Bushes spill over the exit, thick and wild, clearly grown to hide it. We push them aside and step out onto the beach.
This stretch of beach is empty. No loungers, no footprints, no umbrellas. Just sand, sea, and wind.
The camp keeps guests and children far from this end, hidden behind natural curves in the shoreline. It’s a blind spot, a place no one stumbles into by accident.
The wind whips my hair across my face, and salt stings my cracked lips. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure it could be heard across the water.
Alice exhales shakily. “We’re not supposed to be here,” she whispers. “This part of the beach is restricted. Only guards are allowed.”
She pulls out her phone and makes a call. “He’s on patrol,” she informs me after hanging up. “He knows we are here. The cameras reset every twenty minutes. We have maybe five.”
“You trust him?” I ask, even though I know I have no other choice.
She nods. “I told him everything and he wants to get me out of here. We’re secretly engaged and want to start a life together away from all this.” She grabs my arm. “We need to hurry.”
We don’t run, as that would draw attention. Instead, we walk quickly along the waterline, staying close to the rocks where the sand is darker, and the ground is uneven.
Then I see him.
A uniformed guard steps out from behind a rocky outcrop farther down the beach. He raises his hand in a quick signal, then scans the shoreline before coming toward us.
He quickly introduces himself as Clint, and I instantly recognize him as one of the guards I spoke to when I came to the camp the other day, the handsome one with the scar on his temple.
“We’re lucky,” he says. “The shift change just started. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
He leads us to a small patrol boat bobbing low in the water, half-hidden behind the rocks. It’s the kind they use to monitor the shoreline for intruders, not guests.
He helps Alice in first after giving her a kiss on the lips, then reaches out for me.
The engine starts with a low, controlled sound that blends in with the gentle slap of waves against the rocks.
The blue-green water that stretches out ahead of us looks calm, almost too calm, as if nothing bad could ever happen here. Just like the camp.
As the boat pulls away from the shore, a sharp wail cuts through the air.
An alarm.
They must have found Megan.
FIFTY
Sixteen Months Later
“Almost done,” I say to Sadie after removing the pink curlers from her hair, dropping them into the sink. “You’re going to be the most beautiful girl at the prom.”
I lower my gaze to the brush at the edge of the sink, trying to hide the tear that slips free.
Over a year ago, I didn’t think I would be here, getting my daughter ready for prom.
To know she’s alive…when for six long months I believed she was dead.
I try not to think about Saltspray. But sometimes it creeps in anyway.
Sometimes late at night, I still see that room. Still feel the walls closing in.
Even now, when I pass someone with white-blond hair on the street, my heart stutters. For a split second, I’m back there, and the air turns cold in my lungs.
“Mom, hurry. I only have thirty minutes before Dylan gets here,” Sadie says, pulling me back.
