Survival Instinct (6 page)

“Perfect.” Abby ran the comb through her hair one final time, checking for any stray tangles. “I’ve never appreciated dry clothes so much before.”

“Want me to take your things down to her?” Scott asked, pointing to Abby’s jeans, which hung dripping from the towel rod over the tub.

“No, that’s fine, I’m about ready.” Abby patted her damp hair with the towel from her shoulders. “I can take this one, too.” She reached past Scott for her jeans and gave them a tug. As they flew free of the bar, something hit the floor and skittered under the sink.

“Oops, you lost something.” Scott reached for it.

“It’s probably one of your mom’s earrings. I can get it.” Abby reached into the rear pocket of her jeans and pulled out the two earrings which had been securely nestled there. She felt her cheeks go red as she realized what had fallen out, and hoped Scott wouldn’t find it.

But Scott called out from under the sink. “I’ve got it.” He stood. “It’s not an earring, but it is jewelry.” He handed the diamond ring back to her, and she watched with a sinking stomach as his cheeks colored to match her own. He didn’t ask her about it or comment any further. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said simply, and retreated.

Abby watched him go, furious with herself for being so careless with the ring. What if she’d lost it? She wasn’t sure what bothered her more—wondering what Scott must think, or the threat of what Trevor would do if the ring didn’t make it back to him.

Scott hurried down the stairs to the living room where a warm woodstove burned a cheery fire, keeping the cold and the darkness at bay. He pulled a wooden chair as close to the stove as he dared, soaking up as much warmth as he could stand after the terrific cold of the woods and the lake. But even as he stared through the stove’s window at the dancing flames, Scott felt the cold and the darkness pressing in on his heart.

So, Abby had a diamond engagement ring in her pocket. He was curious about that, but it wasn’t any of his business. They’d been schoolmates years and years before, and he hadn’t seen her since until that morning. He had no claim on her life. But obviously someone else did, or recently had.

He needed to back away, to keep himself from becoming any more attached to her than he already felt. That kiss in the woods was a mistake, a desperate move in a moment of panic, and he wondered if she would remember it, though he doubted he’d ever forget. Abby Caldwell had always appealed to him.

He heard her feet on the steps, heard her talking with Elda in the kitchen as she handed over her wet clothes for the laundry and offered to help the older couple in any way. They turned her down, of course, and then he heard her soft footfalls on the creaky old floor as she made her way down the hall toward him. Her steps sounded tentative, almost reluctant. Or maybe he was just reading too much into things.

“Come on in, the fire’s warm.”

“I’m sure it feels great.” At his invitation she stepped quickly past him and held her hands out to the stove. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever feel warm again.”

“Me, too.” Scott cleared his throat. Should he ask her
about the ring? No, it wasn’t any of his business. But she knew he’d seen it—surely she’d be wondering what he was thinking. Perhaps it would be best if he acknowledged it and moved past it. Before he could make up his mind, Abby pulled a chair over near him, sat down and spoke.

“Remember how we were talking about who might have a motive for stranding us on the island?”

It took Scott’s still-groggy mind a moment to switch topics. “Yes.”

“Well, I was thinking, and I might be totally off base here,” she qualified, “but you know what you said about your family’s land being potentially worth a lot of money?”

Scott wanted to caution her, to assure her the whole idea was a long shot, but whether it was his exhaustion over their earlier ordeal or a still-small voice telling him to listen, he said nothing and watched her face intently as she spoke.

“It occurred to me, inheritance laws being what they are, who would get the land if you and your mother died?”

“That depends.” Scott thought about it. “If Mom died, I’d inherit the land from her, and then if I died, I have two distant cousins on her side who would probably inherit it from me, although Mitch might stake some sort of claim. I don’t know.”

“What if you died first, or if you both died at the same time?”

Scott opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Was she implying…

“Sorry, I’m sure it’s none of my business.” She rose from her chair.

Reaching up, Scott touched her arm and she sat back down. “Mitch would get it,” he told her, looking into her eyes. “Mitch would get everything.”

Her eyes widened at his words. “Do you think—” she started.

“Do I think what?” Fears, ideas, a jumbled mass of theories and suspicions came crashing down inside his head as though Abby had pulled open the door of an overstuffed closet and let loose more skeletons than he’d ever known were hiding there. “Do I think Mitch would stoop to murder if he thought he could get away with it? Maybe. Do I think he’s bright enough to have planned something like this, or brave enough to pull it off? Not really.” Scott leaned back in his chair and put his hands to his temples. He was getting a headache from all the wind and cold he’d endured.

Then he leaned forward and looked at Abby, whose sapphire-blue eyes watched him warily. “Look, I don’t like my stepfather. I’ve never liked him. Partly that’s my own bias, because I loved my father and felt my mother had betrayed his memory by marrying Mitch. But whether my dislike of the man translates into him being capable of plotting a double murder…” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Abby apologized. “I didn’t want to suggest it, but with your mother alone on the island with him right now, and with the power cut and the radio tampered with, I guess I got spooked.” Her small hand reached for his, her delicate fingers curving over his knuckles.

Scott looked down at her hand. It would have been the most natural thing in the world to take her hand, to hold her as he had in the woods. But until he knew why she was carrying an engagement ring around in her pocket, he figured he should keep his distance. He pulled his hand away.

An injured expression flashed across Abby’s features. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again.

Guilt immediately replaced caution, and Scott returned
her apology. “No, you’re okay, I just—” He stopped, unsure what to say, whether to bring up the ring or not.

“It’s okay. I get it.” She leaned away from him and turned her face to the fire. Words slipped from her lips on a whisper. “You’re the strong guy who helps everyone else. You don’t need any support from me.”

The moment she heard the words escape from her mouth, Abby felt horrible for speaking out of place. But it hurt her to see the way Scott took everything upon himself—his mother’s fragility, the weight of the canoe, even her weight, as he’d carried her through the woods. She remembered an article she’d read in the college paper after the football team’s sole loss his senior year. He’d blamed himself entirely for the team’s loss. She didn’t know him terribly well, but she could see the pattern in his life. He was a counselor by profession. He helped others all the time. But she wondered if he knew how to ask for help.

The way his lower jaw clenched, she was certain her words had upset him. But rather than raise his voice or lash out at her, he asked, “What do you mean?”

Abby wondered how she could begin to explain. It wasn’t a formal thought she’d had, just a sense of Scott taking on too much and shouldering everyone else’s burdens. “You’ve been tiptoeing around your mother all day, afraid the truth is going to break her. You can’t stand your stepdad but you won’t talk to her about that either.”

“Abby,” Scott said patiently, “I have a Ph.D. in psychology. I can deal with less than optimum interpersonal relationships, but my mother isn’t equipped with that kind of objectivity. It’s my duty as her son to support her.”

“That’s great, Scott, but who supports you?” As she
spoke, she met Scott’s eyes and held his gaze. For a moment she felt as though she’d seen straight into the depths of his hurt and loss to the boy who’d lost his dad and was afraid of losing his mother, too.

Then Scott’s jaw tightened and he looked away.

Abby pinched her eyes shut. She’d said too much. She didn’t know Scott and didn’t have any right to question him, but she felt as though she did. Though their circumstances didn’t warrant it, emotionally she felt very close to him, and it hurt her to see the distance he’d put between himself and his mother. “I’m sorry. It isn’t any of my business.” She tucked her fingers into the warmth of her knees.

Beside her, Scott’s chest rose and fell with several long, slow breaths. She could almost feel him wrestling with her words, and she wondered if he wouldn’t be more comfortable if she left him alone. Just as she was about to stand, he spoke.

“I have God, Abby. I have God to support me. He is my strength and my shield.”

She met his eyes again and saw the strength of his relationship with God resonating in his features. “I’m glad.” She managed a sincere smile. “I’d hate for you to be alone.”

Peace returned to his countenance, and they sat in silence in front of the fire.

Guilt continued to nag Abby. She wondered if her verbal attack on Scott hadn’t been in part fueled by her own fear over the day’s events. Ever since Trevor had appeared in her driveway the night before she’d felt as though she’d been running for her life. And while it didn’t make any sense at all—couldn’t make any sense, since Trevor couldn’t possibly have any knowledge of what she’d done
with the ring—she wondered if their situation might somehow be linked to the ring she carried in her pocket.

After several long minutes Scott spoke again. “I don’t know how conscious you were earlier in the woods,” he started slowly.

Immediately unsure of herself, Abby wondered if she’d said or done something embarrassing while she’d been in hypothermic shock. She hadn’t confessed to having a crush on him, had she?

Scott continued, “I don’t even know how conscious I was, really. I know I wasn’t thinking quite straight—the cold was getting to me, and I was afraid your body temperature was dropping too low.”

Realizing what he was getting at, Abby asked softly, “Is that why you kissed me?”

His eyes widened. “You remember?”

“It’s not the sort of thing I’d easily forget.” Abby could feel her cheeks burning. “Do you regret it?”

Scott’s eyes met hers with a look she couldn’t read. She could sense the importance of the answer he was about to give her, but before he so much as opened his mouth to speak, Elda poked her head into the doorway.

“Good news! Burt’s just heard from the Coast Guard. They’ve rescued your stepdad.”

Scott and Abby rose together.

“And my mother?” Scott clarified.

Elda’s face fell, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry. They’re still looking for her.”

S
cott wanted to throw his head back and scream. Instead he stepped past Elda to the kitchen, where Burt was flipping pancakes at the stove.

“We’re getting some supper for you here,” Burt announced as Scott entered. “The Coast Guard guys didn’t know when they’d be able to come by and get you, what with the weather and all. But we’ll put some food in you and see what we can do.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” It was all Scott could do to remember his manners. “Please, Burt, did they say anything about my mother? What did Mitch have to say when she wasn’t with him? Where do they think she is?”

Scott felt Abby step into the room behind him and was grateful for the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder. He focused on relaxing his tense muscles.

Burt stepped over to the table with two plates of pancakes. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll tell you what I know.”

Scott fidgeted in his seat while Burt served up the pancakes and warm Bayfield apple butter. In spite of his ravenous appetite, he didn’t think he could eat until he heard more about what was going on with his mother. Still, as the scent of cinnamon and apples rose to his nose, he
instinctively took a bite. It tasted delicious, but it didn’t do a thing to calm his anxiety.

Burt sat opposite the two of them at the heavy round oak table, a cup of steaming coffee between his hands. “I don’t know much,” he began. “The Coast Guard said they’d picked up Mitchell Adams. According to Mitch, your mom had headed inland for shelter from the storm. Mitch didn’t want to leave the dock, so he let her go off by herself. She might be up at the keeper’s quarters or in any of the buildings, who knows? They haven’t managed to get in much searching yet, but they said they’d let me know as soon as they find her. They’re not too worried about finding her, but with the weather and all, they’ve declared it a Search and Rescue and they’re bringing out more men on a couple of helicopters. Once they find her, they’ll probably swing by and pick you up. In the meantime, you two can hunker down here.”

Burt’s update made it sound as though his mom was probably fine—and arguably more sensible than Mitch. Still, Scott had trouble accepting the positive prognosis.

“Do we need to head over there to help them? I know my mother as well as anyone. I might be able to figure out where she’d be, and Abby knows the island pretty well. We should be over there helping.” Scott felt Abby’s hand touch his arm, a light, reassuring pat before she turned her attention back to her plate. At least she had the good sense to eat. He made himself to take another bite, though he felt as though he was simply going through the motions. He’d need his strength if the search ran long.

“If they don’t find her in any of the buildings, they’ll call for reinforcements. The Coast Guard doesn’t mess around when people are missing out here.”

Scott wanted to persist in his line of questioning, but he knew Burt had exhausted his information. Still, it bothered him to know his mother was out there, alone in the dark somewhere in this storm. What bothered him even more was the still all-too-real possibility that someone didn’t want his mother to leave the island alive. But once again, Burt wouldn’t be able to tell him anything to assuage those fears. Rather than push further, he thanked his host for his help and dug into his pancakes.

When he and Abby had eaten their fill, they followed their hosts to the living room, where Burt and Elda occupied the wooden chairs. “Have a seat.” Burt motioned to a two-person sofa that flanked the fire. Scott had always heard such a piece referred to as a
love
seat, but he tried not to think about that as he and Abby shared the cozy couch.

Scott saw that Burt was wearing his radio receiver on his belt, so he knew the man would answer as soon as any news came in about his mother. He put his feet close to the stove, closed his eyes and prayed in his heart for his mother. She was out there somewhere, and it tore him apart not knowing if she was okay.

“So, how’d you all get stuck on the island?” Burt asked after some silence.

While Scott listened, Abby relayed the whole story from the time Sal had left them on the island until the two of them had reached the Ranger’s Station. For the most part, Burt and Elda simply listened, their weathered faces etched with concern at the news the small party had been intentionally abandoned. When Abby began to theorize possible motives for Captain Sal’s crime, Elda chimed in.

“I’ve never heard of any Captain Sal or
Helene
’round these parts. Granted it’s a big lake, and people visit these
islands from all over. But for a guy to run a water taxi business out of Bayfield and me not to have ever heard of him, now that’s something.”

Scott sat up a little straighter at her words. “Do you think he may have come into the area just to pull a job and leave?”

“Could be,” Burt reasoned. “Not many folks know this, but these islands are a pretty wild place. A lot of open space, a lot of weather issues, not a whole lot of law enforcement for all the ground they cover. And you’ve got to keep in mind, we’re an international border. Canada’s just across the water. There’ve been all sorts of smuggling rings run through here. Why, pirates used to hide out in the sea caves under Devil’s Island until a century ago.”

Scott felt Abby tense beside him. “But the sea caves are small formations, surrounded by dangerous rocks and open sea,” she protested. “How would they have provided shelter to pirates? You can’t even get a kayak in most of those caves without perfect weather conditions and tremendous skill.”

“Well—” Elda chuckled “—who knows? People tell some tall tales around here. Could be the caves were just a cover story for what really went on.”

“I don’t know,” Burt defended his tale. “My grandfather was part of the crew that worked to bring them to justice. He’s the one who told me about them. A good Christian man, he was. He wouldn’t make up lies. Saw them with his own eyes, he did.”

Elda patted his knee. “That was over a hundred years ago, Burt. It’s hardly something going to help us tonight.” She rose. “And speaking of, it’s eight o’clock, and getting on toward our bedtime. I’ve made up cots in the spare rooms upstairs for you two. You can take your pick when you’re ready, but I’ll warn you, it gets a little chilly up
there. You’re welcome to spend as much time as you like down here by the fire. Plenty of wood there.” She nodded toward the rack of split logs in the corner. “Good night.”

Burt followed her up the stairs after promising to let them know the minute he heard any news about Marilyn. Scott couldn’t ask any more of them. “Good night, and thank you.”

Now alone with Abby, he thought about moving to one of the wooden chairs, but the little love seat felt cozy, and he didn’t feel like forcing his tired body to move. Abby’s account of their adventures had provided some distraction from his worrisome thoughts, but now that she sat silently next to him, his concerns for his mother resurfaced. Rather than stew helplessly, he decided to ask Abby the question that had been haunting him all evening.

“So, I’ve told you all my sorry family history,” he began, turning to face her. “But I don’t even know why you came out to Devil’s Island this morning. Why are you here?”

Abby’s eyes darted around the room as though looking for escape. He’d seen his counseling clients wear the same look when he’d asked them questions that got to the heart of their issues, so he knew he was on to something with Abby. Her reaction fed his suspicion that she was hiding something. “I used to work there years ago,” she said with practiced nonchalance, as though that explained everything.

“But why now? Why today, with the tourist season basically over and the weather uncertain? It wasn’t just a whim, was it?” He kept his tone noncommittal, but watched her face carefully. If his past could hold clues to their situation, perhaps hers could as well.

“I—” she started.

Abby was going to say she didn’t want to talk about it.
Scott had worked with enough people in denial of their issues to know not to let her get those words out of her mouth. He cut her off. “What were you doing on Devil’s Island with a diamond ring in your pocket?”

She fell silent, her face red, and she looked at her hands. There had been a time when such a response would have made him feel guilty for asking, and he’d have backpedaled to let her save face. But he’d made too many breakthroughs by pushing his clients past their areas of discomfort. And in Abby’s case, whatever was bothering her might be a clue to what had happened on the island. It might even help him find his mother. He wasn’t going to let her clam up just because she felt embarrassed. Besides, she’d already pushed him on his issues, so he figured it was only fair. “Is it an engagement ring?”

She met his eyes just long enough to nod.

“Yours?”

“Yes.”

“Are you engaged, Abby?” Though he prided himself on keeping his emotional distance, now he felt the color creeping up his neck. He’d kissed her in the woods, however briefly. He’d feel terrible if she’d had a fiancé the whole time.

But her quick answer reassured him. “No. Not anymore, not in over five years. And I can assure you it was a mistake to begin with.”

“Then why are you still carrying the ring?”

Abby didn’t protest his right to ask. Perhaps she felt his questions were only fair after the way she’d challenged him on his relationship with his mother and stepfather. “I didn’t. I haven’t.” She looked him full in the face with eyes that seemed to be searching for understanding. “The ring has been buried on Devil’s Island for the past five years.”

“Why?”

“My ex-fiancé and I had a rocky relationship. I’d tried breaking up with him before, but never stuck to it. I buried the ring on the island to keep myself from going back to him—that way I’d have the whole trip back to the island to come to my senses.”

Scott’s brow crinkled. “So why go back to get it now?”

Abby looked down at her hands. When she looked back up at him, fear haunted her eyes. “My ex-fiancé is back in town. Lately I’ve felt as though someone was watching me. I don’t know how to explain it, just a funny sensation. I never saw anyone. But then last night, he showed up outside my house when I came home. He’d been waiting for me. He told me to give him the ring back, or else.”

“Or else what?” Scott watched her intently as she spoke. A part of him found her story incredible. It didn’t stand to reason that a guy who’d walked away half a decade before would suddenly come back for a small piece of jewelry. Scott wasn’t sure how valuable the ring might be; in the short time he’d held it, he’d noticed the gem was large and brilliant, but given the abundance of jewelry his mother wore, he wasn’t easily impressed by one ring.

Abby raised her left hand and held it out for his inspection. At first Scott only noticed the blisters on her palms from rowing the canoe across the lake. But when she pointed to the base of her ring finger, he realized she sported a deep purple bruise. “I don’t know.” Her voice trembled slightly. “He bent back my finger and told me he’d make sure I never wore a ring again. Now whether that means he was going to cut off my finger, or—” her voice caught “—or something worse, I don’t know.”

“Something worse?” Scott repeated. He could feel the
chill of the threat seeping into his own bones. “So if you give him back the ring, do you think he’ll leave you alone after that?”

“I—I don’t know.” Abby’s eyes widened again. “I guess I hadn’t thought beyond that.”

Scott closed his eyes and tried to think. So much had happened in the past ten hours. They had every reason to believe they’d been left to die on Devil’s Island—and now this bizarre threat came from seemingly out of nowhere. Could the two possibly be connected? Perhaps his family’s land had nothing to do with it. Abby may have been the intended target all along. “When were you planning to return the ring?”

“He said he wanted it back by tomorrow night. He didn’t say where or how. I guess I figured he’d find me, just like he did last night.”

Scott let out a long slow breath. This guy could be planning to get rid of Abby once he had what he wanted. Scott wasn’t sure what shook him most—the idea of what her ex-fiancé might be planning, or the realization that he felt an overwhelming need to protect her. “Don’t let yourself be alone with him,” Scott cautioned her.

Abby’s eyes widened. “Do you think he would still try to hurt me, even once I give him the ring back?”

“I don’t know.” Scott reached for her hand and studied the ugly purple bruise. Then he covered her hand with his protectively. “I don’t know what’s going on, but somebody’s out to kill us, and you were just threatened last night. Once this guy has his ring, he won’t need you anymore. What’s to stop him—” Scott paused when he heard footsteps headed their way down the hall. They both looked to the entryway.

Burt stepped through to the front room.

Scott’s concern for Abby was immediately eclipsed by thoughts of his mother’s safety.

“The Coast Guard just called.” Burt stood behind one of the wooden chairs and braced his hands on its sturdy back as though he needed the support. “They haven’t found any sign of your mother yet. I told them about your offer to help look, and seeing as how the storm’s letting up for now, they’ve agreed to send a whirlybird over to get you. They’re wanting to take your fingerprints, too, to match to those they found on the radio. And I think they’ll be asking you some questions. Elda’s getting your clothes from the dryer. The Coasties should be here in a matter of minutes.”

Scott stood. “Thank you.” He stepped forward and shook Burt’s hand. “You’ve been an enormous help. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“I just hope you find your mom.” Burt turned as Elda entered the room.

“Here’s your clothes, nice and dry, and still warm. Hurry now. You don’t want to keep the Coast Guard waiting.” Elda handed Scott a neatly folded stack. “Are you going over, too?” she asked Abby, who stood expectantly next to Scott.

Scott turned to Abby, and saw her face color once again.

“I—I thought I would,” she stammered. “I thought I could be of some help. Unless you think I’ll get in the way?” She looked to Scott, her expression one of vulnerability.