“I wasn’t dreaming,” Abigail said at the same time that Bruce said, “She’s not making this up, Chip.”
“I know. I know. I’m not suggesting. I’m just looking for a logical solution, that’s all, and one possibility is that you had a very vivid dream.”
Abigail said, “I was not dreaming. I was outside and chased Jill across the lawn and she went into the woods. I came back and woke Bruce up. Bruce, you felt me. I was cold.”
“I didn’t notice, Abigail, sorry,” Bruce said. “But let’s be logical. Abigail says she wasn’t dreaming, so she wasn’t dreaming. What if Jill came back to the island somehow? Maybe she forgot something, or maybe—”
“I know everyone who comes onto this island,” Chip interrupted. He rubbed at the edge of his nose with a finger.
“Then there’s only one conclusion,” Bruce said, then turned to Abigail. “You saw someone else, who looked like Jill. How many women are on this island, Chip? We’ll have to check.”
“Okay, I’ll do it. There aren’t many. It shouldn’t take too long.”
“It was Jill,” Abigail said, but she said it quietly. In her mind she was going back over exactly what had happened, trying to figure out if she could have possibly been wrong.
Bruce stood, then crouched in front of her and said, “We’ll find out what happened, I promise. We’ll figure it out.” He stood and turned to Chip, who had just stood up himself.
Abigail stood, too, hit with a wave of exhaustion tinged with nausea. “Can I call Jill?” she said, the words coming out just as the thought occurred to her.
“What do you mean?” Chip said.
“You must have her number, or the number of her husband. I want to call her, hear her voice, make sure she’s all right.”
“Sure, I can look into that. In the morning, okay? It’s three a.m. now. Try to get a few hours of sleep, both of you, and we’ll square this all away in the clear light of dawn.”
Abigail clenched her jaw, but she was tired—how much total sleep had she had since the wedding?—and a little bit of doubt had crept into her mind. Once, as a child, she had woken up and told her parents that a large black bird had been crouched on her chest and had fled out the window after she pushed it away. It had been so vivid that she believed for years it had really happened. But what had just happened to her was even more vivid, far more real than the bird.
“I don’t know,” she finally said out loud.
“As soon as it’s light,” Chip said, “I’ll send everyone I can into the woods to look for this woman. I promise.”
“That sounds good,” Bruce said.
“Okay,” Abigail said.
Bruce was quiet as they walked back down to their bunk. The moon was still bright enough so they could see clearly without needing lanterns, and Abigail was thinking about how the cold ground felt against her bare feet, how it had felt the same way earlier when she’d chased Jill. “Chip will take care of it,” Bruce said, as he held the door for her. Abigail entered without saying anything.
CHAPTER 18
With dawn light edging the windows, Abigail was about to get out of bed, even though she’d barely slept. But she closed her eyes for just a few moments, and the next thing she knew she was pulling herself up from a complicated dream, and Bruce was not beside her. It was almost ten o’clock.
She dressed quickly, running over the events of the previous night, then splashed some water on her face, swished her mouth with mouthwash, and left the bunk. It was a perfect autumn day, the air crisp and the sky a hard ultramarine blue. On her way to the lodge she glanced toward the pond, a single sailboat creasing its surface. Anger flared up in her. Why was someone sailing when Jill, or some other woman, might still be in the woods, bleeding and scared?
Even before she pushed through the doors into the lodge, she could smell cooked bacon and freshly baked bread. Over by the unmanned bar Bruce and Chip Ramsay were talking to a third man, someone she hadn’t seen before. He was tall, with stooped shoulders and white hair that was thinning at the front. She began walking toward them and Bruce noticed her, instantly breaking away from the group and coming across to intercept her.
“I thought I’d let you sleep,” he said.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“The good news is that Jill is fine.”
“They found her?”
“No, Abigail. They called her. This morning. Chip did. He talked with both her and Alec, and they were already back in California.”
Abigail felt a dropping sensation move coldly through her torso, despite the good news. “When?” she said, realizing as soon as she spoke that she sounded angry.
“It’s good news, Abigail,” Bruce said. “I know you’re sure you saw her, but you didn’t. I just think … I think you must have had a really vivid dream that felt one hundred percent real to you, but it wasn’t.”
“No,” she said. “If it wasn’t Jill, then it was someone who looked just like her. It wasn’t a dream. I know what dreams are, and that wasn’t one. It was real. Who’s Chip talking to?”
Bruce took Abigail’s arm, said, “Here, come with me. Talk with him. He’s the island detective.”
“He’s a police detective?”
“He’s a private detective,” Bruce said, and the man must have heard, because he turned toward them both, quickly reaching out his hand toward Abigail.
“I’m Bob Kaplan,” he said. “Chip here told me you had an interesting night.” He smiled at her, revealing very straight but very yellow teeth.
“I don’t know if it was interesting,” Abigail said. “It was pretty awful.”
“I know you’ve told Chip and Bruce all about it, but I’d love to hear what you saw.”
Abigail turned to Chip. “You talked with Jill?” she asked.
“I did. About twenty minutes ago. Alec, too.”
“I want to talk with her as well.”
Something crossed Chip’s
