Wolf Island

by Cheryl Gorman

  If the people in the village had believed her -- or if Alice had believed her -- would she still be alive? What about the footsteps Abby had heard behind her as she walked toward the shop, and the scraping noises and chimes she’d heard up at the castle?

  Were they real, or the result of an overactive imagination? And now Ms. Townsend was telling her that without her help, Devlin could die. What was she going to do? What should she believe?

  Devlin.

  She’d almost forgotten. He expected her to be at the café when he arrived. Abby pulled the strap of her purse up over her shoulder. “Thank you for your prediction, Ms. Townsend. I’ll think about it. Now, I really have to go. Devlin will be wondering where I am.”

  Abby turned to leave.

  “Listen to me, Ms. Chapel, please. Don’t leave this island. Devlin’s life depends on it.”

  Chapter Seven

  With Ms. Townsend’s dark prediction filling her head, Abby left the shop. The heavy rain had turned to a fine mist that drizzled down from a cloud-laden sky. Thick gray fog hovered in the air, obscuring nearly everything from view.

  Her jacket and clothes were still a bit damp, so she rubbed her hands over her arms in an attempt to warm herself. Instinctively, she turned in the direction of the café and began to walk. The fog swept icy fingers over her cheeks and against her neck.

  “Whore.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks and whirled. Her gaze darted this way and that, trying to find the source of the whispered voice. “Who’s there?”

  Her heart pounded so hard, Abby felt it might burst from her chest. A cold sweat popped out on her skin despite the chill in the air, and her lungs heaved with each breath. Nothing moved except the murky vapor surrounding her.

  Not wishing to linger, she turned and headed once again for the café. She heard them again.

  Footsteps.

  Slower this time. She jerked her head around and peered over her shoulder. No one was behind her. Only the mist and the encroaching darkness. Visions of some large, unknown man raping her flashed in a hideous kaleidoscope through her brain until fear buzzed in her ears.

  She quickened her pace, hoping to reach the safety and warmth of the café before she became a tragic headline in the local paper like Alice.

  It happened so suddenly that she barely had time to react.

  Something slammed into the middle of her back.

  Hands.

  Yes. Hard, strong hands. They shoved with a bitter, rough slap between her shoulder blades. Abby stumbled forward, her feet fighting for a grip on the sidewalk, slipping greasily over the curb. The toes of her boots rammed into the pavement. Her arms wheeled in the air, her fingers grabbing for something to hold on to, but clutching only handfuls of mist.

  The bright glow of headlights streamed through the fog. Abby tumbled to the street. She held out her hands in an attempt to cushion her fall, and her palms scraped harshly over the bumpy surface. She heard the squeal of brakes and a shout before her head banged against the pavement and she rolled onto her back.

  Strong arms enveloped her, and a warm hand pushed her hair back from her face. She opened her eyes to find Devlin staring down at her. Someone stepped up beside him, and a pair of dark eyes studied her. The man took off his hat, revealing a thatch of salt-and-pepper hair. He clutched the hat between nervous fingers. “Are you all right, miss?” His eyes brimmed with worry. “You came out of nowhere. I almost didn’t have time to stop.”

  Abby looked at the man, then back at Devlin. Worry shrouded his face. She tried to shove out of his arms, but he held her fast.

  “Rest a minute.”

  She didn’t want to rest. “I’m fine. The wet street is soaking through my clothes. Let me up.”

  This time he relented, and she pushed herself to a sitting position. The world spun. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and gingerly touched her temple. She felt a large knot beneath her fingers.

  “I told you to sit still a minute.” A low growl edged Devlin’s voice.

  Abby ignored him and forced herself to stand. She swayed slightly on her feet, and Devlin steadied her with his hands on her arms. She looked at his hands and wondered.

  His hands were big, hard, and strong. Could he have shoved her into the street? How long had it taken him to secure his boat? Was the harbormaster with him the whole time? Or did Devlin take care of it by himself? He would have had plenty of time to get back up here, but he had no way of knowing that she would visit the gift shop.

  “I thought I told you to wait for me at the café. What were you doing out here in the street, anyway?”

  “I wasn’t in the street on purpose. Someone pushed me.”

  “What?” Devlin and the man exclaimed at the same time.

  Devlin turned to the man standing beside him. “Did you see anyone, Luke?”

  “No, sorry, Dev. All of a sudden she was flying in front of my truck. She took ten years off my life. But I didn’t see anybody. ’Course, with the fog and all, it would have been easy for them to slip away unnoticed.”

  “Come on.” Devlin swept her up into his arms. “I’m taking you to the doctor.”

  Mortified, Abby shoved against his arms. They were immovable. “Put me down. I’m very capable of walking. I’m not an invalid.”

  Devlin ignored her. He nodded to the man. “Thanks, Luke. I can manage from here. You go ahead home.”

  · * * * *

  While Abby lay resting upstairs in her bed, Devlin sat across the kitchen table from the sheriff, Jake Dutton. “Anson told me he hasn’t seen anyone down by my dock today except for a couple of guys I hired from the marina to check the pilings. With the last couple of storms we’ve had, I wanted to make sure they were secure.”

  Jake took a sip of the strong coffee. “I don’t believe for a minute that one of them cut the line to your boat.”

  No, Devlin didn’t believe that either. He knew who had done it. He turned and looked out the kitchen window. Maybe he was there now ... waiting.

  “Two men will be stationed in the pine grove whenever I can spare them.” Jake brought Devlin’s attention back to him.

  Devlin waved a hand through the air. “Victor won’t go back to the dock again. He’s too clever for that. He cut the boat loose so I would know for sure that he’s back.”

  Jake set down his cup. “You said yourself, he’s delusional. He might forget. Then we could trap him on the boat until backup arrived.”

  “I think it’s a waste of manpower, but I suppose it could happen.”

  Jake leaned back in his chair. “Did you get the locks changed?”

  Dev shook his head. “Not yet. Otis called, but no one can get out here until tomorrow.

  Jake finished his coffee. “I could put a man up here tonight, if you want; might make you feel better.

  “No, I think the bastard will lie low tonight. Between the boat and pushing Abby into the street, he’s done enough to rattle my cage today.” Dev pursed his lips and looked at Jake. “He wants me dead, for sure, but not without a little cat-and-mouse first.”

  Jake rose from his chair. He walked to the back door, shrugged into his jacket, and placed his uniform cap, covered in protective plastic, on his head. “My deputy is going over the boat now. I’ll let you know what we find.”

  Devlin stood up and faced Jake. “We both know who’s been camping out on my boat, Jake.”

  Jake reached for the doorknob, then turned and looked at Devlin. “I know. We just need to confirm it, that’s all.”

  * * * * *

  The next day, Abby lay on the bed in the room next to Devlin’s. Devlin and Otis had fussed over her and insisted she stay off her feet even though the doctor had told them all she needed was a good night’s rest. Rest she’d had. This morning, when she’d tried to come downstairs, Otis had sent her back to her room. Devlin’s orders, he’d told her.

  A light knock sounded at the door. “Come in.”

  Otis walked in with a tray cradled in his
hands. His black gaze skimmed over her before his mouth curved briefly in a half smile. “Got your color back. That’s good.”

  He walked to the bedside table and laid down the tray. Abby glanced at the pot of tea and plate of cookies. “Thank you for the tea.”

  Otis nodded. Abby turned her head and gazed out the window at the bright sunlight. All she needed was a walk around the grounds and a breath or two of fresh air.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  She swiveled her head and looked at Otis. When he said no more, she raised her brows in question, waiting for him to continue.

  “You’re thinking you want to go outside for a walk and soak up some o’ that sunshine.”

  Abby sighed. “Yes. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  Otis shook his head. “Not today, you won’t. Maybe tomorrow. Mr. Dev said to keep you here for a while.”

  “Do you do everything Mr. Dev tells you?”

  Otis glanced at her while he prepared a cup of tea. His face grew serious. After adding a dollop of milk and a spoonful of sugar, he handed the teacup to her. “I have a good life here. It’s because of Mr. Dev that I have this life. So when he asks me to do something, I do it. Nothing wrong with that.”

  After she took the cup, he lowered himself to a chair. “You need to understand something. Mr. Dev is a good, decent man. He’s had his share of troubles, but most people do, at one time or another.”

  Otis leaned forward and rested his elbows on the knees of his worn jeans. “Mr. Dev was real upset about what happened to you yesterday. I could see it on his face when he brought you back here. But I saw something else, too.” Otis paused as if gathering his thoughts. He lifted his head and stared directly into her eyes. “He’s easing into caring about you. That worries me some, ’cause I don’t know you very well and neither does he. Just one thing I want to make clear: Mr. Dev gave me a home when nobody else would, and I ain’t gonna stand by and let him get hurt -- by you or anybody else.”

  Everyone on this island was loyal to Devlin Morgan. Except her. Abby sipped her tea. “I’m just here to find my sister, not to hurt Dev.”

  Otis rose from the chair and headed for the door. When he reached it and grasped the doorknob, he looked at Abby over his shoulder. “That’s good to hear. I’ll come by later and get the tray. The man who almost ran you over last night is here to see you. Should I send him up?”

  Abby nodded. “Please do.”

  In a few moments, she heard a knock at the door. Abby slid from the bed and padded over to the door. When she opened it and peeped out, the man she remembered from the night before stared back at her.

  “I’m Luke Carstairs.” A guilty expression blanketed his face. He wore khaki slacks, a white shirt, and a worn, leather jacket. Luke stuck out his hand, which clutched a bunch of daisies nestled in a clear glass vase. “I’m really sorry about what happened. My wife and I want to wish you a speedy recovery.” The slight lowering of his head emphasized his sincere apology.

  Compassion filled her heart. Abby smiled and took the vase from his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Carstairs. But you have nothing to be sorry about. It was an accident and not at all your fault. You just happened to be driving down the road at the time I was pushed into the street.” A look of relief washed over his face. He smiled briefly and nodded. Abby opened the door wider. “Please, come in. I’m bored silly and would really love some company.” What she would really love was to find out if he knew anything about Miranda.

  Luke cleared his throat and stepped gingerly through the doorway. Abby closed the door with her toe. She walked over to the small coffee table that sat before the fireplace and set down the vase of flowers. She sat in one of the chairs and motioned for him to take the other one. “Tell me about yourself. How long have you lived on Wolf Island?” She hoped her casual question would engage him in conversation.

  Luke told her a bit about himself, and when Abby was sure he was relaxed, she thought it the perfect time to ask some more probing questions. “I understand there was a ghost hunter here before me. Do you remember seeing her?”

  He threw her a furtive glance, then gazed at his hands as he turned his hat around and around. “Ayah, I remember her.”

  “What do you remember?”

  Luke cleared his throat and shrugged. “Not a whole lot. The wife and I only saw her once with --” He threw her an anxious glance, then rose to his feet. “I need to be going, Ms. Chapel. My wife is expecting me.”

  He knows something. She couldn’t just let him walk out. Abby sprang from her chair and laid her hand on his arm as she looked up into his dark eyes. “Please, Mr. Carstairs, if you know something about my sister, you must tell me. I’m terribly worried about her.”

  Discomfort flitted across his face, and his fingers worried the brim of his hat. He looked toward the door as if he wanted to make his escape. “I saw her with a man.”

  “Did you know the man?”

  Luke frowned and pressed his lips together. He shook his head and wouldn’t look at her. “I -- I’m not sure.”

  Abby felt certain he knew who Miranda had been with. But if she pushed too hard, he might not tell her any more. “All right. Do you know when she left?”

  “Well, let’s see.” He turned and walked toward the door. “I believe she left right before you got here.” He slipped on his hat. “That’s all I know.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  Abby stopped him with a touch on his arm. “How did she leave? Was she alone? Did she go back to the mainland on the ferry?”

  “Look, I gotta go.” The words spilled out quickly as he gripped the doorknob in his hand.

  “You must tell me what you know.” She couldn’t let him walk out the door without answering her question.

  He stopped, glanced down at his feet and then back up at her. “My wife and I live a ways up the hill from the village. We can see this place better than the rest of the folks.”

  He paused, and Abby waited, hoping with everything in her that he would give her some news about her sister.

  “We were watching television one night when we saw a helicopter land right out there.” He gestured toward the window in Abby’s room. “We saw a man and your sister board the helicopter ... then it took off.”

  Helicopter? She couldn’t believe it. Devlin had known all along and hadn’t told her! “What man? Did you know him? Do you know where they went?” Abby summoned her calmest voice despite the anger she felt at Devlin’s deception.

  He turned and looked at her with worry clouding his eyes. “I don’t know where they went, Ms. Chapel.” He opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

  Abby rushed out behind him and grabbed his arm. He jerked his head around and stared at her. “Did you know the man? Tell me. Please!”

  Luke glanced nervously up and down the hall, and Abby felt sure he was about to tell her, when he abruptly shrugged out of her hold and headed down the hallway. “I really have to go.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Carstairs, for the flowers. Give my best to your wife.”

  The moment he left, Abby made a beeline for Devlin’s room. Frustrated to find it empty, she headed for the stairs and Devlin’s office. He damn well had some explaining to do.

  The door of Devlin’s office stood slightly ajar when Abby arrived on the threshold with a full head of steam. She saw the deceitful jerk sitting at his desk, leaning comfortably back in his chair, chatting on the phone. His comfort was about to end. She didn’t bother to knock, just pushed the door open and barged in.

  The lying weasel glanced up at her, ended his phone call, and hung up. “Don’t you believe in knocking?”

  She marched up to his desk, her hands bunched into fists. “No, I don’t. Not when I just found out my sister left this castle in a helicopter!” Abby didn’t bother to temper her voice. She’d never been so mad in her life.

  Devlin put the tips of his fingers together and rested them under his chin. “Who told you that?” How could he sound so c
alm?

  “Luke Carstairs. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He sighed heavily, rose from his chair, and walked around the desk until he stood next to her. He rested his hands on her upper arms. “Look, I know you’re upset, but --”

  Abby shrugged his hands away and threw her arms out to the side. “You bet I’m bloody upset.” She never cursed. Ever. It was all Devlin’s fault. “Mr. Carstairs said the chopper landed right outside the window of my room. He saw a man and my sister get on the helicopter. Where did she go? Who was the man?”

  Devlin shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and studied her for a moment. “She’s with my brother. He got hurt and needed to go to a hospital on the mainland. She went with him.”

  Abby sighed. Great. Miranda had been searching for that special someone through a series of boyfriends who were needy in some way. She loaned them money they never paid back, gave them a roof over their heads. She wanted to save them all because she couldn’t save their mum from her self-destructive behavior. Abby kept her gaze on Devlin. “How did he get hurt?” She’d managed to soften the edge of anger in her voice even though fury still churned through her.

  Devlin stepped closer until his scent and body heat surrounded her like an aura. He held her chin in his big, warm hand. “That’s not important. I know you’re worried about Miranda, but she’s okay. I swear it. I need you to trust me about this.” He used his soft voice again, the one that urged her to believe him. He was getting to her. Between his touch, scent, and smooth, sexy voice, how could she resist?

  Abby lifted her chin from his hand. “Trust you?” No, she refused to let him get to her. “I don’t trust you any farther than I could pitch you into the dustbin -- and that isn’t very far, considering your size. Why should I?”

  Devlin laid his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. The warmth of his fingers seeped into her skin. “Because I’m telling you the truth.”

  She shrugged out of his hold. “I don’t believe you. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  “What do I have to lie about?” Nice segue to ignoring her question.