Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

Burt stepped through to the front room.

Scott’s concern for Abby was immediately eclipsed by thoughts of his mother’s safety.

“The Coast Guard just called.” Burt stood behind one of the wooden chairs and braced his hands on its sturdy back as though he needed the support. “They haven’t found any sign of your mother yet. I told them about your offer to help look, and seeing as how the storm’s letting up for now, they’ve agreed to send a whirlybird over to get you. They’re wanting to take your fingerprints, too, to match to those they found on the radio. And I think they’ll be asking you some questions. Elda’s getting your clothes from the dryer. The Coasties should be here in a matter of minutes.”

Scott stood. “Thank you.” He stepped forward and shook Burt’s hand. “You’ve been an enormous help. I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“I just hope you find your mom.” Burt turned as Elda entered the room.

“Here’s your clothes, nice and dry, and still warm. Hurry now. You don’t want to keep the Coast Guard waiting.” Elda handed Scott a neatly folded stack. “Are you going over, too?” she asked Abby, who stood expectantly next to Scott.

Scott turned to Abby, and saw her face color once again.

“I-I thought I would,” she stammered. “I thought I could be of some help. Unless you think I’ll get in the way?” She looked to Scott, her expression one of vulnerability.

Scott felt touched that she wanted to help, and gladdened that she’d be willing to spend more time with him, even if it meant being out in the dark on a dangerous island. He put a hand on her shoulder. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d love to have your help. You know the island a whole lot better than I do. And I’m sure they’ll need your fingerprints for the investigation, too.”

The relieved smile on her face warmed his heart. “Then let’s hurry and get changed.”

Abby appreciated the heavy-duty rain ponchos Elda had insisted she and Scott wear. As for Burt’s announcement the storm had let up, she didn’t even want to imagine how harsh the weather must have been during the worst of it. As she and Scott stood waiting for the helicopter on the open hillside that served as Rocky Island’s landing pad, the cold wind whipped at her hood and flung rain into her face from every direction.

As if the weather wasn’t bad enough, Abby couldn’t shake her uneasiness about returning to Devil’s Island. Burt had made it sound as though most of the Bayfield Coast Guard team had been sent over to look for Marilyn, which meant Trevor would most likely be there. After hearing Scott’s concerns about what Trevor might do once she handed over the ring, Abby could only pray God would protect her.

“Say, Abby?” Scott’s face suddenly appeared in the limited line of sight provided by her hood, interrupting her thoughts. She jumped.

Scott placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Sorry to startle you. I just wanted to ask before the Coast Guard people get here that you try not to suggest anything too incriminating about Mitch at this point.”

“Why not?” Though it seemed like a stretch that Mitch may have been involved, she felt the Coast Guard team should know about every possibility. Clearly someone didn’t want them leaving the island alive, and Mitch had both the motive and opportunity to make Marilyn disappear, though those facts alone didn’t make him guilty.

“As I think about it, we really don’t have any evidence against him. And with Mom missing and the Coast Guard on the case, I doubt there’s anything more he could do at this point. I just don’t want to accuse him yet. I may not like the man, but he is my mother’s husband, and if I made an unwarranted accusation, Mom would be furious with me. My relationship with Mitch is strained enough as it is. If she knew I’d wrongly accused him of plotting her murder, I’m afraid she’d feel she had to take sides between us. I don’t want it to come to that.”

Abby bent her head close to catch every word in the whipping wind. “Of course,” she agreed when he’d finished. “I won’t say a thing unless there’s immediate danger,” she promised.

“I appreciate that.” Scott gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting go. “Here they come.” He pointed to the helicopter that had appeared out of the darkness. It looked like a fragile child’s toy against the immensity of the black night sky.

Abby shivered, reminding herself of the many times she’d ridden in helicopters when she worked out on the islands. They were perfectly safe and a huge blessing when the rocks and waves made travel by boat too dangerous.

Despite the distraction the helicopter presented, Abby couldn’t shake her concerns about Scott’s choice to leave the Coast Guard in the dark on his suspicions about Mitch. Scott was clearly falling back into his usual pattern of trying to shield his mother from anything too distressing. She hoped in this case his judgment was correct. There was every possibility his good intentions could be a fatal mistake-for his mother, and for both of them.

As soon as the copter touched down, she and Scott rushed forward to the opening door and were helped aboard by a smiling young Coast Guard crewmember. Abby recognized the blonde woman from seeing her around Bayfield, though she didn’t know her name.

“I’m Tracie Crandall,” the Coastie introduced herself and helped them get situated as the helicopter rose again and headed back to Devil’s Island. “I know you’ve got a lot of questions, so let me tell you what we’ve learned so far. In an initial check of the buildings on the island, we’ve found no sign of Marilyn, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility that we’ve missed her, or even overlooked a building. It’s been dark and stormy the whole time we’ve been looking, and that complicates things.

“We were able to contact the accountant whose name you forwarded to us. He looked into her accounts and discovered the last charge to any of her credit cards was at the Seagull Bay Motel yesterday afternoon. That doesn’t mean the cards haven’t been used since then-the activity simply may not have been recorded yet. He’s going to stay on top of it and let us know if anything comes through.”

Tracie took a deep breath. “Now, about this Captain Sal,” she said, watching their faces, “we can’t find any record of anyone by that name, nor of any boat called the Helene. Are you sure that’s what he went by?”

“Yes,” both Abby and Scott agreed.

“Well, then I’m going to need to get a description from you once we get on the ground. Here we are now. We’re going to land by the old keeper’s quarters.” She braced herself and the helicopter touched down.

Once on the ground, Abby hurried with the others through the spitting rain to the structure, where the lights were on, though no one appeared to be inside. Abby assumed they were all out searching.

“They’ve restored power,” Tracie explained. “We wouldn’t have known to bring the right tools if Burt hadn’t passed along your message about it being cut, though, so thank you. Fixing the radio will be more difficult, but we’ve brought out another unit.”

While Tracie took their fingerprints, Abby and Scott did their best to describe everything they remembered about Captain Sal and his boat.

“I thought from the sound of his accent he was probably local,” Abby admitted. “He had that Northern Wisconsin way of pronouncing things.”

“The local dialect can be a pretty tough one to fake,” Tracie noted, “but it covers a pretty wide area. I’ve heard it as far west as North Dakota, and the Canadians have a very similar way of talking. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yes,” Abby admitted. “And you’re right-I didn’t hear him talk enough to rule that out.” She wished she’d paid more attention on the boat, but she hadn’t known then it would be important.