“It’s good to see you, sir. Your bags arrived yesterday and Amy has unpacked everything.” He looks at me with a stiff smile but says nothing.
“Thank you, George.” Jack waves absently in my direction. “This is Mrs. Hunter.” He turns back to me. “George oversees the running of the staff. You can go to him if you need to know anything.”
I blink as George hurries to collect our carry-on bags. “I’ll be asking you first.”
“Ah, but I won’t be here all the time.” Jack takes my hand. “You can ask George when I’m at the office.”
He leads me through huge oak doors and into a mind-blowing entrance hall. The walls are decorated with glossy carved wood panels, depicting bowls of fruit with grapes tumbling carelessly over the edge. A polished marble floor reflects a huge chandelier in the high ceiling. Dumbstruck, my gaze moves up an ornate staircase and I stop mid-stride at the shock of seeing the portrait dominating the wall at the top of the stairs. The woman’s eyes seem to look straight through me. It’s unnerving. Why would anyone keep such an evil-looking picture? “Who is that?”
“That’s Laura.” Jack is watching my reaction. “She was a beautiful woman.”
I meet the penetrating eyes of a woman dressed in red, her black hair tumbling over her shoulders. I swallow hard and shivers run down my back. There’s something not quite right about her. It’s as if she hates everyone. I can imagine how menacing she’d be in life. Her chin is lifted in an arrogant tilt as if daring me to take her place. “It’s been seven years, why do you keep her portrait in such a prominent position?”
“She’s the mother of my children.” Jack shrugs and walks on.
I pause, staring into unforgiving eyes. It’s as if all the happiness has been sucked out of the room—out of me.
ONE
SEVEN YEARS AGO
Laura
I’m angry—and who wouldn’t be after what I’ve been through over the last three years? I figure I’m entitled because happy isn’t in my vocabulary and never has been. I’m just existing day to day. Most people would advise me to walk away from my marriage—but I can’t leave my kids. Trust me, I’ve tried to leave and take them with me but my handsome and very wealthy husband, Jack, just drags me back. If I don’t stay, I’ll never see them again. What would you do? My husband is a powerful and respected man, and now most people believe I’m unstable. I can almost hear them calling me “poor crazy Laura.”
Tonight, Jack insists we celebrate our third wedding anniversary aboard the yacht.Celebrateis a joke—he barely tolerates me—but appearances are everything to him and I can play the part of a loving wife. The thing is, he doesn’t trust me alone with my babies—my babies. No one will believe me about Jack’s coldness toward me. His friends are loyal to him and tied to him by umbilical cords of money. He tells them I’ve been unwell since delivering our son, Noah, and they put on a good show of supporting him—not me. I hear them whispering behindmy back and giving each other knowing looks as if evaluating my mental state. I ignore them and try to relax amid the smiling faces, bubbling conversation, loud laughter and the tinkling of champagne glasses.
Our guests lounge on the lush leather seats as staff move between them refilling their glasses or offering morsels of food on silver platters. The recessed lights almost blind me as they reflect on the wealth of diamonds worn by his friends. You’ll notice I sayhisfriends, as I haven’t really had many of my own since we married. It’s never been something my husband encourages, preferring me to move within his circle of acquaintances—it’s safer that way.
Jack doesn’t argue and it infuriates me. I need to give him important information about a member of his staff but he brushes me aside. When I insist, he hurries me into the galley. It seems I’ve embarrassed him in front of his friends. I need to get away and breathe some fresh air. I slip out on deck and sigh as the wind tousles my long black curls around my face. Out here, under the black sky, I’m free. An unexpected squall cools the mid-summer night, making the waves climb and break in white caps, and in the distance, lightning zigzags the sky. The boat pitches and rolls as I turn to see the captain illuminated at the wheel chatting with one of the other men. He doesn’t notice me as I continue my way to the stern.
Beneath my feet the deck shifts and I slide toward the railing. I grab onto the cold metal, my knuckles white as I strain to regain my footing. Knees trembling, I call for help, but rolls of thunder cover my cries. Beside me, a shadow moves. Relieved someone has seen me, I reach out a hand for assistance but instead a violent shove sends me sprawling across the slick deck.
Rain lashes my face as the floor beneath me rises high and then dips. Waves crash over the stern, soaking me in salty brine and rolling me back and forth. I try to get to my knees butanother wave flattens me. I’m in a desperate bid for survival as lightning flashes across the sky and thunder booms. Panic grips me as I slip toward the edge. I dig my nails into the deck but it pitches again and a wave washes me under the railing. I float in midair and seconds go by before I smack hard into dark, freezing water. Waves engulf me and I rise screaming. I must survive. I can’t leave my kids without a mom.
A shadow looms on deck and I wave frantically, screaming for help. They’ve seen me! Something flies over the railing and strikes me hard in the face. Pain rocks through my brain and I sink. Icy coldness surrounds me and bubbles leak from my lips but instinct makes me kick to the surface. Waves crash all around me but the current is dragging me away in a slipstream of violence. Terror grips me as another massive wave of black water drags me under—there’s no escape.
My lungs are bursting but I fight hard to catch just one more breath—I don’t want to die. I have kids and I can’t leave them alone—not in that house—with him. As I break the surface, pitch-black walls of water surround me. Salt stings my eyes as, for a few moments of respite, I bob up and down like a cork flowing to the will of the sea. I’m so cold and my head hurts. I gasp as another wave swamps me, rolling me over in the bubbling breakers. Cold seeps into my bones. I can’t feel my fingers and my teeth chatter as I rise through the dark waves gasping and spitting.
There’s no time to breathe before another wave crashes over my head, sucking me deep into the murky depths. Salt water fills my mouth and runs from my nose as I bob up again. I spit and cough, gasping precious air before the next wave smashes over me. Above, in a stormy sky, a sliver of moon peeks out between fast-moving clouds. Lightning flashes and rain comes in sheets. I search all around; however, between the intermittent lightning there’s nothing but inky blackness. As I rise on the swell, I makeout the lights on my husband’s yacht vanishing into the distance and yell and scream, waving my arms, but no one will see me. I let out a sob as my husband’s pride and joy, theLaura, leaves me to die. Panic has me by the throat. I need to swim—but which way? Which way is land?
Something large bumps into my legs and images of sea monsters crash into my mind. Panicking, I scream and thrash about as another wave rolls me into a spin. Dark water rushes up my nose but I fight. My instinct is to survive. I rise to the surface, suck in air and dive below the next wave—I must get away. A shark will take me in chunks and the moment my blood colors the water it will cause a feeding frenzy. I swim hard in the darkness until my chest hurts and I sink again under a crashing wave. This time, bubbles escape from my mouth and I fight to break the surface. Exhausted, I float on my back, riding the waves and gasping precious air into my lungs. I lick rain from my lips but it’s not enough to survive. I don’t want to die. Not here all alone in the dark. Wind whips up the waves around me and rain splatters my face. I open my mouth, hoping to catch a few more drops to ease my parched throat. I’m lost in the darkness and it’s only a matter of time before the next wave takes me to a watery grave. I should have seen this coming. The drugs in my food, the isolation and now this. Someone on the yacht wants me dead—but who, and why? Is it Jack? I guess I’ll never know.
TWO
PRESENT TIME
Willow
Unease creeps over me. Allowing Jack to walk on, I look over one shoulder at Laura’s portrait and shudder. So, this is how he keeps her alive. I feel inadequate, and will never come close to her. I move and her eyes follow me as if watching me with her husband. It’s eerie and raises goosebumps on my flesh. I hurry along a hallway after Jack and feel her eyes boring into my back. My confidence slips away under her gaze and I’m suddenly an intruder. I push back the unnerving feelings and lift my chin. I’m his wife now so why hasn’t he taken down her portrait? I shiver. Seeing his shrine to her is darn right creepy.
“This is our space—one of many.” Jack leads me into a large bright room.
Overwhelmed, I follow him, my legs trembling. I want to ask him about the face at the window but change my mind. If Laura had seen it and become obsessed with finding the window, knowing I had seen it too might make him doubt my sanity. I force words from my mouth, anything to sound normal and at least a little excited to see my new home. “How many rooms do you have?”
“Eleven bedrooms on the first floor and more on the second and other rooms on the third.” Jack grins at me. “The staff quarters are behind the kitchen in a separate section of the house. We have a staff building as well; the house staff live here and the rest have nice apartments in the other building.”
The size of the house intimidates me. I’ve seen too many horror movies to feel comfortable in an old rambling mansion. “It must be a nightmare to maintain.”
