In Too Deep by Sarah A. Denzil

Author:Sarah A. Denzil
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sarah A. Denzil

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The arms spin me around, and I come face to face with a man twice my size. He’s wearing a dark-blue fisherman’s jumper, and a hooded jacket pulls his features into shadow. He removes his hand from my mouth but keeps hold of me with the other arm.

“Miss,” he says. “Don’t scream. I’m not going to hurt you. Can I let you go? Will you promise not to run into the fog and hurt yourself?”

“Okay,” I say, trying to calm my hammering heart.

“My name’s Drew,” he says. “I work at the lighthouse, and I saw you walking. It’s not safe out there, miss. I wouldn’t want you wandering off the path now. I’ve got tea and biscuits in the lighthouse if you want to wait out the storm.”

“Okay,” I say, still in a state of shock. “You really shouldn’t grab people like that.”

We start walking. “Sorry. I called out, but you couldn’t hear me through the rain.”

I nod. That makes sense. I glance hesitantly at Drew. He seems harmless, but I’m sure most rapists and murderers do. But it’s also freezing cold out in the rain. If a local believes it’s too dangerous to walk the cliff path back to the house, I’m inclined to believe them.

Inside the lighthouse, he takes me through to a back room, which turns out to be a small kitchenette. He gestures to the kettle, and I nod, accepting the cup of tea gladly.

“There’s a hook for your jacket,” he says, nodding towards the coat rack.

I peel the raincoat from my body, trying—and failing—not to get any water on the floor. Before I hang it up, I grab my phone. There’s still signal, so I fire off a message to Oliver.

Went for a walk and got caught in the rain and fog. Drew from the lighthouse offered me shelter and a cup of tea. Can I trust him?

This island is so small Oliver must know him.

“So, you’re staying at the glass house then?” He smiles, still standing by the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

“That’s right.” I take a chair by the tiny table and place my phone on the surface, eagerly awaiting Oliver’s reply so I can relax. “I’ve been commissioned to paint Anita Low.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Artist, eh? Very good. Maybe you can do the lighthouse.”

“I’d like to,” I say, settling in. “I didn’t bring enough canvasses, though. I have a few sketchbooks, so I could draw it and paint it at home if you’re interested.”

He grabs two mugs from a cupboard and tea bags from a beige canister. “That’d be nice. We’ve never had a painting done of the place.”

He pours the hot water over the tea bags.

My phone pings. Salt of the earth, that man. You’re in safe hands. Call me if you need me to come and get you.

I reply a quick thanks.

“Milk and sugar?” Drew asks.

“Just milk,” I say. “A splash. I like it strong.”

“Right, you are.”

He brings the mugs over and sits opposite me at the table.

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