“What’s a fish house?” Libby asked, falling into step beside him.
“It’s where the fishermen gather and sell their day’s catch. Zach likes hanging out there,” he said. “I think he feels close to Dave there. I know I do. My brother was always laughing with the other fishermen in there, swapping fishing stories.”
The low-slung white building was at the end of a pier where rowboats and water jets docked. He stepped over nets and crab pots on the way to the door of the fish house. The scent of fish was strong.
He nodded to the few men outside the door. “Anyone seen Zach?”
“He’s out back helping Rolly unload,” one of the men said.
Skirting the building, Alec continued on down the pier, where he found his nephew lifting crab pots off a friend’s boat.
When Zach saw him, he frowned. “What’s up, Uncle Alec?”
“We need to talk to you. In private.” Alec jerked his thumb back toward the street, away from listening ears. Getting a rumor going was all they needed. Zach was getting enough of a reputation as a troublemaker.
Zach wiped his wet hands on his shorts, then slipped on his flip-flops to follow them. He glanced at Libby, who was studying him. “What? Did I suddenly grow horns?” he demanded.
She looked away. “Sorry. We just need to ask you some questions.”
They reached the road. There was no one in earshot. Alec put his hands in his pockets. “You know Samson is here to look for Nicole?”
Zach glanced back at the fish house with a longing expression. “Yeah. So?”
“He picked up a scent for her.”
That got Zach’s attention. “That’s good, right?”
Alec nodded. “But the scent is on my old boat. According to the dog, Nicole was on there. So we searched and Libby found something.” He glanced at her.
She held out her hand, palm up to expose the ponytail holder. “This is Nicole’s.”
Zach went white. He took a step back, then whirled to walk away, but Alec grabbed his arm. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Zach, what did you do?” he whispered.
Zach looked at Alec’s hand on his arm. “I didn’t do anything. You’re always willing to think the worst about me, aren’t you?”
“Then how did that hair thing get on my boat?”
Zach bit his lip. “I was going to talk to you about it.” His face worked. Then his shoulders slumped. “I just take her supplies,” he said. “I didn’t know who she was until I saw her picture in the paper last night. Then I didn’t know what to do about it.”
Libby’s face lit. “She’s alive? Really, Zach?”
He nodded. “I saw her a couple of days ago. Took her some water and food.”
“Where?” Alec asked. He’d figure out what to do about punishing Zach later.
“A little island northwest of here. I have the coordinates.”
“Who put her there?”
He shrugged. “I was taking the old boat out to fish. Two guys stopped me and asked if I was looking to make some money. The older man told me that he’d had to stash his crazy sister on an island until he could get her into the hospital he wanted. Said she’d tried to knife him and to be careful because she was dangerous. I was only supposed to drop off supplies every couple of days, then leave.”
“That sounds like a fishy story,” Alec said.
Zach’s lids flickered and he made a face. “He made it sound plausible. I know now it was stupid for me to believe him, but he gave me all these details and I swallowed his story. And they were paying well.”
“Why didn’t you tell us when you figured out who she was?”
Zach looked down at the ground. “It was just last night. I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you’d think I had something to do with it.”
“Have they paid you every time you’ve gone?”
Zach shook his head. “They gave me a thousand dollars to buy food and to pay for my services. They told me what to take her too. I just did what they said.”
“I wish you would have trusted me,” Alec said. “Come with us. We have to get her.”
Libby could hardly sit still as the boat skimmed the waves. They were so far out to sea that she couldn’t see land. Where was that island? She prayed that Nicole was holding on to life, that she would be well and whole when Libby found her.
“Where is it?” Alec asked Zach.
The boy pointed to the horizon, and Libby saw a faint speck that might have been land. They drew closer, and she realized it was a tiny island barely twenty or thirty feet in diameter. How had Nicole survived the hurricane? Libby strained to catch a glimpse of Nicole, but all she saw was a hovel of a building. The place appeared deserted.
“Where is she?” she demanded.
“Maybe in the shack,” Zach said. “Though she’s usually out as soon as she hears the motor.”
Alec took the boat in as close to shore as he could and shut off the engine. Zach tossed the anchor overboard, but by the time it splashed into the water, Libby was already knee-deep in the waves and barreling toward the tiny beach. Bree and Samson were right behind her.
“Nicole!” she shouted.
She rushed to the door of the building and yanked open the door. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust enough to see that the one room held nothing but a few pieces of broken furniture.
“She’s not here!” she told Bree, who came in behind her. “Where could she be?” Zach and Alec entered the building.
Zach glanced around. “Her food and water aren’t here,” he said.
“What does that mean?” Libby asked.
“I brought her a jug of water, peanut butter, canned stuff. None of it is here.”
“Has someone else come after her?” Alec asked.
Zach shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Who were the men who hired you?” Alec asked. “Didn’t you get their names?”
“I didn’t know them. One said his name was Oscar Jacobson. The other never told me his name. All I cared about was that they were paying me cash.”
“Sounds like a fake name,” Alec said.
Bree took Nicole’s clothing out of the paper bag and held it under Samson’s nose. “Search, boy!”
The dog nosed around the shack, his tail wagging. He barked at the bed, then ran to the door and around the side of the shack. “He smells her,” Bree said.
Libby and Bree followed with the men rushing after them. The dog darted around the island with his nose in the air, then went back to the beach and stood with his tail drooping. He whined when Bree reached him.
“She’s not here,” Bree said.
“She couldn’t have gotten off the island without help,” Zach said.
“Look here,” Alec said, staring at marks in the sand. “Looks like a raft or something was dragged here.”
Bree knelt and touched the indentations. “Could she have built a raft and tried to escape that way?”
“She tried that once before and I found it torn apart on the beach,” Zach said. He glanced toward the shack. “Whoa, looks like some of the roof is missing.”
“Might she have used the roof for a raft?” Libby asked.
“It would be foolhardy,” Alec said. “The ocean is treacherous around here. They don’t call it the Graveyard of the Atlantic for no reason. Shoals, rocks—all kinds of things can tear a boat or a raft to pieces in a heartbeat. Would she be foolish enough to try that, Libby?”
She tried not to take offense at his question. “It’s not foolhardy to try to escape kidnappers,” she said. “Who knows when they might come back?” She turned to Bree. “Could Samson help us find her?”
“Maybe. It’s a big ocean out there. He’s lost her scent right now, but we could go out and see if he smells anything.”
“That’s our only option,” Libby said. Her voice broke and she swallowed hard. What if Nicole was already capsized and drowning, crying out for help? The thought sent her rushing to the boat. “Come on! We have to find
Nicole.”
The rest of the crew ran after her, and in moments they were cruising the waves again. Bree gave Samson another refresher sniff, and the dog had his nose in the air. He strained at the bow of the boat. Alec crossed back and forth in front of the area where they’d seen the markings in the sand. Then Samson’s tail began to wag. He barked furiously and strained out over the water until Libby thought he might fall in.
“He’s got a scent!” Bree called. “Good boy,” she crooned. His tail drooped as the boat headed west. “Wrong direction,” Bree said. “Try north.”
Alec corrected his course, and the dog’s countenance perked again. Libby went up to sit by her friend.
Bree saw her and squeezed her hand. “We’ll find Nicole.”
“I just hope we’re not too late.”
“I’m praying and I’m sure you are too.”
“I am,” Libby admitted. “Constantly. But I’m so afraid.”
“Put it in God’s hands. He loves Nicole. He’s out there in the big ocean with her.”
The thought comforted Libby. Nicole wasn’t alone. No matter what happened, God held her securely.
THIRTY-NINE
The sun beat down on Nicole’s head as she sat on her raft. Her skin was tight and hot, and she knew she was going to be hurting from a sunburn later. There was still no land in sight, and she wasn’t even sure if she was floating farther out into the Atlantic or nearer to the mainland. All she could do was cling to the boards and hope. How long had she been here? She slanted a glance at the sky. Three hours.
Her food had made the trip past the breakers all right, but though her tummy rumbled, she wanted to save what she had since there was no telling how long she might be adrift. She wiped her forehead and stared at the horizon. Nothing. Her lids grew heavy, and she decided to sleep if she could. On her stomach with her head pillowed in her arms, she listened to the lapping of the waves and felt the gentle rise of the swells under her raft.
Where was Libby now? Her eyes grew heavy and she let them close. Sleep was good.
She wasn’t sure what awakened her. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. The sun was lower in the sky. It must be nearly four or five. Then she heard it. The sound of an engine. She turned toward the putt-putt and saw a boat growing closer in the distance. Leaping to her feet, she screamed and waved her hands. An answering shout came from the boat. Was that Libby? Nicole strained to see. It was!
“Libby, I’m here, I’m here!” Jumping up and down, she could barely breathe for joy.
Nicole recognized only Zach and Libby in the boat. Another man drove, and a woman with a dog stood in the bow. Zach must have realized she was telling the truth and gotten help. She would have to thank him.
The boat reached her raft. The man’s strong grip clasped her arm and helped her climb the ladder to the deck, where she collapsed.
Libby sank down beside her and grabbed her in an almost painful grip. “Nicole, I thought they killed you.” Her voice was choked.
Tears poured down Nicole’s face, and she clung to Libby. “I knew you’d find me. I just knew it.”
The two remained locked in an embrace for several seconds, then Libby pulled away and stared at Nicole. “Who did this to you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything. I woke up on the island and I’ve been there ever since. Alone, except when Zach brought supplies.”
Libby hugged her again. “I’m so glad to see you. We found your flip-flops and cover-up. Everyone told me you were dead, but I didn’t believe it.”
“I knew you’d never give up on me,” Nicole whispered. “You’ve always been a rock.”
“Let’s get you home,” Libby said. “We’ll get a doctor and make sure you’re all right.”
Nicole rubbed her belly. “And real food. I’d love a chicken quesadilla.”
“I think we can find one of those,” the handsome man said.
Nicole glanced at Libby, who was blushing. She was going to have to question her friend about her relationship with the guy.
After Nicole’s checkup at the doctor’s office, Tom asked her questions until Libby insisted her friend needed some food and rest. Libby took Nicole to the restaurant while Alec and Bree stayed behind to talk to Tom. Libby was filled with gratitude as she watched Nicole eat. It was a true miracle that they’d found her. Libby filled her in on the events of the nine days.
“Who’s the guy?” Nicole asked.
Libby hated the way her cheeks heated at the mention of Alec. “Alec Bourne, Zach’s uncle.”
“You like him?”
How did she answer that? Like wasn’t the most accurate word. “Well, he’s been a big help. He’s been right on the front lines helping to look for you.”
“Even though his nephew kept me confined to that island?”
“He didn’t know anything about it.”
“Are you sure?” Nicole put down her fork. “Wouldn’t Zach have been gone? Wouldn’t he have taken the boat? Surely Alec would have asked what he was doing with the boat.”
How would she make her friend see? “He’s a good man, Nicole. I think you’ll like him.”
Nicole’s eyes flashed. “I don’t want to know him, that’s for sure. I want to get out of this place and back to Virginia Beach now.”
Libby opened her mouth to agree, then shut it again. The thought of leaving this island left a pit in her belly. “We have work to do here. I’ve started work on the lifesaving station. And have you seen those lighthouse ruins? I love it out there.”
Nicole rubbed her forehead. “There’s something about those ruins. When I think of them, I get a funny feeling in my stomach.”
“Fear?”
Nicole shook her head. “Not fear exactly. Excitement maybe. Oh, why can’t I remember?”
Libby reached across the table to squeeze Nicole’s hand. “The doctor said you might not ever remember. He doesn’t know what drug they used on you, but it might have wiped out that time period permanently. So don’t stress about it. If you remember, great. But right now all I care about is that you’re here and well.”
“I’d like to see the lighthouse ruins. Maybe seeing them will help me remember.”
Libby released her hand and signaled for the check. “Do you remember talking to me in front of the beach cam?”
“No.” Her eyes widened. “Have you been working any of our projects besides the station? And have you heard from Rooney?”
“Your investor?” Libby shook her head. “I’ve been out of the office looking for you.”
“You’ve been checking in, of course?”
“Of course. But no messages from him have come in.”
“How strange. He’s been pushing so hard for me to get the deal sewed up here.”
“He’s been trying to buy that property for years, from what I understand.”
“I never had a chance to tell him that you own the property he wants and not your brother.”
Something about the reference to Rooney nudged at her. Then it hit her. “His first name is Lawrence, isn’t it?”
Nicole nodded. “And don’t call him Larry. He hates that. It has to be Lawrence. Why?”
Libby told her about the notes she found in Tina’s room. “L could stand for Lawrence.”
“Or Laban, Lance, Levi, Lloyd, or any number of other names,” Nicole said. “Even Libby! That’s a stretch to think that Lawrence might be implicated in Tina’s death.”
“Maybe not. Vanessa and Brent said he was with Tina not long before she disappeared.”
“He’s going to want to talk to you. You own that property, Libby! You’re rich.”
“Only if I sell it.”
“Of course you’re going to sell it. Think of what it would mean. We could expand the business. Or rather I could. You’d never have to work a lick again.”
The two of them were worlds apart now, even though they’d only been separated for a couple of weeks. “I’ve been learning there are more important things than mon
ey,” Libby said.
“You’ve changed. It’s that guy, right?”
Libby shook her head. “It’s my dad.” She began to tell her friend about the kind of man Ray had been and all that she’d learned, but Nicole’s expression only grew more incredulous.
Explaining a sea change to someone was impossible. Nicole would just have to learn about it by watching her.
Though she should have been exhausted, Libby couldn’t sleep. She finally gave up and went up the steps to her father’s third-floor retreat at the Tidewater Inn. The light in the room was already on. Brent was sitting on the sofa with their father’s Bible in his hand.
Her first impulse was to demand it back, but she restrained herself and smiled and joined him on the sofa. “Couldn’t sleep either?”
He shook his head. “I like to come up here. I feel closer to Dad.”
“Me too.” Had he been reading Scripture? She hoped so. “I’m sorry I suspected you of hurting Nicole, Brent. I hope you can forgive me.”
His brows rose. “It was understandable.”
“Will you forgive me?”
“I’m not even sure I know what that means.” He rubbed his forehead. “I quit going to church with Dad when I was fifteen. I thought I was too old and wise to swallow all that stuff.” He stared at her. “But I’ve been watching you, Libby. You’re different, just like he was. Maybe I’ll go back to church.”
Her throat closed. If only she could believe she’d had an eternal impact on this brother she longed to love. Her gaze fell on the Bible. Give it to him. She resisted the internal nudge. Did she have to give up everything dear to her?
Give it to him.
Her shoulders sagged. How could she resist God? “Would you like to have Dad’s Bible?”
His eyes widened. “I know how much you love it. You come up here and read it all the time.”
“I know. But there are special passages he’s marked that might mean even more to you than they do to me.” She leaned toward him and flipped to a highlighted verse in the worn book. “This is my favorite. Psalm 37:25. ‘I have been young, and now am old; Yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, Nor his descendants begging bread.’ I know I’m not old yet, but I believe we are blessed because our father was a righteous man.”