The Missing - Kiersten Modglin (the reading strategies book TXT) 📗

can go,” the man said, his hand brushing hair out of her face. “If you want to stay with her.”

“Okay, sure, that’d be great,” I said. “Just tell them we need some water. Maybe some crackers too, if they have any.”

“Thank you,” the girl whispered, meeting my eyes with embarrassed tears in her own. “I feel so stupid. I don’t know where this came from.”

“You don’t need to feel stupid. We’re all out here drinking in this heat. It’s bound to happen. And being on the dinghy could’ve made you sea sick, too. There’s a lot at play here.” I patted her arm gently as the man stood.

Suddenly, he yelled. “Hey!”

I looked up at him, then followed his gaze. “What is it—”

My stomach dropped.

The men were no longer in the water.

The boat was drifting away from shore.

No.

I stood up next to him. “Hey, wait!” I called, waving my arms in the air. What was happening? Did they need the boat farther out to fix it? Why hadn’t they told us that?

Noticing what was happening, the other two men rushed toward us, screaming and waving their hands, too. The cocky man, still sopping wet, jumped up and down, his hands in the air. The blond cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting after them.

“Don’t forget us!”

“What are you doing?”

“We’re still here!”

“Hey! Wait!”

We shouted and waved and hurried across the sand, our cries becoming more and more panicked. I kept waiting for someone to come out onto the deck and announce that everything was fine, that they just needed everyone on board to fix the issue, but it didn’t happen.

Instead, as we neared the place where the sand changed from white to tan, dry to wet, I heard a sound that sent chills down my spine.

The boat’s engine started up.

“No, please!” I shouted, feeling my knees grow weak underneath me.

My first thought was of my husband.

Then my parents.

What would they think?

Would they ever know what had happened?

Would they find us?

The boat sailed farther away, no bodies moving on the decks to see that they’d left us. But they had to know, didn’t they? How could they have possibly forgotten?

But, if they hadn’t, could they really be doing it on purpose?

As I watched it sail into the horizon, growing smaller and smaller as it picked up speed, my gaze fell to the man I’d spoken to on the boat. He leapt into the water and was attempting to swim out after the boat, his head the only thing visible as he screamed after it. The rest of us stood on the shore, watching our worst nightmare unfold.

At least, we thought it was our worst nightmare.

Watching that boat sail away, knowing we were stranded on the island, was just the beginning.

We had no idea what was coming.

Chapter Three

BEFORE

I stared at the clear ceiling of the lanai, watching as the clouds passed overhead, giving way to the bright sun and covering it back up moments later. I squeezed my eyes shut when it came into view, then feeling the warmth leave my skin, opened them back up. My hands were outstretched to my sides, drifting under the water’s surface and back up, the pool water engulfing each of my fingers slowly like spider’s webs. I was mesmerized by the addicting way it felt, only getting better when I slowed my movements down. So, I lifted them again, holding them out like a claw and dipping them back in the water at a snail’s pace.

If someone were to look out the window of the house, they might think I was dead. I’d been floating for hours now, my fingers and toes pruney, and the only sign that I was actually alive was the fact that I kept moving my fingers in and out of the water. I never wanted to leave.

Suddenly, as if conjured there by mere thought, I heard a voice. It was muffled, as my ears were underwater, but I knew what I’d heard.

“Ma’am,” it came again.

My eyes drifted downward, making out the shape of a woman dressed in a white, thigh-length dress, her hands folded in front of her. Her dark hair was gathered around her shoulders.

I let my feet drift down until they hit the concrete pool bottom. When they did, I stood, staring at her. I shook the water from my ears. “Yes?”

“Ma’am, your guests have arrived.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall next to the grilling area, surprised to see that it had been more than just a couple of hours, but closer to five, since I’d gotten into the pool. I ran a drenched palm over my face and cleared my throat.

“Thank you, Belinda. Could you get them set up in the sunroom and offer them refreshments while I get changed into something more appropriate?”

She hesitated only for a moment, then jumped into action and walked back into the house. I made my way out of the pool, wringing my thick, blonde hair dry over my shoulder and lifting the folded towel, all fresh and warm from the sun, and wrapping it around my waist with ease.

Then, I slid into my sandals and walked across the lanai, entering the house through the side entrance so I wasn’t forced to face my guests while still in a bathing suit and all wet.

Once inside, I climbed the stairs silently. I could hear Belinda in the sunroom, offering them lemonade and caramelized onion and feta canapés as I walked across the second floor and into the master bedroom. I cleaned my face and lotioned my skin quickly, brushing on a bit of mascara and blush. The one thing I loved about summer was how the sun always managed to keep my skin flawless, which meant I could skip the foundation and powder I would’ve usually put on before meeting with a client.

Once I was done, I ran the blow-dryer over my hair, drying it as quickly as I could and pinning it out of my face. I put on