Look-Alike. Rita Herron

      Donna patted her hand in approval, then ambled her bulk to the window and adjusted the shades, drowning out the dwindling light that had tried to cut its way through the fog. “Let me know if you need anything else, dear.”

      She nodded, a show of obedience earning her another sympathetic smile. Then the nurse bustled by, humming Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” beneath her breath as she exited.

      She spit the pill into her hand, her socked feet slipping on the cold linoleum as she ran to the potted plant by the window. Hands trembling, she dug a hole in the potting soil and stuffed the capsule below the surface, then packed the dirt tightly over it. The screech of the lock turning on the door, shutting her in, brought a fresh wave of panic.

      She didn’t belong here.

      Not in this mental ward or research hospital, whatever it was. Worse, she couldn’t remember how she’d ended up hospitalized. But she’d heard the nurses talking, whispering about the Coastal Island Research Park on Catcall Island, and the more restricted facility on Nighthawk Island. The place was dark, had secrets. The doctors were conducting strange experiments, ones nobody wanted to talk about.

      So why was she locked inside?

      She wasn’t crazy. She hadn’t willingly committed herself for experiments or treatment. She hadn’t experienced delusions or heard voices until they’d pumped her full of narcotics. Then the voices had started, the strange terrifying dreams, the cries in the night from down the hall.

      Cries from other patients…her own…

      She had to escape. Get help.

      Caitlin? Nora…

      She had a sister somewhere. She felt it, a connection of some kind. But where was she? And why hadn’t she come looking for her?

      Snack and medicine carts rumbled outside her room, nurses’ laughter and voices echoing in the night. Somewhere down the hall a chilling scream pierced the air.

      She rushed to the window and inched back the edge of the shade. The murky sky and woods surrounding the hospital cast the island in an ominous gray. Shadows of drooping palm trees flickered through the haze, heavy with rain. How far was she from civilization? If she ran tonight, would she be able to escape the island and find her way to a town somewhere?

      Her reflection caught in the window. A ragged, frail woman stared back. Dark purple smudges marred her skin beneath bloodshot eyes. Perspiration beaded her forehead and upper lip. Her stomach cramped into a knot, and she staggered back to bed to rest. Slowly she’d weaned herself from the narcotics, but going cold turkey triggered nasty side effects that had been nearly impossible to battle alone. Sometimes the sweet need for another shot, a pill, anything to alleviate the pain, to help her rest and obliterate reality was so strong she could barely fight it. But if she succumbed to that desperate need, the dreams, the voices, the cries…would start over again. And this time she might not be able to save herself.

      Footsteps sounded outside, and she held her breath, grateful when the person bypassed her room and went on to another poor soul. If the nurse discovered Caitlin was dressed, she might guess her plan and warn the doctors and guards.

      Then it would be back to solitary confinement, to that room and the chair.

      She nestled under the covers, trying to warm herself as she huddled in the darkness. Seconds ticked by, her eyes glued to the wall clock, the only decoration in the near-empty, gray room. Ticktock. Ticktock. A minute passed. Five more. Ten. Thirty.

      Finally, the nurses’ voices quieted. The halls grew silent. She had to go now while it was dark. Before they returned to make their midnight rounds.

      Removing the butter knife she’d stolen from the cafeteria, she slipped from bed and began to undo the screws that bolted the windows into place. One. Two. Slowly she worked, the task painstaking, the rust adding to her problems. Her hands shook and she dropped the utensil, the clatter on the linoleum floor echoing through the stillness of the night.

      Her breath caught. She paused, listened. Prayed no one heard. Seconds later, she began her task again. Perspiration trickled down her cheek as she removed the last screw. A sigh escaped her, then she opened the window.

      Fresh air.

      Inhaling sharply, she hoisted herself onto the window ledge and threw herself through the opening. Her ankle twisted as she hit the hard ground. Ignoring the stabbing pain and the bite of the wind and rain, she ran through the grass and bushes, into the thick, shadowy woods that encased the property like a fortress.

      An alarm screeched as she climbed the gate. Guards suddenly burst outside, weapons drawn. Lights flickered on, and shouts rang out. “The gate! There she is!”

      Caitlin dropped to the other side, and dashed through the sea oats. The trees were so dense, they shaded any light. She searched the darkness, disoriented. Which way should she run?

      “Stop!”

      The shouts propelled her forward. Her heart pounding, she dashed through the foliage. Insects buzzed around her face. Her shoes sank into the mushy ground. A hawk swooped up ahead, and the stench of a dead animal and peat added a sickening odor.

      She spotted a clearing ahead, and she raced toward it. The sound of water broke through the quiet. The ground suddenly disappeared in front of her. She’d reached a small cliff. She glanced to the left, then the right, but heard voices from both directions. There was no place to run!

      Voices echoed behind her again, carrying in the wind, and flashlights scanned the woods. A beam of light caught her in its glare.

      “There she is!”

      “Stop her!”

      She was cornered. The ocean raged below, a good thirty feet. Her legs threatened to buckle. Someone broke into the clearing. Shouted for her to freeze or he’d shoot.

      Terror seized her. She wouldn’t go back. She would die inside.

      “Please, God, help me.” Her heart thundering, she inhaled, then flung herself over the ledge into the roaring waves.

      Devil’s Ravine

       North Georgia

      HE SAVORED THE SWEET SMELL of Eve’s fear in the shadows that bathed her as she huddled within her tomb. She was a stubborn one, too far gone to save. Too deeply embedded into her harlot ways to admit that the devil had invaded her soul.

      God help him, but he wanted her anyway.

      Her chin wobbled, and her eyes turned glassy, but she refused to release the tears.

      He felt the fine tremors of her body as he trailed his finger over her naked chest, raked the knife blade in the curve of an A, the letter he would use to brand her before he took her life.

      A smile curved his lips. Yes, she was so alluring, angelic really, exactly like the first Eve who’d tempted Adam. Yet she was worse. She was married. Promised to another.

      Only she had forgotten those vows when she’d taken another man to her bed.

      “Please don’t do this,” she whispered.

      He cradled her pale hand in his, then slid the simple gold wedding band from her fourth finger. She didn’t deserve to wear it.

      The marriage decree stated that the union would last forever—till death do us part.

      Breaking that vow meant she had to be punished.

      Miles Monahue would thank him in the end.

      Chapter Two

      Nighthawk Island

      Fear seized Caitlin as she fought the undercurrent, but she forced herself to take a breath and continue swimming. Another stroke. Another. Her clothes felt heavy, weighing her down. How far would it be to the next island? Could she make it?

      Then she spotted the small fishing boat. Deserted, tied to the shore by a long rope.