“What about the skeleton?” I asked, curious about that hand I’d seen reaching up from a sandy grave.
“Very interesting that you asked that.” Dr. Turner smoothed his cardigan and seemed to relax slightly. “The body has been turned over to the state. The medical examiner believes the person found here on the island died more than one hundred years ago. Who knows what kind of history surrounds this person? She was a female. There’s been some speculation that maybe she was associated with this lodge. Maybe we’ll never know.”
“I know what happened,” Angelina said.
Everyone’s gaze swiveled toward her as we waited for her deduction. She seemed to love the limelight because she raised her chin, a new sparkle in her eyes. “This island is cursed. That’s why all these bad things are happening here. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense to me.”
“Now, Angelina, we really don’t believe in curses.” Dr. Turner offered what appeared to be a tight smile.
“I heard what used to happen to the people who came here to vacation. They died also.”
“Many of them drank too much and fell to their deaths. From what I understand, there was a mysterious poisoning incident as well. But what really closed this place down was the stock market crash. Everyone lost their money.”
I shivered as I heard that story. Creepy.
Definitely creepy.
I didn’t believe in curses either. But if I stayed here much longer, I might start.
CHAPTER 29
After dinner we all sat in the Therapy Lounge for the first evening session of the weekend.
“Tonight we’re going to talk about the beginning stages of love,” Dr. Turner started. “And to kick this off, I’d like for everyone to share the moment you first knew you were in love with your spouse.”
My stomach dropped. How was I going to get out of this one? I immediately wanted to crawl out of my own skin and disappear, which, unfortunately, wasn’t an option. Instead, I tried to focus on the other couples. Maybe, while watching their interactions, I’d have some insight into whether or not one of them was guilty of murder.
“I’ll start,” Angelina said. “I met Bo when he came over to repair the roof on my house. I thought he was the hottest hunk on the west side of town. I kept thinking of excuses for him to come back so I could see him more. I didn’t think he’d ever get the hint.”
Bo shrugged. “I thought she was pretty cute the first time I saw her. But she really won me over when she kept bringing me lemonade whenever I came over. That’s when I asked her out. Besides, I knew she didn’t have anything else on her house that needed fixing any more.”
Telling that story seemed to draw the two of them closer because, for the first time since I’d seen them, they looked at each other like they were in love.
As Dr. Turner talked to them a moment, I saw Steve walking outside. He paused at the window and looked inside. His gaze met mine, and he scowled.
Did he know I’d discovered his pictures? I swallowed deeply at the thought.
“Farrah? Atticus?” Dr. Turner asked.
I turned back to the discussion, trying not to act suspicious. I stole one more glance outside. Steve continued walking toward the docks.
Steve had been Dr. Turner’s patient at one time, I remembered. Was it strange that the therapist would hire his former client? I wasn’t sure. But something about Steve made me uncomfortable.
“I took my daughter from my first marriage to see the doctor,” Atticus was saying in the background. “She had pneumonia. I noticed the way Farrah treated her, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. As soon as my divorce was finalized, I stopped by her practice and pestered the lady at the front desk until Farrah came out. That was it.”
“How about you, Farrah?”
She shrugged, her smile fading. “I’d always thought he was handsome—but married. That made him off limits. Then he showed up that day at my office, and he was so bold and confident. There was a whole waiting room full of people, but he didn’t care. I was swept away.”
My heart pounded out of control. Their stories were captivating and were obviously breaking down walls. I wanted to keep my walls erected and strong.
“Gabby and Riley?”
We glanced at each other. I drew in a deep breath, about to launch into some made-up story that I hadn’t fully formed yet. But I was pretty sure I was going to base it on the Taylor Swift song “Love Story.” Before I could start, Riley did.
“One of Gabby’s friends had been accused of setting a building on fire. Long story short, I was able to tag along with her when she went over and sat with his grandkids. She played with them and really showed how much she cared. I knew at that moment there was something different about her. I could tell she was loyal and feisty, and I kept hoping I’d run into her again and find more excuses to spend time with her.”
My heart warmed. It melted, in fact, into a gooey mess. His story was real. I could see it in his eyes. I had never asked him when he’d decided he wanted to marry me.
We’d broken up before that could happen.
But such fond memories filled me that I nearly forgot about all the bad stuff.
Nearly.
“Gabby?”
I nibbled on my bottom lip for a moment as everyone stared at me, waiting to hear my side.
“Riley’s always been there right when I needed him. I was trapped in a garage once with a running car—long story—and I didn’t have much hope of getting out. I would have died if Riley hadn’t shown up. I knew after that moment he was a keeper.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand.
I wanted to pull away. I felt like I’d been touched by fire. But I couldn’t move. I sat there instead, feeling like I might drown in my own emotions.
“Very good,” Dr. Turner said. “I think we’ve all gotten an excellent start to this weekend.”
Maybe. But all I could think about was that my heart was treading dangerous waters.
CHAPTER 30
That night after everyone else was in bed, I decided to sneak up to the widow’s walk. This time I brought Riley with me, mostly because he’d insisted. I really didn’t want him here. Especially not since my emotions seemed to be spinning wildly out of control.
I couldn’t admit it out loud yet, but I was still in love with Riley. I guess I always had been. And I had no idea what to do about it.
But he’d insisted on being nearby, especially after everything that had happened. And I couldn’t blame him, nor did I want to end up as the next victim.
“What exactly are we looking for?” he whispered.
“I’m not sure. But I’m halfway expecting to see a raven driving me to the edge of madness while saying ‘Nevermore.’”
“Poe reference? I like it.”
“Well, I’m cultured like that. I’ll be quoting Shakespeare next and humming Mozart.”
We climbed the spiral staircase and, thankfully, found that the room up top was empty. I pulled my legs under me, trying to give Riley room to sit down also. He sat a little closer than I’d expected—close enough that I could feel his body heat and smell his cologne.
This could be romantic, I realized. Being up here, maybe with a cup of coffee and a warm blanket, having a heart-to-heart talk about the future and all the plans we’d like to make.
But not with Riley.
I had to stop myself.
“You think we’ll see anything?” Riley glanced at me, the moonlight illuminating his eyes.
I just wanted to reach up and wipe a stray hair off his forehead. While I did that, I wanted my hand to linger at his cheek, to feel the scruff of his five o’clock shadow, to connect with him like I used to.
I looked away, coming back to the perfunctory conversation we were having. I had to downplay what my heart wanted to dramatize. My feelings had no place here.
“I can only hope we’ll see something.” I glanced around the space, trying to see if anything ha
d changed. “There’s one thing I don’t see. The binoculars.”
“This area appears to be getting a lot of use.”
Silence fell. And this was real silence.
The silence at my apartment was filled with the sounds of cars honking and driving past, college kids partying, sirens going by, and even an occasional train. Out here, there was literally nothing to hear except the waves. And, right now, the windows blocked that sound.
I felt the strange need to fill the space with words.
“So, do you think anyone is on to us?” I glanced at Riley, my throat tightening again.
“Overall, no. The missing necklace and letter are the only things that give me pause. Even the kayak wasn’t directed toward us, but at Jim and Ginger. I don’t think anyone knows we’re not really a married couple.”
As he said the words, our gazes locked. I felt certain there was something he wanted to say, that something was being communicated between us without any words at all.
And was it just my imagination or were we leaning in closer to each other? Did I want that to happen? Did Riley?
My blood pumped with anticipation. But my brain was urging me to be cautious, reminding me of all my hurts, reciting my “Operation Protect My Heart” mantra.
Just then, something caught the corner of my eye. I quickly looked away, breaking the moment. There was a light in the distance.
I grabbed Riley’s arm. “Look!”
Over the water I saw a boat puttering toward the shore. The watercraft stopped by the rocky shoreline and remained there. It was too dark to see if anyone was getting on or off.
I shook my head. “The question is: How does the boat tie in with what’s been going on here?”
He nudged me. “Look, Gabby. The boat is leaving already. That was fast.”
I stared out the window. Sure enough, the boat was pulling away from the island. Was it here just long enough to drop someone off? Because, otherwise, no one had time to do much damage. Just what was going on? I hated to say it, but I almost needed to be down there to truly find some answers.
Were these visits a nightly ritual? Would the ghost boat return again tomorrow night?
“Did you know why they call this Cemetery Island?” Riley asked.
“No idea.” I also had no idea where he was going with this.
“I did some research at home this week. It’s because there was no lighthouse on this island. Back in the old days—I’m talking the time of pirates—there were a lot of shipwrecks right off of these shores. That meant there were a lot of dead bodies that needed to be laid to rest.”
“And this is where that happened?”
“That’s the rumor.”
“That doesn’t really make me feel any better.” I shivered.
“But it’s interesting. There’s a lot of history here in this area.” He stared at me, something strange in his eyes.
Oh no. He didn’t want to have a talk, did he? One of those talks where he told me he was sorry for hurting me and glad we were able to make things right between us so we could truly move on? He’d marry someone better suited to his upper-class attorney lifestyle. I’d move on and . . . well, maybe I’d even end up with Garrett. Who knew?
There were so many other things we could talk about. We could talk about the Therapy Lounge, about the emotions that had been stirred as we’d talked about first falling in love, about the painful reality that things would never be like they were.
But those discussions required a certain emotional investment I wasn’t sure I wanted to make. It was better if I pretended that entire conversation hadn’t happened earlier and simply moved on.
I had to concentrate on solving this mystery and finding some answers. Anything else, at this point, was futile.
“We should go,” I blurted. “Before someone realizes we’re gone.”
He slowly nodded. “You’re probably right.”
I began climbing down the staircase. Just as I hit the last step, I heard someone behind me.
I twirled around, expecting the worst.
I twirled, expecting a killer.
CHAPTER 31
“Dr. Turner?” I asked. Had he overheard any of our conversation? I hoped not.
He regarded Riley and me, his gaze processing this discovery. “Is everything okay? You know the rules, correct?”
I nodded, probably a little too quickly. Before I could say anything, Riley’s arm snaked around my waist, and he pulled me close.
“We should have told you before we came. Gabby has a problem with . . . sleepwalking,” Riley said.
Sleepwalking? I resisted the urge to steal a glance at him.
“And you somehow heard her leave her room?” Dr. Turner asked, a knot between his eyes.
Mr. Rogers Takes a Late-Night Walk. He was only missing the striped flannel pajamas and a nightcap. Or did he wear a cardigan to bed?
“I admit the timing was uncanny,” Riley said. “I heard someone in the hallway and peeked outside. It was a good thing I did.”
I nodded. “I’m obviously awake now.”
“And you didn’t immediately go back to your rooms?” He sounded a bit like a crusty old schoolmarm.
“We were just talking, doctor,” he said. “I know it’s against the rules, but . . . I just miss having one-on-one time with my wife. And the widow’s walk is so—”
“Romantic.” I wrapped my arms around Riley’s waist and fluttered my eyelashes.
Dr. Turner raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m glad to see the two of you are reconnecting. That’s the good news. The bad news is that we’re all supposed to be quarantined in our rooms at night, not just because of our therapy-session guidelines, but because we don’t want any more accidents. Two is enough. Two is too many, for that matter.”
“Of course.” I nodded, my cheeks heating.
“I trust the two of you will be going your separate ways? Not in life, but just for the evening.”
I understood his implications and nodded. “We will.”
“Very well, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
When he disappeared, I turned to Riley and we exchanged a silent look.
“That was awkward,” I whispered.
“But we covered it well—believably. He doesn’t think we were snooping, just having a little romantic rendezvous.”
“That’s a crazy thought.”
Riley stared at me. “Yeah, a crazy thought.” His expression was impossible to read.
My throat tightened. I had to break this spell he had on me.
“Goodnight, Riley,” I said.
“Goodnight, Gabby.”
***
We all met outside the next morning after breakfast, dressed for something “sporty,” as Dr. Turner had instructed. I could do sporty, though I chose to leave my snarky T-shirts at home in favor of something a little classier—a turquoise golf shirt my future stepmother had given me for Christmas. It normally wasn’t my style, but it worked perfectly here with a parka over it.
Today was a little balmy. The sky was overcast, and the wind coming off the bay was strong.
“Anything new last night?” I whispered to Riley. We hadn’t had a moment to talk during breakfast because we’d sat with Angelina and Bo, who, of course, had dominated the conversation.
The strange thing was that they weren’t bickering like they had last weekend. In fact, they both had lovelorn looks in their eyes. Maybe this therapy was working for them.
“Just one thing. I decided to take some action last night. I pulled out Anna’s scarf—the one we found in Atticus’s things. When Atticus came into the room, I told him I’d found it on the floor.”
“What did he say?” I whispered.
“He told me he found it in the hallway a couple of weeks ago. He knew it wasn’t Farrah’s, and Angelina and Ginger claimed it wasn’t theirs either. He didn’t know what else to do with it, so he stuck it in his dresser.”
I frowned. “Do you think he was telling the
truth?”
“He didn’t act suspicious or guilty. And if he was trying to conceal something then, for such a smart man, he didn’t hide the evidence very well.”
“That’s true.”
“How about you? Anything new?”
I shook my head. “I was by myself. The other two ladies went to bed as soon as we got back last night.
Dr. Turner appeared ten minutes later wearing a floppy fisherman hat. Mr. Rogers Goes Fishing. “I have today’s challenge for you. This will test you as a couple, but ultimately it can bring you closer together.”
Great. Fishing?
“The couple who catches the most fish will earn a romantic dinner tonight. I hope that gives you some motivation. You get to choose your own fishing spot on the island, and, no, there are no instructions on how to do this. If you don’t know how to fish yet, now is the time to learn.”
Riley and I grabbed two poles and a tackle box, and we took a wooden set of stairs down to the pier. We sat there, our feet dangling over the edge in a way that made me think of a Norman Rockwell painting.
“You ever been fishing?” Riley asked.
“Only a few times with my dad. I never really got into it, though.”
“I used to fish at the lake behind my house. It’s kind of relaxing, actually.”
Riley loaded some bait onto the hook and showed me how to cast the line. I tried myself, but my sinker landed only a few feet in front of me. “I think I’ll stick to solving crimes,” I mumbled.
“Don’t give up. It’s like this.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and grabbed the fishing rod.
My lungs froze at his nearness. It had been a long time. Well, at least since we were forced to cuddle last weekend, but that hardly counted. Warmth filled me at his closeness, and it made me crave even more.
Londonbeat’s “I’ve Been Thinking About You” began playing in my head. My mental jukebox always knew just the right song to play, and it was hard to stop the music once it started.
He swung my rod back and launched the line into the water. This time, it went out far enough that maybe I could catch something.
With that done, he released me. It seemed like he hesitated a moment, but I was probably just seeing what I wanted to see. I had no reason to believe he actually wanted to wrap his arms around me.
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