Dedication
For Lori Leonard
Thank you so much for your help researching the hotel—you’re wonderful!
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
A Note from the Author
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Acclaim for Colleen Coble
Also by Colleen Coble
Copyright
Chapter 1
Victoria Bergstrom almost forgot to breathe at the beauty of Georgia’s Jekyll Island. Standing at the railing, she watched the sunset gild the undulating tidal grass with gold and orange and continue to paint its spectacular hues on sand and sea as the boat made its way along the Intracoastal Waterway to the wharf. The Golden Isles was an apt name this time of day especially. Her gaze landed on the hotel, and her chest compressed.
Then again, maybe dread stole her oxygen instead.
The garrulous captain gestured toward The Wharf restaurant, perched at the end of the wooden walkway. “There she is. It’s a much prettier approach this direction instead of coming over the bridge. I still can’t believe those people blocked the bridge.”
Torie had planned to drive, but protesters advocating for the abolishment of the Federal Reserve had filled every inch of the bridge over the causeway to the island, and she hadn’t wanted to be stuck in traffic for hours. She shook her head. Did the protesters really believe marching would accomplish their goal? And besides, the Fed helped to protect against bank runs and depressions. It seemed insane to protest about it.
The boat docked, and she grabbed her carry-on bag to disembark. The rest of her luggage would be delivered tomorrow once she knew where she was staying. “Thanks for the ride, Captain.”
He tipped his hat. “You’re welcome, Miss Torie.”
Her heels clattered on the wooden planks past the restaurant and a storefront for boating excursions, and onto the sidewalk onshore. Time slipped past in a shimmering haze as she crossed Riverview Drive, avoiding the ever-constant bikers, and approached the Jekyll Island Club Resort hotel.
It had been eighteen years since she’d run and played along this water. Eighteen years since she’d smelled the river and listened to a bull alligator roar at Horton Pond. Eighteen years since she’d seen stiletto-tipped palmetto groves and moss-draped oak trees. The narrator on a passing tram droned on about the history of this place she’d once loved so much.
There it was.
The hotel that lived both in her dreams and her nightmares.
The tower in the left corner rose above the four-story structure, and the large wraparound porch beckoned visitors with thoughts of sweet tea and laughter with friends. She paused to tuck her white blouse into her navy skirt before she mounted the steps to the outdoor receptionist box guarding the doorway inside. It was unmanned at the moment, so she stepped into the hotel lobby. The scents of sandalwood and pine took her back to her childhood in an instant, and she swallowed past the constriction in her throat.
Audentes fortuna juvat. “Fortune favors the bold,” the Roman poet Virgil had said, and though being here brought out all her insecurities, Torie had to find her courage.
Little had changed through the years other than fresh paint and attentive maintenance. The ornate Victorian moldings gleamed with a gentle glow of wax, and the wood floors were as beautiful as ever. She had never wanted to step foot in this lobby again, yet here she was.
Torie raised her head with a confidence she didn’t feel and approached the resort’s front desk. “Torie Berg. I’m your new IT specialist.”
The alias flowed smoothly off her lips. She’d used it on her last assignment, and it was close enough to her real name to feel natural.
“Welcome to Jekyll Island Club Resort,” the young woman said.
The blonde looked to be about Torie’s age of twenty-eight and wore an engagement ring. Her open, friendly expression was perfect for the check-in desk.
“Marianne,” a familiar voice said behind Torie.
Torie froze and didn’t turn. While she didn’t think the older woman would recognize her, she couldn’t take the chance. The click of high heels went past her to the left, and she caught a glimpse of Genevieve Hallston’s lavender blouse, her signature color.
“Come to my office, please,” Genevieve said to the housekeeper she’d hailed.
The stricken look on the middle-aged woman’s face said it all. Genevieve was on a tear about something, and it took all of Torie’s resolve not to intervene. She’d been sliced by the older woman’s razor-sharp tongue enough to know it wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.
But she had to remember her mission. If anyone recognized her, her cover would be blown and all of her plans would be in ruins.
Torie forced a smile and focused on the desk clerk again. “I was told there were rooms or cottages for employees?” The cottages had been added since she was a child, but she’d seen pictures.
The young woman nodded and handed over a key card. “You’re in Stingray Cottage, Ms. Berg.” She traced a path on the map in her hand and showed Torie the way to a cottage along Riverview Drive she could find with her eyes closed.
“Thank you. I believe I can find it. What’s your name? I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”
“It’s Bella Hansen. I look forward to getting to know you.” Her gaze went over Torie’s shoulder, and she gave a reflexive smile to someone behind Torie.
Torie thanked her again and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. The wheels rolled smoothly over the floors, and she exited to follow the path around the pool and the entertainment area with its game tables and exercise room. Palm trees swayed in the breeze overhead, and the groundskeeper had done a great job with the banks of brightly blooming flowers and greenery lining the walk. She recognized Rozanne geraniums, hydrangeas, cosmos, baby’s breath, and zinnias. There wasn’t much she would change in the landscaping arrangements. It was perfect in every way.
She’d asked her dad to arrange for her to have the Stingray Cottage where Lisbeth had stayed. When she rounded the corner, she caught a whiff of artisan pizza baking in the wood-fired oven, and the aroma transported her back to her ten-year-old self. They’d had pizza every Friday night.
With a Herculean effort she moved past the temptation toward her cottage. Funny how things seemed smaller than she remembered. Perspective, she supposed.
She couldn’t wait another minute to get her toes in the sea of her childhood, so she unlocked the door and put her bag inside. A bike had been left for her convenience, and she changed into shorts and a tee before she mounted it and set off for St. Andrews Beach, a four
-mile trip. The ride would blow away the memories trying to surface.
* * *
The cedar trees around St. Andrews Beach had been perfect for hide-and-seek when Torie was a little girl, and they’d grown in eighteen years. Dead trees that had once been part of the maritime forest lay toppled on the perfect beach just past the two-story viewing platform, and she caught a glimpse of sand and blue water melding into the twilight sky.
She kicked off her shoes and carried them as she walked along the wet sand. A thousand memories vied for space in her thoughts. The wind teased strands of hair from her coronet of braids, and she inhaled the aroma of salt and sea, a heady combination that made her feel as if she could actually accomplish the task before her.
“Hailey!”
She turned toward the frantic sound of the male voice. A man in his midthirties stood in front of a forest of oak and cedar trees. His light-brown hair fell across his forehead above clear green eyes. He was taller than most, even topping her six-foot height, and she estimated him to be six four.
There was no missing the sheer terror on his face. She dropped her shoes and ran toward him. “Can I help?”
“My daughter.” He raked his hand through his hair. “She’s missing. She’s eight.”
“How long?”
His gaze continued to scan the beach and water. “Couple minutes. I had a woman check the bathroom, and Hailey’s not in there.”
“Does she have a favorite place to go?”
His expression cleared and he nodded. “Of course. The turtle nest! She probably didn’t wait for me.”
He still seemed panicked even after such a reasonable explanation, but she chalked it up to an overly protective father. “I’ll be glad to help you find her.”
He set off at a fast clip, and she followed across the soft sand. It was none of her business, really, but she had to make sure the little girl was all right. His long legs ate up the distance, but she had no trouble keeping up.
The Sea Islands of Georgia were known for loggerhead turtle nesting sites, and residents made huge efforts to protect them. The thought of seeing a nest after all these years made her pick up the pace. They went up a dune and down the other side near a clump of sea grass, and she spotted a young girl on her knees.
“There she is. Thank you, Lord.” He stopped a few feet away. “Hailey, you scared me to death. You know better than to run off.”
The girl didn’t take her gaze from the turtle nest containing dozens of squirming black hatchlings. “They aren’t getting out, Dad. I think we need to scoop some sand away.”
“Yeah.” The man squatted beside her and brushed the sand away.
The sea turtle “boil” was always mesmerizing to Torie. All those squirming black flippers held her in place. The hatchlings began to squirm out of the hole and their flippers scissored back and forth to propel them across the sand toward the sea.
The girl stood and walked beside the babies. “There are seagulls around. Pelicans too. I got here just in time to save the babies.”
A lot of nests were logged and checked daily, but Torie found no glimpse of yellow rope or signs here, which wasn’t too surprising. In good years Jekyll Island would have six hundred nests, and if the mother had come ashore just before a rain, her tracks would have been washed away.
Torie moved closer and shooed away a pelican. The last time she’d seen this sight she’d been with her best friend Lisbeth. Lisbeth had worn the same mesmerized expression as was on Hailey’s face. It had been a perfect day of sun and sand, togetherness and giggling.
And it would never come again.
She bit her lip and exhaled. These trips back through memory lane weren’t helping. She had to focus on the task at hand.
The man turned back to face her. “Thanks for your help. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“I’m glad she’s okay.” She extended her hand. “Torie Berg.”
His big hand closed around hers. “Joe Abbott. Vacationing?”
She shook her head. “Just moved here. I’ll be working in IT at the Club Hotel.”
“You’ll like it here.”
“Daddy trains sea lions to keep bad guys away,” Hailey said.
Torie already liked the little girl. “How interesting. I’ve heard of the military using dolphins for defense, but I didn’t know about sea lions.” Hailey stepped close to Torie, close enough for Torie to smell the fresh scent of her shampoo.
“Simon is really cool,” Hailey said. “He’s Daddy’s favorite, but he’s not fully trained yet.”
Joe fixed his daughter with a stern look. “It’s a good thing I’m not a spy or something. Hailey would give away all the secrets.”
What was bugging him? Torie moved away a few feet. A couple more minutes and she could mount her bike and get out of here.
Chapter 2
Joe wasn’t used to being at nearly eye level with a woman. She was what—six or six one? And she didn’t slouch as if ashamed of her height. The way she wore her long hair in a kind of braided crown was unusual too. The sea breeze had teased a few dark-brown strands loose, and they blew across her face with its planes and angles. She wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense but striking like an intriguing painting, especially with the fading sun casting shadows across her face. Her arresting features would draw the attention of men and women alike.
Her gaze remained on the hatchlings still making for the water with every ounce of their strength. They moved fast for such small creatures.
He wanted a little more information about Ms. Berg. “So, Ms. Berg, you just got here today?”
She smiled and nodded. “Call me Torie. I dropped my shoes and ran when I heard the panic in your voice.” Her gaze tracked the baby turtles still struggling toward the waves.
He and Hailey followed her. Not many people would get involved so quickly. It wasn’t like he’d shouted for help. “You must be intuitive.”
Those deep-brown eyes went guarded. “People have mentioned that before, but I don’t know about that. How long have you lived here, Joe?”
“Three years. Since Hailey was five.”
“Does your wife work for the Navy too?”
“She’s dead.” He let her know with a clipped tone that he didn’t welcome any questions about his wife.
He squatted in the sand and watched the hatchlings leave their distinctive tracks through the sand as they headed for the haven of the Atlantic Ocean. “Jekyll Island’s history is interesting. During World War II after the millionaires vacated the place to stay safe, the Coast Guard patrolled here in case of an attack by a submarine or U-boat. A guardsman saw turtle tracks and roused the caretaker to tell him an enemy tank was ashore. It was only a loggerhead laying eggs. I’ll bet the residents had a good laugh about that.”
She smiled, and her gaze went back to his daughter. “Hailey seems smitten with them. Has she always loved them?”
“From the first moment she saw a clutch of eggs.”
“I’ve been watching the news ever since I knew I was coming here, and I saw a hotel employee died a few days ago.”
Strange comment out of the blue. “Yeah, a drowning.”
“Lisbeth Nelson?”
He nodded. “She was a nice lady and kind to Hailey.” Why had he admitted that? It wasn’t relevant, and he wasn’t in the habit of engaging in idle gossip.
She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I heard there was some question over whether it was an accidental drowning or murder.”
He raised his brows. “Who would have told you something like that? I found her on the beach with seaweed in her hair. The police are waiting on the autopsy to come back, but the cause of death doesn’t seem to be in question. I have to say, your interest seems a little macabre.”
She looked down, and the sunset gilded her hair. “Just trying to figure things out in my new home.”
Why did she seem so interested in the drowning of a stranger? Did she know the Nelson woman? He opened his mouth t
o ask, but Hailey stood and waved her hands.
“Get away, gulls!” she shouted.
Four gulls were dive-bombing the hatchlings, and Joe leaped forward as one had a turtle in its beak. He grabbed the bird by the wing, and it dropped the hatchling, then gave an indignant squawk before it flew away. The other gulls kept circling, and Torie went into the fray with waving hands too.
The little turtle flailed around on its back, and Joe gestured to his daughter. “Want to get that one on its way again?”
Hailey nodded and gently turned the little creature right side up. It began its determined movement to the water again. And more turtles kept on coming out of the nest. He estimated the clutch had been around fifty eggs, and another twenty still needed to reach the water. He and Torie lined the path and shouted at the gulls and terns as the little procession marched on.
When the last turtle reached the waves, he exhaled and smiled. “I don’t think we lost a single one.”
“We didn’t, Dad. I was watching. I’m glad I found them in time. There were a lot of birds out here. The turtles should have waited until they went to sleep.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “What do you say we get some fudge to celebrate? Care to join us, Torie?”
Her brown eyes flickered, and she bit her lip. “I wish I could, but it will take a while to bike back. I smelled the fudge as I went past. What’s your favorite, Hailey?”
“Peanut butter and chocolate. Or maybe rocky road. And the butter pecan is good, but I like anything with chocolate.”
“A girl after my own heart,” Torie said. “Maybe I’ll come find you when I get back.” She looked around. “Now where did I drop my shoes?”
“I’ll help you find ’em, and you can ride with us back to the hotel. I can put your bike in the back of my truck,” Joe said.
Why was she questioning what had happened to Lisbeth when she’d just arrived?
* * *
If Torie had hoped to grill Joe in a subtle way, it wasn’t going to happen easily. Hailey was at that age where she talked constantly.
Hailey slurped her chocolate shake while sitting on a bench under a wash of dim light from the streetlamp. “Did you know loggerheads lay their eggs on the same beach where they hatched? They are migratory, so they swim over three thousand miles to get back to their site. I wonder if the hatchlings we saw just now were boys or girls? The temperature of the nest determines the gender. And we’re not supposed to use bright lights because it can disorient them.”
Stranger's Game Page 1
