Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“So you’re my guardian angel?”
“I’m no one’s angel,” he says darkly. He puts his hand at the small of my back. “But I like to think I can protect you. Come. Let’s walk back. You don’t want to miss breakfast.”
“Protect me from what?” I ask as we walk side by side. His hand lingers on me for a few seconds more before it falls away.
“From yourself,” he says.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I tell him, feeling annoyed.
“You keep saying that, and yet, every day, I know more and more,” he says softly, hands clasped behind his back. “One day, I’ll know everything.”
My stomach flips at his assuredness. “You won’t like what you find.”
“I like what I’ve found so far,” he says, gazing steadily at me. “I like it very much.” He clears his throat and looks away. “This place can mess with your mind, Syd. I’m sure you’re discovering that by now. The isolation…”
“Is it just the isolation?” I ask.
His dark brows come together. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just seems like there’s something about this place. Something I can’t explain.”
“Like rabid wolves in the forest?”
“Something like that.” I rub my lips together, unsure if I should continue.
Don’t tell him everything, I think.
He exhales loudly. “I know we keep talking about the isolation here and the lack of contact with the outside world, for students at least, but it really does play tricks on the mind. Enough so that students have become a danger to themselves.” He pauses. “There’s always the threat of suicide.”
He says that last part so quietly that it takes a moment to register.
I stop walking. “You mean someone killed themselves? Here?”
He turns to look at me. “Yes. The first death was the hardest.”
“The first death? How many people have died here?”
He stares at me for a moment, his jaw tight.
“Four.”
CHAPTER 14
“Four? There have been four suicides here?” I repeat, a sickly churn in my stomach. “Oh my god. Were they all students?”
“Three students,” Kincaid says. His eyes are glassy as he glances away into the forest. “One researcher.”
“Fuck,” I swear. “Why the hell wasn’t that in your brochure highlighting the dangers? Warning: in addition to not having internet access, students might stumble into a bear, a rabid wolf, or become unsubscribed to life.”
“It’s not funny, Syd,” he says, his tone cold.
My eyes widen. “I don’t think it’s funny. I think it’s horrific. Don’t you have to disclose that or something? Shouldn’t this be in the news?”
“What happens here never makes the news unless Madrona approves it,” he says, a bitter tinge to his voice. “After the third death, we put fail-safes up.”
“Your counseling is a fail-safe?” I ask incredulously. “No offense.”
It could explain why he has to record everything. Maybe he goes back over the footage and looks for the signs.
I hope to hell he doesn’t find any in me.
“It has been.”
“But you just said after the third death, you started counseling. When did the fourth death happen?”
“It was the researcher, a couple of years ago,” he says quietly. “It was…unexpected.”
I shake my head. “Damn. So you were called here just to try to keep the students and researchers from dying? No pressure or anything.”
He chuckles, his grave expression loosening. “No, actually. I’m not here because I’m a psychologist. I’m here because I’m a neurosurgeon. They needed someone when they started doing clinical trials. Of course, I happen to have a license in psychology. The two go hand in hand.”
“You’re a neurosurgeon?” Somehow, he got even sexier.
“Yes, well, I’ve heard all the brain surgery jokes, believe me,” he says, smiling slightly as he starts walking again. “To be honest, I much prefer psychology. People fascinate me. The brain is interesting in of itself, but it’s the people who possess the brain that, well, to be sentimental, I guess they give me my purpose.”
I follow as he veers off down a narrow deer trail. “Where are we going?”
“Back to the lodge,” he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. “You have breakfast waiting.”
“Honestly, I’m not very hungry anymore,” I say. “I would rather talk to you.”
I want to know more about the suicides.
I want to know more about you.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Fallen branches snap under our feet as we walk, robins calling to each other from a nearby alder. “Very well,” he says. “We can talk on my boat. If you don’t mind, of course.”
Joy fizzes up inside me. He’s inviting me on his boat?
“I’d like that,” I say, feeling so terribly shy all of a sudden. I dab the handkerchief at my nose again, and luckily, the blood has stopped. “Gives me a chance to wash up before the students wonder what happened to my nose.”
“You must promise to eat something though,” he says. “I’ll whip you up some breakfast.”