Dark Moon Walking Read Online Free

bridge, moonlight glinting off the turning arms, and a dim trail of bubbles foamed at the stern where an exhaust was disturbing the water, but there were no other signs of life. Only the moon, reflecting off the black hull, gave the vessel form and definition.
    Looking at it, Claire recalled Walker’s question. This had to be the boat he had asked about, and his description was apt. It was strange. Eerily so, although she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.
    Shrugging off her initial shock, she mentally chided herself for letting her foolish imagination run away with her. It was the darkness that made the yacht seem strange, its black hull melting into the night. That and the surprise of finding it there so unexpectedly. And of course whoever it was on the deck of the lodge had to have come from the ship. She herself often wandered up in the evening to sit and look out at the bay glittering under the dark canopy of stars. It was only natural that others would too. She would go and introduce herself. It would be nice to spend an evening in conversation after a summer of relative isolation, maybe share a coffee.
    As she started forward, the deck boards creaked again and she heard what sounded like a chair scraping against wood. Then a harsh voice pierced the night, the words carrying clearly on the cool air. “She ain’t coming back tonight. It’s too late.”
    The voice hung there, alien and surreal, floating on the night air. Once again Claire found herself inching back into the shadows of the forest. A chill of fear shivered across her skin and crept down her spine. Her pulse raced and she felt her hands clench into claws. She dug her fingernails into her thighs as she crouched, waiting to hear some response. But there was only the thundering of her heart and a silence that hung heavily over everything. That too seemed wrong. There must be at least two people there. And who were they talking about? Her? Surely not. They didn’t know her.
    Movement caught her eye, and a dim figure appeared at the edge of the deck. Even in the darkness, she could see that it was a man. He was tall and slim, but she couldn’t make out any details except for his hair. It was cut very short and it was so white, it caught the moonlight and glowed against the black sky. He stood there for a moment before slowly turning toward where she stood, hidden in the trees. As he moved, the same moonlight glinted off the metallic object he cradled in his arms, and a surge of fear stole her breath. It was unmistakably a rifle.
    Time slowed to a standstill. She could hear the sound of her heart beating so loudly she was sure the man would hear it. A minute or maybe a lifetime later, the reply she had been waiting for reached her.
    â€œFernandez does not like loose ends. He said to make sure she can’t talk and that’s what we’re going to do.”
    She didn’t know how long she stood frozen in the shadows, but gradually the awareness that she had to move seeped into her consciousness. Slowly, placing each foot with exquisite care, she inched backward farther into the darkness of the trees. When the lodge was no longer visible and she was completely enveloped by the forest, she turned and crept back along the trail toward her kayak. It had been a pleasant, joyful walk on the previous occasions she had used it. It had seemed so easy and welcoming, but now it became the most difficult journey of her life.
    An owl swept overhead, its outstretched wings pale and silent in the gloom, and she covered her mouth and fought back a scream as she cowered under a tree. The normal sounds of the night, familiar sounds she had heard over and over again since childhood—the quiet rustling of leaves, the scurry of small animals chasing through the leaf litter, the click of branches swaying in the night breeze, the whisper of roosting birds—all brought fear and terrified her. Her heart raced and her breathing seemed