Survival Instinct

“We could try that little window,” Scott suggested, pointing to the small wooden-shuttered opening above the main door.

Abby looked at Scott’s broad shoulders and then looked back at the window. “It’s ten feet in the air, and I don’t think you’ll fit through.”

“But you can. Come on, I’ll hoist you up.”

A riot of protests filled Abby’s mind, most of them involving the width of her hips, but Scott looked determined. Abby sighed. They had wasted plenty of time already looking for a key, and she felt desperation rising inside her. She had less than thirty-six hours to get the ring back to Trevor. Every minute counted.

“Come on.” Scott crouched low, his back braced against the door. “Stand on my shoulders.”

“My hiking boots are going to hurt you,” Abby warned him as she moved forward and pulled off her purse, tossing it to the ground before placing a tentative hand on his ball cap.

“I’ll be fine. I’m made of pretty tough stuff,” Scott assured her.

She hadn’t been too worried about how tough he was—she’d been more embarrassed by the idea of such close contact with the man she’d always mooned after. Still, she realized his suggestion was a shrewd one, and relented. Stepping up on his knees, Abby somehow got both of her feet steady on Scott’s shoulders. He held tight to her ankles as he stood, and then she cautiously straightened, crawling upward with her hands against the side of the building until she stood on eye level with the window. Grabbing tight to the sill with one hand, she lifted the old wooden lever-style latch and pulled the window open.

“Good news,” she called down to Scott. “There’s no glass.”

“Great. Can you make it in?”

Though his words sounded steady, Abby was aware of how much pressure her shoes must be exerting on his shoulders. She tried to hurry.

“I think so.” She dipped her head and shoulders inside, but most of her body still hung outside. “Mind if I step on your head?”

“Do what you’ve got to do.”

Abby put most of her weight on her arms and pulled herself up, stepping on Scott’s cap mostly for balance. She felt his hands change position on her ankles as he lifted her higher, supporting much of her weight with the sheer strength of his arms. She scrambled to pull herself through the window and was glad to find rafters within reach of the window sill so she wouldn’t be forced to fall the entire ten feet to the floor.

Her hips wedged in the window, but she barely had time to consider the embarrassment of getting stuck there before she shifted sideways and pulled herself through. Then it was simply a matter of dropping to the floor and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.

She tried the light switch. It was dead. Probably on the same line as the house, she reasoned. With the window open above her, enough overcast sunlight spilled in for her to identify a large lawn tractor, a workshop area, rusting old snow blower, sawhorses and gas cans.

“Are you all right in there?” Scott called.

“Yes,” she answered back. Much as she wished she could tell him she’d found something, there was nothing in the shed that looked like it would float. As she stood there, she realized all the items were for the maintenance of the area around the keeper’s quarters. Boats were more likely to be housed closer to the lake. Thanking God for at least providing her with a way out of the shed, she turned the dead bolt and stepped back out into the light.

Scott did what he could to help Abby with her quick search of the outbuildings, but his enthusiasm for the search began to wane quickly. As Abby scrambled around, peeking in windows when she couldn’t find a key, he felt time and again the contrasting emotions of hope and disappointment as, in building after building, they came up with nothing.

“I don’t want to sound pessimistic,” he offered after Abby shut the door on the last building in the area of the keeper’s quarters, “but wouldn’t someone who’d gone to all the trouble of cutting off our electricity and cutting the line on our radio probably check to make sure they hadn’t left us a boat?”

“I suppose so. But they may have overlooked something. This is still a pretty big island,” Abby told him as they headed back down the road toward the dock. They’d both found decent walking sticks over the course of their searching, and with the extra limbs, were able to move a little faster down the slippery trail.

Scott was glad Abby was keeping a positive attitude. He only wished his mother could be so resilient. He’d hoped they’d at least be able to find a boat so she wouldn’t be utterly crushed by the news they were unable to get in touch with the Coast Guard.

Apparently Abby was thinking along the same lines. “You know,” she offered after they’d gone a couple hundred yards, “we’ll have to tell your mother that we might not get rescued today. I know she’s not going to like hearing it, but she’ll probably take the news a lot better if we tell her while it’s still daylight instead of waiting until it’s cold and dark.”

“You’re right,” Scott agreed morosely. He sighed, unsure how much of his mother’s story Abby needed to hear in order to understand how to deal with his mom. “It’s not that she’s a flighty person by nature. For most of my life I considered her to be pretty hardy, actually. But four years ago, my dad went out hunting and didn’t come back by suppertime. Mom knew something must be wrong, and she called me. I was living in Saint Paul, a good four-hour drive from home, so I couldn’t be there. She went out, alone, and found him on some land my family owns. He was dead.”

“Heart attack?” Abby asked, her voice concerned.

Scott shook his head. “Hunting accident.” He paused on the trail.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Abby came to a stop beside him, her face knit with empathy.

“His death was really hard for Mom to take. She’s had a difficult time ever since.”

“Financially?” Abby’s voice sounded sympathetic.

“No.” Scott thought her question seemed odd, especially given how many diamonds his mother had been wearing that morning. She didn’t look like a woman down on her luck, by his estimation. “Why would you think that?”

Abby blushed bright red. “I’m sorry. That’s horrible of me to ask. I just thought, well, since she and Mitch didn’t seem to get along so well…” She put one hand up and covered her face in an embarrassed gesture.

Trying not to smile at Abby’s embarrassment, Scott filled in the gaps. “You thought perhaps she’d married Mitch for his money.”

At his words, Abby hid behind both her hands. “It sounds terrible when you say it that way. I shouldn’t have even thought it, let alone said anything.”

“No, I understand. It makes sense, and given all the trouble we’ve found ourselves in on account of my mother’s diamonds, I’d say you have every right to ask about them. But those diamonds are about the only thing Mitch has ever given her, to my knowledge. He gave her several pieces of jewelry during their courtship, but since they married last summer he’s been living off her wealth. The truth is, my father left my mother very well taken care of. Father had a large life insurance policy, besides his investments and our family home. And then there’s always the family land.”

“Land?”

“Our family owns a few square miles of virgin forest, which to my understanding is worth several million 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.”

“No,” Abby informed them insistently, “it’s not humanly possible. The average temperatures of these waters are less than fifty degrees, even at the surface on a sunny day. Even with a life preserver, it’s unlikely the strongest of swimmers would make it as much as a mile before succumbing to hypothermia. Rocky Island is two miles from here. Scott would die before he got halfway there.” Abby recited the facts as she had so many times when she’d worked for the Park Service. Everyone seemed to underestimate the deadliness of the frigid waters. Far too often, it turned out to be a fatal mistake.

Mitch clearly didn’t appreciate being corrected. “The waves are going that direction,” he pointed out, “they’d practically carry him there. And I’m sure the surface water isn’t nearly as chilly as the deeper parts of the lake. Why, we’ve gone swimming in Lake Superior before and had a very pleasant time.”

Abby realized she’d touched a nerve, and possibly embarrassed him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Look, it’s a good idea. If this were a protected cove, and if the wind had been pushing warm surface water into a pool here, I’m sure Scott would have no problem swimming two miles. But this water is coming in from the open sea, where it’s constantly turned over from the cold water in the depths. It’s just not safe.”

In spite of her calm tone, Mitch pulled his arm away, clearly offended. “What other options do we have? Given the circumstances, I don’t think it’s too much to ask Scott to risk it.”

“And given the circumstances—” Abby met the man’s eyes and did her best to stare him levelly down “—it wouldn’t be a matter of risk. Striking out for Rocky Island as a swimmer would be suicide.” She let out a frustrated breath and tried to calm her agitated nerves. She didn’t like Mitch, and could understand why Scott had expressed a desire to avoid him. “Now, Marilyn is already doing her part by fishing to get us some supper. We have two poles. Why don’t you join her?”

With a little more cajoling, Mitch reluctantly agreed. Then she and Scott headed up the shoreline to the two ancient boathouses half-hidden among the boulders farther up the shore.

They found the canoe up in the rafters of the second boathouse. Scott regarded it with disgust. “I’m not so sure this thing is puddle-worthy, let alone seaworthy.” He assessed the ancient birchbark boat once they’d hefted it to the ground.

“If someone really did leave us here to die, it’s quite possible they left this here thinking we’d take it into the open water and drown,” Abby offered, then grinned at him. “But if so, then they seriously underestimated how seaworthy this kind of vessel can be. I believe this was once used as part of an educational display, but before that, it was built to be a functional canoe.” She lifted one of the single-bladed paddles from the bottom of the boat. “We’ve got everything we need. I say we use it.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. He wondered how Abby could possibly be serious. “You mean you would actually consider taking this boat out onto that lake?” He pointed at the choppy waves just beyond them.

“Not if I had a better option.” Abby met his eyes. “Why don’t we take it down to the dock and put it in the water? We can stay close to shore for a while and see how she holds up before we venture out very far.”

Given their lack of alternatives, Scott decided Abby’s suggestion sounded fair. She seemed to know plenty about the islands, and had the facts behind her to keep Mitch off his case. If he had to choose, he’d rather try the canoe than strike out for Rocky Island swimming. “Do you have much experience canoeing?”

“Not on the open sea,” Abby admitted, “but I think I can manage not to tip us over, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Scott appreciated her scrappy attitude, and realized he probably sounded like he was whining. The problem was, he felt responsible for everyone else’s safety, and he especially didn’t like the idea of putting Abby at risk by letting her join him out on the water. But he also realized the two-person canoe would be nearly useless to him if he tried to man it himself.

“Okay, let’s see what this relic can do,” he agreed, meeting Abby’s eyes and sensing apprehension there. So, she felt nervous, too. “I’m going to look for a bucket or something to bail with before we go, though. Even if this thing holds water, it’s not enclosed like a kayak. If we get into some high waves, we could be swamped in a hurry.”

“So you think we should try it?” Abby’s voice sounded less certain now that Scott had agreed to her plan.

Scott crouched down and ran his fingers slowly over the smooth brown birchbark stretched tight across the wooden frame. The boat seemed so fragile, almost paper-thin, and so old. Would they be crazy to take it out on the lake? What if they got far from shore and ran into trouble? Worse yet, what if the waves pushed them out past the islands, into the open sea? There was no way the antiquated craft would make it to the shore of Canada. He looked up at Abby. “What are our other options?”

Abby looked around uneasily. Scott could see their precarious situation was starting to weigh on her. She hunkered down next to him and sat on the cement floor of the boathouse. “Does anybody know you’re out here today?”

Her question made sense. How long would it be before anyone missed them, and would they know where to look for them even then? “I went out with some of the guys from work to celebrate my birthday last night,” he explained. “I told them Mitch and my mom wanted to take me to another island today. I’ve visited seventeen of the islands, and Mitch has gotten it into his head that I need to eventually visit all of them. So they know I’m out here, but they don’t know which island.”

“And they expect you back at work on Monday?”

Uneasiness stirred in his stomach. “Actually—” Scott swallowed, trying to force down the fear that rose in his throat “—no. I’d planned to be back in the office Monday, but the guys said I’d been working too hard lately and had too much vacation time racked up. They told me to take some more time off and spend the week out here. I wasn’t planning on it, but if I don’t show up on Monday, they’ll probably assume I’ve come to my senses and followed their advice for once.”

“And your folks were planning to drive the circle tour around Lake Superior?” Abby clarified. “Do they tend to check in with anyone regularly?”

Scott shook his head. “I doubt it. I suppose they’ve got hotel reservations here or there, but people don’t show up for reservations all the time. No one would raise an eyebrow.” The facts were stacked against anyone coming looking for them, and Scott didn’t like it. “What about you, Abby? How long would it take before anyone came out here looking for you?”

Abby froze. She could feel the cold of the cement boathouse floor seeping in through her legs, into her bones. So much had gone wrong on this trip. At Scott’s question, her fears about his reason for being on the island resurfaced. No one knew she was there. But did she dare admit as much to him?

“I don’t know,” she admitted cautiously. “I have a lot of coworkers at the Eagle Foundation.” She took a shaky breath and avoided his eyes. True, she had lots of coworkers, but they all telecommuted. She was the only one living in the Bayfield area. And though she tended to keep in touch regularly via e-mail, she’d had problems with her Internet connection in the past and been out of touch for days at a time. If no one heard from her for a week, they likely wouldn’t be too concerned. And all of her family lived in the Chicago area. Though she kept in close touch, she’d sometimes gone a week or more without contact. Likely they wouldn’t be alarmed if they didn’t hear from her for that long.

After a long pause, Scott probed further. “Do you think any of them would miss you? Does anyone know where you are today?”

What would happen if she told him the truth? Had Scott brought his mother to the island with evil intentions? And if so, why had he agreed to let her come along? Abby prayed silently in her heart, and felt her pulse rate still. She glanced at the boat, and realized there was no way she’d be able to paddle the lengthy craft on her own. If she was going to get off the island, she had to trust Scott—with the truth, and with her life.

“Nobody knows I’m here,” she admitted in a tiny whisper. “No one will miss me for several days, and even when they do, they won’t know where to look.” She stared at his face as she spoke, hoping for some sign of whether he felt relieved or worried by her admission.

Scott’s brow scrunched ever so slightly under the brim of his ball cap. Whether that was a good sign or bad, Abby wasn’t sure. She looked at the orange-brown wood of the boat, and then to the gray-blue sea. “What do you think? Should we risk it, or wait for help to come to us? We could always wait a few days and then try the canoe.”

“If we wait for help, we’ll only become weaker. We don’t have any food, we don’t have any source of heat, one of us could be injured at any time, and as you said yourself, storms blow up here with little warning. If we wait too long, we might not be able to try the canoe. Our best shot with this thing is to try it right now, before we get any more tired and hungry, before the weather changes and before it gets too close to sundown. After all, once we make it to Rocky Island, we still have to find the Ranger Station on the other side of the island. We don’t want to be wandering around in the woods in the dark.”