Survival Instinct. Rachelle McCallaЧитать онлайн книгу.
dollars, and could be vastly more valuable if properly developed.”
Abby scrunched her face up. “Several million dollars, hmm? That sounds like a much better incentive than a vehicle and some diamonds.”
“Yes,” Scott agreed, “but it’s land. It’s not as though someone could easily get their hands on it.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Abby agreed. “But there’s still so much about what’s happened today that doesn’t add up.” She took a deep breath and started moving down the trail again. “So, your mother inherited the land when your father died?”
“Not immediately. Father was my grandparents’ heir. My grandfather had passed away the year before, but my grandmother was still alive at the time of Dad’s death, though she’d been battling cancer for years. My grandfather’s death was a horrible blow to her. When my father passed away, too, she pretty much gave up.” As Scott reviewed his family history, he considered the idea that someone might be after the valuable land.
Clearly Abby was thinking similar thoughts. “You don’t think it’s possible someone would leave us out here in an effort to blackmail your mother into giving up the land?”
“It’s possible someone might try it, yes,” Scott acknowledged. “But my mother won’t sell. That land is the Frasier family legacy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when my mother dies, all the land will go to me.”
THREE
Abby couldn’t tear her eyes away from Scott’s face. She didn’t know him well enough to read him. All at once, she realized he was essentially a stranger, in spite of the long-ago connection they shared and the attraction she felt toward him. She remembered the sliver of doubt she’d felt earlier. And now he’d come right out and told her he was in line to receive millions of dollars worth of land as soon as his mother passed away. Was it any coincidence that Marilyn now found herself in a potentially life-threatening situation?
Had Scott brought his mother to Devil’s Island to get Marilyn out of the picture so he could claim the land for himself? If so, Abby wondered why he’d confess everything to her. Had she, by joining in the boat trip today, unwittingly sentenced herself to death?
She shook off her fears in a shiver that traveled down the length of her spine. No, Scott was a Christian. He’d prayed with her. She couldn’t believe he’d plot to kill his own mother. The whole idea was completely absurd. She needed to focus on getting off the island instead of letting the place spook her into inventing ghost stories out of nothing.
Scott’s forehead furrowed thoughtfully beneath his Northwoods College ball cap. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m thinking you’re starting to scare me.” She tried to interject lightness into her voice, as though she found the idea more funny than frightening.
One corner of his mouth bent upward. “I’m guessing you don’t scare easily.”
“I don’t.” She forced a smile, then checked her watch. “Anyway, we need to get back to your mom and Mitch. It’s already after noon, and the sun goes down by six o’clock these days. We should try to use whatever daylight we have left to get ourselves off this island, or at least make preparations for keeping warm tonight.”
“Then we’d better get moving.”
Not daring to move any faster on the slick trail even with her walking stick, Abby just managed to keep up with Scott’s long strides. She still felt distinctly uneasy about being stuck on the island, and was no longer as comfortable as she’d felt earlier about being marooned there with Scott. Her top priority was to get back to Bayfield.
They cleared the last of the trees and the dock fell into view. Sure enough, there was nothing on either side but water. Abby felt her heart sink just a little more. She hadn’t expected Captain Sal to come back for them, but she realized upon seeing the empty dock, that a part of her had dared to hope there had been some innocent reason for his abrupt departure, and that they hadn’t actually been abandoned at all.
No chance of that now, so Abby dismissed the thought. Instead she focused on what they would tell Marilyn, who was sitting cross-legged on the dock between Mitch and a large pile of driftwood.
Leaning closer to Scott, Abby told him in a hushed voice, “I have an idea about what to do with your mom.” At the same time, she unzipped her purse and rifled through its scant contents.
“What’s that?”
She found the little white dispenser she’d been looking for and pulled it out triumphantly. “We need to give her something to do so she won’t feel so helpless.”
“Good idea.” He looked at the object in her hands. “Floss? We’re going to distract her with dental hygiene?”
Abby threw her head back and laughed at Scott’s teasing suggestion. She was glad he was able to keep his sense of humor in spite of their circumstances. “No, silly, we’re going to ask her to go fishing.”
At the sound of her laughter, Mitch and Marilyn turned their heads. Marilyn jumped up and trotted up the hill to meet them, her face bright. “Well, how soon are they going to get here? I’ve decided where we should go for lunch.”
Scott put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “We might not make it back in time for lunch,” he said, breaking the news in a voice buoyed by hope, “but we’re working on it. In the meantime, we’ve got a project for you and Mitch.”
As Scott outlined the plan, Abby tied long lengths of floss securely to each walking stick, using the large knots in the wood as a brace to keep the string from slipping off. Marilyn seemed eager to help, especially once Scott explained it was up to her to fish for their supper. Abby felt relieved the older woman was willing to rise to the challenge.
“You’re going to need lures and hooks,” Marilyn noted, handing over two brilliant diamond earrings.
“Oh, no, not your diamond jewelry,” Abby refused.
But Marilyn was insistent. “Captain Sal got the rest of it. Honestly, I’d rather these go in the stomach of a fish than into the hands of a sneaky crook.”
Abby looked at Scott’s mom and realized she wasn’t going to back down. “Well,” she agreed hesitantly, “I guess these would work remarkably well. And we don’t really have anything else.” She felt a twinge of guilt at having Marilyn give so generously to the cause, when in reality the whole fishing bit had only been meant to distract her. But maybe Marilyn felt the need to compensate for her role in their being marooned in the first place.
The earrings had a French hook in back, with three dangling gems of graduated size. They’d be perfect as lures—as perfect as any diamond earrings could be, Abby figured. She knotted the floss several times over to insure they wouldn’t be lost.
While she worked, she observed Scott and Mitch engaged in a hushed conversation farther down the dock. She promptly silenced her imagination when she found herself wondering if Scott and Mitch might be conspiring together. Instead she handed the makeshift poles to Marilyn with words of encouragement and headed over to the men.
“Oh, come on,” Mitch said as she approached. “A strong guy like you? That can’t be more than a mile or two. I used to swim that much all the time when I was your age.”
Seeing where the older man pointed, Abby realized what he was suggesting.
“I really don’t think it would be wise to try.” Scott shook his head. “With the temperatures of these waters, a person could get into deep trouble in a hurry.”
“Are you suggesting Scott attempt to swim to another island?” Abby asked as she approached them.
“Sure! Why not? That island there is pretty close. Scott was a college athlete. I think he’s still got it in him.”