Standing on the deck outside the living area, Sydney stared out over the property as the sun set beyond the ocean’s horizon. Kenneth Lord’s property. Kenneth, her late husband, she told herself vehemently. Not that she could prove it.
She didn’t need a premonition to know the lab wouldn’t find her photos. What could have happened to them?
Even Benno doubted her. He hadn’t said as much – he’d been very kind when he’d driven her home – but she had recognized his shift in attitude. Wary. And how could she blame him? She was beginning to doubt herself. Perhaps the stress had finally made her crack.
Thankfully, Martha wasn’t around to worsen the situation. All was quiet, at least temporarily.
As if having to convince herself that she hadn’t imagined it all, she went over the past weeks since she’d left L.A.. Since Kenneth had come into her life.
She replayed their every meeting, recounted their every conversation. She couldn’t recall such detail if it hadn’t happened to her, she assured herself. She remembered Kenneth’s exact words when he proposed, his vows to love and cherish her when they married, his expression of disbelief when he knew he was about to die.
Sydney...
Startled by her whispered name, Sydney froze. An eerie sensation glided through her and for an instant, she felt lifted from her surroundings. It was as if she and Kenneth were together again... suspended, floating, bathed by the mist of the ocean.
Sydney blinked and digested her surroundings. Without realizing what she’d been doing, she had left the safety of the house. As if the siren wind had lured her to the scene of tragedy, she was standing on the cliff, at the very same spot where Kenneth had disappeared.
Wind whipped through her hair and clothes, urging her ever closer to the precipice.
Sydney my love...
The rhythmic swell of the ocean called to her, its sharp salt scent assailing her nose. It was the ocean she heard, wasn’t it? Not Kenneth? Her breath caught in her throat, she cocked her head and listened to its mesmerizing surge.
The sea was forever, she thought.
Water rushed stone, the undercutting process continuing to carve out chunks of nature’s history as it had for centuries. The tide was coming in, its inexorable pull strong, enticing. Knowing she could solve all her problems in one grand gesture, she closed her eyes. And as he had the day of the memorial service when she had the vision, Kenneth waited for her, his arms outstretched.
She could almost see him now... almost touch him.
Sydney, my love, come to me...
His voice or her own mind playing tricks on her?
Her eyes flew open and panic welled in her breast. She flipped around, lunged away from the edge, and in doing so, twisted her ankle. Pebbles skidded underfoot. She felt herself slipping, falling off balance... and for the briefest of moments thought of how easy it would be to let nature take her, too.
“No!”
She caught herself and recoiled from the edge of the cliff. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t.
What other explanation was there? an insidious voice asked her.
“I don’t know. I don’t know!” she screamed into the ungiving wind.
But she wasn’t ready to take the coward’s way out.
Sydney moved up and away from the scene of the accident toward the stand of trees where she’d shot the film. Light was fading fast and she didn’t really expect to find anything, yet compulsion drove her. The site was free of human reminder, not surprising since the winds assaulted the area so fiercely.
Her gaze swept every direction. Suddenly a chill shot through her and her head went light. Surely not now, she thought. She couldn’t be losing it now. Forcing her mind to stay totally hers, she sought the quickest way home. A short cut crested the rise and would cut through the copse of trees sheltering the house.
Without hesitation, Sydney took off in that direction. Light had faded and the landscape was one of shadows of varying sizes. Round boulders, tall trees. She forced her mind to concentrate on the myriad dark shapes. She wound down through the small forested area. The light of the house shone through the copse. She speeded up, almost running along the rough trail.
A sense of unreality filled her. Shapes became grotesque. Sounds magnified. Every movement became an effort. Her foot met something unyielding. Rigid. Her upper body floated ahead, out of control. She put her hands out as the ground rushed up to meet her.
“Damn,” she cursed as she jolted to a teeth-jarring stop.
Sydney shook her head to clear it and pushed herself onto her hands and knees, but kept fighting the bulk that held her fast. She didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to know.
When she cold deny it no longer, she acknowledged the impediment for what it was: a very stiff, very cold, very dead body.