Dust and Obey (8 page)

CHAPTER 12

Just
as Riley and I got back downstairs, the lights flickered on, and we ran into someone emerging from the bathroom.

Angelina.

“We’ve been looking for you,” I muttered, wondering why the woman looked both relaxed and irritated.

“So I’ve heard.” She continued walking, so we followed her back into the lounge.

The rest of the group was already there, but everyone became silent when Angelina walked in. Her ankle had been miraculously healed, it appeared.

Bo hurried toward her. “Where’d you go? We were worried about you, woman.”

She scowled and held up a flashlight. “I went to grab this. I told you that before I left. You know I don’t like being unprepared. If my Girl Scout troop knew, I’d be evicted as leader—and ain’t nobody taking over that from me.”

“You didn’t tell me that you were leaving.” Bo crossed his arms and scowled at his wife.

“I most certainly did. I said, I have to go empty my bladder—I was afraid I might pee myself right here if the lights stayed off too long. While I was out, I grabbed a flashlight. I guess I told you that in your mute ear.”

Mute ear? Ears couldn’t be mute, but I didn’t bother to correct her.

Angelina stared at everyone, like we were the crazy, crass ones. “You all didn’t have to get so worried. I’m a big girl, and I’m wearing my big girl panties.” She said the last part with a cartoonish voice. Then she wiggled her hips as if she knew we all had an unwanted mental image, thanks to her word choice.

I attempted to poke out my mind’s eye.

“Why didn’t the people searching the first floor see you?” I asked.

Angelina shrugged. “I went up the back stairway. There’s a window there, so I thought I could see better.”

My gaze zeroed in on Atticus Griffith. Riley had informed me that I’d found the scarf in Atticus’s drawer. Why did Atticus have Anna’s scarf?

Dr. Turner cleared his throat. “I think we should call this a night. We should all get some rest and return bright and early tomorrow morning to begin fresh. You’re dismissed for Bird’s Nest Time, but be back to your rooms by nine. Sound good?”

Everyone began to disperse.

Except Riley and I.

Bird’s Nest Time? What in the world was he talking about?

Dr. Turner seemed to sense our confusion and turned to address us. “I don’t want to spend too much time sharing your story tonight. We prefer to do that as a group so we can all help each other. I did want to take the opportunity to say that we’re thankful to have you here with us. Did you have any questions for me?”

“Is it always this exciting around here?” I rubbed my arms as goosebumps scattered across my skin like a minefield. I’d always said they popped up when fear had nowhere else to go.

“Not usually, but this past weekend was out of the ordinary.”

“Why’s that?” Riley asked, moving closer to me.

Dr. Turner fidgeted. “The couple whose place you took met with an unfortunate tragedy. The wife took her own life, and that’s shaken everyone up. But I think staying together through hardships like this is important. That’s why I didn’t cancel the rest of our sessions. We’re going to use this experience to bring everyone closer together.”

The doctor seemed to have a good explanation for everything, didn’t he?

“That’s terrible,” I whispered.

He nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s the antithesis of what I want to see happen here. In truth, it greatly concerns me, and I feared no one would want to come back. Thankfully, everyone saw her death for what it was—a terrible tragedy that we all want to avoid in our lives.”

“I have one more question, Dr. Turner.” I straightened my spine. “When I checked my suitcase in my room, it looked like someone had gone through my things. Do you know who would have done that?”

He pressed his lips together. “As a matter of fact, I do. I thought Blaine had told you. Leroy dropped your suitcase on the way up. It wasn’t locked and your things tumbled out. He picked up everything and tried to neatly put them back inside. We apologize that it happened, and I’m sorry no one filled you in.”

The explanation seemed logical enough . . . I supposed. I was still bothered, though.

“Now,” Dr. Turner brought his hands together. “Bird’s Nest Time is what we call alone time at the end of each day. It’s an opportunity for husbands and wives to talk about the day and air any of their problems with each other privately. We call it Bird’s Nest Time because many birds mate for life. That’s what we promote here also.”

I nodded, not a fan of the cheesy, fowl-themed images his words evoked in my mind. I really hoped that one of his sessions wasn’t about the birds and the bees. “I see. Is there anywhere in particular we’re supposed to have Bird’s Nest Time?”

“Wherever you would like. Wherever is private. But we do put a time limit on this interaction. We like to be structured here. Boundaries are good for all of us, both during our time here and for marriage in general.”

“I understand,” Riley said.

As we started to walk away, Dr. Turner called us back. We both paused and turned.

“I could sense that the two of you were highly uncomfortable with our cuddle time. I do hope you’ll both give this process a chance. I know your marriage has probably weathered some difficult times. All marriages go through this. Just be open-minded.”

Maybe the doctor was more insightful than I thought. On one hand, it had to be pretty easy to see how awkward Riley and I were with each other. But his advice for marriage was spot on. I’d never been married, but I’d seen plenty of bad marriages. I knew enough to understand it was better to stick together through tough times than to bail.

Like Riley had done on me when he decided we needed space during the middle of his recovery.

In the infamous words of Elsa, I had to let this go. Or even better, in the words of the Bible, I would consider this trial pure joy.

Pure joy.

***

“We better go find a ‘bird’s nest,’” I finally said after Dr. Turner walked away.

“Where should we go?” Riley whispered.

“I know what my vote is for. The widow’s walk.” And it wasn’t because it was the best place to spy on people. Or maybe it was. “Although, the name has always seemed a bit morbid to me. Maybe I’ll just call it The Tower.”

“Can you imagine being a wife watching up there for your husband to return from being out to sea?” Riley gestured toward the bay.

“I can’t. I would go crazy. Maybe patience isn’t my thing.”

“It was a hard profession. This sea has claimed many lives.”

“Apparently, so has this island. I mean, really . . . Cemetery Island?”

Riley grimaced. “There are some things I wish I didn’t know. That’s one of them. This place doesn’t seem so happy with a past like that.”

“And don’t forget the skeleton.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How can I?”

“I wonder what the police have found out, if anything. They were still out there last time I checked.”

We climbed two flights of stairs and reached the spiral staircase. Before we could take the first step, we heard voices drifting downward and froze.

Whoever was up there obviously hadn’t heard us approach because their conversation continued. We stepped into the shadows and did the polite thing: We eavesdropped.

“I can’t go on here after what happened to Anna. It’s just not right,” a woman said. “I’m scared.”

“There’s no reason to be scared,” the man said. “We just have to watch each other’s backs.”

“But what if someone finds out about us?” The woman’s voice cracked.

“They won’t. Stop worrying so much, sweetheart.”

“What about that new couple? They don’t seem as self-absorbed as some of the others. If anyone notices what’s going on, it will be them. We’ll be ruined.”

What? Were they talking about Riley and me?

“We’ll just have to make sure that they don’t find out our secret. Okay?” the man whispered.

The woman remained quiet until the conversation turned to plans for the future and other sappy subjects.

Riley gently pulled me away. We moved quickly, silently, down the hall, only speaking once we reached the library.

“That was Ginger and Jim, wasn’t it?” I whispered.

“Sounds like there are definitely couples here who are hiding something. What do you think they were talking about?”

“Maybe they know something about Anna’s death.” I nibbled on my bottom lip in thought.

“We should see what we can discover individually. Maybe tonight back in our rooms will be a good time to casually bring up Anna in conversation. We need to find out if anyone had a grudge against her for some reason.”

I nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. Someone here is hiding something.”

“Then again, so are we.”

I locked my gaze with his. “That’s right. But we’re not hiding something deadly.”

***

Lo and behold, my roommate was Ginger. When I arrived, she had already changed into her nightgown—something silky and low cut—and was sitting on her bed filing her fingernails. She smiled when she spotted me, no sign of the distress I’d heard in her voice less than thirty minutes ago.

“We’re rooming together, huh?” I asked, lowering myself onto my bed and taking my shoes off.

“I thought it was strange, also, but I guess some of the other rooms here are still under construction. Dr. Turner also said rooming with someone else will help to give us accountability and the chance to work on our relational skills outside of marriage.”

“He has some interesting ideas.”

“I think they’re refreshing.” She shrugged. “So, anyway, what do you think so far?”

I lowered myself onto my bed and crossed my legs under me. “I’m not sure yet. Is that a typical night?”

“There is no typical here.” She let out a laugh. “Dr. Turner likes to keep us on our toes. He says when we can learn to live with the unexpected surprises and curveballs that life throws us then we can survive anything. Everything he says is an analogy to marriage. You’ll discover that quickly.”

“I’ve noticed already.” I shifted, ready to get to the heart of why I was really here. Why waste time? “Look, I heard rumblings about the couple whose place we took. Is it true the woman died?”

“Anna Thorn?” Ginger frowned and put down her nail file. “She was one of the women going through this program. Super nice woman.”

“What happened?”

She leaned closer, even though there was no one else in the room. “She overdosed. Steve, the cook, found her in the boathouse.”

I widened my eyes as if the news shocked me. “Really? That’s horrible.”

Ginger nodded grimly. “I know. I just can’t believe the woman would take her own life. She just didn’t seem like the type—not that there’s a type, I mean.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t think it was a suicide?”

Ginger suddenly straightened. “Oh, no. That’s not what I’m saying. I mean, what else could have happened to her? It’s not like you can make someone take pills, right? It’s just sobering to have someone you know pass away like that.”

I nodded. “I can imagine.”

“Anyway, that’s probably more than you wanted to hear. I don’t want to give you a bad impression before you barely get started. I mean, I’m not saying that this program drove her to suicide or anything . . .”

Her uncomfortable laugh at the end made me wonder just that, though.

CHAPTER 13

I
awoke early the next morning. I hadn’t been able to sleep much because I had too many things running through my mind. No one else was stirring, so I bypassed the shower, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and headed outside to explore a little.

The air felt dewy as soon as I set foot out the front door. A slight fog still hung over the island, but nothing like yesterday. My gaze instantly went to the site where the skeleton had been discovered. To my surprise, the area had been cleared except for some yellow police tape staked around the gravesite.

I walked to the cliff’s edge and looked down. There was a small indention in the ground where the body had been exhumed. Otherwise, I saw no sign of what had happened.

I wondered what the authorities had discovered about the body. My theory was, since this place was once called Cemetery Island, that the corpse was someone who’d died while traversing these waters many years ago. Though my mind usually jumped to foul play, I wasn’t overly concerned right now. The find seemed more historical than nefarious.

With that settled in my mind, I pulled my sweatshirt closer and started my brisk walk. A crushed-oyster-shell path led around the perimeter of the island, so I decided to follow that.

Just breathing in the fresh air made my spirit feel calmer and more at peace. I glanced around, getting my first real look at the place.

The island was small—it couldn’t be more than twenty acres, if I had to guess. Blackbird Hall took up a majority of that space, but there were also a few outbuildings. A gazebo stood close to a bluff, with several wooden swings where people could enjoy the view. Some gnarled-looking trees grew on the edge of the bluff, their roots dangling precariously over the edge.

Okay, Lord. We’re going to get through this together, right? I realize that being around Riley may be one of the biggest challenges I’ve faced recently. But I can do this. This will be a character-building experience.

It was usually the mystery or crime that had me on edge, but this time it was clearly being here with Riley. I’d just been getting some of my focus back when he’d swept back into my life like a Zamboni at a hockey game. Only, in my mind, a deranged lunatic was behind the wheel.

I’d give anything to be able to call my best friend, Sierra, and chat with her right now. But I couldn’t exactly hop into my van and go have a little heart to heart with her before my sessions started today, nor could I call her. Or could I? On second thought, maybe I could find one of those magical spots where I could get a cell signal.

I stopped at the edge of the bluff and peered down. A fifteen-foot cliff with sandy dunes protected the island from the waves of the bay. At the bottom of the bluff lay a sandy beach littered with broken shells, seaweed, and even a horseshoe crab. On the opposite side of the island I’d noticed a rocky bulkhead and marsh grasses instead of sand.

If it weren’t for the circumstances that brought me here, I could get used to a place like this.

My dad would love it here. He was a certified beach bum, a former national champion surfer, and a cringe-worthy work in progress. We’d gone to the ocean often when I was young. My dad could catch some waves while I’d played on the shore and built sand castles. At once, the memories of my youth filled me.

I had few good memories of growing up in my dysfunctional home. The beach was one of them.

I thought about the couples here who were struggling with their marriages, and then I thought about my own parents. My mom had so many reasons not to be happy. She had to work, sometimes two jobs, in order to pay the bills. My brother had been kidnapped as a child, and my dad had fallen apart after that. He couldn’t hold down a job for the life of him.

Yet my mom had stuck with him. It would have been easy for her to split, but she hadn’t. She’d helped me form my mental image of what I wanted in a marriage some day. No, I didn’t want the “worse” part of the vows, but they would happen. I felt like I’d been practicing for my entire life to weather the storms of the future.

I let out a deep breath, feeling more relaxed than I had been since I’d arrived here. I’d come to appreciate these moments of quiet reflection and prayer more and more as I’d grown in my Christian walk. They helped me feel grounded and somehow strengthened my core.

I turned my mind back to the investigation. I had so many questions. Like, what were Jim and Anna arguing over before she died? Who was outside last night in the rain? And if Anna had been murdered, who would want to kill her?

I had a lot of work to do here.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I continued on my walk, pausing just long enough to watch the sun peak over the horizon. As I continued along the path, I decided to follow the stairway down to the beach. I glanced behind me one last time before I descended. I saw no one.

My feet hit the wet sand at the bottom. Seagulls were already out and soaring over the water. I started around the perimeter, pausing when I saw a building in the distance.

Could that be the boathouse?

My pulse sped. I knew I probably shouldn’t do this at the risk of being caught and my cover revealed. But I hadn’t seen anyone else, so what could it hurt to snoop a little?

I quickened my steps until I reached the weathered building. There was no real door, just an opening that I gladly stepped through. Inside was the pontoon boat we’d rode yesterday. Kayaks lined the edge, as well as life jackets. The scent of seawater drifted upward, strangely pleasant.

I squinted and tried to picture Anna here. I pictured her lying on one of the piers that lined the side.

Why would she have come here, of all places, to take those pills and die? Why not in her room? In the bathroom? Even on the shore?

The boathouse seemed like such an odd location for her to take her life.

But if she was murdered, the boathouse made more sense. Perhaps she’d come out here trying to escape. Had she tried to take this boat back to the mainland and get away from something? Or someone?

I shivered at the thought. I had a feeling this retreat center held more secrets than anyone cared to admit.

Just then I heard a footstep behind me. I quickly ducked against the wall. My chest heaved as I gasped in gulps of air. What if it was the killer returning? How would I explain being here?

I couldn’t act suspicious, I reminded myself. Hiding at the first sound of someone approaching would make people ask questions.

I pulled myself together and straightened my sweatshirt. Then I stepped out, determined to look clueless.

Steve, the angry cook, stopped in his tracks when he spotted me. He was wearing a black bodysuit and water shoes, not to mention his ever-present scowl.

“You’re not supposed to be out there,” he mumbled.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because this island isn’t safe.” He pulled down a kayak.

I forced a laugh. “Don’t be silly. We wouldn’t have a retreat here if it wasn’t safe.”

“Listen, lady, I’m just saying there are a lot of ways someone like you could get hurt.”

Was that a threat? He must have seen the question forming on my lips because he shook his head. “I just don’t wanna see any more accidents or tragedies or whatever you want to call them.”

“I was just getting some fresh air,” I told him, watching as he prepared to board the boat. I pulled my phone from my pocket and held it up. “And checking for a signal on my cell phone.”

“Too many strange things have happened here. That’s all I’m saying.” He raised his hands, as if offering surrender, before carefully climbing into his kayak.

“I hear you loud and clear.” I took a step away.

“Ma’am?”

I turned and glanced at him, wondering what kind of wisdom he would espouse now. “Yes?”

“Good luck.”

Good luck? Why would he say that? What a strange encounter.

My chills intensified.

It was probably getting close to the time when people would stir. My absence might be noticed, and I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself.

Today, I would be Gabby St. Thomas, wife of Riley St. Thomas. I’d be a housewife, immersed in the lifestyles of the affluent and desperate to work out a marriage on the rocks.

I drew in a deep breath and chanted, “I think I can, I think I can,” as I chugged toward the lodge.

Or, maybe I should say, “Marriage is good. Relationships are work. Our partners are worth it.”

***

As I got back to my room and began to get dressed in a “proper” outfit, I opened my dresser drawer to retrieve my mom’s pearls. After all, they were the perfect finishing touch to my quest to look classy.

To my surprise, the drawer was empty.

I blinked, certain I was missing something.

Then, as if to prove I wasn’t mistaken, I pulled the drawer out farther. I searched the empty corners, as if there was a hidden compartment somewhere.

The necklace wasn’t there.

Okay, Gabby, think. Don’t think worst-case scenarios. Don’t think of devious explanations. Think logically.

With that thought in mind, I looked in the drawer below, thinking maybe I’d misplaced it while getting ready for bed.

It wasn’t there, nor was it anywhere else—not the other drawers, not behind the dresser, not in my suitcase. I looked everywhere.

I sank onto my bed as my heart panged with a surprising grief. I wasn’t overly sentimental, but that necklace had been special to me. It was one of the few heirlooms I had of my mom’s. And now it was gone.

And why? Why would someone take it? Ginger had the other key to this room, but I couldn’t imagine her as the culprit. It just didn’t make any sense.

My steps felt heavier as I made my way down to the dining area. I spotted Riley sitting with the snooty Griffiths. I called out a polite “Good morning” before sitting down and taking a sip of coffee.

Before I could force any conversation, I glanced in the background as angry Steve stormed past, headed toward Blaine again. What was wrong this time? He’d only had a short kayaking trip, and I was surprised he’d had enough time to prepare breakfast.

I barely made out something he was saying about missing knives.

Missing knives? That sounded . . . disturbing.

I swallowed deeply, trying not to show any trepidation on my face.

“So, where are the two of you from?” I kept my cup perched daintily in my hands, raised near my lips. It just seemed like the sophisticated thing to do.

“The DC area,” Atticus said, sounding bored.

It was the first time I’d heard him speak. His voice sounded strong and authoritative. But he still looked less than thrilled to be here.

“But we have a second home down in Palm Beach, and that’s really where we prefer to spend our time,” Farrah added.

“How does this island compare?” Riley asked.

She smirked. “It doesn’t. I’m not the rugged, roughing it kind of girl. I like my Starbucks and the ability to come and go. I keep expecting to see Gilligan and the rest of the crew appear here, telling us the tale of their fateful trip.”

I smiled and began singing the theme song, jogging my elbow back and forth like a sailor with a mug of beer. When I saw everyone’s strange expressions fixated on me, I realized I needed to stop. Now.

Thankfully, just then, a server placed a plate of fruit, cream cheese, and bagels on a table in front of me. Apparently, there was still no propane, which couldn’t have made Stevie-weavie happy.

I hadn’t had a chance to speak with Riley alone this morning yet. I wanted to tell him about my missing pearl necklace. I also wanted to ask him if he’d heard anything last night that might be helpful.

Right now Riley smelled freshly showered. His hair was still slightly wet, and he hadn’t shaved, which gave him a little bit of a bad-boy edge. But not really. His eyes were still kind, and his smile was sincere. Besides, none of that mattered. I wasn’t holding out hope that this relationship was going to ignite again. I’d be foolish if I did.

“Where are you two from?” Atticus asked. The question seemed forced, like it was said out of obligation.

The man obviously didn’t want to be here. His wife didn’t seem to want to be here either. So why
were
they here? I couldn’t quite understand their motivation. And how did he get Anna’s scarf?

“We live in Norfolk right now,” Riley said.

The man turned his nose up. “I’ve been there before. I wish I could say it was a nice town, but why kid like that?”

Riley shrugged. “I think it’s charming.”

“Then again, you like this island also,” Farrah retorted, raising her coffee mug.

I swallowed back my disdain and continued eating. Thankfully, Dr. Turner appeared just then and clapped to get everyone’s attention.

“We have an exciting day planned,” he began. “I hope everyone likes the water because you’ll be kayaking with your spouse.”