Dust and Obey (5 page)

CHAPTER 7

The
storm passed, but now a heavy fog surrounded us as we pulled up to the pier at Bird’s Nest Island. The low-lying clouds had come on quickly, beginning in the distance and then immersing us in their thickness. I could hardly see my hand in front of my face.

My nerves tightened as I stood and waited to disembark.

“Welcome to Cemetery—I mean, Bird’s Nest Island,” Leroy said.

“Wait—why did you say Cemetery Island?” I couldn’t
not
ask that question because what I’d heard was too disturbing to ignore.

He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “That’s what the place used to be called. I wouldn’t worry about it. Anyway, I’ll bring your luggage up in a moment. I just talked to Dr. Turner on the radio and, he would like everyone to remain inside Blackbird Hall as a safety precaution until this fog passes.”

Cemetery Island? Blackbird Hall? This whole place just seemed creepier and creepier by the moment. All I needed was a raven tapping at my window, playing mind games and chanting “nevermore!” Yeah, this place was Edgar Allen Poe weird, and I’d been here less than three minutes.

The Griffiths walked ahead of us, again not initiating the slightest bit of conversation. Riley and I followed silently behind.

A decent-size bluff rose in front of us, and we climbed a set of wooden stairs to reach the top. The fog only added to the eerie atmosphere I already felt about the place. The names, the people here, what had happened with Anna . . . all those things together nearly formed the start of a horror story in my mind.

As I glanced back at Leroy, I expected to see him gathering our luggage. Instead, he stood on the pier and stared at us.

My throat went dry. If I wasn’t so determined, I would run far away from this island and retreat center now. There was no way off. No cell phone service. And a possible murderer.

Riley and I crested the top of the bluff and paused. I’d wanted to observe the island, but all I could see was fog. I didn’t even see the Griffiths.

I squinted, trying to gather my bearings and at least figure out where to go from here. It was no use. We couldn’t see a killer if he came running right toward us with a knife and a hand-painted welcome sign.

“What now?” I asked.

He sighed and glanced around. “I guess we keep walking until we either find someone or we find a building.”

“You must be Riley and Gabby!” A woman appeared through the fog. She wore linen slacks, a navy-blue T-shirt, and clutched a clipboard in her hands. Her honey blonde hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and she had a large but thin build.

“Isn’t this crazy?” she continued. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen the fog this thick. If we were in a cartoon we could cut a donut in the air and eat it, right?” She let out a nervous laugh.

“My thoughts exactly,” I told her. “Scooby Doo would have a ball here. And possibly a bellyache.”

The woman gave me a weird look, and I reminded myself to appear cultured instead of
pop
-cultured. That was going to take some effort.

“Anyway, I’m Blaine, Dr. Turner’s assistant. I saw the Griffiths had arrived, and assumed you were probably here as well.”

“I’m Riley, and this is my wife, Gabby.”

As Riley said those words, something twisted in my gut. If everything had stayed on schedule, we would have been married now. But a diabolical killer set on revenge had shot Riley only days before our wedding. That one tragedy had landed Riley in the hospital and in recovery for months afterward. Everything had changed.

One never knew when life would throw a curveball like that. I’d like to think I had accepted my circumstances as they were now, but I had my moments.

Like right now.

Hearing Riley call me his wife seemed so bittersweet.

Consider it pure joy . . .

“We’re so glad to have you here,” Blaine continued. “Let me show you to your accommodations. If you just follow the path, it will show you the way—in more ways that one.” She laughed at her own psychology joke. “Anyway, Leroy will bring your things up in a minute. I just know you’re going to love it here. We strive to make it as comfortable as possible for our guests.”

Blaine was obviously well versed in PR and guest relations. She also probably knew everything going on at the place. She’d be a good resource for this investigation. I kept that thought in the back of my mind.

“Watch your step,” Blaine said. “The island, of course, is mostly sand. Some say it started off as a sandbar. Anyway, the landscape shifts. Even though we grade this path quite often, little potholes, if you want to call them that, pop up frequently.”

A wise man builds his house upon the rock.

The old song I’d sang as a child came to mind. At the moment, it didn’t make me feel any better, though. I knew what happened to the house on the sand.

Just as Blaine said that, I stepped inadvertently in one of the “little potholes” she’d warned about. I lunged forward and grabbed Riley. I feared I might take him down with me, but, instead, strong hands wrapped around my waist.

My skin came alive at his touch. I was toast. Pure and simple toast, buttered up and cut into edible triangles.

I looked up at him, certain he’d see the battling emotions in my eyes. Certain he’d know I hadn’t truly gotten over him. Except I still had my sunglasses on. Score!

Riley’s lips parted like he might speak, but before he could, Blaine interrupted.

“I know it’s awkward being here together.” Blaine pressed her lips together in a frown. A compassionate frown, but still a frown. “All our couples feel that way. We hope to change that by the time you leave here.”

With that proclamation, I backed away from Riley and quickly straightened my blouse.

I wanted to think of a witty comeback, but my mind drew a blank. It did that at the worst possible times.

A sound in the distance saved the day.

A faint cry for help.

It appeared this real-life version of Clue had already started.

CHAPTER 8

Instinctively
, I started toward the sound, like a child drawn to the Pied Piper. Riley held me back.

“You don’t know the terrain. You need to watch your step.” His voice sounded firm and authoritative until he added a syrupy sweet “darling.”

I wanted to argue, but he was right. The place
had
been called Cemetery Island. I didn’t want to add my tombstone to what I assumed to be an already long list.

I slowed my steps. It was only then that I realized Blaine wasn’t following us. Wasn’t she concerned?

In fact, when I looked behind me, I didn’t even see the woman. Was it because of the fog, or had she disappeared? A shiver captured my spine and didn’t let go.

I heard the voice again. Someone had clearly called, “Help.”

Riley and I hurried—carefully hurried, that is—toward the sound, my unease growing with each step.

You should have said no to this investigation. Should have said no.

I’d been in a lot of tricky situations, but this place was just spooky. I had a bad feeling in my gut about being here. Was there such a thing as a fear of islands? If so, I might have it.

Riley and I practically fell over two women who appeared on the path. One was Blaine. How had she gotten ahead of us so fast?

The other woman was heavy-set and probably in her mid-forties. She was a bleached blonde whose roots needed a touch up. She wore stone-washed jeans, the kind popular in the eighties, with Keds and a stained T-shirt. Was she part of the staff here also?

She lay on the ground holding her ankle. Her face scrunched with pain—narrowed eyes, rounded lips, veins bulging at her neck. In fact, her expression was almost comical. Or maybe I had a twisted sense of humor.

“I stepped on something, and my ankle twisted.” She rocked back and forth.

“Dr. Turner asked everyone to stay inside.” Blaine’s voice was short and clipped. In other words, annoyed.

“But I just needed some fresh air. You know how it is. I feel suffocated—in more ways than one.” The woman had a way of speaking that indicated she was perhaps from the country. Her teeth were also a mess—stained, crooked, and partially missing.

She couldn’t possibly be a guest here.

“Ms. Daniels, we need to get you inside,” Blaine continued. “We can take a look at your ankle there.”

Ms. Daniels? I remembered what Brad had said about her. She was one-half of the redneck couple.

“You must be the new lab rats,” Ms. Daniels said instead, looking us up and down. “You look about like the rest of them.”

“Like the rest of them?” I asked, the words spilling out. I pictured myself with pointy ears, piercing eyes, and whiskers.

“The rest of the clients here. Hoity-toity. I keep hoping for someone normal like us beneath all that fancy exterior. That’s not going to happen, is it?”

Score! I looked like I fit in. That was a near miracle. And I didn’t look like a rat. Double score.

“Ms. Daniels, please. Mr. and Mrs. St. Thomas just got here. There’s no need to greet them like this.” Blaine shifted awkwardly as she glared down at Ms. Daniels, who still grasped her ankle and rocked back and forth.

The woman waved one hand, chipped red nail polish blurring through the air. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. You know me. I speak my mind. That’s one of the reasons my husband, Bo, and I are here. Apparently, I can’t keep my trap shut.” She cackled.

Note to self: Don’t cackle at your own jokes. It sounds weird.

“Anyway, can someone help me get all two hundred pounds of me off this ground?” she continued. “It’s harder than it used to be.”

Riley crouched toward her. “Do you think you can put any weight on your ankle?”

“Probably not. But if I had a big, strapping man to help me, I’m sure I could make it to Blackbird Hall.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Riley.

Was she really flirting with Riley when he was supposedly my husband? That was about as classless as a Sunday school dropout.

“I don’t know if I fit the strapping part of that equation, but I’ll do what I can to help.” He reached under her shoulders and gently pulled her to her feet.

She winced as she stood. Her arms went around Riley, and I saw a gleam appear in her eyes.

Without wanting to, I scowled.

“Angelina,” Blaine warned, glancing at Angelina’s fingers sprawled across Riley’s midsection. She’d dropped using the woman’s proper name, so she must be getting upset. “How about if I go get your husband for you?”

“That big old lug? No, thank you. This gentleman is helping just fine.” She patted Riley’s chest and grinned.

You had to be kidding me. Who did stuff like this? My claws were starting to come out. It didn’t matter that Riley wasn’t really my husband. She didn’t know that.

“I can help support your weight on the other side,” I finally said, my teeth clenched.

Angelina Daniels shook her head and nudged closer to Riley. “Oh no. I think he’s doing a fine job by himself. But, Blaine, you should have this path checked out. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

My fumes only increased. Was this woman looking for a reason to file a personal injury claim? Was she
that
kind of person?

As she stepped away, I looked down.

I gasped at what I saw on the path where Angelina had fallen.

It was a bony hand reaching from the grave.

Desperate for my help.

***

“This place is cursed. I knew it!” Angelina shrieked.

I ignored her and instead bent down for a closer look. “I’m no expert, but I think this is old.”

“We’ve had some storms here lately. Maybe the shifting sands led to an old grave being uncovered,” Blaine said.

“Hence the name Cemetery Island?” I questioned as another strong wind swept around me.

“Bird’s Nest Island has a much better ring to it, doesn’t it?” Blaine said with a weak laugh. “The birds love this place.”

So do dead people, apparently.

I tried to sound more clueless than I actually was as I responded. “I think in situations like these, you’re supposed to call the medical examiner. He or she will come to investigate. No one should touch these in the meantime.”

Riley chuckled and put his free arm around my shoulders. “That’s my wife. Always reading mystery novels. She sounds like she’s done this before, doesn’t she?”

I cringed and removed his arm. I was just playing a role, I told myself. It had nothing to do with how my body responded to him. How every part of me seemed to come alive.

But the real issue right now was that I needed to act more clueless and less like a former medical legal death investigator.

“I’ll call the sheriff and get someone to come out,” Blaine said, her face pale. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll get Angelina somewhere she can sit down,” Riley said. “Gabby, will you be okay out here?”

I nodded, practically wanting to do cartwheels. Nothing sounded better than being alone with this skeleton for a few minutes. “Yes. Someone should stay with these bones.”

I glanced in the distance as they lumbered down the trail. A large stone building appeared out of the fog. It almost looked like a castle: imposing, eerie, with walls that could tell tales of days from the past.

But I wasn’t nearly as interested in the building as I was this hand. I desperately wanted to brush away the granules of sand and see what else I could find. But instead of disturbing the scene, I simply leaned in closer.

There was nothing left on the bones, which indicated they had been there for a while. The phalanges almost looked brittle as they reached from the ground. They were dry and yellow with age.

At once, I wondered what had happened to this person. Had he or she received a decent burial that had somehow been unearthed? Or was this person left here by someone who didn’t want to be discovered? Just what kind of secrets did this island hold?

“I was told to come out here and relieve you.”

I jumped at the gruff voice. When I looked up, I saw a man I hadn’t met before. He wore a black outfit, the kind chefs wore on cooking shows, and had chin-length dark hair that had been heavily gelled away from his face. He was probably in his mid-twenties. The nasty-looking scar across his cheek made me wonder about his history.

I quickly stood and brushed the sand from my jeans.
Play it cool, Gabby. Play it cool.
“I don’t mind staying.”

The man stared at me, his eyes absent of any emotion. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a guest here. You should go get comfortable. I’ll wait for the authorities to arrive.”

I offered my hand, trying to buy some more time. “I’m Gabby.”

He didn’t extend his hand in return. He only nodded and crossed his arms. “I’m Steve.” He barely moved his lips as he said his name.

“I really don’t mind staying. You look like you have other things you need to be doing.” I pointed to his uniform. “Kitcheny types of things.”

“I’m a food artist,” he seethed.

“Of course. I was going to say that next.”

“I was told to do this, so I will.” He said the words with that I’m-an-angry-bird expression.

I wanted to argue, but I knew that would only look suspicious. Any normal guest wouldn’t want to wait here with a dead body. With reluctance, I took one last glance at the hand—the one reaching out for my help—and stepped away.

But the image of those bones wouldn’t leave my thoughts.