Page 116 of The Unknown

I watched a man get murdered tonight.

And no good will come from it.

It won’t bring Elise back. It won’t lessen the pain Ronan caused her when she was alive. All it will do is create even more pain. For Ronan’s family. For his fans. For his friends and colleagues.

And for me.

Because I just helped cover up his murder.

The only thing keeping me from falling apart completely is the idea that it was all Daisy’s doing. I think about everything that’s taken place on this island, both now and in the past. While most of it has been explained away, either in Daisy’s diary or in person, a few small details remain a mystery. Enough to suggest that New Avalon is at least touched by the supernatural.

As if to reinforce that idea, I hear a sickeningly familiar noise just as I’m about to leave.

Thwump.

I whirl around, facing the empty cottage, seeing absolutely nothing that could have caused it. Still, I say, “Violet? Are you doing that?”

There’s no response, of course. Violet isn’t here. No one is. It’s just me and the empty cottage and the noise that sounds a second time.

Thwump.

“This isn’t funny, Violet,” I say, still trying to convince myself that she’s behind it, even though it’s clear she isn’t.

Thwump.

I wince at the third occurrence, for it sounds exactly like Ronan’s body hitting the rocks at the base of the cliff. Dull. Lifeless. Haunting.

This, I realize, is not a noise a human could make.

It’s the sound of the dead.

I slowly rotate around the room, still unable to pinpoint where the sound is coming from. My hope is that doing so will indicate its source.

But deep down, I already know. I suspect I’ve known since the first time I heard the scratches the night I arrived.

“Daisy?” I say, my voice a whisper in the darkness. “Is it really you?”

Thwump.

I think that’s a yes. Which means that all this time, the noises in the cottage have been Daisy’s way of communicating with me. There’s something she’s been trying to say. After what just happened in the parlor, I’m not sure I want to hear it.

But then the noise sounds again.

Thwump.

And two more times after that, making me understand that Daisy will have her say whether I want to hear it or not.

I try again to pinpoint the noise, roaming the room, skimming my palms over the walls. When it happens again—thwump—I detect the slightest vibration. A shiver of motion that occurs not in the wall but under my feet.

I drop to my knees and wait, hunched forward, hands flat against the floor. Daisy apparently approves, because there’s another thwump. This time, I feel it before hearing it. A shimmy beneath my palms as, like thunder following a flash of lightning, noise erupts in the room.

This time, it doesn’t stop as Daisy lets out a series of thwumps that have me crawling across the floor, following the growing vibrations. When I reach the center of the cottage, she unleashes one lastTHWUMPthat’s loud enough to rattle the rafters and make the entire floor heave. The movement jars one of the floorboards, shaking it loose, the plank of wood now slanted atop another, revealing a dark space beneath it.

Sure, the entire cabin is mostly dark. As is the entire island. But the sliver of darkness under the floorboard is deeper than all of that. The blackest of blacks. Endless. Tantalizing.

It is, I realize, the kind of darkness that begs to have light shed on it. Like the space under the bed where monsters could be hiding.

I crawl toward the board, suddenly aware that I haven’t heard another thwump since it came loose. Maybe there’s a good reason for that. Maybe the loose board was the goal of all that racket.