Soul of the Sea Read online

  Mykaela lingered at the edge of the kitchen, trying to avoid making eye contact with anybody.

  “Mykaela.” Laura looked up, her eyes shining with tears. “Are you sure you haven’t seen her?”

  Frozen by the hopeful look in Laura’s watery eyes, Mykaela couldn’t do anything but shake her head. After a quick glance, her hands moistened with sweat as she noticed everyone’s attention turned to her. “I’m sorry, I haven’t.”

  Jared spoke up, drawing the attention of everyone in the room away from Mykaela, except for Brad. His gaze remained on her, as if seeing straight through her mask. You’re being paranoid, she told herself, there’s no reason he’d single you out. No one even knows you were with her.

  “Sheriff Baxter and I are going to look on the north side of town.”

  Sheriff Baxter gave Laura’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Just hang tight, okay? We’ll find her.”

  Brad’s gaze never drifted from Mykaela’s, making her feel like a sinner in church—exposed and judged.

  “Mykaela and I will look on the south side.” His eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

  Her stomach twisted, but no one noticed the building anxiety. Mykaela nodded and moved outdoors with the small search party.

  Sheriff Baxter and Jared walked toward the three squad cars parked into the circular driveway. Baxter and Jared climbed into the ones with a gold star on the door, while Brad and Mykaela headed toward the other one.

  Brad and Jared recently signed on with the police force. Mykaela used to think it was funny, seeing her brother and Brad in their navy blue uniforms. The two best friends, now law officers…funny at best. Now, as she opened the passenger door to the squad car, his uniform made her nervous.

  Of course, the uniform wasn’t the only thing that intimidated her. With his buzzed-off blond hair and eyes that gleamed like silver bullets, added to his tall, broad-shouldered build and square features, he looked like a soldier. Stern. Serious. Determined.

  Mykaela’s hands folded tightly on her lap. It seemed like they were driving in silence for an eternity before she summoned the nerve to speak. “Where are we going?”

  “The bluff.” He focused on the road ahead. “Little Rock. It’s her favorite spot.”

  Little Rock. Where they’d been when she and Charity were pulled into the water. A shiver danced up her spine.

  She didn’t know what to say or do. She focused on her wrist, and the bracelet she always wore.

  Her mind wandered to the boy again. If Brad didn’t know something happened to Charity, then the boy didn’t tell anyone. If not to get help, why did he leave?

  “What time did you guys leave Little Rock this morning?”

  The question threw her. She stared over at him, trying to form a quick response. He’d known she was meeting Charity? “Wh-what are you talking about?”

  He furrowed a blond eyebrow. “I was patrolling and I saw you two go into the woods just before midnight.”

  “Right.” Her voice rang hoarse and scratchy in the silent car. “For a séance...we left around twelve-thirty, when nothing happened.” Mykaela’d forgotten the spirit board in the clearing, and called Charity at four-thirty to go find it. If they hadn’t gone back...

  “Did you go anywhere after that?” he asked, sending her a look saved for criminals.

  So lost in her grief, she didn’t hear him at first. She shook her head. “I went to sleep.”

  With eyes narrowed, he turned in the seat as his attention drifted from the road to her. The glare he sent ripped her soul, tearing it apart in search of the hidden secrets. “You sure about that?” He didn’t bother to glance at the road, but the car didn’t swerve. She couldn’t help but gawk at him. Why was he looking at her like that? Why did he think she was hiding something? “Yes, I’m sure.” Mykaela trailed a finger over the bracelet for comfort. Nervous and afraid, she held a deep breath until his attention returned to the road.

  “Brad,” Jared’s voice came through the radio.

  Brad pressed a button on his walkie-talkie. “Yeah.”

  “We need you over here. We’re at the beach outside of Mike’s Everything.”

  He flicked on his lights and sirens, whipped the car around in a U-turn. Going at least twenty miles over the speed limit, they flew toward Mike’s Everything. It was a store on the beachfront, and sold everything from fish bait to clothes to groceries.

  They’d just squealed to a stop in front of the store, when Mykaela’s eyes landed on the yellow police tape.

  Her heart stopped. She saw Brad duck under the tape and run across the beach at breakneck speed. She hadn’t even heard him get out, and he’d left the car running and the sirens shrieking.

  She fled the car to go after him, but an officer stopped her. “It’s a crime scene, miss.”

  Down by the water, another officer moved to let Brad in, and then Mykaela saw her.

  The sunlight streamed down on a long, slender body sprawled on the beach. From where she stood, shocked and queasy, Mykaela could see pale-blonde hair against dark, tanned skin. The kind of bronze achieved only by hours of sunbathing, as Charity loved to do. Mykaela’s legs turned to Jell-O, but she tried to get through the tape anyway.

  The officer stuck his arm out. “You can’t—“

  “That’s my friend!” She didn’t mean to yell so loud. She just wanted to go to Charity. To apologize for leaving her, to beg for forgiveness and to pray she was alive.

  “All the more reason you should stay here.”

  Mykaela watched as Brad knelt at the shore. He brought up a hand to cover his mouth. He slowly scanned the entire fully clothed corpse lying on the beach. Reaching out, he picked up the stiff wrist and looked at it for what seemed like hours.

  Jared tapped Brad on the shoulder. When he didn’t budge, Jared wrapped his fingers around Brad’s arm and tugged at him, leading him away from the body. Brad kept his head lowered as they walked toward the car together. Mykaela stared at that spot on the beach, unable to believe her friend was really gone.

  ***

  The rest of the day was a blur of Laura sobbing to family members over the telephone, Blanche’s soothing words, and the river of guilt drowning Mykaela.

  Everybody stayed in the kitchen, drinking coffee or tea. Jared sat parked at the counter next to Brad; Mykaela assumed it was to keep him under control. It was a nice try, but every now and then Brad looked up from the floorboards to toss another confused, enraged glare at her.

  Mykaela jumped at the sound of the screen door opening and turned to see Sheriff Baxter walk in. Taking off his hat, he whispered condolences to Laura, as she burst into another slew of tears. He patted her shoulder in sympathy and looked up at Blanche.

  “Can I get a moment with you and Mykaela?” he asked.

  For the hundredth time, she almost died from fear. This morning’s horrible events rush back, threatening to crumble her composure. Telling the truth was out of the question, she needed to get the story straight. One inconsistency and the perfect alibi would collapse.

  “Of course,” Blanche said. She motioned to Jared, and he ushered everybody else upstairs.

  Sheriff Baxter sat down at the table in front of Mykaela.

  “Can I get you something?” Blanche asked. “Coffee or tea? I made a pound cake yesterday.”

  “No, thank you, Blanche. I just need to ask Mykaela a few questions.”

  “Right now?” Blanche asked, sliding an arm around Mykaela’s shoulders. “Can’t it wait?”

  “I’m afraid not.” He pulled out a small notebook and flipped to a blank page. Poising a black pen over the paper, he looked up at her. “When was the last time you saw Charity?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.” Her fingers curled to grip the edge of the chair as she realized the lie slipped out so easily to the police. Obstruction? Wasn’t that what Jared called it? This could land her in jail. “When our shift ended.”

  “Where was she going?”

  “Home, I think.”

>   He nodded and wrote something down.

  Even in complete terror her hands and gaze didn’t waver, making the lies one-hundred percent convincing.

  “Did she say if she was meeting someone?” he asked. “A friend? A girl…or, maybe,” he kept eye contact with her and lowered his voice. “A boy?”

  “No,” she said. “She wasn’t seeing anybody. Not that she told me.”

  The fierce, brutal and heartbreaking reality punched Mykaela in the gut. She broke down into sobs, not for convenience, not to flee from trouble, but simply because she couldn’t take anymore guilt. Charity was gone. Nobody knew Mykaela’s fault until her body washed ashore. “I don’t know how this could have happened.”

  Blanche’s loving arms wrapped around Mykaela, and instantly soothed her with soft shushing noises. They were same noises that brought back the child hood memories when she had a scraped knee.

  As her mother continued, Mykaela decided to come clean. Charity’s death made being locked in a mental hospital seem insignificant and not the least bit threatening.

  “I’ll give you two some privacy.” The sheriff stood up and walked upstairs to the living room before Mykaela could choose her words. She stared after him, wanting shout ‘wait’, but she’d already lost the nerve.

  “Oh, honey,” Blanche stooped to meet Mykaela face to face. “I’m so sorry. I know how close you were.”

  “I just want her to come back.” She bit her lip to hold back the tears, but it didn’t work, and they spilled over. “I just want to see her again.”

  “I know, honey, I know.” Blanche squeezed Mykaela’s hand. “Is there anything you were afraid to tell Bill?”

  “I wasn’t there.” Mykaela choked on a sob. Her heart leapt at the opportunity to come clean. To tell her mother what happened, while they were alone, but she couldn’t find the words. God, she needed to get out of here. She needed to be alone. “I should get to work,” Mykaela said, willing to do anything just to avoid talking about this. “I have to get the breakfast bar set up. And I’m supposed to run the check-in desk today.”

  Blanche shook her head, a pitying look crossing her face. “No, honey. No. Don’t worry about that.”

  “I’m just going to go to my room then.” She stood up from the chair, edging toward the staircase just a few feet away. “I’m really tired.”

  Her mother nodded. “Of course, honey. I’ll bring you something to drink in a few minutes.”

  With that permission, Mykaela turned and hurried up the steps and then shut herself inside her bedroom. She lingered by the door, not knowing what to do with herself. She’d feel better if her mother would let her work, let her keep her mind off of what happened. Now, she had boatloads of free time to remember watching her friend die. Raking her hands through her hair, Mykaela crossed the room and sat on the seat of the bay window. She stared out at the ocean, wondering what the hell had happened that morning.

  Dropping her gaze to her wrist, she focused on the bracelet she always wore. She and Charity owned matching ones—they’d made them when they were fifteen. It’d taken them a week to braid the thread and position the colorful little beads so they would look like flowers. Mykaela’s beads kept falling off, she remembered with a small smile, and she’d have to start over.

  Her mind wandered to the boy again. Why did he leave her there on the beach? Why save her life, only to run off before helping her get home or call for help? Who was he and why did he seem so familiar when she would’ve remembered meeting someone like him?

  There was a soft knock at the door and then it opened and Blanche stepped inside. Mykaela was glad her mother didn’t ask how she was feeling. She just carried a teacup to Mykaela and sat down next to her. Reaching out, she tucked a scraggly piece of hair behind Mykaela’s ear in a move that was meant to be comforting, but provided no solace. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Mykaela shook her head, cradling the cup in her hands and letting the warmth of it heat her palms.

  Blanche stood up, bending to kiss Mykaela on the forehead. “Promise you’ll call me if you need anything, okay?”

  Mykaela nodded, watching her mother leave the room. With a sigh of relief at finally being left alone, she turned to look out the window again, bringing the cup to her lips. Her hand trembled and the dish wobbled in her hand before toppling over and spilling hot liquid down the front of her shirt.

  She jumped up, dropping the empty cup onto the window’s seat. The steaming liquid burned her skin and she struggled to peel off the shirt before it could hurt her any more. With an aggravated sigh, she tossed her wet shirt onto the floor and crossed the room to get another from her dresser. Couldn’t she do anything right? She was such a spas that she’d ultimately gotten her friend killed, and now she couldn’t even drink a cup of tea without making a huge mess all over herself?

  Pulling a t-shirt from the drawer, she turned to put it on, when something caught her eye. She stepped up to the mirror, her gaze locked on her reflection. On her chest, right above her heart, there was a charcoal-colored burn in the shape of a handprint. She remembered feeling a heavy weight push on her chest when she had been pulled out of the water. Events surrounding that memory were blurry, but as she stared at that burn on her chest, she could’ve sworn she remembered feeling...a zap, as crazy as it sounded to her. She’d been on the beach, and the only source of electricity around there came from the power lines.

  The boy—the one who disappeared—had he done something to her? Something to cause that hand-shaped brand?

  No, that’s crazy. There must be some logical explanation for the mark. Maybe it was just...dirt, or something. Running into the bathroom, she turned the faucet on and shoved a rag under the water, then brought the damp cloth to her chest and scrubbed at the handprint. The perfect outline of a palm and five fingers never smudged or faded, even though she scrubbed so hard around it that her skin turned bright red. She stared at that mark on her chest, wondering what it meant and where it’d come from. It had to have been the guy—he’d done something to her. But how and what did it mean?

  Chapter Two

  Good-bye, Hello

  It seemed fitting, and tragic that the first funeral Mykaela attended just happened to be her best friend’s.

  She smoothed the skirt of her black sundress and wished for pockets to stuff her hands into. Stepping out the car, Mykaela stopped for a moment to smooth down the front of her black sundress. It really didn’t need it, but her nerves made her fidgety. So, as she walked toward the white brick church, she laced her fingers together to keep from grabbing her mother by the arms and shouting the truth.

  The last few mornings, she awakened and convinced herself the whole thing was nothing but a dream. Charity didn’t die, it was just a dream. Better still, Mykaela concluded the handsome strange boy never rescued her from the ocean. Brad no longer blamed her for Charity’s death; instead he just tolerated her as usual. There was no reason for any more lies.

  Each morning, after the first seconds of the day passed, she realized it was all real, and the tears would begin “We don’t have to go in yet,” Blanche said. “You can take all the time you need.”

  Mykaela stopped at the entrance to the church. The double doors propped open, allowing a clear view of the people in line to pay their last respects. “I don’t want to go at all.”

  “You don’t have to,” her mother said. “But are you sure? This could be your last chance to…”

  “Say goodbye?” Mykaela’s lips trembled on the words. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I know, honey.”

  Blanche had babied Mykaela for three days. She continuously asked questions like, “Are you okay?”, “Is there anything I can do to help?” and followed up with the suggestion to drink tea or something else to help calm the nerves.

  The extra attention made Mykaela nauseous.

  “I’ll be fine,” Mykaela said. Choking on anxiety, she stepped into the church. The air conditioning blasted h
er face with a cool breeze. Any other day it would’ve been refreshing and welcomed, but now the air seemed cold and thick, and it reminded her of drowning.

  Three girls, all dressed in black, rushed over toward her. Each one carried a lace handkerchief, probably used for wiping their teary eyes. The sounds of their high-heeled shoes clicking against the tiled floor echoed off the church walls and made Mykaela think of chickens clucking. They were her friends—at least they used to be. Back when Mykaela recognized herself.

  “Are you okay?” Rachel dabbed her eyes and held out a handful of tissues for Mykaela. “I heard you found her?”

  “No,” Mykaela said. “I was with the search party…we were headed toward the bluff when Brad got the call.”

  “How horrible.” Gabby looped her arm through Mykaela’s. “You must be devastated.”

  Mykaela didn’t even know how to answer. Of course, she was devastated.

  “Come sit with us.” Gabby pulled Mykaela over to the first pew in the church, right in front of the mahogany coffin. Pushed into a pew, Mykaela was forced to scoot down to make room for the other girls. She wanted to run out the door and never come back because this was torture, hearing friends and relatives attempt to comfort a sobbing and distraught Laura. Stiff and grief-stricken, Mykaela sat perfectly still, her gaze locked on the casket, afraid to approach. Listening to people ooh and ahh about how pretty Charity looked was proving to be impossible.

  She looked like a wax statue, with the wrong shade of gloss on her full lips, and too much pink blush on her cheeks. The navy blue suit Charity wore would have made her gag if she’d spotted it in a store. She didn’t look pretty, just dead.

  Charity would have slapped them all.

  The preacher stepped up to the podium, but Mykaela couldn’t look at him. She focused on the flowers instead.