Sanctuary

wife and kids were still on the island after she left.”
    “It was twenty years ago. You’d think people would forget and leave it alone.”
    “The Pendletons are Desire,” Ginny pointed out. “Annabelle was a Pendleton. And nobody ever forgets anything on the island. She was really beautiful,” she added, scooting off the table. “I don’t remember her very well, but seeing the picture brought it back some. Jo would look like that if she put some effort into it.”
    “I imagine Jo prefers to look like Jo. You’re healthy, Ginny, go ahead and get dressed. I’ll meet you outside when you’re done.”
    “Thanks. Oh, and Kirby, try to make it by the campground. We’ll make it a real girls’ night out. Number twelve.”
    “We’ll see.”
     
     
    AT four, Kirby closed the clinic. Her only emergency walk-in had been a nasty case of sunburn on a vacationer who’d fallen asleep on the beach. She’d spent fifteen minutes after her last patient sprucing up her makeup, brushing her hair, dabbing on fresh perfume.
    She told herself it was for her own personal pleasure, but as she was heading over to Sanctuary, she knew that was a lie. She was hoping she looked fresh enough, smelled good enough, to make Brian Hathaway suffer.
    She took the beach door. Kirby loved that quick, shocking thrill of seeing the ocean so near her own home. She watched a family of four playing in the shallows and caught the high music of the children’s laughter over the hum of the sea.
    She slipped on her sunglasses and trotted down the steps. The narrow boardwalk she’d had Giff build led her around the house, away from the dunes. Rising out of the sand was a stand of cypress, bent and crippled by the wind that even now blew sand around her ankles. Bushes of bayberry and beach elder grew in the trough. She added her own tracks to those that crisscrossed the sand.
    She circled the edges of the dune swale, islander enough to know and respect its fragility. In moments, she had left the hot brilliance of sand and sea for the cool, dim cave of the forest.
    She walked quickly, not hurrying, but simply with her mind set on her destination. She was used to the rustles and clicks of the woods, the shifts of sound and light. So she was baffled when she found herself stopping, straining her ears and hearing her own heart beating fast and high in her throat.
    Slowly, she turned in a circle, searching the shadows. She’d heard something, she thought. Felt something. She could feel it now, that crawling sensation of being watched.
    “Hello?” She hated herself for trembling at the empty echo of her own voice. “Is someone there?”
    The rattle of fronds, the rustle that could be deer or rabbit, and the heavy silence of thickly shaded air. Idiot, she told herself. Of course there was no one there. And if there were, what would it matter? She turned back, continued down the well-known path and ordered herself to walk at a reasonable pace.
    Sweat snaked cold down the center of her back, and her breath began to hitch. She clamped down on the rising fear and swung around again, certain she would catch a flash of movement behind her. There was nothing but twining branches and dripping moss.
    Damn it, she thought and rubbed a hand over her speeding heart. Someone was there. Crouched behind a tree, snugged into a shadow. Watching her. Just kids, she assured herself. Just a couple of sneaky kids playing tricks.
    She walked backward, her eyes darting side to side. She heard it again, just a faint, stealthy sound. She tried to call out again, make some pithy comment on rude children, but the terror that had leaped into her throat snapped it closed. Moving on instinct, she turned and increased her pace.
    When the sound came closer, she abandoned all pride and broke into a run.
    And the one who watched her snickered helplessly into his hands, then blew a kiss at her retreating back.
    Her breath heaving, Kirby pounded through the trees, sneakers slapping the path in a wild tattoo. She gulped in a sob as she saw the light change, brighten, then flash as she burst out of the trees. She looked back over her shoulder, prepared to see some monster leaping out behind her.
    And screamed when she ran into a solid wall of chest and arms banded tight around her.
    “What’s wrong? What happened?” Brian nearly picked her up in his arms, but she clamped hers around him and burrowed. “Are you hurt? Let me see.”
    “No, no, I’m not hurt. A minute. I need a