Carolina Isle

  “What does he do just before he leaves?”

  “Goes to the middle of the island and disappears for about six hours.”

  “And of course you followed him,” R.J. said.

  “When ol’ Fenny left town it looked like the Pied Piper the way people followed him, but he always managed to give them the slip. I can attest to the fact that he vanished into thin air. Poof! He was gone.”

  “But you’ve looked over that area when he wasn’t there, haven’t you?”

  “Many, many times,” Gideon said seriously. “I used to fantasize about finding the money and running away with it. But then, I think that’s the dream of every man, woman, and child on this island. ‘Fenny’s gold,’ we call it.”

  “The man was an alcoholic,” Sara said. “So was my father, and he couldn’t keep a secret.” Even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. No matter how drunk her father got or how often, he’d never told her the truth about the night her mother died.

  “You name it and it’s been tried,” Gideon said, “but no one could pry a word from Fenny. His wife used to tell him that if he died, the money would be lost. Fenny said, ‘Then you’ll miss me, won’t you?’ He didn’t tell anyone anything. He enjoyed the people following him, and he liked to lead them on wild-goose chases. He grew up on this island and knew every inch of it well. His father drank and Fenny used to stay in the hills for weeks at a time. He knew all about living off the land.”

  “Like you do,” R.J. said, looking around the cabin.

  “Like I’ve had to learn,” Gideon said, his eyes defensive. “As soon as I was taller than Nezbit, I moved out of that house and into here. I think that whoever built that house lived in this cabin while it was being built—and I think I’m connected to him.”

  “Couldn’t you check the deeds to find out who built it?” Sara asked.

  “For all that Nezbit looks stupid, he isn’t,” Gideon said. “His name is on the deed as the original owner. There’s no record that I can find of who built the house. The old-timers say, ‘Some man from the mainland.’ He stayed to himself and met no one here.”

  “Smart man,” R.J. said.

  “Where were the hot springs?” Sara asked.

  “You can’t go up there,” Gideon said quickly. “The ground is loose and there are cave-ins.”

  “From the explosion?” R.J. asked.

  “From the dynamite,” Gideon answered. “The hot springs that made this town rich weren’t real. Way up on top is a natural stone reservoir. Back in the 1890s some men put big iron cauldrons in the middle of it and heated the water, then piped it down the hillside into little tubs that were also heated. For some unknown reason, somebody dynamited the reservoir and put a hole in it. That was the end of the phony hot springs.”

  “Maybe we could package this island as the most notorious—” R.J. began.

  “Most wicked,” Sara said.

  “Yes, most wicked island in the U.S. ‘Come see where the Victorians duped the unsuspecting rich.’”

  “And where the islanders made the boats wreck on the rocks so they could steal their riches,” said Sara.

  “And babies,” Gideon said.

  Sobering, R.J. and Sara looked at him.

  “I had to have come from somewhere and those twins don’t belong to anybody on this island,” Gideon said.

  R.J. and Sara looked at each other, then got up from the table. “You ready?” he asked.

  She knew what he was talking about without his having to say it, and she was glad that they weren’t going to have an argument about her going. “I need some hiking boots.”

  “You can’t go up there,” Gideon said. “It really is dangerous, and besides, the whole place has been combed by every resident on this island. You’ll never find Fenny’s gold—if it exists. He hadn’t been off the island in six months. Maybe he took all there was.”

  “Can you get her some shoes?” R.J. asked Gideon.

  The young man shook his head in disbelief, then smiled. “Been nice knowing the both of you,” he said. “For a minute there, I had some hope of getting off this island.”

  “If I do, you will,” R.J. said. “And that’s a promise.”

  “With the twins,” Sara said. “We’ll even try to find out who their parents are.”

  For a moment, the emotion in Gideon’s eyes was almost more than Sara could bear.

  “What size shoe do you wear?” he asked.

  “Six,” Sara said.

  “Same as Effie,” Gideon said. “This will be easy. You need anything else?”

  “A backpack, water bottles, socks of course, a good moisturizer, flashlights, and—”

  “And a cellphone,” R.J. said. “Get us what you can. I just want to see where the hot springs were.”

  “And a toothbrush and paste,” Sara said. “Shampoo and a portable shower, or maybe a big claw-foot bathtub would be nice. And a—”

  “A map,” Gideon said. “Wait here while I tell the kids what to get, then I’ll go start a fight with Effie while the kids raid the house. We’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “TELL ME AGAIN WHY WE’RE DOING this?” Sara asked as soon as Gideon left the cabin.

  “I don’t believe what I’m being told.” He was looking out the window. “You think that kid has gone to the police?”

  “No. Why don’t you ever believe anybody?”

  “I believed what I saw when I first met you,” R.J. said defensively. “It’s just that I don’t think we were told the whole truth about why we were put in jail. I think it was the story that was put out, but it doesn’t make sense.”

  Sara was still trying to figure out what R.J. meant about first seeing her. She was told that he’d been on the elevator, the doors were about to close, and R.J. had said, “That one. I want her.” People said that he was trying to make a point, that you could choose some nobody clerk and elevate her to the glorious job of waiting on R. J. Brompton hand and foot, 24/7. But now R.J. was implying that there was more to it. “No, it doesn’t make sense,” she said.

  “Right. Jail and dead bodies in the bathtub aren’t going to make a person want to stay someplace.”

  Sara had to work to come out of her reverie. “They want to make sure we don’t want to buy any property, don’t they?”

  “That’s what I think. I think there’s something here that someone wants to keep secret.”

  “I can’t imagine what,” Sara said. “Kidnapping, shipwrecks, you name it, it seems to be going on in this place.”

  “Not to mention murder.” He looked at her. “What if we found a dead body in the bathtub, but later managed to get off the island without being found out?”

  Sara nodded. “We wouldn’t come back, would we?”

  “No. And King’s Isle would become our worst nightmare. We’d spend our lives reading the newspaper and searching the Internet to see if the body had been found yet.”

  “We’d live in terror that they’d come after us,” she added. “And in the business world, word would get out that Charley Dunkirk had checked out this island and said it was a bad bet.”

  “That would mean that whoever didn’t want outsiders here would have another few years to hide whatever he’s hiding.”

  “Good thinking,” Sara said.

  “Come on, Johnson,” R.J. said. “You can give me a better compliment than that.”

  “It’s a good theory, but we don’t know if it’s true or not. Why did you hire me?” she blurted out. “There are a dozen women in your office who can type. Why didn’t you hire one of them?”

  “Your great memory.”

  “You didn’t know anything about me when you hired me—except what was in a personnel file and that wasn’t much.”

  “Think not?” he asked. “You think that story’s true that I picked you out at random?”

  Her eyes were wide. “Yes, I do … did. But you—” She was interrupted by Gideon and the twins bursting into the room.
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  “Come see what we got!” he said excitedly.

  R.J. and Sara went onto the porch. Before them was a large Radio Flyer wagon full of gear. On the top was a kit that had been put together by a shopping channel for emergencies. There were two flashlights, matches coated in wax, two space blankets in tiny pouches, packets of food, candles, water bottles, a first aid kit. Under the box were heavy hiking boots in size six and three pairs of women’s cotton socks.

  “Thought you might need these,” Gideon said, holding up two flannel shirts, a man’s large and a woman’s small.

  “We did good?” the little boy asked.

  Sara swooped him into her arms and hugged him. “You did brilliantly. Wonderful. Fabulous.” She buried her face in his neck and blew raspberries until he was screaming with laughter.

  “Me! Me!” the girl yelled as Sara put the boy down and grabbed her. She raspberried and tickled the child until she too was squealing.

  When she set the girl down, Sara turned to Gideon. “What are their names?”

  “Beatrice and Bertie.”

  “Not what I’d call Nezbit names,” Sara said.

  “Yeah,” Gideon said, “I’ve wondered if they’re their real names.”

  “Knowing would make it easier to find their parents.”

  R.J. was going through the items in the wagon and shoving them into two nylon backpacks.

  “Want to go with us?” Sara asked Gideon.

  “I’m sure he has other things to do,” R.J. said quickly, letting Sara know that he wanted the two of them to go alone. “But maybe you could draw us a map.”

  “Sure,” Gideon said, though Sara thought he was disappointed at not being asked to go. As he and R.J. went into the cabin, the twins behind them, Sara looked at Gideon’s strong, young back and thought how much somebody somewhere had lost in not seeing him grow up.

  Bending, she rearranged the contents of the two backpacks, then pulled on a pair of socks and laced up the heavy boots. Holding Ariel’s pretty sandals on her fingertips, she wondered how her cousin was doing. What had she thought when she awoke this morning and found a note from R.J.? What had the note said? Had it been nice, or had it been R.J.’s usual brusque style? You two are worthless so Johnson and I are going on without you. Have a nice day. R.J.

  Sara hadn’t had time to think about anything since she awoke on a cold, hard cushion this morning, but she’d been glad to hear that David and Ariel hadn’t stayed cowering in Phyllis’s house, scared and trembling. Instead, Ariel had found a way to earn money.

  “And hear gossip,” Sara said, standing up straight. R.J. had left them two hundred dollars, the money he always kept in his shoes. There was no need for Ariel to get a job, but she had. And not just any job. Ariel had set herself up as the person who every woman in town would want to visit. And talk to.

  Sara looked up at the cabin and saw R.J. and Gideon inside, standing by the window and talking. From the arm gestures, R.J. was getting directions to the top of the center of the island. And what did he expect to find up there? A motive for murder? A reason that the people on this island didn’t want them to be here? Sara agreed with R.J. that it was more likely that they’d been accused of a false crime to keep them away from King’s Isle, not to make them like it. Even if the murder hadn’t happened, even if on Monday the judge said the dog case was ridiculous and threw it out, they’d still never want to return to the island.

  If she was sure that whoever was doing this only wanted to make them go away and never return, Sara would want to return to Phyllis’s house and wait it out. But she wasn’t sure what was going on. Young Gideon was the only person who would talk to them, so it wasn’t as though they could go around town asking questions.

  Like Ariel can, Sara thought, smiling.

  R.J. came onto the porch and looked at her in question. Why was she smiling? She made a little gesture meant to say that she’d tell him later.

  “I could leave the twins with Effie and the girls,” Gideon was saying. “They won’t like it, but I could do it.”

  “No,” R.J. said. “We can do this by ourselves. Both Sara and I’ve had some experience climbing, so we’ll be fine.”

  Sara’s eyes widened. Experience climbing? Did that include getting on and off the Fifth Avenue bus? Turning away so Gideon wouldn’t see her face, Sara slipped the lighter backpack on and tied the flannel shirt around her waist.

  “You look funny,” Beatrice said.

  “I feel funny.”

  “Will you come back?”

  “I certainly hope so,” Sara said, adjusting the straps to fit her height.

  “Sometimes they don’t,” Bertie said.

  “Great,” Sara said. “Thanks for telling me that. Would you guys mind not telling anyone about us?”

  “We never tell what Gideon does. He has lots and lots of secrets, but we never tell them.”

  Sara didn’t like what the twins were saying. R.J. and Gideon were still talking and there was a light across Gideon’s handsome face that made him look older and sinister. She knelt down to eye level with the children. “Does Gideon ever hurt you?”

  “No, silly,” Beatrice said. “He’s nice. He gives us candy when we’re good.”

  Sara looked at Bertie. “Does anybody hurt you?”

  His little face scrunched up into a fierce look. “If Effie tries to hit me I hit her back.”

  Sara laughed, then caught herself. “It’s not nice to hit anyone, but—”

  “Come on, Johnson,” R.J. called. “You can adopt the kids later. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

  “Daniel Boone calls,” she muttered, standing up.

  “Will you adopt us?” Bertie asked, his eyes wide. “Gideon said that somebody would.”

  “I … I have to go,” Sara said, glaring at R.J. when he smiled at her predicament.

  When Gideon stepped forward, the children attached themselves to his legs. “Maybe she’ll marry me and we’ll all be a family,” he said, smiling at Sara in a way that made her blush.

  “Let’s go!” R.J. said loudly.

  “See ya!” Sara called as she followed R.J. past the cabin and into the woods. “See you when we get back.”

  “Which will be next week at this rate,” R.J. mumbled.

  “Jealous?” Sara asked.

  “Of you and that boy?”

  “Of me and that boy and David. Don’t forget David.”

  “Wonder what he’s doing while Little Miss Makeover is doing all the work?”

  “Smiling at the women,” Sara said. “Or taking his shirt off and letting them look at him. There are lots of things that David can do.”

  “Stop lusting after those kids and watch where you’re going,” R.J. said gruffly.

  Sara laughed.

  “Where you goin’, Gideon?” Beatrice asked.

  “After those two idiots,” he said, lacing on a pair of heavy hiking boots. “They’re our best chance of getting off this island so I’m not going to let them get killed.”

  “Da won’t let us leave King’s Isle,” Bertie said.

  “I’ve told you a thousand times that he’s not your father, so stop calling him that.”

  At Gideon’s tone, Beatrice began to cry.

  “Hush, honey, I’m not mad.”

  “You were gonna take me fishin’,” Bertie said. “In the boat.”

  “I can’t today. Go down to the house and tell Effie she has to feed you.”

  “Won’t,” Beatrice said and the twins backed up against each other.

  Gideon sighed. “Okay, then stay here in the cabin. Don’t go more than a yard from it, you hear me? There are cold biscuits and bacon in the cabinet and apple juice in there too. Just stay here and play with your toys and don’t get into trouble. You hear me?”

  Both of the twins nodded, then watched in silence as Gideon strapped on an old backpack and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He put a box and a half of cartridges in the bottom of his pack. “No fighting, no hitting, don’
t get into anything that will hurt you, and stay as far away from the girls as possible.”

  “But you said—” Beatrice began.

  “I know, I said to go to Effie, but I’m afraid you’ll tell her too much.”

  “We don’t tell,” Bertie said.

  “That’s true, but this secret is bigger than the others.” Gideon looked out the window. “I’m glad you don’t know where we’re going.”

  “Top of the mountain to the hot springs,” Bertie said proudly.

  Gideon groaned. “Too smart is what you are. Now stay here and color. I should be back before dark. I just want to make sure those city slickers don’t get killed.”

  “Our ticket out,” Bertie said, making Gideon laugh.

  “Okay, that’s all the TV you get. Now give me a hug and let me go. I’m going to have to doubletime it to get there before they do.”

  “Why do you have to get there first?” Beatrice asked.

  “There are some things that I need to—”

  “To win!” Bertie said.

  “That’s right. It’s a race and I need to win. Now hugs,” Gideon said.

  Gideon was only a quarter mile up the trail when the twins decided to follow him. They’d had a lifetime of hiding to escape the notice of the Nezbit family, so they were good at being quiet. Gideon never heard so much as a footstep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “WHY WERE YOU SMILING?” R.J. ASKED as soon as they were on the well-worn trail toward the center of the island.

  “I was thinking about Ariel. She put herself in a position to hear all the gossip of the town.”

  R.J. gave her a sharp look.

  “Didn’t think of that, did you?”

  “No, but that was smart of her,” he said, smiling. “Maybe she is your cousin after all.”

  “Okay,” Sara said, halting on the trail. “That does it. First you kiss me and now you’ve given me more than one compliment. Either the world is ending or you think you’re going to die soon.”