Dark Beach by Lauren Ash Page B

distance. She moved to the window and squinted against the cold glass, cupping her hands around her eyes to block out the firelight.
    A lantern? It seemed strange, but she thought she could make out a figure standing out there, on the beach. Backing away from the window, she hopped back into bed and pulled the covers firmly up over her. She pulled up the hood of her grey sweatshirt too. “There!” she said, and continued on with the journal.
     
    This house is cursed. This beach is cursed. I must get out of here. I have to. I can’t bear it.
    I saw him the other day. It’s like he’s following me everywhere. I’ve made a report to the police, but they just think I’m crazy.
     
    Jenny shivered, and wondered whether the journal’s belonged to Ron’s mom, Rachael. She read further, carefully. The handwriting was fast deteriorating into an illegible scrawl.
     
    I swear I heard that rocking chair going the other day—back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes it’s like he’s right downstairs again. I don’t know what is wrong with this place, him, this house. I can’t leave yet, can I? Our son is doing so well here. Getting so smart, so handsome. I look at him and feel … I don’t know. I can’t even describe it most of the time. He’s in bed now. Sometimes I catch him snoring—so adorable.
     
    Jenny sighed. Is she talking about Ron? They must be Rachael’s journals . “He is adorable,” she said, and turned back to the page, but she couldn’t concentrate. The lantern was nagging at her. The bedside clock had a picture of a lighthouse on it, hands extending from the center like beams of light. It was midnight. She didn’t want to move; she felt too warm and cozy. But she had to look.
    The lantern was still out there, its glow even closer now.
    It was moving towards her, towards the house.
    “What the…? Who is that?”
    She fumbled down the dark staircase and into the master suite for a better look, opening the balcony doors to a gust of salty air that immediately pushed the doors back behind her. It was wet and slippery out on the deck and her rubber slippers provided little grip. She eased her way to the edge.
    The lantern was hidden by a dune. She waited until it bobbed back up.
    The shadow carrying it looked male, and it was moving quickly.
    “Oh, Christ.” Whoever this was, she wasn’t in the mood for visitors. Retreating back inside, she made her way to the bottom level, into the kitchen, expecting a knock on the door at any moment.
    Heavy steps sounded on the deck. Then stopped.
    Nothing.
    Jenny wondered why he didn’t come around the front.
    She tiptoed over to the kitchen window and poked her head up a little. She couldn’t see much, other than the dim light cast by the lantern and a man just standing there on the deck, waiting.
    What the hell? It’s midnight. Who the hell does this crap?
    She ducked down again as she heard the heavy steps come closer. The kitchen cabinets were momentarily illuminated, the light from the lantern washing over them through the window above her. She froze. Held her breath.
    Of all the moments to get an itch! She tried to ignore the horrible niggling above her brow. Why does that always happen to me? Ignoring it, she focused on the footsteps of this outsider blatantly invading her privacy. Charlie! Where are you when I need you? You stupid dog, you should be down here barking. There was no sign of him.
    The light faded, and the steps sounded back the other way.
    That’s it. I’m not doing this. Like a dog, she scooted on all fours to the island bench and pulled the knife she had used to prepare dinner earlier down off the counter. A smash of glass broke the silence. Shit! I must have knocked a wineglass off the bench. Still on the floor, she crawled the other way, to the front door. “Right. One … two … three.”
    As quickly as she could, she leaped up and flicked on the outside patio light. Footsteps thumped off on the other side of the wall as she