Survival Instinct Page 4

  “Yes,” Scott agreed, “but it’s land. It’s not as though someone could easily get their hands on it.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Abby agreed. “But there’s still so much about what’s happened today that doesn’t add up.” She took a deep breath and started moving down the trail again. “So, your mother inherited the land when your father died?”

  “Not immediately. Father was my grandparents’ heir. My grandfather had passed away the year before, but my grandmother was still alive at the time of Dad’s death, though she’d been battling cancer for years. My grandfather’s death was a horrible blow to her. When my father passed away, too, she pretty much gave up.” As Scott reviewed his family history, he considered the idea that someone might be after the valuable land.

  Clearly Abby was thinking similar thoughts. “You don’t think it’s possible someone would leave us out here in an effort to blackmail your mother into giving up the land?”

  “It’s possible someone might try it, yes,” Scott acknowledged. “But my mother won’t sell. That land is the Frasier family legacy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when my mother dies, all the land will go to me.”

  THREE

  Abby couldn’t tear her eyes away from Scott’s face. She didn’t know him well enough to read him. All at once, she realized he was essentially a stranger, in spite of the long-ago connection they shared and the attraction she felt toward him. She remembered the sliver of doubt she’d felt earlier. And now he’d come right out and told her he was in line to receive millions of dollars worth of land as soon as his mother passed away. Was it any coincidence that Marilyn now found herself in a potentially life-threatening situation?

  Had Scott brought his mother to Devil’s Island to get Marilyn out of the picture so he could claim the land for himself? If so, Abby wondered why he’d confess everything to her. Had she, by joining in the boat trip today, unwittingly sentenced herself to death?

  She shook off her fears in a shiver that traveled down the length of her spine. No, Scott was a Christian. He’d prayed with her. She couldn’t believe he’d plot to kill his own mother. The whole idea was completely absurd. She needed to focus on getting off the island instead of letting the place spook her into inventing ghost stories out of nothing.

  Scott’s forehead furrowed thoughtfully beneath his Northwoods College ball cap. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I’m thinking you’re starting to scare me.” She tried to interject lightness into her voice, as though she found the idea more funny than frightening.

  One corner of his mouth bent upward. “I’m guessing you don’t scare easily.”

  “I don’t.” She forced a smile, then checked her watch. “Anyway, we need to get back to your mom and Mitch. It’s already after noon, and the sun goes down by six o’clock these days. We should try to use whatever daylight we have left to get ourselves off this island, or at least make preparations for keeping warm tonight.”

  “Then we’d better get moving.”

  Not daring to move any faster on the slick trail even with her walking stick, Abby just managed to keep up with Scott’s long strides. She still felt distinctly uneasy about being stuck on the island, and was no longer as comfortable as she’d felt earlier about being marooned there with Scott. Her top priority was to get back to Bayfield.

  They cleared the last of the trees and the dock fell into view. Sure enough, there was nothing on either side but water. Abby felt her heart sink just a little more. She hadn’t expected Captain Sal to come back for them, but she realized upon seeing the empty dock, that a part of her had dared to hope there had been some innocent reason for his abrupt departure, and that they hadn’t actually been abandoned at all.

  No chance of that now, so Abby dismissed the thought. Instead she focused on what they would tell Marilyn, who was sitting cross-legged on the dock between Mitch and a large pile of driftwood.

  Leaning closer to Scott, Abby told him in a hushed voice, “I have an idea about what to do with your mom.” At the same time, she unzipped her purse and rifled through its scant contents.

  “What’s that?”

  She found the little white dispenser she’d been looking for and pulled it out triumphantly. “We need to give her something to do so she won’t feel so helpless.”

  “Good idea.” He looked at the object in her hands. “Floss? We’re going to distract her with dental hygiene?”

  Abby threw her head back and laughed at Scott’s teasing suggestion. She was glad he was able to keep his sense of humor in spite of their circumstances. “No, silly, we’re going to ask her to go fishing.”

  At the sound of her laughter, Mitch and Marilyn turned their heads. Marilyn jumped up and trotted up the hill to meet them, her face bright. “Well, how soon are they going to get here? I’ve decided where we should go for lunch.”

  Scott put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “We might not make it back in time for lunch,” he said, breaking the news in a voice buoyed by hope, “but we’re working on it. In the meantime, we’ve got a project for you and Mitch.”

  As Scott outlined the plan, Abby tied long lengths of floss securely to each walking stick, using the large knots in the wood as a brace to keep the string from slipping off. Marilyn seemed eager to help, especially once Scott explained it was up to her to fish for their supper. Abby felt relieved the older woman was willing to rise to the challenge.

  “You’re going to need lures and hooks,” Marilyn noted, handing over two brilliant diamond earrings.

  “Oh, no, not your diamond jewelry,” Abby refused.

  But Marilyn was insistent. “Captain Sal got the rest of it. Honestly, I’d rather these go in the stomach of a fish than into the hands of a sneaky crook.”

  Abby looked at Scott’s mom and realized she wasn’t going to back down. “Well,” she agreed hesitantly, “I guess these would work remarkably well. And we don’t really have anything else.” She felt a twinge of guilt at having Marilyn give so generously to the cause, when in reality the whole fishing bit had only been meant to distract her. But maybe Marilyn felt the need to compensate for her role in their being marooned in the first place.

  The earrings had a French hook in back, with three dangling gems of graduated size. They’d be perfect as lures-as perfect as any diamond earrings could be, Abby figured. She knotted the floss several times over to insure they wouldn’t be lost.

  While she worked, she observed Scott and Mitch engaged in a hushed conversation farther down the dock. She promptly silenced her imagination when she found herself wondering if Scott and Mitch might be conspiring together. Instead she handed the makeshift poles to Marilyn with words of encouragement and headed over to the men.

  “Oh, come on,” Mitch said as she approached. “A strong guy like you? That can’t be more than a mile or two. I used to swim that much all the time when I was your age.”

  Seeing where the older man pointed, Abby realized what he was suggesting.

  “I really don’t think it would be wise to try.” Scott shook his head. “With the temperatures of these waters, a person could get into deep trouble in a hurry.”

  “Are you suggesting Scott attempt to swim to another island?” Abby asked as she approached them.

  “Sure! Why not? That island there is pretty close. Scott was a college athlete. I think he’s still got it in him.”

  “No,” Abby informed them insistently, “it’s not humanly possible. The average temperatures of these waters are less than fifty degrees, even at the surface on a sunny day. Even with a life preserver, it’s unlikely the strongest of swimmers would make it as much as a mile before succumbing to hypothermia. Rocky Island is two miles from here. Scott would die before he got halfway there.” Abby recited the facts as she had so many times when she’d worked for the Park Service. Everyone seemed to underestimate the deadliness of the frigid waters. Far too often, it turned out to be a fatal mistake.

&nbs
p; Mitch clearly didn’t appreciate being corrected. “The waves are going that direction,” he pointed out, “they’d practically carry him there. And I’m sure the surface water isn’t nearly as chilly as the deeper parts of the lake. Why, we’ve gone swimming in Lake Superior before and had a very pleasant time.”

  Abby realized she’d touched a nerve, and possibly embarrassed him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Look, it’s a good idea. If this were a protected cove, and if the wind had been pushing warm surface water into a pool here, I’m sure Scott would have no problem swimming two miles. But this water is coming in from the open sea, where it’s constantly turned over from the cold water in the depths. It’s just not safe.”

  In spite of her calm tone, Mitch pulled his arm away, clearly offended. “What other options do we have? Given the circumstances, I don’t think it’s too much to ask Scott to risk it.”

  “And given the circumstances-” Abby met the man’s eyes and did her best to stare him levelly down “-it wouldn’t be a matter of risk. Striking out for Rocky Island as a swimmer would be suicide.” She let out a frustrated breath and tried to calm her agitated nerves. She didn’t like Mitch, and could understand why Scott had expressed a desire to avoid him. “Now, Marilyn is already doing her part by fishing to get us some supper. We have two poles. Why don’t you join her?”

  With a little more cajoling, Mitch reluctantly agreed. Then she and Scott headed up the shoreline to the two ancient boathouses half-hidden among the boulders farther up the shore.

  They found the canoe up in the rafters of the second boathouse. Scott regarded it with disgust. “I’m not so sure this thing is puddle-worthy, let alone seaworthy.” He assessed the ancient birchbark boat once they’d hefted it to the ground.

  “If someone really did leave us here to die, it’s quite possible they left this here thinking we’d take it into the open water and drown,” Abby offered, then grinned at him. “But if so, then they seriously underestimated how seaworthy this kind of vessel can be. I believe this was once used as part of an educational display, but before that, it was built to be a functional canoe.” She lifted one of the single-bladed paddles from the bottom of the boat. “We’ve got everything we need. I say we use it.”

  Scott’s eyes narrowed. He wondered how Abby could possibly be serious. “You mean you would actually consider taking this boat out onto that lake?” He pointed at the choppy waves just beyond them.

  “Not if I had a better option.” Abby met his eyes. “Why don’t we take it down to the dock and put it in the water? We can stay close to shore for a while and see how she holds up before we venture out very far.”

  Given their lack of alternatives, Scott decided Abby’s suggestion sounded fair. She seemed to know plenty about the islands, and had the facts behind her to keep Mitch off his case. If he had to choose, he’d rather try the canoe than strike out for Rocky Island swimming. “Do you have much experience canoeing?”

  “Not on the open sea,” Abby admitted, “but I think I can manage not to tip us over, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Scott appreciated her scrappy attitude, and realized he probably sounded like he was whining. The problem was, he felt responsible for everyone else’s safety, and he especially didn’t like the idea of putting Abby at risk by letting her join him out on the water. But he also realized the two-person canoe would be nearly useless to him if he tried to man it himself.

  “Okay, let’s see what this relic can do,” he agreed, meeting Abby’s eyes and sensing apprehension there. So, she felt nervous, too. “I’m going to look for a bucket or something to bail with before we go, though. Even if this thing holds water, it’s not enclosed like a kayak. If we get into some high waves, we could be swamped in a hurry.”

  “So you think we should try it?” Abby’s voice sounded less certain now that Scott had agreed to her plan.

  Scott crouched down and ran his fingers slowly over the smooth brown birchbark stretched tight across the wooden frame. The boat seemed so fragile, almost paper-thin, and so old. Would they be crazy to take it out on the lake? What if they got far from shore and ran into trouble? Worse yet, what if the waves pushed them out past the islands, into the open sea? There was no way the antiquated craft would make it to the shore of Canada. He looked up at Abby. “What are our other options?”

  Abby looked around uneasily. Scott could see their precarious situation was starting to weigh on her. She hunkered down next to him and sat on the cement floor of the boathouse. “Does anybody know you’re out here today?”

  Her question made sense. How long would it be before anyone missed them, and would they know where to look for them even then? “I went out with some of the guys from work to celebrate my birthday last night,” he explained. “I told them Mitch and my mom wanted to take me to another island today. I’ve visited seventeen of the islands, and Mitch has gotten it into his head that I need to eventually visit all of them. So they know I’m out here, but they don’t know which island.”

  “And they expect you back at work on Monday?”

  Uneasiness stirred in his stomach. “Actually-” Scott swallowed, trying to force down the fear that rose in his throat “-no. I’d planned to be back in the office Monday, but the guys said I’d been working too hard lately and had too much vacation time racked up. They told me to take some more time off and spend the week out here. I wasn’t planning on it, but if I don’t show up on Monday, they’ll probably assume I’ve come to my senses and followed their advice for once.”

  “And your folks were planning to drive the circle tour around Lake Superior?” Abby clarified. “Do they tend to check in with anyone regularly?”

  Scott shook his head. “I doubt it. I suppose they’ve got hotel reservations here or there, but people don’t show up for reservations all the time. No one would raise an eyebrow.” The facts were stacked against anyone coming looking for them, and Scott didn’t like it. “What about you, Abby? How long would it take before anyone came out here looking for you?”

  Abby froze. She could feel the cold of the cement boathouse floor seeping in through her legs, into her bones. So much had gone wrong on this trip. At Scott’s question, her fears about his reason for being on the island resurfaced. No one knew she was there. But did she dare admit as much to him?

  “I don’t know,” she admitted cautiously. “I have a lot of coworkers at the Eagle Foundation.” She took a shaky breath and avoided his eyes. True, she had lots of coworkers, but they all telecommuted. She was the only one living in the Bayfield area. And though she tended to keep in touch regularly via e-mail, she’d had problems with her Internet connection in the past and been out of touch for days at a time. If no one heard from her for a week, they likely wouldn’t be too concerned. And all of her family lived in the Chicago area. Though she kept in close touch, she’d sometimes gone a week or more without contact. Likely they wouldn’t be alarmed if they didn’t hear from her for that long.

  After a long pause, Scott probed further. “Do you think any of them would miss you? Does anyone know where you are today?”

  What would happen if she told him the truth? Had Scott brought his mother to the island with evil intentions? And if so, why had he agreed to let her come along? Abby prayed silently in her heart, and felt her pulse rate still. She glanced at the boat, and realized there was no way she’d be able to paddle the lengthy craft on her own. If she was going to get off the island, she had to trust Scott-with the truth, and with her life.

  “Nobody knows I’m here,” she admitted in a tiny whisper. “No one will miss me for several days, and even when they do, they won’t know where to look.” She stared at his face as she spoke, hoping for some sign of whether he felt relieved or worried by her admission.

  Scott’s brow scrunched ever so slightly under the brim of his ball cap. Whether that was a good sign or bad, Abby wasn’t sure. She looked at the orange-brown wood of the boat, and then to the gray-blue sea. “What do you think? Sh
ould we risk it, or wait for help to come to us? We could always wait a few days and then try the canoe.”

  “If we wait for help, we’ll only become weaker. We don’t have any food, we don’t have any source of heat, one of us could be injured at any time, and as you said yourself, storms blow up here with little warning. If we wait too long, we might not be able to try the canoe. Our best shot with this thing is to try it right now, before we get any more tired and hungry, before the weather changes and before it gets too close to sundown. After all, once we make it to Rocky Island, we still have to find the Ranger Station on the other side of the island. We don’t want to be wandering around in the woods in the dark.”

  His arguments made sense, but Abby still felt so uncertain. She closed her eyes and began to pray silently again. But before she’d hardly started, Scott spoke.

  “Do you want to pray about it?” He reached for her hand.

  She nodded. It almost felt natural holding Scott’s hand, hearing him praying to God for wisdom and protection. Scott concluded the prayer, and Abby jumped up and brushed dust from the floor off of the back of her pants. “Thank you for praying. I think you’re right. We should try the canoe.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do.”

  “Okay. Let me find something to bail with.” Scott scavenged around until he found an old plastic bucket that had clearly been a child’s sand toy, but was now faded and cracked. “This probably washed up on shore here, or someone left it behind, but it should work for what we need.”

  “Perfect,” Abby agreed. “Now, let’s get his canoe down to the dock and see if she holds water.”

  They hoisted up the canoe and found it to be more cumbersome than heavy. After walking a couple of minutes and making little progress with the canoe impeding each step, they lowered it to the ground and Scott suggested, “Why don’t I just carry it over my head?”