Scott moved as quickly as he could through the dense forest, ducking branches, dodging boulders, picking his way in what he hoped was an easterly-northerly direction, or wherever Abby had pointed. Poor thing. He had to get her to the Ranger’s house before her body temperature dropped any further. What was it he’d learned so many years ago in biology? Once the body’s temperature dropped twenty degrees, it started shutting down. After that, there would be nothing he could do for her. Death would soon follow.
With that thought spurring him on, he picked up his pace as much as he could, running mostly on fear and willpower. He’d taken a pretty bad dunking, too, though his head had never gone underwater as Abby’s had. He’d seen the boulder just before they’d hit it, had leaped free as the wave snapped their canoe like a match. The freezing waters had been enough of a shock to his system, and he was substantially bigger than Abby. Her smaller form had been quickly overcome by the cold. He was impressed she’d made it as far as she had before passing out.
But even now, he wasn’t sure she was completely unconscious, though her arms hung slack and she slumped like deadweight against him. He could feel her breath tickling his neck, caught whispers of the words she murmured. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow…Thou art with me.”
His heart swelled. She was such a sweet girl, and she’d given it all she had. He couldn’t fail her, he wouldn’t, though his legs trembled now with every step. The sky grew darker, the wind more furious, but he stumbled on.
Scott didn’t know how long he’d been following the road before he realized he was no longer tripping over rocks. The way was smoother here, though still a little uneven and washed out in places. Was he headed in the right direction? He prayed so.
The house appeared out of nowhere. A light shined in the window on the second floor. Scott gripped Abby’s still form more tightly and ran toward it, his legs shaking as he climbed the porch steps. When he pressed the doorbell, he heard the chime echo through the house, and a moment later curious eyes peered out at him.
The door opened and he all but fell inside, warm air hitting his face like scalding steam. Two figures pulled him farther into the house.
“She took a dunking,” he started to explain, but the woman, who wore a green Park Ranger’s uniform just like the man’s, was already tugging at his sleeve, pulling him down the hall.
“We’ve got to get her into the tub, got to get her warmed up in a hurry. Is she conscious?”
“Partly. I think.” Scott sat Abby on the lid of the commode and started working loose the swollen laces of her hiking boots while the woman ran water in the tub.
“It takes a minute for the hot water to push through the pipes,” she explained, then addressed the old man who hovered in the doorway. “Get the space heater from the front room, Burt. And grab some more towels!” Deciding the temperature was warm enough, she plugged the drain.
Scott tugged off one hiking boot, then the other. His fingers felt stiff and useless against the clinging fabric of Abby’s socks.
“Just stick her in the tub, clothes and all,” the old woman commanded. “It’ll be just as easy to get her clothes off in there.”
Her suggestion made sense to Scott and he lifted Abby again, plunking her into the tub, surprised when she sat upright of her own accord and opened her eyes. “You still with us?” he asked, sliding her socks off and dipping her feet in the inch or two of water that had accumulated. Its warmth burned against his frozen fingers, but he didn’t flinch. It felt good.
Abby looked at him and he watched her face blossom into a smile.
“It’s warm,” she whispered, beaming at him.
He returned her dopey grin but couldn’t think of anything intelligible to say. Instead he gripped her bare foot with one hand and patted it with another, grateful she was alive, grateful to have delivered her so far. Emotions swirled within him like the steaming water that filled the tub, rising upward in a wordless prayer of thanks.
The old woman unzipped Abby’s jacket and pulled her arms free while Burt returned with the space heater. She shooed both men out of the room. “You two get. This guy looks like he could use a bath, too.” She pointed at Scott and closed the door on them.
Scott followed the old man up the stairs to another bathroom, but didn’t let him so much as turn on the water before explaining, “My family was marooned on Devil’s Island. Could you please get in touch with the Coast Guard and have them send a boat over there to pick up my mother and stepdad?”
“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” the man said, his weathered face looking concerned, “but there’s a pretty rough squall blowing up out there. Might take them a while to get out there.”
“Then please, hurry, make the call. I can run my own bath. We need to get help over there as soon as possible.” Scott didn’t bother to try to mask his fear. He wouldn’t leave his mother out there, not with a storm blowing up. “My mother’s life may be in danger.”
Abby floated in the blissfully warm water and dipped her head back until only her face broke the surface. The warmth seeped into her bones, slowly easing the dull cold ache from her marrow. Her fingers and toes tingled with delightful prickles that were almost painful, but Abby didn’t care. She could finally feel her feet again. She was alive.
“Praise the Lord,” she said aloud, then gulped in a mouthful of warm, sweet water, letting it run over and between her teeth, which had finally stopped chattering.
The knock at the door startled her.
“It’s just me,” called the woman who’d introduced herself as Elda. She opened the door and set a pile of clothes on the commode. “These might be a little big, but they’re dry. Should work.”
“Thank you,” Abby called out as the door snapped shut. She leaned her head back into the water again. “God bless Elda,” she said, as the water sloshed over her teeth. She spit out a mouthful. “God bless Burt, and God bless Scott.”
Abby smiled. Scott had saved her life. Her smile broadened. Scott had kissed her.
She felt guilty as she remembered having doubted his intentions. She felt guiltier still when she considered how far he must have carried her through the woods to safety. And his poor mother was still out there, waiting to be rescued. His poor mother and Mitch.
As her mind thawed from its cold stupor, Abby remembered. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to keep them from ever leaving Devil’s Island. Someone who had something to gain from their deaths.
Abby sat up and pulled the drain from the tub. She could have basked in the warmth of the water a lot longer, but she had work to do. Mitch and Marilyn were still alone on Devil’s Island. Abby had no business relaxing until they were both safe.
After quickly drying off and pulling on the generously sized gray sweats Elda had provided, Abby opened the bathroom door to let the steam out of the room, then wiped down the mirror before throwing a dry towel over her shoulders and starting in combing through her long brown hair. Usually it wasn’t too much trouble to comb through it, but she didn’t have any conditioner or detangling spray, and the wind had whipped it into knots long before she’d started her bath. She sighed and got to work.
She was three-quarters of the way finished when Scott came down the hall and paused in the open doorway. He wore a navy blue sweat suit that hung too wide around his middle and too short at the wrists and ankles, though she noticed he still managed to look pretty good in it. Her heart began to beat faster, and she felt shy as she remembered his kiss. Then she caught sight of his head without his ball cap, and smiled.
“What?” he asked, touching his fingers to his forehead, which was an inch or two higher than it had been in college. He made a face. “Just think-it doesn’t take me very long at all to comb through my hair.”
She shook her head. “I like it. It makes you look distinguished.”
“It makes me look old.”
“I like it,” Abby repeated.
Scott leaned one shoulder against the door frame. If Abby hadn’t been wa
tching him so closely, she might not have noticed the wince he tried to suppress.
“You’re sore.”
“I’m old,” he said, chuckling.
“You’re not old,” she protested, fighting a knot in her hair. “What birthday did you just celebrate? Thirty-one?”
“Thirty-two.”
“You’re not old. You carried the canoe, paddled all the way here in rough weather, and then carried me. You have every right to be sore.”
Scott rolled his eyes.
“And by the way-” Abby kept her eyes on the mirror, but spoke to his reflection “-thank you. You saved my life.”
“You saved mine,” he countered.
Unsure whether she believed him, Abby kept her eyes on the mirror and kept combing. She’d have thought after all they’d been through that she’d have gotten over her schoolgirl crush on him, but instead it seemed to have gotten worse.
Scott reached for the towel she’d left draped over the edge of the tub. “Elda said she’d throw our clothes and towels in the wash. Burt’s been in touch with the Coast Guard, but the weather’s not cooperating. We can probably have our clothes washed and dried before we’re ready to leave.”
“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 ho
rrible 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.
Survival Instinct Page 6
