The storm grew in intensity as he headed up the mountainside to the house he’d rented, the wind bowing branches on the bare trees that comprised the sloping foothills. Winter had set in to stay, and the holidays were just around the corner, a time for friends and family.
He had neither. In fact, Raven’s Peak looked as desolate and empty as Miles felt inside.
He’d find out the truth about everything. If Caitlin had been hurt or killed because of him, he’d get revenge on the person responsible. And if she were alive, well, he’d at least exonerate himself, keep his job and move on with his life.
Either way, he’d never get seriously involved with another woman again.
Nighthawk Island
Savannah, Georgia
SHADOWS FLICKERED around the sterile hospital room, the scent of antiseptic and alcohol nauseating. Rain pounded the roof, the monotonous drone echoing the beat of her heart. Despair threatened to steal her energy, so she forced herself to channel her courage into the will to survive. But she was so confused, she didn’t remember her own name. Did she have family somewhere looking for her? A boyfriend, husband?
Caitlin…Nora…
The two names bled together in her mind as if they were one and the same person. Maybe they were. Sometimes the doctor called her Nora. Other times, the nurse had whispered “Good night, Caitlin,” to her in the darkness.
“Here you go, sugar, this should help you sleep.” Donna, a robust nurse who usually worked nights, handed her a small paper cup holding a pill, then poured her a glass of water from the plastic hospital pitcher.
She cradled the capsule beneath her tongue, took a sip of water and pretended to swallow it. The bitter taste assaulted her senses, her struggle not to let it dissolve warring with the craving for something to sweep her away from the nightmare she’d been living the past few days. Or had it been weeks?
She’d lost all sense of time.
Donna patted her hand in approval, then ambled her bulk to the window and adjusted the shades, drowning out the dwindling light that had tried to cut its way through the fog. “Let me know if you need anything else, dear.”
She nodded, a show of obedience earning her another sympathetic smile. Then the nurse bustled by, humming Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” beneath her breath as she exited.
She spit the pill into her hand, her socked feet slipping on the cold linoleum as she ran to the potted plant by the window. Hands trembling, she dug a hole in the potting soil and stuffed the capsule below the surface, then packed the dirt tightly over it. The screech of the lock turning on the door, shutting her in, brought a fresh wave of panic.
She didn’t belong here.
Not in this mental ward or research hospital, whatever it was. Worse, she couldn’t remember how she’d ended up hospitalized. But she’d heard the nurses talking, whispering about the Coastal Island Research Park on Catcall Island, and the more restricted facility on Nighthawk Island. The place was dark, had secrets. The doctors were conducting strange experiments, ones nobody wanted to talk about.
So why was she locked inside?
She wasn’t crazy. She hadn’t willingly committed herself for experiments or treatment. She hadn’t experienced delusions or heard voices until they’d pumped her full of narcotics. Then the voices had started, the strange terrifying dreams, the cries in the night from down the hall.
Cries from other patients…her own…
She had to escape. Get help.
Caitlin? Nora…
She had a sister somewhere. She felt it, a connection of some kind. But where was she? And why hadn’t she come looking for her?
Snack and medicine carts rumbled outside her room, nurses’ laughter and voices echoing in the night. Somewhere down the hall a chilling scream pierced the air.
She rushed to the window and inched back the edge of the shade. The murky sky and woods surrounding the hospital cast the island in an ominous gray. Shadows of drooping palm trees flickered through the haze, heavy with rain. How far was she from civilization? If she ran tonight, would she be able to escape the island and find her way to a town somewhere?
Her reflection caught in the window. A ragged, frail woman stared back. Dark purple smudges marred her skin beneath bloodshot eyes. Perspiration beaded her forehead and upper lip. Her stomach cramped into a knot, and she staggered back to bed to rest. Slowly she’d weaned herself from the narcotics, but going cold turkey triggered nasty side effects that had been nearly impossible to battle alone. Sometimes the sweet need for another shot, a pill, anything to alleviate the pain, to help her rest and obliterate reality was so strong she could barely fight it. But if she succumbed to that desperate need, the dreams, the voices, the cries…would start over again. And this time she might not be able to save herself.
Footsteps sounded outside, and she held her breath, grateful when the person bypassed her room and went on to another poor soul. If the nurse discovered Caitlin was dressed, she might guess her plan and warn the doctors and guards.
Then it would be back to solitary confinement, to that room and the chair.
She nestled under the covers, trying to warm herself as she huddled in the darkness. Seconds ticked by, her eyes glued to the wall clock, the only decoration in the near-empty, gray room. Ticktock. Ticktock. A minute passed. Five more. Ten. Thirty.
Finally, the nurses’ voices quieted. The halls grew silent. She had to go now while it was dark. Before they returned to make their midnight rounds.
Removing the butter knife she’d stolen from the cafeteria, she slipped from bed and began to undo the screws that bolted the windows into place. One. Two. Slowly she worked, the task painstaking, the rust adding to her problems. Her hands shook and she dropped the utensil, the clatter on the linoleum floor echoing through the stillness of the night.
Her breath caught. She paused, listened. Prayed no one heard. Seconds later, she began her task again. Perspiration trickled down her cheek as she removed the last screw. A sigh escaped her, then she opened the window.
Fresh air.
Inhaling sharply, she hoisted herself onto the window ledge and threw herself through the opening. Her ankle twisted as she hit the hard ground. Ignoring the stabbing pain and the bite of the wind and rain, she ran through the grass and bushes, into the thick, shadowy woods that encased the property like a fortress.
An alarm screeched as she climbed the gate. Guards suddenly burst outside, weapons drawn. Lights flickered on, and shouts rang out. “The gate! There she is!”
Caitlin dropped to the other side, and dashed through the sea oats. The trees were so dense, they shaded any light. She searched the darkness, disoriented. Which way should she run?
“Stop!”
The shouts propelled her forward. Her heart pounding, she dashed through the foliage. Insects buzzed around her face. Her shoes sank into the mushy ground. A hawk swooped up ahead, and the stench of a dead animal and peat added a sickening odor.
She spotted a clearing ahead, and she raced toward it. The sound
