I woke up gasping, my ni**les pebbled painfully against my t-shirt and my pulse beating rhythmically between my legs. I tossed and turned until I finally fell asleep, somewhere close to dawn.
CHAPTER 5
Bree
I was off from the diner the next day. When I woke up and looked at the clock, it was eight seventeen. I startled slightly. I hadn't slept that late in months and months, but I supposed it was to be expected being that I'd hardly slept the night before. I sat up slowly, the room coming into focus. I felt heavy and groggy as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My sleep-filled head had barely started to clear when a sound came from outside, just a branch dropping, or a boat engine backfiring in the distance, but my brain grabbed it and catapulted me straight into my waking nightmare–I froze, terror seizing up my muscles, my brain screaming. I watched through the small window in the door separating me and my dad. He saw me in his peripheral vision, and started signing Hide, over and over, as the man screamed at him to put his hands down. My dad couldn't hear him, and his hands continued to move only for me. My body jolted as the gun exploded. I cried out and my hand flew up to my mouth to stifle the sound as I stumbled backwards, instantly filled with shock and horror. I tripped on the edge of a box and fell down backwards, drawing my legs up under me, trying to make myself as small as possible. I didn't have a phone back here. My eyes flew around the room looking for something I could hide behind, somewhere I could crawl. And that's when the doors swung open…
Reality rushed back in as the world around me cleared and I felt the bedspread gripped in my fists. I let out a gasping breath and stood shakily, rushing to the toilet just in time. God, I couldn't do this forever. This had to stop. Do not cry, do not cry. Phoebe sat on the floor at my feet, moaning softly.
After several minutes, I got a hold of myself. "It's okay, girl," I said, petting Phoebe's head reassuringly, for her, but also for me.
I stumbled to the shower and twenty minutes later as I pulled on my swimsuit, shorts and a blue tank, I felt a little better. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and grounded myself. I was okay.
After finishing a quick breakfast, I pulled on my sandals, grabbed my book and my towel, called to Phoebe, and stepped outside into the warm, slightly muggy air, the mosquitos already buzzing around me, and a frog croaking somewhere close by.
I took a deep inhale of the fresh air, the smell of pine and fresh lake water filling my lungs. As I climbed on my bike, Phoebe in the basket in front, I was able to exhale.
I rode down to Briar Road again and sat on the small beach area I had sat on a couple days before. I immersed myself in my novel and before I knew it, I was finished and two hours had flown by. I stood up and stretched, looking out at the still lake, squinting to see the other side where boats and jet skis moved through the water.
As I folded up my towel, I thought that it was a stroke of luck that I had ended up on this side of the lake. The peace and quiet was just what I needed.
I put Phoebe back in the basket and I pushed my bike back up the slight incline to the road, and pedaled slowly back toward Archer Hale's fence.
I pulled to the side as a mail truck drove past me, the driver waving. The tires kicked up dust so that I coughed, waving the gritty air in front of me aside as I pulled back onto the road.
I rode another hundred feet and then pulled over and stood looking at the fence again. Today, because of the way the sun slanted in the sky, I could see several rectangles on the wood that were just a little bit lighter, as if signs had hung there once, but had been removed.
Just as I began to start moving again, I noticed that the gate was very slightly ajar. I stopped and stared at it for a few seconds. The mailman must have been delivering something here and left it open.
I pulled my bike forward and leaned it against the fence as I pulled the gate open a bit further and peeked my head inside.
I sucked in a breath as I took in the beautiful stone driveway leading to the small, white house about one hundred feet from where I was now standing. I didn't know what I had been expecting exactly, but this wasn't it. Everything was neat and tidy and well cared for, a very small span of emerald green, recently mowed grass between some trees, to one side of the driveway, and a small garden in wood pallets directly to the left.
I leaned back out, starting to close the gate when Phoebe jumped out of the bike's basket and squeezed herself through the narrow opening.
"Shit!" I sputtered. "Phoebe!"
I pulled the gate back open just a bit and peered inside again. Phoebe was standing just down the driveway, looking back at me, panting.
"Bad dog!" I whispered. "Get back here!"
Phoebe looked at me, turned tail and trotted further away. I groaned. Well, shit! I walked through the gate, leaving it open slightly behind me, and continued to call to Phoebe who apparently thought I could kiss her little doggie ass as much as she was listening to me.
As I moved closer, I could see a large stone patio and walkway in front of the house, built up on either side, and adorned with large planters full of greenery.
As my eyes moved around the yard, it suddenly registered that there was a loud, banging noise ringing out every few seconds. Was someone cutting wood? Is that what that sound was?
Phoebe trotted around the house and out of sight.
I tilted my head, listening and adjusting my weight between one foot and then the other. What should I do? I couldn't leave Phoebe here. I couldn't go back to the gate and yell loudly for Archer to answer–he couldn't hear.