposing flesh. Instead, I touch…

What am I touching? It's smooth and cold, but not like rock. Bone? It's softer than that.

Do I want to know what part of the poor dead critter I'm touching? No. Just get it off me.

I push, and my fingers touch something else, something slick and ragged with a hard nub. Oh God, what am I touching?

"Laney?"

I grit my teeth and push up on whatever is in my hands. It moves easily and then the light hits, and I see bone. Bone sticking out of bloodied flesh. My stomach lurches. It's a leg bone. It must be. A fox, maybe? It's thicker than I'd expect but I'm hardly an expert and—

The light shifts, and I see the whole of what I'm pushing at. I see pale skin and dark hairs. An arm. A human arm. I'm holding a human arm, the hand severed off.

The hand severed…

Bile fills my mouth. Whoever staged that hand didn't just bring it. They brought the whole corpse and then dumped it in here.

"Laney?"

"I know."

She says something else, but I don't hear it. I'm gritting my teeth and shoving aside the arm, which is attached to a body, that body lying over my pinned leg.

I'm sorry. Whoever you were, I'm sorry someone did this to your corpse, and I'm sorry I'm shoving you aside like this. We'll figure it out and make sure you get to your proper resting place.

I have my hands under the armpit of the poor guy, and I heave, but my hip slips and pain shoots through my side and I lose my grip. The body topples toward me. My hands fly up to ward it off, and it lands on top of my arms, crossed over my face. I don't see it. My eyes are squeezed shut. I inhale, only to gag, the smell making it feel as if I'm tasting—

Oh God.

I swallow bile. Somewhere overhead, Jayla is frantically trying to talk to me, but I'm completely focused on this macabre predicament.

I open my eyes and—

There is a face over mine, held back by my crossed arms, but I can see it. I see the dark hair with a lock of blue. I see brown eyes, wide with final shock. I see the scar across one pale cheekbone, an ugly slice of recent scar tissue. Then, in a heartbeat, I'm seeing that scar in my memory, when it was still a cut across his cheek.

"What the hell happened?" I say.

"Shaving accident."

"Did your dad—?"

"I'm fine, Ms. K. It was an accident."

Nate. Oh God. Nate.