“Skip? Oh, God…”

She tried to crawl then, to drag herself toward where she had heard those last awful sounds—but the world was a dark void and the rain beat down on her, pinning her to the ground—

“I’m coming, Skip! Hang on!” Why doesn’t he answer me—why doesn’t he call? “Skip!” She pulled herself to her knees, her head exploding with pain, and scrambled to her feet as water sloshed over her wrists. Was she too near the water, she wondered frantically—inches from the waves? She had no idea how far she’d been thrown in the crash—and now it suddenly occurred to her that Skip wasn’t answering because the jeep had gone into the ocean—

“Skip!”

It all looked so much alike—water and sky and sand and rocks—but no, it didn’t, she told herself angrily, it didn’t, it was fear making it look that way, and if she could just calm down and get her bearings—

She saw the jeep then. It seemed to leap out of the rain at her, about twenty feet away, and as she stumbled toward it, she saw that it lay uselessly on its side. She drew in her breath, dreading to go any closer.

“Oh, Skip,” she said softly, and she was there now, trying to peer underneath, trying to steel herself for what she would find—

She found nothing.

Skip wasn’t there.

Startled, Kelsey staggered back. There was nothing but sand and water and storm. She was alone.

Panic engulfed her; she turned in circles, screaming, “Skip! Skip! Where are you?” It was crazy—he couldn’t have disappeared—it was impossible! There was no place to go except the cliffs, and no one with an injury would dare risk the climb, especially in this weather. Kelsey’s brain reeled, and she choked back a sob. He couldn’t have just left her there—why on earth would Skip just go off and leave her—without making an effort to find her, without calling to see if she was all right…?

Help…I’ve got to go back and get help—She had no idea how far they’d come, how long it would take to get back—she knew Justin and Neale were out somewhere on the beach—if only they would find her, if only they would come—But I can’t wait. Sick at heart she knew she couldn’t take that chance. If Skip were lying unconscious somewhere, his life might depend on her.

Ducking her head into the wind, she tried to run…stumbled…tried again. Her head was throbbing; her left leg felt pulled at a strange new angle. She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, pushing herself forward by sheer willpower.

She didn’t see the body until she stumbled over it.

Sprawling beside it, she cried out in renewed pain and fear, her mind registering much too slowly as her eyes grazed over the figure facedown in the sand.

“Oh, no…Skip—”

But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t Skip.

Even as she said his name…even as her hand plucked cautiously at the shoulder, even as she leaned close to heave the body over, she knew with a dreadful certainty that this was the terrible thing that had caused their accident, and that it wasn’t Skip at all.