Dust and Obey (4 page)

He shook his head. “No, she disappeared. I haven’t heard from her in several days. Granted, I didn’t officially hire her. I contacted her about a potential story. These retreats are based out of Baltimore, plus we live in that area.”

“Do you suspect foul play in Rae’s disappearance as well?” I asked, curious as to how this all fit together in his mind.

“I have no idea. She has no obligation to contact me, but she seemed very interested. She said she was going to dig deeper. It makes me cautious that she’s not returning my calls.”

“I can see why,” I said.

Brad picked up his phone, tapped on the screen a few times, and then held it up for us to see the photo. “This is Anna. She deserves justice. Please say you’ll help.”

That seemed to be his stamp of approval. I’d passed his test, and he trusted me to investigate for him. Now I just had to hope I didn’t let him down.

I stared at the picture of his wife. Anna looked vivacious, with intelligent brown eyes, glossy chestnut-colored hair, and an overall cultured look, all the way down to the leopard-print scarf tied like a headband around her head. She was on a boat in the photo, and the sun hit her hair in a way that made the picture look like a magazine cover.

Yes, Anna’s life had ended too early.

“I’d look into this myself,” Brad continued. “But I’m afraid if I found the person who did this, I’d kill him myself.”

As his words lingered in the air, there was no uncertainty that he’d spoken the truth.

CHAPTER 5

“So,
what did you think?” Riley asked when we were back in his car.

I pulled out the paper Brad had given me and stared at the information there as Riley put his car in drive. Just being in such close proximity to him again with no barriers between us—no other people, no table, not even a cup of coffee—had me feeling unnerved again. I needed to get used to this because I was going to be with him a lot this weekend.

I pulled myself together, though. I always did. And I always would.

I knew I was loved by my Creator. I would never find my wholeness in anyone but Him. So I pressed on. Beneath the humor and sarcasm and self-deprecating comments, I knew where my purpose came from, and it wasn’t Riley Thomas. All of these struggles in my life were building my character one painstaking step at a time.

“It looks like we have four suspects to start with,” I told him, glancing at my notes. “The snooty Griffiths, the redneck Daniels pair, the happy Wagnors, and boy-toy Jason Sparrow. But there’s one other thing we have to consider.”

“What’s that?”

“That Anna possibly did commit suicide. She left a note that was clearly her handwriting, and the police don’t seem to suspect any foul play. When people commit suicide, family members never want to accept it. It’s too difficult to come to terms with the idea.”

Riley frowned. “At least maybe we can prove that, right? Some answers are better than no answers.”

“I agree.” I was an answer person. I liked knowing what really happened. And I was under the strict belief that the truth could set us free. However, dealing with that truth could initially be quite a struggle.

Riley took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at me. “You handled yourself like a pro back there.”

I shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal, but I secretly glowed under his compliment. I’d come a long way since my initial days as a nosy crime-scene cleaner. Education and experience and a lot of errors—I couldn’t forget to mention them—had gotten me to this point.

“You weren’t too shabby yourself,” I finally said. And it was true. He’d been a good balance of listener and interrogator. He’d been curious but not overly anxious. His laid-back vibe made him seem comfortable and confident.

For a moment, we’d felt like partners. Like Mulder and Scully. Monk and Sharona. Castle and Beckett.

I had to nip those thoughts in the bud, though. This was strictly professional, and I’d be wise not to forget it.

***

Forty minutes after leaving Cape Charles, we pulled into a gravel lot adjacent to a sturdy pier on the bay. There were five other cars in the parking area, and one boat at the dock. As we stood there, a strong wind whipped around us. I’d like to think it was just the breeze coming off the water, but the dark clouds in the distance told a different story. A storm was approaching. Hopefully that wasn’t an ominous sign of things to come.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. St. Thomas.” A man who looked like Captain Stubing of
The Love Boat
fame approached Riley and me as we lifted our suitcases from the trunk. The shiny, aerodynamic suitcases. Those accessories needed a security detail all their own.

Okay, I was exaggerating, but I did have a strange love for that new luggage.

Riley smiled affably. “We are. And you’re . . . ?”

“I’m Leroy.” He raised his chin and reached for our luggage. “I run the boat back and forth from the island. We were waiting for you before we started the journey over. Let’s get you boarded. Your car should be fine here until Sunday.”

I couldn’t resist humming the theme song from
The Love Boat
as Leroy took our luggage and put it on a large pontoon boat waiting by the pier.

Riley leaned closer, so close that his breath feathered across my cheek. “I’ve missed that.”

Something about the exchange caused a shiver to wiggle down my spine. Not a good sign.

Remember, Gabby. Failure’s not an option. Protect your heart. Be in control.

“It’s show time,” I muttered under my breath.

“You’ve got this, Gabby,” Riley said.

I didn’t feel like I “had” anything, but I decided to keep that quiet.

Riley helped me onboard before climbing in behind me. Another couple was already sitting on a padded bench near the bow with their backs toward us. They didn’t bother to look our way as we boarded.

Riley and I exchanged a look before finding a cushioned seat on the perimeter. As the captain geared up to go and ran through some general safety precautions like the location of life preservers, I braced myself for the ride.

I glanced at the front of the boat where the other passengers sat. How strange was it that they hadn’t even mumbled a greeting or acknowledged us. Was this how all the couples at this retreat center would act? Would they all sense that they were somehow above everyone else because of their padded paychecks and fancy cars? Did rich people think they were better than other rich people?

I stared at the couple’s backs for a moment. They weren’t sitting lovey-dovey. In fact, there was a good six inches between them. They looked stiff as they stared straight ahead, neither of them speaking.

The woman had ashy blonde hair, and, when she turned her head ever-so slightly, I could see the fine wrinkles along her eyes and mouth. She wore a long-sleeved white sweater that she had pulled over her hands. The man had salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, and he wore a Northface parka. They had to be Atticus and Farrah Griffith. The Daniels were too redneck and the Wagnors too happy.

Riley struck up a conversation about fishing with Captain Leroy. I tuned out what they were saying and, instead, studied Riley a moment. Why did he have to be so handsome? Would he be easier to dislike if he was repulsive looking? Honestly, probably not because it wasn’t his looks that had drawn me toward him. I felt like our spirits connected.

I was just getting my life on track when he’d returned.

God, are you trying to teach me something? Show me some kind of fault in myself that I need to correct?

If I were smart, I’d concentrate on my new job and ignore the emotions trying to capture my heart and mind. That would be the smart thing. However, I’d never been very wise in matters of the heart.

And I had a feeling that would be my ultimate downfall.

Before I could dwell on that thought too long, I saw the man pull something from his pocket. His cell phone.

The boat suddenly jostled. I glanced at the sky. That storm was not only on its way—it was upon us. As if to confirm my thought, the wind gusted over us and sent a spray of water with it.

Even the birds seemed to recognize that things would get treacherous. They squawked overhead as they made a mad dash for the mainland.

When the boat jostled again, the man’s phone clattered from his hand and skidded toward me. Quickly, I darted up and grabbed it for him. Right before I handed it back, I glanced at the screen. A text message was still there.

This isn’t over. Don’t think for a second I’m letting you get away with this.

CHAPTER 6

The
man I assumed as Atticus Griffith
snatched the phone from me.

Oops. I guess I hadn’t been all that subtle about reading his message.

“Here you go,” I mumbled. “By the way, I’m Gabby St. Thomas.”

He simply grunted, mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “Atticus,” and stomped back to his seat.

What had that message been about? It was definitely suspicious, especially in light of everything I knew so far.

At that moment, Riley and Captain Leroy’s conversation floated to my ears.

“It’s about a twenty-minute boat ride,” Captain Leroy said, looking over the water as we puttered across the bay, the waves and wind urging us to go back. “Unless it’s a big storm, we can usually go back and forth between the island and the mainland without any problem. This boat is big enough to handle it.”

I still couldn’t believe that I was headed over to an island in the middle of the bay with no means of escape other than this boat. It seemed like the perfect setup for a really horrific experience. Add the stormy weather to that, and it was just the wrong mix.

“Tell us about Bird’s Nest Island. We’re excited to see it,” Riley continued, not missing a beat, even as the wind caused more water to splatter into the boat.

Riley would fit in easily here. His parents were fairly wealthy. He’d grown up in a different world than I had. That was probably one of the reasons he’d broken up with me. He’d never said so, but I’d always suspected it deep down inside.

“Oh, it’s a great place. Not very large. It used to be a playground for the wealthy. There’s an old lodge where hunters and fishermen stayed.”

“What happened?” As I asked the question, my hair nearly suctioned itself to my face. Just as I removed several strands, several more grabbed at my features. So much for straightening it earlier. By the time this weather finished with it, I’d look like I stuck my finger in a light socket.

“The lodge closed down in the late thirties after the stock market crash. It was never revitalized until about five years ago. Now the owner, Mr. Robinson, rents it out to groups like Dr. Turner. But, of course, you know all this, correct? Because you’re friends with Mr. Robinson?”

Riley nodded. “That’s right.”

In truth, Brad Thorn knew the man personally and had pulled some strings.

“We are, but he never told us the history of the place,” I said. Thunder rumbled above us and caused me to tremble.

Captain Leroy nodded, unaffected by the storm. “Well, there’s some good folklore about the island, but that’s not why you’re going. Dr. Turner just started leasing this location for his therapy groups. This is our first retreat series here.”

“He has other locations?” I asked, curious now about this program. If I could stay focused, the storm wouldn’t freak me out as much.

“That’s right. One up in Baltimore and another in the mountains. He started these retreats after his wife passed away. He says they help him heal.”

“I didn’t realize he was a widower,” I said.

Captain Leroy’s gaze remained on the choppy water. “His wife died in a car accident. She was the love of his life, and he’s never quite been the same. That’s why he feels so strongly about helping other couples. He wants people to have a happy and fulfilling marriage, just like he did. He’s made a lot of money on his books. He was a therapist in New York City for a while. His practice was thriving, for that matter. He gave it all up to start these retreats, though.”

“It sounds like you know him well,” I said.

“We met when I was working at a country club in Maryland. I knew both him and his wife. When he told me about these retreats and offered me a job, I couldn’t say no. Now I run the boat, do some maintenance, and anything else the doctor asks me to do.”

“Sounds like a good fit,” Riley said.

Captain Leroy nodded. “It is. Dr. Turner is a good man. I’ve seen a lot of couples who’ve left these sessions changed. That makes it all even more worth it—seeing someone leave with hope where there was once hopelessness.”

My interest spiked. Maybe there was more to this retreat than I’d initially assumed. A little more of my anxiety turned into excitement.

I sat back and felt the wind whip around me. As Riley and Leroy’s conversation veered off into fishing again, I pulled out my cell phone and tried to send a text to Sierra. It wouldn’t go through.

What? How was that possible? I mean, we weren’t that far from civilization . . . were we?

“There’s no service out here,” Captain Leroy said. “We’ve passed the point of no return.”

“What?” There were actually places in the US with no phone service? In this day and age?

“It’s true. Every once in a while, you can find a hot spot on the island where you might get patchy reception. But, overall, I wouldn’t count on it.”

This was going to be interesting, especially if I found myself in a situation where I desperately needed help.

And I always seemed to find myself in those kinds of situations.