“You flew here, right? It’s about twenty minutes.”
“No, I mean, how long does it take to arrange a flight, get someone to come here from the mainland?”
“Not very long. Casco Air always has a plane available, unless the weather’s bad.”
“Thanks. Just checking. What’s your name?”
“It’s Aaron, Mrs. Lamb,” he said, and something about the fact that he knew her name made her feel a little on edge. Did all the staff know everything that was happening with the guests? Well, of course they did. There weren’t that many guests, and Bruce was a part-owner, after all.
Back downstairs Bruce and Alec were still in their chairs, still talking, and Jill was sitting near them, staring at the back of her hand. For a moment she had thought Jill was looking at a cell phone, but of course she wasn’t. As Abigail walked toward the group, Bruce looked up at her and made a face that she immediately read as, Save me from talking to this guy any longer.
Abigail went over and touched Bruce’s shoulder, told everyone she was exhausted and wanted to call it a night.
CHAPTER 16
The next morning Abigail told Bruce about her plans to meet Jill at the pool before lunch.
“You’ve made a friend,” he said.
“Not really. She’s just … I think she’s feeling a little outnumbered here on this island by all the men.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “How about you?”
“Oh, definitely outnumbered. You’re more than welcome to come, though. Remember that we weren’t supposed to separate.”
“Come where?”
“Swimming. With Jill and me. She’s going to invite Alec, too.”
“Alec’s trying to get me to invest in a movie about a serial killer who’s killing one woman in every state in the country. He goes, ‘You know how some mountain climbers want to bag the biggest peak in every state? This killer wants to bag a woman in every state and get away with it.’”
“Sounds horrible,” Abigail said.
“I agree. It will probably make a fortune.”
They were eating breakfast outside on the veranda. It was still cool, but the skies had cleared and everything was bathed in a soft morning light. Abigail had actually slept the night before. She hadn’t thought it was possible—her mind buzzing with all the new information she’d gotten—but after going over and over her conversation with Zoe on the phone and with Jill after dinner she’d actually slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she woke up, there had been about two minutes during which she just lay there in the comfort of the bed, her mind blank, before it all came rushing back. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Zoe had said about Scott Baumgart, real name Eric Newman, and how his wife had drowned on their honeymoon. It was obvious that what had happened with him was a driving force behind him being here stalking Abigail, but was he some kind of psychopath, or was he simply grieving? And what was the deal with Jill, and an ex-boyfriend of hers showing up during her honeymoon? What were the chances that something so similar would happen to both Jill and Abigail?
Bruce stirred beside her in the bed, and Abigail formed a plan. This morning she would go and see Jill at the pool. If they were alone, she’d tell her what was going on with her and Eric Newman. It would be good to get another opinion. Abigail decided that the best thing to do—no matter how dishonest it was—was to simply tell Bruce this afternoon that she needed to leave the island right away. She hadn’t quite figured out what she was going to say to him yet. She considered just telling him that she was having panic attacks, being so cut off from civilization, but was worried that he’d try to get her to confront her fears instead of calling for the plane to get them. Maybe she’d complain of severe stomach pain, try to convince him she had appendicitis. Or she could go with the idea she’d already considered when making the phone call—telling him that Zoe was in crisis. If she could convince him that it was bad enough, then he’d be forced to get her off the island. She hated the idea of doing that—of all the lying—but she now realized that getting off of Heart Pond Island was what needed to happen. It would solve the problem of Eric Newman, at least temporarily.
“I’m going for a walk again. You want to come along?” Bruce said, after finishing his eggs Benedict.
“Sure,” Abigail said. “Just so long as we get back here around ten-thirty.”
After leaving the bunk, they walked down a well-trodden path to the edge of Heart Pond, then out along a wooden dock. Up close, the pond seemed larger, almost like a lake. Abigail lay down on her stomach on the warmed wooden slats of the dock and peered into the clear water. A fish darted by and Abigail ran her fingers along the surface of the pond, the water surprisingly warm. “We could swim in here,” she said.
“Well, you could,” Bruce replied. “I’ll go sailing.”
Abigail turned over and sat up. She’d forgotten her sunglasses and shaded her eyes as she looked around the edges of the pond. There was a boathouse, probably where the sailboats were kept, and next to the boathouse there was a stack of kayaks, plus a few canoes. It was all pretty rustic, and Abigail was surprised. Considering the renovations made on the main camp, she’d imagined that there’d be top-of-the-line boating equipment down at the pond. She kept moving her eyes along the shoreline and spotted another boathouse on the other side of the pond. Above it loomed a lodge, shrouded by dark woods.
“Is that the other camp?” she said.
“That was the girls’ camp, yes. We’re going to start renovating that in the spring.”
“Then you can put all the women there and you won’t have to have any at your camp,” she said, raising her
