Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

The words spoke to him like a promise. Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.

The longer he stared at the text, the more certain Scott became that he wouldn’t be able to rescue his mother by himself. But with Abby on his side, they could at least hope to keep each other safe. Though the emotional risks involved still intimidated him, he knew his only hope was to be reconciled with Abby, and to ask her-to beg her, if necessary-to help him continue the search.

He rolled over onto his side and clutched the extra bed pillow. “Dear God,” he whispered into the darkness, “I know what I need to do, but I don’t know if I can do it. I need Your help.”

Abby filed into her usual pew and flipped absently through the Sunday worship bulletin, her eyes blurring over song titles and announcements, unseeing. Prayer concerns and upcoming events jumbled together, but all she could think about was Scott and his mother.

Poor Marilyn. She was out there somewhere, almost certainly hungry, cold and afraid. Probably hurting. Possibly even dead. Abby wanted more than anything to be out there searching for her, but she knew Scott didn’t want her help. His rejection stung, not only because of her feelings for him, but because she’d believed she could contribute to Marilyn’s rescue. But Scott must not have thought so, or else he would have let her help.

As she’d mulled over Mitch’s words the night before, Abby had concluded that Marilyn’s captors most likely had taken her out to Devil’s Island again, awaiting Mitch’s signal, waiting to kill her. Unless, as they’d clearly threatened Mitch, they’d jumped the gun and disposed of her already. Abby shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the thought.

The people around her stood. It took Abby a moment to realize the worship service had started. Everyone else was singing. She found the words and lent her voice halfheartedly, praying the whole time that God would be with Marilyn, and that God would be with Scott.

Scott. At the thought of him, her eyes blurred over. No, she wouldn’t cry during worship. She sniffed and returned her attention to the music, refusing to glance to the right or the left.

So it wasn’t until she sat down after the song that she noticed the figure who’d joined her at the end of her pew.

Scott.

The minister was praying, so Abby quickly closed her eyes and focused her heart. She didn’t hear the words that were spoken as much as the cry of her heart. Scott had come to worship? He was sitting by her? Did it mean anything, or was it just a lucky coincidence?

The minister concluded the prayer, then spoke the same words he said every Sunday morning. “Just as through Christ we have been reconciled to God, so let us also be reconciled to one another, and share the peace of Christ.”

Abby stood. This was the part of the service when everyone shook hands with one another as a gesture of reconciliation. They were supposed to say something formal like “peace be with you,” while looking solemn, but more often, the good friends of the church hugged each other and used the time to chat and greet their neighbors.

By the time Abby dared to look his way, Scott had stepped toward her, one hand outstretched. “Peace,” he said softly, his eyes riveted on hers and brimming with meaning.

Though she nearly choked on the word, Abby managed to utter a soft “peace,” as she took his hand. It wasn’t until he pulled her into his embrace that she let a tear escape.

They sat through the service side by side, and Scott kept his hand on hers during the sermon. Abby wanted to ask why he wasn’t out looking for his mother, but there was no time to talk, and she realized that, pressing as the search might be, they wouldn’t get anywhere without God on their side. Worshipping Him was the most important thing they could do.

After the service, she and Scott ducked out the side door before any of her church friends had a chance to catch up to her. She didn’t know what Scott’s plan was, but she knew if she got to talking with her friends they’d waste valuable time.

When they reached the sidewalk, Scott turned to face her and spoke openly for the first time. “I’m sorry I pushed you away last night.”

The words soothed her like salve on a wound. “It’s okay, Scott. You’ve been under enormous stress. I understand.”

“Still, it was no excuse for me to speak to you the way I did.” Scott took her gloved hands in his. “I appreciate all the help you’ve been. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be stuck on that island, maybe even dead right now.”

Warmth crept up Abby’s cheeks. “I just did what anyone else would do.”

“No.” Scott shook his head. “No one else could have done what you did. God put you on that boat with me for a reason. Abby, you know that island as well as anyone. You’re my best hope for finding my mother alive. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but will you help me continue the search?”

“Of course.” She beamed at him, so grateful that he wanted her help.

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Scott leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.” He met her eyes, his expression infinitely tender. “Thank you so much, Abby. You’ve given me hope.”

Touched by his gesture, it took Abby a moment to find words. “We should probably get moving, then. Do you have a plan for this morning?”

Scott cleared his throat. “I called over to the Coast Guard Station after I left you at your place last night, and told them what we’d learned from Tim. They’re going to call Trevor and hold him until they can look into Tim’s story about the diamond smugglers.”

“Did you tell them about my ring?” She suddenly felt self-conscious about her connection to the smugglers, however innocent her involvement had been.

“There were so many details to discuss, and I didn’t want to get part of your story wrong and send them off in the wrong direction. The ring is yours. It’s up to you to decide when and how you want to tell them about it.”

Though Abby had intended to hand over the ring from the moment she’d discovered its connection to the case, she felt touched by Scott’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”

Scott continued. “They also filled me in on what else they’ve learned. Kermit Hendrickson, Mom’s accountant, was able to reach most of my mother’s credit card companies, but none of them have had any activity in the past twenty-four hours. Also, one of the guys who accompanied Mitch back to the mainland remembered him wearing a ring and described it accurately, so we know he didn’t leave his wedding band aboard the Helene. Of course, from what you learned from Tim last night, my guess is Trevor took the ring after he shot Mitch, because it was made with the diamonds they’ve been smuggling. And there’s still no sign of his cell phone-no doubt Trevor took that, too-so we have no leads on who he was talking to or where they might be.”

“So where does that leave us?” Abby asked, quickly absorbing all the information Scott had dumped on her.

“I believe our biggest clue to my mom’s whereabouts right now was the conversation you overheard at Greunke’s last night. What’s your impression? Do you think my mom is on the mainland, or back out at Devil’s Island?”

“Devil’s Island,” Abby answered without hesitation. “I don’t know exactly what Mitch intended, but he sounded like he was trying to press them to wait for his signal and they didn’t want to wait. No matter what that signal was supposed to be for, if they haven’t heard from him they almost assuredly would move ahead with their plans by now.” Abby intentionally avoided any mention of what those plans were. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that Marilyn might already be dead.