cut off the engine and Alex looked back at him. “Is something wrong?”
He pulled a cane pole from the bottom of the boat and began to push the boat down the channel. “We’re almost there. I didn’t figure I should announce our approach with a turbine, even though the sound has probably carried for miles.”
Alex nodded as the smell of mud and rotting foliage hit her. The blanket of decaying water lilies was the only indication of the water beneath, and the brush from the bank met the water’s edge, giving the appearance of a solid surface of brown and yellow. The sunlight was almost gone completely, leaving them to push farther into the darkness.
As they rounded a corner, Holt pointed to a dilapidated pier, almost hidden behind cattails and marsh grass. Alex gripped her seat with both hands trying to slow her racing heart.
The dolls.
She thought she’d prepared herself for coming to the island again, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. The dolls had always littered the island, attached to every tree branch and post—some of them just resting on the ground. Some said the witch woman placed the dolls there to attract the children she sacrificed. Some said the dolls had been blessed and placed there by the villagers, hoping to imprison the witch in the swamp forever.
Alex didn’t know the truth and doubted anyone else did, either. What she did know is that the dolls scared the hell out of her. Sitting, dangling … in various states of rot and decay. Torn dresses and pants. Some missing parts. But all of them with one thing in common—the eyes were intact.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes, watching them as they drew closer to the bank.
Blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes. Each one following their every movement.
Alex drew in a ragged breath and slowly blew it out. She had to focus. Finding Erika was her only priority. All her fears and thoughts of the past could wait until she was locked safely inside her townhome back in New Orleans.
Without a doll in sight.
Holt guided the boat to the side of the pier until it made contact with the bank. At one time, there had been a path from this pier to the old woman’s cabin, but Alex could barely make out a trail now. Clearly, no one passed this way often.
“Are you ready?” Holt asked when the boat rested against the bank.
Alex nodded, unable to trust her voice at the moment. She rose from her seat, lifting her backpack as she went. She walked to the front of the boat, ready to step onto the bank, then stopped cold.
On the lowest branch of a cypress tree directly in front of her sat a blond doll in a blue dress, just like the doll Sarah had found in Erika’s room. Just like the doll she’d never wanted to see again. But unlike the doll Erika had, this doll was old and weathered, the blue dress hanging in tatters on the pale body. The blond hair matted and twisted around the doll’s body.
And this doll’s eyes were closed.
Alex felt her pulse racing in her temples. She took another deep breath and before she could change her mind, stepped onto the bank. The instant her foot made contact with the ground, the doll’s eyes flew open.
“Oh!” Alex choked back a cry and stepped back, bumping into Holt who had moved to the front of the boat, just behind her.
Holt caught her by the shoulders, steadying her before she lost her balance in the rocking boat. The doll stared at her, its bright blue eyes seeming to look straight through her and into her soul.
“What’s wrong?” Holt asked, his voice low.
“The doll. It opened its eyes when I stepped on the bank.”
She looked back at him, certain of the incredulous look she’d find on his face, but instead, he stared intently at the doll.
“It was probably just vibration from your step. When I docked the boat the eyes loosened a bit, and your footstep was the final shake it took for them to open.”
His words made complete sense, but Alex got the impression that even Holt wasn’t quite buying his explanation. He just didn’t have a better one.
“Let’s get this over with,” Alex said and stepped onto the bank, deliberately looking past the doll. But as she walked past the cypress tree, she could feel its eyes upon her.
Holt stepped out of the boat, pausing only long enough to pull his pistol from the waistband of his jeans, then stepped in front of her. “Stay close. If you see or hear anything odd, grab the back of my shirt but don’t talk. Okay?”
Alex nodded and fell in step behind him as he pushed deeper into the dense undergrowth. The light diminished gradually until it had all but vanished and a thin mist rose from the mossy ground. Despite the cool fall temperature, a sheen of sweat formed quickly on her brow, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. The humidity was high today because of the approaching storm. Damp leaves from the dense foliage brushed against her bare arms, making her flinch. She pushed spiderwebs out of her way as they passed, but could still feel the remnants tickling her bare skin.
The air seemed thicker, the swamp completely devoid of the noises one would expect to hear. The sound of hers and Holt’s footsteps crunching dead marsh grass echoed in the still air. Alex peered around Holt’s shoulder, trying to make out a path or structure, but all she saw was more swamp.
All of a sudden, Holt stopped short and she bumped into his back. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
He reached up and moved a sheet of moss from his field of vision and scanned the swamp from left to right. Finally, he shook his head. “I thought I saw something move, but I might have been mistaken.”
“There should be something moving out here, right? I mean, should it be this still?”
Holt’s grim expression let her know that he’d also noticed the quiet and didn’t like it any more than she did. “Maybe it’s because of the storm moving in.”
“I thought it wasn’t going to start until this evening.”
“Maybe it’s moving faster than the weathermen reported. The marsh creatures know better than humans what’s going on with the weather. Likely, it’s coming in sooner than they think, which means we need to find the woman and get out of here before the bottom drops out.”
Alex nodded, the thought of being stranded on Doll Island in a raging thunderstorm sending her heart fluttering all over again. “Do you have any idea which way to go?”
“It looks like the brush clears a little about twenty yards just south of us. We’ll go that way then reassess. I have to tell you, if we don’t find a path soon that looks like someone’s used it in the last century, I’m not going to venture much farther in this swamp. It would be foolish.”
“But Erika—”
“I’m sure Sarah doesn’t want or expect you to put yourself in danger, not even for her daughter. We don’t do Sarah or Erika any good dead, and there’s far more dangerous things in this swamp than a bunch of creepy dolls and an old woman.”
“Fine,” Alex said, knowing he was right but hating it at the same time. Granted, odds were against their finding any sign of Erika on the island
