Filtered light struck her eyelids. Nicole groaned and threw her hand over her eyes. The brightness pierced her skull like a knife. She licked dry lips, then pried one lid open, wincing when the brilliance intensified. She rolled to her back, then sat up.
Where was she? The sound of the surf rolled through the small window covered by a grimy curtain. Her head pounded, and she staggered to her feet. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the light, and she glanced around. She seemed to be in a small building. Overhead were wooden planks, and she could see thatching through the boards. Her sandals and hat were missing, and so was her pink cover-up. She wore only her swimsuit. The dirt floor under her bare feet was cool and damp.
When she put her hand on the door, a rough wooden one, it moved. Surprised it wasn’t locked, she stepped out of the shack and onto a mixture of sand and grass. A small beach began twenty feet away. She glanced around and realized she was on a tiny island, barely as big as her yard at home. No other land in the distance as far as she could see. Trying not to panic, she walked along the shore, straining to see something—anything—in the distance. There was nothing but seagulls and waves.
She was incredibly thirsty. Maybe there were provisions in the shack. And what was she doing here? The last thing she could remember was talking to Libby about the inheritance she’d discovered.
She fingered the soreness on her jaw. Ducking into the shack, she circled the perimeter of the space, about sixteen feet square. There was no kitchen, just the small cot and a camp chair. No food or water. Maybe there was a stream on the little island that she’d missed.
She went back into the sunshine and cut behind the shack. No cistern, no stream. Her head spun, and she fought back the rising panic. She’d better get out of the heat and inside. As she skirted the side of the shack, she heard a boat’s motor putt-putting along. Maybe she could get help! She ran to the beach and shaded her eyes with her hand. A small craft rode the waves. Maybe a fisherman?
She shouted and waved. “Help! I need help!”
The bow of the boat headed for the beach where she stood. As it neared, she saw that it held a young man about seventeen or eighteen. The wind whipped his dark hair, and he waved back. When the boat was just offshore, he shut off the motor and threw an anchor overboard. He jumped into the water, and the waves came to midthigh, barely dampening the hem of his black shorts. He reached back into the boat and extracted a box.
She waded out to meet him. When he reached her, she grabbed his arm. “I’m so glad you came this way. I need help. I don’t remember how I got here, but I’ll pay you to take me back to Hope Island.”
Frowning, he shook off her grip. “I brought you some food and water.”
She took a step back. “You knew I was here?” She struggled to make sense of it.
He brushed past her and walked toward the shack. “The water should last a couple days and the food is stuff like bread and peanut butter. Your brother will come get you when the room at the mental facility is ready.”
She followed him inside. “I don’t understand. I don’t have a brother. You’re not making any sense.”
He set the box on the dirt floor by the cot and opened it. “Like I said, this should last you a few days. I’ll be back then with more.”
He was going to leave her. She grabbed his forearm and squeezed. “Listen to me! I don’t have a brother. You can’t leave me here.”
He glanced at her, then backed away as if she frightened him. “He said you’d say that. It’s only for a little while, until he can get you in. You tried to stick him with a knife, and he can’t trust you around people. The mental hospital will have an opening in a couple of weeks. It’s for your own good.”
His expression was closed. She bolted for the door, slamming it shut behind her to slow him down. If she could get to the boat first, she could get away. She ran to the water and struggled through the waves to the craft, where she threw herself into the bottom of it. Sitting up, she saw him running toward her. She grabbed the rope with the anchor and yanked it up, then scrambled back to try to start the motor.
He reached the water and plunged toward her. She tugged on the rope to start the engine, but she didn’t pull it hard enough. Before she could try again, he was at the side of the vessel. She kicked at his hands with her bare feet, but he hauled himself aboard. He grabbed her arm, and she bit his hand. Tasting blood, she bit harder and clawed at him with her nails. He grabbed her hair, tearing the dangling ponytail holder free before he finally seized her.
He shoved her overboard, and she came up spitting salt water. “Please, you have to help me,” she panted.
“You are one crazy chick,” he said. Using an oar, he pushed the boat away, then turned and started the engine.
She screamed and shouted for him to come back, but he didn’t even look at her. Sobbing, she collapsed onto the beach.
Alec cruised by his house on the way to the hotel. Zach’s bike was parked in front of the house, but Alec’s gut clenched when he saw Zach tying off to the piling. He’d obviously been out in the old boat in spite of having been grounded. What was he going to do with that kid? Alec couldn’t be here 24/7 when he had to work. And Zach was old enough to start taking responsibility for himself.
“I need to stop here at the house for a minute if you don’t mind,” Alec said.
“Of course. Is that your son?”
Alec parked the truck by the garage just off the street. “My nephew. My brother and his wife are dead, and I’ve got custody. As of two weeks ago.” He shoved open his door.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I am too.” He led the way to the house.
“Do you mind if I use your restroom?”
“Help yourself.” He should have thought to offer. He got out of the truck and led the way to the house.
“Cute,” she said, pausing on the stoop. “Built in the fifties?”
He nodded and took a glance at the all-too-familiar two-story. It was white clapboard with gray shutters and a red door. “You’re good. I bought it from my parents when they moved to Richmond.” He held the door open for her and pointed down the hall to the bathroom. The place was fairly clean. “I’m going to go down to talk to Zach.”
His house was right on the harbor, and his fishing boats were docked just offshore. He stepped around to the back by the upper deck, which was anchored into the sand with pilings. Zach climbed down into the rubber boat and rowed to the small dock by the house. The boy had to have seen him standing on the pier, but Zach didn’t wave. He probably knew he was in trouble. Alec waited until the raft reached the dock. Tight-lipped, he tied up the rope Zach tossed to him.
Zach stepped over the side of the boat and onto the pier. He tossed a cheeky grin Alec’s way. “I got a job, Uncle Alec!”
Alec’s lecture died on his lips. “What kind of job?”
“I’m delivering some supplies.” Zach glanced at him from under a lock of dark hair. “I know I was grounded, but Grandpa has been on me to get a job, and this was too good to pass up.”
He wanted to ask how the job had come Zach’s way while he was supposed to be staying home, but Alec bit back the words. “School is starting again soon. Will the hours be okay?”
Zach shook his head. “It will be over before school starts. It’s supposed to last from two to four weeks.”
“You should have called me.”
“I tried. You didn’t answer your phone.”
Alec lifted a brow and pulled out his phone. Sure enough, it showed a missed call. Maybe when he and Libby had been in transit to the beach. It hardly paid to have a phone on the island. “Okay, but when you’re not working, you still need to be at the house.”
Zach brushed past him. “I know, I know. Sheesh, give me a break. I’m doing the best I can.”
Maybe he was. The boy was so much like Alec was at that age. Always pushing the boundaries, impatient to be his own man, looking at anyone in authority with derision. At least Zach had a job. That was progress.
“Okay,” Alec called after him. “I’m proud of you for getting a job.”
Zach just hunched his shoulders and bounded up the stairs to the deck overlooking the water. He plopped down in a chair and pulled an electronic game out of his pocket. The back door opened, and Libby stepped out onto the deck. Alec jogged to intercept her. She’d take one look at Zach and think the kid was a hoodlum. Alec reached the top of the deck as she stepped to where Zach sat.
“You must be Zach,” Libby said.
Zach didn’t look up from his game. “Yeah.”
“Ready?” Alec said. “Your place is about two miles out of town.”
Zach looked up then. “The old Mitchell place?”
Libby nodded.
“You’re staying there?”
“I own it,” Libby said. “I’m Ray Mitchell’s oldest daughter.”
Zach looked her up and down. “Boy, is Brent ticked. He had plans for that place.”
“He’s twenty-two,” Alec pointed out. “What kind of plans could he have?”
Zach slouched into his chair. “Forget it.”
Suppressing a sigh, Alec touched Libby’s elbow. “Tom should be there any minute.”
She resisted the pull on her arm. “I’d really like to hear what Zach has to say,” she said. “You probably already know this, Zach, but I didn’t even know I had a brother and sister until yesterday.”
His head came up and his eyes widened. “No kidding? Brent didn’t say anything about that in the ice-cream shop. Just that some woman he’d never met was going to have the property. Said it was his sister.”
“Did he know about me before our father died?”
Zach shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I’d like to meet him. And Vanessa. Do they know I’m here?”
“I don’t think so. He figures you’ll sell the place. There’s an investor after it hot and heavy.”
“Oh?” There was interest in her voice.
Alec had heard the rumors. Now that the land was out of Ray’s hands, everything was liable to change. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.