Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

“So nobody saw anything last night or this morning?” Abby verified. “Nobody saw any boats arrive?”

Tracie looked remorseful. “We only left a few guys here during the storm. Visibility was next to nothing. Anybody could have come and gone without being seen.”

“Then I guess we should just start poking around and see what we can come up with.” While she spoke, Abby zippered the last peanut butter and jelly sandwich into one of her coat pockets. She tucked the trail mix into another, silently praying she wouldn’t encounter any peanut-loving bears on the island.

“You’ve got your radios,” Tracie confirmed. “You two can split up or stick together, whatever you prefer. Just be sure you contact us immediately if you come across anything suspicious or out of place. We don’t have many leads here, so even the smallest thing is worth looking into.” Tracie concluded by making sure they each knew how to operate the radios. “Any idea where you might be heading?” she asked once she’d finished their radio tutorial.

Scott turned to Abby. “We never did make it up to the lighthouse yesterday. Why don’t we head that way?”

“That sounds like as good a spot as any,” Abby agreed.

“Sounds good. We’ve got men all over the island, with more arriving soon. Just stay in touch,” Tracie reminded them as they disembarked.

Abby felt strange walking back up the same trail she and Scott had set out on just over twenty-four hours before. So much had happened since then-more than she wanted to think about. Still, the environmentalist in her was interested to hear more about Scott’s plans for conserving his family’s land. “So, how long have you and your mother been planning to put your land into easement?”

Scott took a deep breath. “We’ve talked about it for a long time. It just took a while to get around to it, especially once Mitch came into the picture. He wanted to develop the land, put in a golf course, a water park, you name it.”

“A water park?”

“On the lake.”

“It has its own lake?”

“It’s a pretty big property. Mitch talked my mom into carving up a few acres into lots, so there’s a cluster of houses on the north end now, but when he began to move on to the next stage in his development plan, I put my foot down. It was time to put it into easement. That was the plan all along. Before Mitch came along, we’d never used the land for anything other than private hunting, though my grandparents used to harvest maple syrup out there when I was a kid.”

“Oh, how neat.” Abby had no experience with harvesting maple syrup, but she’d always been intrigued by the idea.

“I always enjoyed it as a kid,” Scott acknowledged. “That’s been close to twenty years ago, but we spelled out a clause in the easement that would still allow us to run some syrup if we ever wanted to.” He paused and looked around.

Abby kept her eyes open, too, for any sign of Marilyn, though she doubted they’d find any in such an obvious place as the trail. Her imagination had been captured by Scott’s talk of the conservation easement. She’d worked with many through her job at the Eagle Foundation, and found them to be an ingenious way of protecting natural resources from development while still allowing the original landowners to retain ownership and use of their property. Not only would the land remain protected in perpetuity, but the owners could receive significant tax advantages for their dedication to the public good.

“I love that you’re putting the land into easement,” Abby encouraged Scott.

He looked down into her face, his eyes glistening with emotion. “I love that you love it.”

Abby felt her breath catch, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her again.

But then he simply cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, the conservation easement was my grandpa’s idea. He and my dad did a lot of research on it before he died. The land is at the top of the watershed, and the lake provides excellent habitat. Dad always thought it would be a perfect candidate for easement. In fact, he’d actually started the process right before he died. It’s too bad my mom backed off the project once he was gone.”

“Didn’t she agree with it?”

“I always thought she liked the idea, but she seemed to be so overwhelmed after my father’s death. I guess she just didn’t have the energy for it.”

“I suppose not,” Abby said, but her experience with conservation projects told her otherwise. “Still, you’d think she’d want to see it through in his honor.” Her mind spun. “Unless Mitch was holding her back. When did you say he came into the picture?”

“They didn’t marry until a few months ago, but he’d been wooing her for years. That’s where all her diamonds came from-but then, I guess Tim told you that much.”

“Wooing her for years,” Abby repeated softly as they passed the keeper’s quarters and continued up the short path toward the lighthouse.

“You’re right,” Scott agreed, looking her full in the face and slowing his pace.

“About what?”

“Mitch. The conservation easement. The plot to get my family’s land. Mitch didn’t just recently fall in with these guys. The diamond smugglers have been planning to take our land all along, haven’t they? I should have figured this out before.”

Instinctively Abby reached for his arm. “It’s okay, Scott. Nobody was openly trying to kill you before. You had no idea anything suspicious was happening. But now that we know, we’ll stop them. They won’t get away with it.” For a moment she looked into his eyes and felt the connection of the shared purpose of their mission.

Then the sound of gunfire rang through the woods.

Scott covered Abby’s head and all but threw her onto his lap as he crouched low on the muddy trail. Abby trembled in his arms like a frightened animal, and Scott realized how close to the surface her fear really was, though she’d acted courageously through all the trials they’d endured so far. The realization only increased his resolve to protect her. When he heard no further shots being fired, he dared to loosen his grip on her and meet her gaze.

She looked terrified. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. It sounded like it was coming from up ahead here.”

“Maybe it was one of the Coasties,” Abby suggested quickly. “Maybe they found your mother and were taking a shot at her captors.”

Scott agreed with her theory. “The gunfire came from up this way.” He motioned ahead of them. “Let’s hurry, but stay low. We don’t know for sure whose side they’re on.”

They ran, crouched down, to the end of the trail at the northern tip of the island. It wasn’t far. The land gave way to open sea in front of them, while the tall white form of the Devil’s Island lighthouse spiraled skyward off to their right. “This is the end of the road,” Scott pronounced.

Abby stepped off the trail to the left, her face faintly white.

“Is this where…?” Scott began the question, but felt reluctant to voice anything that might be painful to her.

“A little farther over here,” Abby explained, quickly making her way sure-footedly through the dense tangle of underbrush on a narrow path so well camouflaged Scott wouldn’t have known it was there if he hadn’t been walking on it.

They quickly came to a large flat outcropping of brownstone. They looked around the space, but Scott couldn’t see any sign that anyone had been in the spot recently. While he poked around, Abby walked closer to the cliffside and peeked out over the edge. Then her face went white and she screamed.

Scott joined her, wrapping one secure arm around her waist lest she fall over the edge in her fright. He peered down over her shoulder and immediately saw what had caused her distress.