There was a strange wavering cry that came from the pond, followed by another, similar cry. She thought it was probably loons, even though she’d never heard one before. But somewhere in her past—or in a book she’d read—she’d heard that their cries were ghostlike. She watched the sliver of the pond that she could see. Its surface was glassy in the early morning light, and a hazy mist was rapidly dissipating.
The doors behind her opened and Bruce stepped out onto the veranda. “You’re up early,” he said.
“Temporarily up,” she said. “No guarantee I’m not going back to bed. Did you hear the loons?”
“No,” he said.
“I think they were loons. Either that or the pond is haunted.”
“What do you want to do for breakfast?” he asked.
“Can we have it brought here? Scrambled eggs on toast?”
“Sounds perfect. Oh, is that one?”
The loons had made their cries again.
“Yep,” Abigail said, and for a brief moment she almost turned and told him everything, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew that once the words were out, the rest of their lives would instantly change. She didn’t want to lose him, and she didn’t want to hurt him.
“I’ll order breakfast,” Bruce said, and went back into the bunk, closing the doors behind him.
CHAPTER 13
After they’d eaten, Abigail asked Bruce if he wanted to go swimming at the pool.
“I was thinking of taking a walk around the island,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. “Do you want to meet for lunch?”
“Sure,” he said. “If we don’t see each other back here, then lunch at one-ish in the lodge?”
She agreed, thinking it felt a little strange that they were splitting up, but she was actually glad for the opportunity to be alone. It would give her a chance to find Scottie, or a chance for him to find her, and to talk.
She’d packed both a one-piece and a bikini but put on the dark red one-piece. She didn’t know exactly what the indoor pool would look like, but she was hoping for swimming lanes. It would feel good to burn some energy.
She put jeans and a sweater on over her bathing suit, then kissed Bruce goodbye and walked up the path toward the lodge. She felt exposed, the blank eyes of the bunks all watching her. There was a man up ahead, exiting the lodge and making his way down toward the pond, and she thought for one stomach-tightening moment that it was Scottie, but he turned her way and she could see the white of his beard. It wasn’t him.
She entered the lodge even though Bruce had explained to her that the pool and spa area was just past the lodge and into the woods a little way. But she had decided that it was worth a shot to see if she could get some information on her stalker. It bothered her that he knew who she was but she had no idea even what his real name was. Once inside the lodge—there was the distinctive smell of something fresh-baked coming from the dining area—she glanced around, looking for anything resembling a front desk. She was about to head in the direction of the dining room when one of the employees—it was the woman, actually, who had seated her and Bruce at their table the night before—fast-walked across the hall toward her.
“Hi, Mrs. Lamb, what can I help you with?” she said.
“I actually have a … What’s your name?”
“It’s Mellie.”
“Thanks, Mellie. I was wondering if you could help me out. I saw someone last night that I know, but I can’t remember his name.”
“Do you know what bunk he’s staying in?” Mellie said.
“I don’t. Sorry. I can describe him to you.”
“Sure.”
Abigail thought for a moment, and then said, “He has a brown beard and blue eyes, and last night he was wearing either very dark blue jeans or black jeans, and a roll-neck sweater.”
Mellie smiled, then said, “Scott Baumgart.”
“Oh,” Abigail said, and there must have been a look of surprise on her face.
“Is that not him?” Mellie said.
“No, that sounds right. Scott.”
“He got in late last night.”
“Thanks, Mellie.”
“Not a problem, Mrs. Lamb.”
“You can call me Abigail,” she said. She hadn’t officially taken Bruce’s last name yet, although she knew he’d like her to do it. Still, it felt strange to be referred to as a Mrs., let alone a Mrs. Lamb.
“Not a problem, Abigail. Anything else?”
“I was planning on going for a swim.”
“Lucky you. You know how to get there?”
“I think so. Back outside, and towards the woods.”
“I can show you the secret passageway, if you’d like,” Mellie said.
Abigail agreed and followed Mellie behind the bar and into a part of the lodge that felt as though it was for employees only. There were stacks of chairs and boxes of wine, and there was actual fluorescent lighting in tracks along the ceiling. They went down some cement stairs, Mellie walking fast in her khakis and white shirt, and Abigail briefly wondered if it was a good
