Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

Scott had been watching out the window while the women talked. He spoke up. “I don’t know that I can recall anything more of importance, but I can tell you I’m itching to get out there and start looking. Do you mind if I poke around outside?”

“Yes, but try to stay close until I get done with Abby’s prints,” Tracie requested. “Then the two of you can head out as a team. We don’t want anyone going too far alone. And keep an eye on the weather-this storm may well get worse again. Here’s a flashlight.”

Scott accepted the high-powered torch with thanks and hurried out. Abby watched him go, then took advantage of his absence to inquire of Tracie about Mitch.

“So, Tracie, did Mitch go back to Bayfield already?”

“Yes.” The other woman methodically pressed another of Abby’s fingers against the sensor that would record her prints for computer analysis. “He’d been standing out in the rain and was in a hurry to get into some dry clothes. We assured him we’d let him know right away if we learned anything.”

Abby nodded, cognizant of the promise she’d made to Scott about not suggesting anything incriminating about Mitch. “So where is he now?”

Tracie pressed the last of Abby’s fingers to the sensor. “I suppose he headed back to his hotel. I don’t know. Is it important?”

“It may be.”

“Then let me find out.” Tracie finished and quickly got on the radio. “The guys who escorted him to Bayfield said he was headed back to the Seagull Bay Motel,” she explained.

Abby had heard as much from the transmission. “How was he going to get there? Was he driving?”

Tracie passed along the question, and the reply came back clearly.

“He drove his own vehicle.”

“Are you sure?” Abby scowled, thinking quickly. Marilyn had said her keys were in her purse, which she’d left aboard the Helene. They’d assumed Captain Sal would steal the vehicle. But if Captain Sal hadn’t stolen it, then why had he abandoned them on the island? Abby stepped closer to Tracie. “Can you ask them if they noticed what kind of vehicle?”

Tracie nodded and forwarded the question.

Once again, the answer transmitted clearly. “A red Escalade, the latest model.”

“Ineed to go find Scott,” Abby told Tracie, excusing herself quickly and heading toward the back door.

“Take a flashlight,” Tracie reminded her.

“Thanks,” Abby said, her mind mostly on getting to Scott and letting him know what she’d found out. Part of her wanted to tell Tracie what was up, but she doubted Scott would agree that the news warranted revealing their suspicions about Mitch. Still, it didn’t add up. If Captain Sal was nothing more than a petty crook, then why wouldn’t he take one of the most valuable pieces he’d managed to steal? If he’d only been in it for monetary gain, wouldn’t cutting the power and radio lines buy him enough time to drive the vehicle out of the area before anyone tracked him down?

The rain had picked up while she’d been in the house, and Abby pulled her hood up, turning her whole upper body this way and that as she stood on the path and wondered which way Scott would have gone. He’d promised Tracie he wouldn’t go far. She headed down the path, trying to think of where Marilyn might have gone, which would then translate into where Scott would have headed out looking for her.

The underbrush was tangled and thick beyond the small yard behind the house. Abby couldn’t imagine Scott heading out through the dense growth, much less Marilyn. But as she flashed her light into the woods to the left of the path, she saw the movement of a large, looming figure.

“Scott?” she called out. The wind whipped her words away. The shape looked human, but Abby realized in the deceptive darkness she might be mistakenly trying to communicate with a bear.

The figure advanced closer. He had Scott’s height and broad build-it wasn’t a bear, anyway. Abby stepped farther down the path toward him. “Scott?” She squinted into the rain, trying to decide. Between the darkness and everything else going on, her nerves were a little on edge. The figure came closer, though his gait didn’t seem like Scott’s, and he looked to be more widely built. Still, there was something familiar about him.

The mysterious figure stepped toward her, and Abby felt a cold jolt of fear as she recognized him.

“Hey, Abby.” Trevor’s words were casual, but his tone held a menacing bite.

“Trevor.” Abby would have preferred to meet a bear. She tried to look behind her, wondering how far she’d gone from the house. Her hood blocked her view. She decided to act casual while she began to inch backward. “What are you doing out here?”

“Search and Rescue,” her former fiancé said, drawing himself even taller until he loomed over her, and puffing out the Coast Guard symbol on his parka.

Abby recalled that Trevor was part of the Coast Guard, though for a long time he’d been stationed far from Bayfield. Apparently he was now part of the local team.

“Find anything?” Abby asked, carefully backing down the path. She didn’t want to draw attention to her retreat, but she was mindful of Scott’s warning not to allow herself to be alone with Trevor. His caution made sense-especially now when she was in Trevor’s threatening presence. Once she gave Trevor the ring, she’d be of no more use to him. Would he leave her alone then-or choose to get rid of her for good?

“Not yet. Not much here to find. What about you? Did you find that diamond ring I gave you?” His heavy eyebrows shaded his eyes, cloaking them in blackness.

Abby looked behind her. It was still a good hundred feet to the house. She slid her hand under her parka, reaching for the ring. She wondered if she dared hand it to him and then attempt to run away. Would she have time? “Trevor, there’s a woman missing and this storm seems to be getting worse. It’s hardly the time to be concerned about an old piece of jewelry.” Her fingers dug against the thick fabric, which had shrunken slightly when Edna had baked her pants in the dryer, making it that much more difficult for her to reach the ring.

“Proper etiquette says that if an engagement doesn’t work out, the woman should return the ring.” Trevor stepped closer to her.

“Proper etiquette?” Abby repeated incredulously, as the tip of one numb finger brushed against the ring, pushing it farther into her pocket. She took another step backward and tried to reach deeper for the ring. Her mind spun as she tried to keep Trevor at bay with words. “What does etiquette have to say about a guy who cheats on his fiancée? Does he still get his ring back? What if he cheats twice?” Abby had never nailed down just how unfaithful Trevor had been. By the time she’d heard the rumors, he’d apparently determined himself to be exempt from the restraints of faithfulness.

Her words clearly irritated the large Coast Guardsman. “Abby, you’d better find the ring. I don’t have time for your petty jealousy.” He moved closer, close enough he could reach out and grab her if he tried. She didn’t want to think what he might do if he got hold of her.

“ My petty jealousy?” Abby tried to inch backward, but between her hood and the darkness, she couldn’t see anything behind her. “You’re the one who’s drudging up ancient history in the middle of a Search and Rescue. In case you’ve forgotten, Marilyn Adams is lost. Her life may be in danger, and every minute counts in our search. And you want to stand around and yak about some old piece of jewelry?” She couldn’t reach the ring. It had disappeared past a crease in the stiff denim, and she could have sobbed with fear and frustration.