Whispers in the Wind

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” Danny asked Claire while leaning on the squeaking gate. The last of the residents were waving their goodbyes as they walked down the lamp-lined main street.

“I’m sure.” She smiled down at her feet. “Are you still wanting to show me around town tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He gripped the spokes on top of the gate, swinging it back and forth. “If you want to.”

They were like young kids, stealing glances at each other, rosy-cheeked. Danny, fidgeting and nervous, stuffed his free hand deep into his pocket, while Claire stood swaying a little, clutching her small purse.

“What time should I be here?” she asked.

“Well, Ylva’s opens at seven, but if that’s too early, any time after that works.”

“Seven is fine. I’m usually awake by then anyway.”

The gate creaked in Danny’s hand again. “I’ll see you at seven then, Claire,” he said her name slowly, savoring the taste of it.

She tucked a hair behind her ear and smiled. “See you then, Daniel.”

He swung the gate wide and held it open as she waved and walked the unlit, opposite direction as everyone else. He watched as she turned the corner and became lost to the darkness.

“You give her that flashlight?” Ian came up behind him.

He didn’t turn but continued to watch where she disappeared. “Yeah. I still don’t like her going alone this late.”

“At least there aren’t any bears out here. The worst she’ll see is a raccoon.”

“Or a tourist.”

“Finlay said they scared Trevor and his friends off the island by egging their Beamers all the way to the bridge. The rest of the tourists will be gone when the snow hits. Besides, she handled herself well tonight.”

“Yeah, but ... ” His eyes roamed the darkness as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”

Ian glanced around them. “Out here?”

“Yeah? No?” Danny scraped a hand over his face. “I don’t know. She’d hate me if I followed her, though, wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know about hate, but she probably wouldn’t like it.”

He sighed. “How’s your gut?”

He wasn’t asking about Ian’s digestion, but the developed sixth sense he got from his childhood when something wasn’t right.

“Fine, but if you want, I can ask Finlay where he delivered the firewood. Maybe it’ll help knowing the area where she’s staying, so you can know what neighbors are close by. Might even be George since he met her first. He’s got a small arsenal.”

“Yeah, would you do that?” He ran a hand through his hair, glanced once more down the road, and with a heavy breath, made his way back into Flygande.

Claire couldn’t feel the rocks crunching under her feet or the icy wind biting her face. Only the warmth brimming inside her.

Danny had no idea how much his dinner meant to her. No one had ever cooked for her just because. Not unless they were paid to. And through that one small gesture, she felt taken care of—cared for. For the first time in over a year, a heavy weight eased from her shoulders.

Even the wine she was served was thoughtful. She hadn’t thought he’d heard anything she said at the airport bar, but he must have listened to the type of wine she liked because Emelie brought her one of her favorites.

She rubbed a gloved hand just below her ear. The heat from his mouth when he talked to her still lingered. First when he asked about the food, but then he continued, inputting comments about the residents she spoke to. Helping her fully understand all the conversations going on around her.

Every time he leaned in, she let herself imagine that he did so because he wanted to be close to her. It was foolish, of course, but she enjoyed letting herself think about it.

She hopped over a rock and nearly twisted her ankle.

“I need different shoes,” she mumbled and remembered Danny’s boots. Thick-soled, black-leather boots that slid to either side of her chair while he sat behind her, making her feel encompassed in a hug. Even safe, somehow, secure. How could one man’s boots make her feel all of those things?

When they’d bumped noses, she lost all reason. Her only thought—all she could focus on—was how much she wanted to know what his full lips felt like.

Skidding to a stop, she released an exasperated sigh. “Kiss him? Really, Claire?”

She shook her head but couldn’t keep herself from smiling. She was happy, truly happy. Not only from his attention and thoughtfulness, but from the new friends she made. Wonderful friends whose kindness and welcoming made her heart full and ache at the same time.

She sighed into another smile. The food, the wine, the fellowship—his breath on her ear. This night would be marked as her favorite.

Maddy bubbled up inside her mind. Tonight she’d write a happy story. The little girl who was too much for most people would find a loving home to go to, large enough for all her bigness.

Anxious to write the words Maddy needed to speak, she picked up her pace and came around the bend to the cottage.

She stopped short. The house was dark and the cozy light she’d left on no longer glowed.

A cold wind whipped around the corner, and it all rushed back with the sudden chill. She’d forgotten all about her experience before she left.

Needing to hold on to the warmth of her recent happiness, she rushed forward, up the creaking stair, and placed a shaking key near the lock.

“Ma-adelynn ... ” a voice whispered from her left.

She swung around, clicking on the flashlight. “Who’s there?”

“You promised me ... ” the voice echoed behind her, and she jerked that direction, beaming the light over open swaying grass and rock piles.

Nothing was there.

She whimpered and the key in her fingers rattled against the lock. The wind shifted directions, bringing another whisper, and she fumbled the flashlight until it fell with a loud thump.

“Replaced me with the Viking already-y-y?” The voice crept like barbed tendrils up the hairs on her neck.

With a small cry, she used her other hand to steady her shivering one and jammed the key into the lock. The wind shifted again, gusting into her right side and she screeched, twisting the key. The door swung open, and she slammed it shut, gripping her chest. “It can’t be real.”

Her breath came out in short puffs of white air. The cottage was so cold. Skittering her fingers along the wall, she found the switch. It was down, not up the way she left it. She flipped it, flooding the cottage with light, eyes darting around the interior. Nothing out of place.

Maybe she hadn’t left the light on. She rubbed the side of her head and groaned. “Or maybe I’m losing my mind?”

Sliding the chain lock into place, she shivered and hugged herself as she made her way to the living room fireplace. Light and heat. Those things were real.

The crackling flame warmed her face and hands, but it didn’t warm the aching chill in her bones. “Everything’s fine. You’re fine, Claire.” But no amount of self-soothing calmed her.

Still shaking, she started rushing around her home, flipping on lights. All the lights. She didn’t care how ridiculous it was, she’d sleep with every light on.

Finishing, she double checked the chain lock and listened for any disturbance on the other side.

All was calm.

Dancing from foot to foot on the icy floorboards, she changed into pale-pink, satin pants and matching camisole top, making a note to buy something warmer before she froze to death in her sleep. With one last glance at the jammed lock on her window, she leaped from where she stood to the bed, avoiding more cold floor. She wriggled under the electric blanket and pulled a thick, down-filled blanket on top.

In the quiet, her mind went back to what she’d heard outside. She couldn’t have imagined it. The voice said too much—personal things—and was unmistakably male this time.

But no one had been close enough to whisper in her ear.

She yanked the covers over her head, determined to keep her eyes open all night if she had to.

The sound of distant crashing waves and the warmth of double blankets lulled her. Soon her eyes drifted shut. Danny’s smile in her mind’s eye followed her to sleep.

“Madelynn,” he called from a distance.

She hummed and nuzzled into a soft pillow. “Yes?”

“Madelynn.” His voice was closer. “Wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open to darkness. Her mind groggy and disoriented. “Brandon? Where are you?”

“I’m in the bathtub.”

Half-dazed, she eased up and yawned. “Did you just get home from a meeting?”

“Yes, come talk to me.”

She rubbed her face and let her feet fall off the side of the bed. They hit a cold floor, and she jolted, blinking hard. Everything was dark.

Everything was—dark.

It was dark.

Her heart smacked against her rib cage and her breath came out in wheezing bursts. All the lights were off.

“What’s the matter, Ma-adelynn ... ” A deep rumbling laugh shook the outside wall. “Scared?”

Her window flew open, and she screamed, falling out of bed. She hit the end table, making it crash, and see-sawed up. Her head swam.

“You took off my ring-ing-ing?” His echoing voice came from her right and she veered left, slamming into the wall. “Don’t you remember? ’Til your death do us part.”

She screamed again. Throwing her palms over her ears, she rushed forward, colliding with the front door. Icy air smacked her back and goosebumps exploded over her exposed skin.

“The curtain, Madelynn. Come look behind the curtain.”

“Leave me alone.” She pawed the wall for the light switch and flicked it up.

Nothing.

Up, down, up-down-up-down—no light came to save her.

“The curta-ain ... ” the voice whispered up her spine.

She should look back. Face this phantom straight on. But if it was him, if she saw those hollow, gray eyes—

The chain on the door clinked and vibrated under her shaking fingers and jammed. “No.” She pounded her fist against the door. The chain loosened and she flung it open.

“Where you go-o-ing?” the voice sang.

She shrieked and plowed forward, tripping over the forgotten flashlight. Feet caught the single stair, and she crashed down, face colliding with sharp rocks.

Tears blinded her as she pushed up on wobbly arms and fell again, slicing her left shin.

The voice rolled in deep laughter.

Yelling out, her bare feet finally found their footing, and she blindly ran, stones biting into her feet. Warm liquid oozed into her eye. Swiping it, she looked down and screamed. Her hand was covered in blood.

The laughter grew distant, but still she cried and ran—screamed and ran.

Ahead of her, a familiar dark building took shape and soft light floated out of a window above the door. She followed the light like a beacon and smacked face first into a gate. The force flung her body backward. Cold wind whipped up behind her and she screamed again. The curtain in the window above the door swiped to the side.

Dragging herself up the peeling gate, she gripped the spokes on top, violently shaking them. It popped open and she tripped. A pebble wave whooshed over her body. Her hands sank deep as she pushed up her vibrating body. Stumbling up the stone steps, she threw her fists against the door.

“Help me.”

Heavy thudding came from inside and the door swung open. She plowed forward and collided with a hard body.

“Claire? Claire. What’s wrong?”

“Don’t let him in.”

Danny wrapped himself around her, twisting her away from the opening. The door slammed shut. “Don’t let who in? What’s happened?”

She clawed at his bare chest and burrowed her face like she was trying to crawl inside his skin.

“I didn’t know,” she cried. “Tell him I didn’t know.”

“Tell who?” Danny took her by the arms, easing her back.

Blood. There was so much blood. “Shit. What happened to your face?” He cupped her cheeks, tilting her head back. His eyes ran wildly over her face. “Who did this to you?”

“What’s going on?” Ian came into the mix, disheveled, with a baseball bat in his hand.

“Look at me, Claire,” Danny said, voice rising. “Talk to me. Who did this to your face?” He got louder and louder with every word. Big as he was, Danny only ever yelled when he was afraid. And with his current volume, Ian raced outside, bat held up.

Moments later he came back. “I didn’t see anyone.”

Claire’s mouth vibrated as she peered up at Danny.

“I didn’t know.” She whimpered. “He was behind the curtain, and I didn’t know. I don’t want another curtain. I can’t look behind the curtain.”

Danny wasn’t having any more of it. He swept under her legs, lifting her into his arms. Running up the stairs with Ian behind him, he kicked the door open and rushed her to his living room, carefully placing her on Ian’s couch bed.

Clutching her face between both palms, he looked it over. “Did you hit your head, Claire? Did somebody hit you on the head, Claire?” He felt the need to repeat her name, hoping it would draw out some answers.

Ian handed him a wet washcloth and Danny swallowed down nausea as he wiped crimson drips off her face. He eyed the cut on her forehead and let out a breath. The amount of blood made it look worse than it was. But, God, her terrified face.

“What man was behind the curtain?” His voice rose again. “Did he attack you?” She still didn’t speak, and he began carefully running his hands over her body.

Danny checked under her arms, on each side, and down her legs, looking for more abrasions. He found blood on her shin, and as he went to clean it, he realized she shivered in nothing but thin sleepwear. Revealing sleepwear. He tore his eyes away. “Ian, a blanket.” Focusing on the cut, he blotted it as Ian tucked one around her.

“Did someone push you or did you fall?” Danny tried to quiet his voice, but it was a losing battle. His hands were shaking. “Can you answer me, Claire?” He got loud again. “I need to know. Is someone coming here for you?”

“Don’t let him in.” She bolted halfway up, eyes wide. “Don’t let Brandon in.”

“Brandon?” He caught her shoulders. “Claire, he isn’t here.”

“He was in my cottage, an-and he laughed.” She gripped his arms and yanked him forward. “He knew I took off the rings.”

“It doesn’t matter if he knows. He’s dead.”

She broke into fresh tears, and Danny released her, gripping his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be insensitive, Claire. I—”

She hiccuped and fell back, covering her face with her hands.

He slowly turned toward Ian, teetering on the edge between desperation and exploding.

Ian held up a hand, telling him to let him try. “Claire,” Ian said quietly, and she uncovered her face. “Did somebody hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“Did somebody scare you?”

She nodded and her bottom lip lost control again. “He came through my window.” She blinked fast as more tears spilled. “The curtain. He was behind the curtain, and I didn’t know—but he’ll never forgive me.”

Regardless of what did or didn’t make sense, a man breaking into her house was something tangible Danny could work with—and he desperately needed something to work with. “Where are you staying?” he asked.

She bit her lip but didn’t answer, and all the control he barely held on to broke. “Now’s not the time to be private, Claire.”

She shuddered, and he tore away from her, gripping his hair again. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, trying to regain control.

“Hang on,” Ian said. “Let me see if Finlay ever messaged me back.” He pulled out his phone and opened the unread message, tilting the screen toward Danny to read.

I DROPPED THE CORD OF WOOD OFF NEAR SVEN’S PLACE, BUT ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. WEIRD, HUH? NOT SURE WHY SHE WANTED IT THERE. NOT A HOUSE FOR MILES, EXCEPT FOR GERTY’S. BUT, YEAH, SVEN’S LANE.

“Sven?” Danny spun toward her.

Ian crouched down and smoothed a touch over her hand. “Claire, are you staying in an old cottage? Red roof? A bit run down?”

She slowly nodded.

Danny snatched the baseball bat out of Ian’s hand, and his feet pounded down the stairs. He wasn’t buying a ghost haunting, and whoever did this was going to feel how real his bat was.