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Authors: Karen Michelle Nutt
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to ease the tension coiling in the pit of her stomach.
Something was terribly wrong, but she couldn't place her finger on
it. She wished Liam were here. It wasn't as if she couldn't take
care of herself, but Liam was tall and strong. If an intruder
lurked within their home, he'd have a better chance of subduing
him. She stood five-foot-two and a hundred pounds.
Liam used to tease her. "Don't wander too
close to the edge of the cliff, luv. If a strong wind picks up,
it'll take you right over."
A thunderclap rattled the windows, causing
her heart to leap. Then another flash of lightning before the
lights flickered out, leaving her in total darkness. "Bloody
brilliant!" Brona cursed under her breath. She hugged the wall and
moved forward, feeling her way as she went. If she could just reach
the desk a few feet in front of her, she'd have light. She kept
batteries and the torch in the top drawer for such nights like
this. She strained her eyes, opening them wider as if this would
allow her to see through the inky blackness. She needed to keep her
wits about her. She had to find Tara before it was too late.
She bumped into a cabinet, stubbing her toe.
She hopped on one foot and bit her lower lip to stop herself from
crying out. Finally, the pain subsided and she drew in a ragged
breath. She fumbled with the drawer. It didn't want to open. She
pulled on the handle again, rattling the drawer and hoping to
dislodge whatever kept it shut. At last, she managed to pry it
open. She reached inside, feeling for the torch.
Whispering sounds of voices caused her to
pause and listen.
"Tara?"
The murmuring stopped cold.
Fear, like the quick hot touch of the devil,
shot through her and the prickling hairs on the back of her neck
rose.
If it was Tara, who else was with her? Maybe
one of the voices hadn't been her sister's. Maybe there was more
than one intruder and they were discussing their diabolical plans.
Would someone really dare to make the hike up the cliffs in this
storm? Brona imagined all kinds of horrible scenarios. Her
imagination conjured up the worst and she convinced herself a
stranger held her sister hostage in one of the rooms.
Chapter Four
Brona clasped the torch and flipped it on.
Her hands shook as she swung it in front of her. The beam of light
bounced off the walls in frightening arrays of fragmented streams,
causing the shadows to loom like monsters ready to pounce. "Who's
there?" she demanded over her choking beating heart.
Brona sensed movement and she swung the torch
toward the shadow. The lights overhead came on and she caught a
glimpse of someone fleeing toward her bedroom. The person was too
tall to be Tara.
She grabbed for the phone, sitting on the
desk, bringing the receiver to her ear. There was no dial tone.
Bloomin' perfect! The storm must have knocked out the lines. With
shaking hands, she placed the phone back in its cradle.
She stared down the hall, listening, watching
and waiting for the intruder to make a move. If I go now, I could
make it down the stairs. I could be out of the house before the
intruder realizes I'm even here. For a second, she almost took her
advice, but the niggling guilt overrode her fear. What am I
thinking? I can't leave without Tara. She had to find her
sister.
Her hand slipped into her pocket and pulled
out the letter opener before she stuffed the torch in its place for
safekeeping. She didn't want to be vulnerable if the lights
happened to go out again. She reopened the drawer and grabbed a few
batteries.
She crept down the hall. Her heart moved to
her throat, making it difficult to breathe. As she neared, she
heard voices again, a woman's soft timbre and a man's rumbling deep
tone. The murmurings grew clearer as she inched closer. She
couldn't make out the words, but she recognized the woman's voice
as Tara's. Her sister didn't sound scared. Her voice was a smooth
and calm murmur not the frantic high pitch of vowels, indicating
something was wrong. Did she know the
Something was terribly wrong, but she couldn't place her finger on
it. She wished Liam were here. It wasn't as if she couldn't take
care of herself, but Liam was tall and strong. If an intruder
lurked within their home, he'd have a better chance of subduing
him. She stood five-foot-two and a hundred pounds.
Liam used to tease her. "Don't wander too
close to the edge of the cliff, luv. If a strong wind picks up,
it'll take you right over."
A thunderclap rattled the windows, causing
her heart to leap. Then another flash of lightning before the
lights flickered out, leaving her in total darkness. "Bloody
brilliant!" Brona cursed under her breath. She hugged the wall and
moved forward, feeling her way as she went. If she could just reach
the desk a few feet in front of her, she'd have light. She kept
batteries and the torch in the top drawer for such nights like
this. She strained her eyes, opening them wider as if this would
allow her to see through the inky blackness. She needed to keep her
wits about her. She had to find Tara before it was too late.
She bumped into a cabinet, stubbing her toe.
She hopped on one foot and bit her lower lip to stop herself from
crying out. Finally, the pain subsided and she drew in a ragged
breath. She fumbled with the drawer. It didn't want to open. She
pulled on the handle again, rattling the drawer and hoping to
dislodge whatever kept it shut. At last, she managed to pry it
open. She reached inside, feeling for the torch.
Whispering sounds of voices caused her to
pause and listen.
"Tara?"
The murmuring stopped cold.
Fear, like the quick hot touch of the devil,
shot through her and the prickling hairs on the back of her neck
rose.
If it was Tara, who else was with her? Maybe
one of the voices hadn't been her sister's. Maybe there was more
than one intruder and they were discussing their diabolical plans.
Would someone really dare to make the hike up the cliffs in this
storm? Brona imagined all kinds of horrible scenarios. Her
imagination conjured up the worst and she convinced herself a
stranger held her sister hostage in one of the rooms.
Chapter Four
Brona clasped the torch and flipped it on.
Her hands shook as she swung it in front of her. The beam of light
bounced off the walls in frightening arrays of fragmented streams,
causing the shadows to loom like monsters ready to pounce. "Who's
there?" she demanded over her choking beating heart.
Brona sensed movement and she swung the torch
toward the shadow. The lights overhead came on and she caught a
glimpse of someone fleeing toward her bedroom. The person was too
tall to be Tara.
She grabbed for the phone, sitting on the
desk, bringing the receiver to her ear. There was no dial tone.
Bloomin' perfect! The storm must have knocked out the lines. With
shaking hands, she placed the phone back in its cradle.
She stared down the hall, listening, watching
and waiting for the intruder to make a move. If I go now, I could
make it down the stairs. I could be out of the house before the
intruder realizes I'm even here. For a second, she almost took her
advice, but the niggling guilt overrode her fear. What am I
thinking? I can't leave without Tara. She had to find her
sister.
Her hand slipped into her pocket and pulled
out the letter opener before she stuffed the torch in its place for
safekeeping. She didn't want to be vulnerable if the lights
happened to go out again. She reopened the drawer and grabbed a few
batteries.
She crept down the hall. Her heart moved to
her throat, making it difficult to breathe. As she neared, she
heard voices again, a woman's soft timbre and a man's rumbling deep
tone. The murmurings grew clearer as she inched closer. She
couldn't make out the words, but she recognized the woman's voice
as Tara's. Her sister didn't sound scared. Her voice was a smooth
and calm murmur not the frantic high pitch of vowels, indicating
something was wrong. Did she know the
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