Island Blues (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-nine

“The others may like you, but I don't trust you as far as I can leverage you,” Walter continued. His face, a marvel of modern medicine, stayed smooth despite his sneer of derision. “Always lurking around, asking questions, sneaking over to spy on us at our sessions.”

“I was not! My friend and I went for a kayak ride and happened to stop on that island. We had no idea you were on it.” It was amazing how easy it was to be indignant when you were in the wrong. Sabrina almost had herself believing her own story.

Walter snorted. His dark sunglasses made it difficult to read his expression, but there was no doubt of his disgust for her excuse, which only made Sabrina angrier. He didn't know
for sure
she was lying. It was possible she was just out for a kayak ride, now wasn't it?

“You may not trust anyone, Walter, but there are trustworthy people in this world.” There, that sounded good. Not that it applied to her at the moment.

Walter snorted again, and stood staring at her for a moment while Sabrina tried not to squirm like a berated child. Sweat stains were drying on his expensive shirt, and dirt stains caked the knees of his slacks. Even his well-trained silver hair looked rumpled.

“Well? What did you see?”

“See?”

“When you were spying on us. What did you see?”

“I wasn't spying! And I didn't see anything.” Though she really wished she had. What was going on at the Hummer sessions? “What I wanted to ask you was why you've been spending time with Guy Fredericks.”

“Who?” Walter frowned. “Oh, the old man.”

“He says you've been asking him questions about his father's rum-running days.”

“Sure. It's interesting. He reminds me of my grandfather, who passed away when I was a kid.”

Sabrina studied him, but she couldn't judge whether it was sincerity or bologna oozing through his pores. She was pretty sure she caught a whiff of processed meat.

“Are you sure you're not looking for information about something specific?”

Walter shrugged. “I'm a collector, I've not hidden that. A lot of times, these old guys have stuff hidden away that's worth a gold mine, and they don't even know it. If I sweet-talk them a little, they'll sell it to me for a song.”

“And then you make a mint off their ignorance.”

“How do you think I got to be wealthy? By being a nice guy?” Walter flashed big white dentures in an orca smile.

“So what of value are you hoping to find?” Sabrina tried to hide her distaste in the interest of garnering information.

“I'm just looking for things for my own collection. I'm always on the lookout for interesting collectibles and I keep an eye out everywhere I go. You find some mighty interesting things if you know where to look.”

“Like X-rated driftwood?” It was a leap in the dark, but Missy had mentioned that a man driving a Jeep with a hotel logo, similar to the Shell Lodge's rental Jeeps, came to see her display two days before it was vandalized.

Walter looked amused. “Sure. Like that.”

Was there a connection? Could Walter have broken into Missy's house to steal her driftwood? Sabrina couldn't imagine it. And what about the other break-ins? That seemed even more unlikely. Perhaps Walter was simply the bored, wealthy collector he portrayed himself.

“Have you had the Jeep all week?”

“I rented it when I got here. Why?”

“I don't suppose you drove into town Tuesday night? Someone almost ran me into the water.” Sabrina had asked Matt who had access to the lodge's five rental Jeeps. Walter and Michael were the only ones who had rented a Jeep for the entire week. The rest of the guests were content to rent a Jeep for an hour or two as needed, and no one besides Walter and Michael had access to a Jeep late Tuesday night. At least officially. Sabrina couldn't help but notice how easy it would be for someone to swipe a pair of keys from behind the desk.

Walter looked irritated, an expression that seemed to perpetually linger on his face. “Of course it wasn't me.”

Of course it wasn't.

“I understand you're having trouble with your tenants.” Sabrina gestured to the phone he still held in his hand.

“Has my personal life suddenly become your business? Someone should have sent me a memo.”

With that, Walter strode away.

Sabrina decided to go check on Sophie. She wondered how the girl was holding up after the attack last night.

Patti opened the door of Sophie's little cottage.

“Sabrina!” Patti stood blocking the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on Sophie. How is she doing?”

“She's had a rough morning. None of us were happy to be interrupted at our session. Why did you do it?”

In the face of Patti's hurt bewilderment, Sabrina abandoned any pretense. “I'm trying to help you, Patti, but no one will tell me anything. I was trying to figure out what was going on so I can help.”

Patti's dark eyes were skeptical. “What we do at those sessions is private, Sabrina. If you want to help us, you'll give us our privacy. It's very important to all of us to control this humming in our heads. These sessions are the only way to help. We only have a few more days, and if I can't get rid of this Hum by Saturday, I don't know what I'll do!”

“Patti, I'm sorry! I was trying to help, I really was.” Sabrina rushed to give the other woman a hug, and Patti clasped her tight. When they let go, Sabrina saw there were tears in Patti's eyes.

“What's wrong, Patti?”

“I guess I'm wondering if my life will ever go back to normal. It seems like everything is falling apart, and I don't know how much longer I can take it. Enough about me, though. Can you sit with Sophie a few minutes while I take care of a few things? Dennis said he would be by in a little bit, so if he gets here before I do, you can leave her in his care.” Patti winked.

“Of course, I'd be happy to.”

Patti retrieved her purse and departed, leaving Sabrina to sit next to the sleeping Sophie. The girl's bruises looked much worse this afternoon, blooming dark and purple across her cheekbone.

After having suffered awful abuse from her boyfriend, she came to this peaceful island to face only more violence. Who would do this to her, and why?

“Oh, oh,” Sophie moaned, turning her head from side to side. “No, please, don't!” She put her hands in front of her face. “Please don't hurt me anymore!”

“Sophie, wake up! You're having a nightmare. Wake up!” Sabrina shook the girl's shoulder, but at her touch, Sophie screamed with fright and curled up into a ball. “Sophie, you need to wake up. It's just a nightmare.”

Sophie stiffened and stopped crying, though she kept her eyes squeezed shut.

“Calm down, it's only a nightmare.” Sabrina patted the girl's back until she rolled over.

“Sabrina?”

“Yes, it's Sabrina. Patti went to run some errands so she asked me to sit with you.” It was amazing how gratifying it was to hear Sophie call her by her real name.

“Oh.” Sophie put her hands over her eyes. “Oh, it was awful! He was in my room, and he was punching me. All I could smell was fish when he was holding me down on the bed, and I was pleading with him to let me go, or at least tell me what he wanted, but he wouldn't say anything. Poor Dennis. I had a nightmare last night and he tried to hold me to calm me down, and I screamed and screamed. I don't think I ever want anyone to hold me again, isn't that awful? I think I'm going to tell Dennis that he needs to find someone else. Now that I know he's famous, I know he can find someone better than me. It's for his own sake, because I'm not going to be any good to anyone ever again.” Sophie's shoulders heaved as she tried to contain her sobs.

“Sweetie, it's okay, it's okay,” Sabrina murmured, patting Sophie's back. “You can't make any important decisions right now, not when you're feeling like this. When you're afraid, it's tempting to take the easy way out, but you have to believe things will get better.”

“I just want to feel safe again. Things have gotten so bad these last few months, and now I can't think straight with this noise in my head. It feels like everything is going bad, and I can't seem to do anything to stop it.” Sophie's voice was soft as she reached out to clutch Sabrina's hand. “I want this Hum in my head to stop, and then maybe I could figure out everything else.”

“Let me show you something I do sometimes, when I'm feeling vulnerable. I visualize that I'm donning a coat of armor, you see…” In a hushed voice, Sabrina talked Sophie through the visualization, and the girl was beginning to look calmer when they heard a quiet knock on the door.

Sabrina went to let in a lovelorn and resolute Dennis Parker.

“How is she?” He brushed past Sabrina to rush to Sophie's side.

“Dennis!” Tears overflowed, and Dennis leaned his head close to the girl's, holding her hands and murmuring soundless words in her ear.

Sabrina watched them for a moment, feeling like a voyeur but unable to resist.

Then she left, closing the door softly so as not to disturb the young lovers.

***

Her conversation with Sophie had revealed one clue about the girl's attacker, one that Sophie did not mention the night before. It might or might not be important, but it reminded Sabrina of something else that she had been meaning to pursue. She turned down the path toward the marina.

With luck, Sam was engaged elsewhere.

Chapter Thirty

Sam Myers, as he was known here at Shell Lodge, came down the path from the main lodge and saw an apparition in orange and olive green with a mane of riotous blond curls standing beside his boat.

“Sam? Are you in there?”

Curious, because there was something furtive about her repeated glances over her shoulder, Sam stepped behind a tree to watch.

“Sam, I need to speak with you about…about…something I left on the kayak this morning. I left my shoes.” She looked down at her white sandals. “I mean my purse.” She shoved the purse she carried behind a nearby potted palm. “I left my purse on the kayak and I need to talk to you about it. Are you there? Sam?”

Seemingly satisfied that the boat was empty, she looked over her shoulder once more and stepped over the railing so she stood with one foot on the boat and the other on the dock. Not surprisingly, the boat chose that moment to strain outward against its lines, and Sabrina looked down with a horrified expression as the gap between vessel and dock widened. She made a desperate grab for the railing and swung her foot onto the boat.

Good form, Sam thought, watching her smooth out her skirt and step daintily down to the main hatch.

Cat jumped down from where he had been napping in the stowed sails and Sabrina shrieked. Cat jumped straight back up in the air and they gaped at each other in mutual terror and surprise before Cat shot off down the dock.

Sabrina stood, chest heaving, and put a hand to her wrist to time her pulse. Then she turned to study the locked hatch. She tugged on it, but it would not open.

Sam wondered how long it would take her to give up, but he underestimated her determination. Balanced precariously on the narrow walkway, she circled the cabin until she found the pop-up hatch at the front of the cabin. She pulled at it, and Sam groaned as he realized he forgot to latch it this morning. But it was impossible for a grown woman to get into unless—

Sabrina retreated off the boat long enough to retrieve something out of her purse. When she returned to the hatch, Sam saw that she was holding a screwdriver, which she used to unscrew the stabilizer bars. After a few moments, she was able to lay the hatch flat onto its back. It was still a tight fit for her, however, and Sam enjoyed watching her wriggle and gasp her way through the hatch. He was beginning to wonder what she would do if she got stuck when she popped out of sight like a cork shot from a champagne bottle.

What was she looking for? Everything was well hidden. He'd made sure of that after what happened last night. He still couldn't get the smell of fish out of his sheets. But what had made her suspicious of him? And what would she do when he caught her on his boat?

He intended to find out.

***

Sabrina dropped down onto a neatly made bunk, breathing hard from the exertion of squeezing through the hatch. It was touch and go there for a minute, and she hadn't let herself think about what she would do if she got stuck. Perhaps she needed to lose a few pounds after all. Thankfully, though, no one had observed her struggle.

There were several closed lockers in the sleeping cabin, and Sabrina hesitated for a moment before deciding against searching them just yet. Maybe if she had time. Right now, she wanted to see what was in the box under the table. Why had Sam stowed it so quickly when he heard her voice two nights ago? What was he hiding?

She intended to find out, especially now that Sophie revealed her attacker smelled like fish. Sam's windbreaker had smelled distinctly of fish. But why would Sam attack Sophie? Sabrina needed more information, and she simply refused to think about what happened the last time she went looking for more information. She'd decided to wipe the memory of Rainbow Island from her mind.

The box wasn't under the table.

Sabrina stood up, and surveyed the cabin in dismay. It wasn't that it was large. Actually, the cabin was quite compact, paneled with dark wood and containing a small galley and a dining booth upholstered in a serviceable tropical print. The problem was that there were lockers tucked everywhere. It would take hours to search all of them, and she still wouldn't be sure she found every one.

Well, perhaps she would get lucky. Sabrina was a big fan of luck, not that her enthusiasm for the lady had ever panned out.

Sabrina began opening lockers at random, finding cans and boxes of food, and other items that she labeled “boat stuff” in her mind. She had no idea what they were, but they looked like they belonged on a boat. She turned to find Sam standing behind her.

“Sabrina!”

She stopped screaming. “I—I was looking for you.”

“It looks like you were looking for toilet paper.”

Sabrina looked down at the roll she held in her hand and shoved it back into the locker. “I thought you might have some—I was looking for my…purse. I left my purse on the kayak.” Ah, there was her cover story, remembered in the nick of time. Hopefully, he wouldn't remember that she wasn't carrying a purse when she got on the kayak this morning. She had the foresight to leave it at the front desk or it would have been dunked along with everything else.

“This one?”

She blinked at her purse. Where on earth…? “Yes, that's it. Thank you!”

With that she tried a breezy exit. It worked this morning on Rainbow Island, leaving her audience flummoxed. She saw no reason not to try it again.

She should have known Sam was made of sterner stuff. He moved to block her entrance up the stairs and, as she bounced off his chest, she noticed that he did not smell like fish. He smelled like clean soap and light sweat.

“You manage to pack a lot of stuff in this boat,” she commented, as if he had not just aborted an escape attempt.

“At least I'm a better housekeeper than some ospreys I know. They love junk. I've seen nests with hula hoops, toy boats, fishing nets and even a Barbie doll. Of course, you can't overlook the bird's wings. I've seen the wings of both ducks and gulls lining an osprey's nest—just the wings, mind you.” Sam put his arm against the wall and stared down at Sabrina with an annoying spark of amusement.

“That's pretty bloodthirsty.” She threw a glance back over her shoulder at the sleeping cabin through which she had made her illicit entrance. Sam didn't know she had unscrewed the front hatch and let herself in. It was comforting to know that in an emergency she could make a dive for that exit. She refused to think about what would happen if she got stuck in the hatch.

“The fishing line is the worst, though. The osprey brings it back to the nest and soon it unravels, wrapping fine filament around the bird's body and legs until it can't move and eventually dies.”

“I need to get going,” Sabrina said, not caring if he heard the desperation in her voice. “Matt is expecting me, and he said, ‘Sabrina, if you're not back in ten minutes, I'm going to come down to Sam's boat and fetch you.' We don't want to drag the big boss man from his important work, so…” She made a tentative run at him, but he stood firm, and she backed off. Now what? She certainly couldn't ask him if he was the one who attacked Sophie last night. Speaking of which, she was suddenly aware that in reality no one knew she was on this boat, and Sam
had
caught her snooping. What if he was the one to attack Sophie? What might he do to her?

Sabrina backed toward the sleeping cabin, trying to imagine a way to improve her chances of getting through the hatch quickly. Her glance flew around the galley. Perhaps some cooking oil? Pan spray?

“What are you looking for?” He had followed her as she backed up and was now standing only two feet away.

“Why, I was just noticing this beautiful African violet. It's gorgeous!” Moving so she didn't turn her back on him, which resulted in a small-stepped sideways shuffle, she went over to inspect the small plant sitting beside the sink. “I'm not very good with plants. The children in my class would bring them to me, but they never survived. I kept having to run out and buy plants to replace the ones that died so the children wouldn't know. I'm glad they didn't bring me any pets.” She couldn't seem to stop babbling as she stroked the velvety leaves.

“African violets thrive on lots of attention.” Sam's voice sounded odd as he moved closer to touch the only small blooming flower. “It's my sister's, so I need to take care of it.”

“I'm sure she'll want it back in good shape.”

“No, she won't be wanting it back at all. She's dead.” His voice was flat.

“Sam, I'm sorry!” Sabrina turned to him, only to find that he was mere inches away. She jumped a little at the nearness of him, but continued her move to pat his arm. She recognized grief and was incapable of ignoring it, despite the fact that he might be a violent attacker. “When did she die?”

“Last year.” So much pain in those two words.

Sam's tanned face was dark in the dim light, limned by the golden-white stubble over his cheekbones. His thin lips still bore a trace of the sardonic smile he always wore, but his blue eyes were bleak. Sabrina gazed up at him, unable to move. Even her patting had stopped.

He reached up and brushed a curl off her cheek and Sabrina closed her eyes for a moment.

“Perhaps you would have dinner with me some night?” Sam's voice was soft.

The words acted like a cattle prod, and Sabrina jumped away from him with the alacrity of a shocked calf.

“Is that Matt I hear? Matt! I'm in here!” Sabrina pushed past Sam and headed up the steps.

“Sabrina!”

“It was great to see you, thank you for holding onto my purse…” Sabrina paused as it belatedly occurred to her to wonder how Sam had gotten her purse, but she plowed on. “I'll be right out, Matt!” she called to the nonexistent voice.

“Sabrina.”

She slowed her headlong rush. Now that she was safely out of his reach, she looked back over her shoulder.

“What were you really looking for?”

“Whatever do you mean? I'll see you later!” With that she dove out of the door.

It was only as she trotted up the long length of dock that she remembered the disabled front hatch. What would Sam think when he found it?

By the time he did, Sabrina intended to be far, far away.

***

Henry, the Shell Lodge's maintenance man, offered to drive her all the way to her apartment at the Blue Cam, but Sabrina assured him that she was in the mood to walk. Since she lent her station wagon to Lima, she was lucky to catch Henry leaving the lodge for the day and cadge a ride.

Henry dropped her off near his house on Lighthouse Road, and she started for home. She realized how late it was as her stomach rumbled in protest. She still needed to pick Calvin up from Lima's, and that would give her a chance to check on her friend. She had urged him to make an appointment with Doc Hailey for a check-up, but the old man was stubborn.

As she turned onto Tittletott Row, several cars passed her in quick succession, and then the road quieted. She was almost to the bridge over Down the Middle Creek, the small body of water that separated the fishing village of Waver Town from the more touristy Towner Town. This distinction between what outsiders would see as two halves of the same town did not show up on any map, but the differentiation was very real to the islanders. Up until very recently, feuds between the two groups were an everyday occurrence. For the moment, a truce had been called, in part because of what happened this past fall during the race for the Sanitary Concessionary position, and in part out of the necessity to face the burgeoning tourist threat unilaterally.

There were no streetlights down this stretch of Tittletott Row, except one lone light over the bridge. It produced a parsimonious pool on the pavement, which did not stretch even to the sluggish brown water directly below.

Sabrina stopped to look for cars and then stepped onto the bridge. She heard a car start nearby, and headlights flashed on, blinding her.

She put a hand in front of her face and quickened her step. There was a small parking area and picnic area on the far side of the bridge, for those who wished to fish the creek. It was too late for even the tardiest of picnickers, so the car must belong to a zealous fisherman. The bridge wasn't called the fishingest bridge in the world for nothing.

The car drove onto the bridge, and Sabrina moved closer to the railing. She wished the driver of the car would dim his lights, they were making it difficult for her to see. She put her hand back to her face, hoping the driver would get the message.

The car speeded up and Sabrina pressed herself to the rail. Even though there was plenty of room for the car to get by, she felt better giving him as much room as possible. She wished he would slow down, though. Didn't he see her?

Instead of slowing as it neared her, the car suddenly leapt forward. Sabrina stared in horror as it swerved onto her side of the road, coming right at her.