The ocean rings in his ears, calling again, “More!”
Blackbirds clamber up and down the sweaty branches of a ghost gum as the light thins, a haze of gold catching on the leaves.
“More, more, more!”
He shakes his head as if to clear it and the sea sloshes around at the base of his skull.
He turns to leave when he hears it.
A breath.
Not wind. Not an animal. A human breath, low and close.
He freezes. Eyes flicking to a ghost gum. There, under its shadow, is someone. Watching.
His fishing knife seems to vibrate in his hand.
“More,” roars the ocean.
Chapter 30
My name is coming from far away.
“Minnow. Min,” someone is calling over and over. It’s my mum. She’s sitting in the lounge chair, holding her necklace up to the light.
Minnow, it’s so beautiful.
She clasps her hand around it, eyes filling with tears.I just wish I deserved it.
You do,I try to tell her, but my mouth won’t work.You did.
This isn’t right,my brain whispers.This is wrong…
I blink hard, my vision spotty. I can’t orient myself, but I know someone is standing over me. A man in a black hoodie, track pants, and a gray beanie pulled low over his ears.
“Luke?” I mutter, tongue thick in my mouth.
“Look who’s awake,” he calls back.
I blink hard, trying to clear my vision. But it’s him. For a moment, I think it must be Saturday morning at my house. Luke’s stayed over after playing videogames all night with Heath. I’m stumbling out of my room in pajamas, rubbing my eyes. Even at that early hour, Luke would already be up, bright-eyed on the couch. “Look who’s awake!”
And then he laughs. That guffawingholy shit!laugh from the first night back when Rachel Sutherland was attacked.
The same laugh from Hannah Striker’s video.
Because Luke was the one filming it.
My senses sharpen. I blink twice and my vision begins to focus. The back of my skull aches, a pounding throb that makes me nauseated. I shut my eyes tight as my vision spins.
“Minnow,” he calls again. “Min.”
But underneath his voice, there’s another sound. A steady hum, soft at first.
An engine.
It’s dark and I’m lying on my side, the wind stinging cold on my neck. I try to sit up, but my reflexes are too slow, my head sluggish and sore. I can’t remember how I got here. Or why the sleeves of my arms are damp and why the world is rocking beneath me, sending waves of nausea rolling through my stomach.
All I can think about is Jessie.
