“No thanks, I can't,” Lowell replied. “There's too much work to do.”
“You young people!” Ruby clucked her tongue again. “Don't you ever know when to quit?”
Vanessa's gaze focused on the blood-stained wad of Kleenex he'd wrapped around his thumb. It was obvious his injury had been minor.
“Need a Band-Aid for your owie?” she couldn't resist teasing. “Nurse Vanessa to the rescue. What'll be? Batman? Donald Duck? Oh yes, I almost forgot. Teenage Ninja Turtles are the rage these days.”
“Knock it off,” he bantered back, darting her a dimpled smile. “My thumb will be fine. I came to ask Clinton a question--not to play your silly games.”
“Okay, shoot,” Clinton prompted.
“I'm almost ready to start that new addition to the deck.” Lowell held up a frayed sheet of paper. “But somehow these plans and what we talked about earlier don't jibe.”
Clinton started to rise, but Vanessa quickly intervened. If she and Lowell didn't get out of here, that little bit of magic she'd sensed between the elderly couple might burst like a soap bubble.
“Hold on,” she said, placing a gently restraining hand on Clinton's shoulder. “Sit right back down. I'll take care of Lowell. I was just about ready to leave anyway.”
She breezed across the tiny kitchen, meeting Lowell's perplexed gaze. “In the office,” she hissed. “We can talk in the office.”
“Since when did you become an expert in repairing decks?” he asked once they were safely beyond the couple's earshot.
“I didn't.”
“Well then, what's on your mind? You said you intended to take care of me.” He grinned. “Or am I simply the object of your latest cause? Nurse Vanessa to the rescue.”
She crossed her arms, mildly irked at his attempt to humor her. “Don't be so dense. Have you already forgotten what I told you this morning about Ruby and Clinton?”
“No. But how was I to know what was going on? And more to the point, how was I to know you've appointed yourself official match-maker at Kaloch Bay Lodge?”
“The sparks between Ruby and Clinton have been burning for a long time. I'm just making sure no one stands in their way.” She jabbed her finger at his chest. “And that means you too, Maxwell.”
“Oh yeah?” He shot her a wicked look.
“Yeah.”
“Look,” Lowell said, sobering. “I think you ought to let well enough alone. Ruby and Clinton were adults long before either one of us were gleams in our daddies’ eyes. Leave the romance bit up to them.”
“I...I just want them to be happy. Both of them...” A sudden thought jarred her. If she truly believed that romance could bring happiness to Ruby and her uncle, then why did she believe the opposite in regards to herself? Could some small secret part of her yearn for love and commitment?
The landline phone jangled, slicing through her thoughts. Vanessa gave a start, then moved quickly to answer it, but the ringing stopped. She strained to hear. Her uncle had picked up the phone in the kitchen and was talking to someone in terse phrases. She knew in an instant something was wrong.
Motioning for Lowell to follow, she made her way back just as her uncle was hanging up. Clinton's face was as white as the dishtowel in Ruby's hand.
“What is it?” Vanessa blurted out.
“That was the Coast Guard...an officer from the operations center.”
“And?” Lowell prompted from behind, placing a firm hand on Vanessa's shoulder.
“Someone...someone has broken into Eldon's boat.” Clinton's voice shook. “His heart pills are missing.”
Chapter Five
“Oh, no,” Vanessa gasped. The room seemed to spin about her. “Dad's been kidnapped.”
“Let's not jump to conclusions,” Clinton said shakily. “After all, none of us have gotten a ransom note.”
“But if Eldon was the one who took the pills,” Ruby pointed out, “which he'd have every right to do since they belong to him in the first place, then why is he staying away like this? Unless, of course, someone is forcing him to.”
Clinton, still ghostly pale, rubbed his chin. “Maybe there's been foul play. Maybe someone's taken my brother's pills to make it look as if he's alive, when he really isn't. And even if Eldon did go back for those pills himself, how would he have gotten to Bradshaw Island without his boat?” Clinton turned to Lowell who'd remained stonily silent. “You're the cop. What do you think?”
A flicker of indecision passed over Lowell's face. “Those are all valid questions, but right now I just can't answer them.” He squared his jaw. “Still, this could be a turning point. I think I'd better head into town first thing tomorrow morning and have a talk with the sheriff.”
As the conversation bounced back and forth, fading into Vanessa's thoughts, she wandered to the window at the back of the small kitchen and stared woodenly outside. Kidnapped. She felt her entire body trembling as the possibility gripped her. But who? Why? Overcome with despair, she slumped against the window frame.
“Vanessa.” Lowell's voice snatched her back.
She turned slowly around. “What?”
“You're not looking too well. Maybe you'd better turn in. It's late. Nearly midnight.”
“I'm fine now.'“ She drew in a breath and squared her shoulders. She could tell by the look on his face, he didn't believe her.
“Listen to me,” he went on, his eyes riveting on hers. “I don't want you to go searching for Eldon unless I'm with you. Next time you fire up your boat and head out into the Sound, don't do it without me. You're Eldon's only next of kin...and if he has indeed been taken hostage, then you could be next. There're too many isolated islands out there, too many places where you could run into trouble.”
“Aren't you carrying this a little too far?” she asked as she dismissed his warning. “I mean, of course there could be danger...but if you asked me, you're just dwelling on the dark side. Perhaps more than is necessary.”
“That's my job, Vanessa.” He leveled her with his gaze.
“And what if you're not available?”
“No what ifs.” His voice hardened. “I mean it. You must give me your word.”
“But there's so much work here. You've got to help Clinton. You just said so yourself a little while ago.” A little voice inside reminded her that only yesterday she'd practically pleaded with him to accompany her. Why, now--admittedly even in the face of possible danger--was she trying to talk him out of it? Had their kiss on the beach unlocked too many unsettling feelings? Feelings she wasn't prepared to face?
“Vanessa, don't argue with Lowell,” Clinton jumped in. “He knows what he's talking about. And the work here can take a back seat right now.”
She heaved a sigh, then swallowed hard. “All right.”
“So it's a promise?” Lowell asked.
She shifted beneath his steady gaze. “Yes.”
“Good.” His eyes softened as they held hers for an immeasurable moment. What was it she was reading in them? Concern? Fear? Tenderness?
If she kept looking at him like this, she was bound to go crazy. Jerking away, she strode back to the window and stared hard into the night. A web of emotions rose up inside of her--new dread, greater than she'd ever known, matched by the fragile expectancy that Eldon Paris may still be alive.
* * *
Vanessa slept fitfully. Her restless dreams about Eldon wove in and out like dark, fluid shadows intermingled with images of Lowell's ruggedly handsome face. Why did he have to be here right now, complicating an already complicated situation? Why oh why couldn't it be anyone other than Lowell?
She awoke the next morning at the first light of dawn, utterly drained. More questions plagued her. If someone had taken her father's medication with the intent of keeping him well, why?
Then, too, Clinton had made a good point about there being no ransom note. What if Dad had suffered a heart attack and drowned--and the missing pills were a mere coincidence? At any rate, she still hadn't been success
ful getting a hold of Matt--and surely he would want to know about the latest developments.
She unlocked the door to the office, went straight to the landline phone and punched in the number to the cabins--only to learn Matt was still unavailable.
Several hours later, she spied Lowell bounding up the front steps of the lodge, two at a time. For a split second, she felt a disturbing warmth wash over her, then snapped her attention back.
“Did you find anything out?” she asked as she rushed onto the porch to meet him.
“No--nothing about Eldon. But I did learn the Coast Guard has called off the search.”
“But it's only been three days! Dad was reported missing late Sunday evening. Why so soon?”
“As far as the Coast Guard is concerned, three days is not soon. Normally, under these circumstances, they don't look longer than a couple of days.”
“But what about the missing heart pills? Isn't that enough evidence to keep them searching?”
His face was grim. “I'm afraid not.”
Fresh despair washed over her. “So everyone's given up, haven't they?”
“Not everyone, Nessie. The Sheriff and wildlife authorities are still looking,” he continued, his words measured. “And don't forget the Eagle Scouts and skin diving clubs and everyone else who's gotten involved. The locals on this island have known Eldon much too long to pull out yet.”
“Yes, you're right.” She tipped her chin. “I have to keep holding onto that. I can't let go. And speaking of the locals, that reminds me.” She told him about her futile attempts to talk to Matt. “I'm going to drive into town and look up some of Dad's other old cronies,” she continued. “Someone, somewhere just has to have a clue.”
“So that means you're not planning to go looking for Eldon today?”
“No.” She hesitated. “I'll wait till tomorrow.”
“All right then.” He tweaked her chin, his expression closed. “Just be careful.”
* * *
The rest of that week, Vanessa made repeated trips into town. Though everyone was sympathetic, offering their good wishes, none could offer any help--not even her father's friends at the bait shop.
Her continued efforts to contact Matt were also met with discouraging results. Every time she called the Eagle Point cabins, Dolly told her in a detached voice that Matt was out guiding another fishing excursion. Likewise each time Matt attempted to return Vanessa's call, she and Lowell had were busy scouring the shorelines, beaches, and hidden coves again, continuing their own search.
“Let Vanessa know I'll be at the cabins next Monday morning,” Matt had reiterated to Ruby with each repeated attempt. “No fishing trips that day--and plenty of work piling up on the property.”
The following Monday morning, she drove her car down the meandering roadway that cut through the rural country-side, marked by cornfields and apple orchards. A light drizzle began to fall. Through her open window she sniffed the fresh smells of rain against asphalt. A brown and white cow, grazing behind a cyclone fence, lifted its head to stare at her.
Yet the idyllic landscape contrasted with her unsettled thoughts. It'd been one week now since she'd come back to the island. A week and one day since anyone had last seen her father. And with each hour that passed, she had no choice but to admit that the likelihood of finding him alive seemed more remote. Still, the thought of Dad's missing medication nagged at the back of her mind. It didn't make sense.
She came upon a slow moving car ahead--a local, no doubt--and drummed her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. The island speed limit never exceeded 45 and the driver ahead of her was cruising perhaps half that speed.
At the sight of a familiar row of mailboxes, Vanessa slowed the car, then followed the winding drive that led to the cabins. There were the wild blackberry vines rambling on each side of the lane, the blackberries she and Ruby used to pick together and make into golden-crusted cobblers after they'd finished their music lessons in summer. Vanessa could almost taste their sweet-tart deliciousness.
A circular driveway sloped down to the log cabin office. More memories. White Priscilla curtains adorned the front windows of the office, the window boxes were brimming with scarlet geraniums. Though Vanessa had never considered herself the ruffles and lace type, she'd always admired those curtains. Perhaps it was because Ruby had sewn them herself, making certain they were always freshly laundered and crisply starched.
Coming to a stop in the narrow parking strip beneath a grove of evergreens, Vanessa cut the motor, then glanced towards the pier. About a dozen cabin cruisers, several fishing boats, two Boston Whalers, and a yacht were tied to the dock. In the distance, wafting across the water, she heard music.
The office inside appeared empty. Vanessa spied a small bell on the counter and rang it. Finally a woman appeared--a tall, striking woman in her late twenties, Vanessa guessed, with a mane of thick blond hair and a figure that would make any beauty pageant contestant envious. Could this be Dolly? Josh Buckler's cousin? Though Clinton's mention of her had been nondescript, something told Vanessa the answer was yes. Dolly was a knock-out. Good thing Lowell didn't come here with me, she thought, then quickly wondered why that should even matter to her.
“Welcome to Eagle Point Tourist Cabins,” the woman purred. “May I help you?”
“Yes. You must be Dolly.”
“That's right. And who are you?”
“I'm Vanessa Paris. Eldon Paris's daughter. I've talked to you on the phone when I tried to get in touch with Matt.”
The woman's eyes widened momentarily, then she assumed her original honey-smooth poise. “And he told you to come here today?”
“Yes. Where can I find him, please?” Vanessa pulse raced with anticipation. What if something had unexpectedly taken Matt away again? What if his plans had changed?
“He's working out back,” Dolly said coolly, waving her hand in the direction of the dock. “But don't take up too much of his time. Josh don't take kindly to anyone interrupting him.”
Dismissing the implication behind Dolly's remark, Vanessa thanked her, hurried outside and followed the graveled walkway to the dock. The sun had pierced the layer of clouds and the showers had stopped, but large glistening drops of rain still clung to the low growing vegetation alongside the trail.
Suddenly a movement off to the side caught her eye, the flash of pruning shears catching a beam of light. There was Matt busily trimming a long arborvitae hedge.
“Matt!” she hollered, walking quickly towards him.
He set down his shears and met her with opened arms. His salt-and-pepper hair had turned white and worry-lines etched his face.
“Well, well! If it isn't my old buddy's little girl. You must've got my message. I'm sorry you had to call so many times.” He enveloped her in a massive hug.“Did you come here alone?” he asked, pulling back and glancing over his shoulder. “Lowell isn't with you?”
“No, he's back at the lodge helping Uncle Clint.”
“I hear he went into police work after leaving the island.”
“Well...actually a few years after that. First he finished college.”
“Oh.”
“So how have you been?” she asked, sending Matt a quick smile. “It seems like forever since I last saw you and Fern.”
“Too busy for my own good.” He swallowed hard. “Is...is there any word yet about Eldon?” His eyes met hers and a sudden grief seemed to spring from their depths as he added, “You must be sick with worry.”
“Yes...” Her chin trembled. “We're all so worried. Last Tuesday Uncle Clint got a phone call from the Coast Guard Operations Center.” She told him about the missing heart medication. “That's one of the reasons I was trying to get in touch with you. To tell you that. And to also ask you some questions.”
“What is it you need to know?”
“Did you see much of Dad before he disappeared? Was he depressed? Anxious? In some kind of trouble?” Again she presented the questions that ha
d been tumbling inside her head.
Matt's eyes darted nervously towards the dock. “I've been spending so much time here, trying to help Josh and Dolly get on their feet, I've afraid Eldon and I haven't gotten together to do much fishing these days. I really can't tell you what's been going on with your pop.”
“I don't understand any of this,” Vanessa said emphatically. “None of it makes a bit of sense.”
“So true.” Matt sighed and shook his head. “Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen on our peaceful little island.” He motioned to the boathouse. “I have to string up some line on a few fishing poles. Josh likes to have them ready for the guests who forget to bring their own from home. We can talk more while I work.”
Vanessa choked back her disappointment as she fell into step alongside him. Obviously, though Matt meant well, he wasn't going to be much help either..
As they came nearer to the dock, the music grew louder--a blaring, syncopated beat punctuated by loud talking. Vanessa spied two bare-chested men sitting on the top deck of the yacht she’d noticed earlier. From inside came peals of laughter.
“What's going on over there?” she asked Matt as they paused to take in the scene.
“That's one of our more well-to-do clients,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Josh is down in the cabin. The yacht owner threw a big bash last night--and they apparently don't have enough sense to know when to call it quits.”
She darted Matt a sympathetic look. “No wonder you have to work so hard around here. My guess would be you're the only one working. And by the way, how is Fern? Has there been any improvement since her stroke?”
“She barely recognizes anyone--even me. The paralysis has affected one entire side, and in spite of all the therapy, there doesn't appear to be much improvement.”
Vanessa shook her head sadly as a picture of Matt's vivacious, fun-loving wife came to her. Fern had cooked many a hearty pot roast dinner for Vanessa's family in years past. “How terrible that must be for you,” Vanessa said.
“Yep. Life does take some unexpected turns, now don't it?” Matt spoke in a distant voice. “And the nursing home costs--enough to blow any hard working man right out of the saddle.”
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