A small tin boat with an outboard motor is about a hundred yards from shore. Driving the boat is a hooded figure, definitely the same one I saw disappearing into the woods. I lift my phone higher to snap a few photos. The person looks back over their shoulder as they go, but it’s too dark to see any distinguishing features and the hood provides too much cover. Still, I stand there watching until they’ve vanished into the darkness.

It seems like no coincidence at all that the boat took off right where the other path is on the island. Maybe whoever put the cross at the tree is the same one who was in that boat. Maybe it started with a cross to freak me out and now the pranks are escalating.

Rushing back to the cottage, I call the police. Breathlessly I tell them about the record player starting on its own, about the person I saw running into the woods, about the boat and the tree with the cross. Saying it out loud makes it sound paranoid and made-up even to me.

They advise me to either get off the island and go somewhere safe or go into the cottage and make sure all the windows and doors are locked. They said they’ll send a boat out there as soon as possible to do a perimeter scan of the island.

I arrive back at the cottage feeling only mildly better. Inside I turn on as many lights as I can, but it does nothing to dispel the sense of violation that comes after a break-in.

Exhaustion presses in on me from all sides. The courage and adrenaline I felt when chasing that person into the woods have suddenly vanished, leaving me drained, emptying my reserves completely. All I want now is a soft bed, but the thought of heading upstairs to mine makes me shudder. I know that every sound will make me jump, every creak will be a footstep on the stairs. So, before I can second-guess the impulse, I grab my purse, walk out the front door, and head down to the dock to escape Avril Island.

It’s a bit of a risk, fleeing to his place. Hoping his door is unlocked, hoping he won’t mind me crawling into bed with him. Hoping somebody else isn’t already in there. The thought dawns on me only as I finish tying the boat up at his dock.

We’ve never actually called it a relationship or discussed exclusivity. I just assumed it because it’s Ezra—my Ezra. What will I do if he does have someone there? Do I get mad or politely apologize and then let myself out?