13

Could it be that he wasn’t the only person with something to hide?

Bo scratched his neck as he stared up at the cottage from the beach. He’d walked down to the ocean, hoping to get close enough to the Windsors’ vacation home to be able to tell if Bastian was giving Ismay a hard time. He figured he’d make up an excuse to knock and interrupt if he had to, say he had to check on the roof or the wiring or some bullshit. Bastian wouldn’t know he was lying. He didn’t know how to do anything.

But it would seem odd that he’d come by so late. He felt he could potentially cover for it, but it was better that he didn’t need to. All was quiet, except his thoughts. What else, besides that photograph, had Ismay discovered at the cottage? Why did it alarm her so much? And where, exactly, had she found it?

It had to be something significant. She’d received that text from Bastian and hurried off before he could press the issue, but he was beginning to think he needed to get her to tell him, in case there was something to be worried about. She’d been talking about serial killers, for God’s sake. What on earth could’ve made her go there?

After pulling his phone from his pocket, he sent her a text.

Fortunately, she seemed to know what he meant and he didn’t have to clarify.

Violent? What could’ve alarmed her to that degree?

No response.

In his mind, that was a yes. She just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

That came as a relief. And yet she was still worried.

Again, no response.

His phone rang, and her name came up on his screen.

“Hi.”

“How late do you plan on staying up?” she asked, her voice soft enough to make him believe she didn’t want Bastian to overhear.

“As late as I need to in order to figure this thing out. Why?”

There was a long pause. “What you said before about certain signs meaning someone should take a closer look...”

“Yes...”

“Maybe you’re right. I’m not out to make a false accusation. I’m just...trying to be cautious, you know?”

He didn’t know, not exactly. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to show you,” she said.

Ismay waited until the TV went off and she heard Bastian walk up the stairs and past her door. Then she waited thirty minutes longer, just to give him more time to fall asleep before she climbed out of bed and texted Bo.

She’d wanted to meet in the backyard, but he’d made a good point. The window in the master overlooked the backyard.

After she pulled on some sweats, she took the duffel bag from its hiding place in the closet wall, moving as quietly as possible.

She hated even having it in her hands. But she found it comforting that she was going to share the burden of its existence with someone she liked and trusted—even though she hadn’t known Bo long. She needed a second opinion. If those items ever turned out to be the warning signal they seemed to be, and someone got hurt, she’d never be able to forgive herself.

Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, she thought wryly. But she’d been taught to do the right thing, so she hoped she was making the best choice. She hated knowing she might be doing her fiancé a disservice...

Sliding the handles of the duffel bag over her shoulder, she opened the bedroom door and peered into the hall.

Although everything downstairs was quiet and dark, the TV in the master was on. She had no way of knowing if Bastian was still awake, but she felt terrible keeping Bo up, so she decided not to wait any longer.

She checked for a light under Bastian’s door but couldn’t see anything beyond the shifting pattern of colors coming from the TV, so she drew a measured breath to calm her nerves and moved carefully down the stairs and across the living room to the front door.

She felt the most exposed here, in such a large space with no cover, so she didn’t even allow herself to look back. She just unlocked the door and slipped outside, hurrying across the porch and taking the stairs as fast as she could.

Almost before she knew it, she was running across the front yard, through the gate, and down the little walkway to the soft sandy beach.

Bo was waiting for her, as promised. In the light of a full moon, she could see him walking along the shoreline—his head bent, his white shirt rippling softly in the breeze, his khaki shorts low on his hips, and his feet bare despite the cold—and started to have second thoughts. Was she doing the right thing? She’d known Remy longer than she’d known Bo. She’d lived with Remy, slept with him. Why would she ever trust a stranger—this stranger—over him?

She almost turned back. But then Bo happened to glance up and see her, and she realized she couldn’t change her mind now. She’d already told him enough that he knew something was up—possibly something serious. And somehow, she did trust him.

“Bastian finally went to bed?” he said as she approached.

“Who knows? That guy’s a night owl, never seems to sleep. But he’s in his room with the TV on and the light off, so... I figured he couldn’t hear me leave the house.”

She grimaced as she slid the duffel bag off her arm and handed it to him. “I hope I’m doing the right thing...”

“This is what you found?” he asked.

She nodded.

“And where was it?”

“Hidden in the wall of Remy’s closet.”

His head came up. “In the wall?”

That was part of the reason she was worried. If those things were truly innocuous, why would they be in such a strange place—a place where someone who had something to hide would put them? “Yes. After the power went off, I was looking for a lighter and I noticed a loose board above the high shelf in the closet. I hoped I’d discover pot paraphernalia or something. But it was this duffel bag and its contents.”

He seemed concerned and curious as he unzipped the bag and looked inside. Then, because it was probably tough to see with his body creating a shadow, he squatted down, set the bag on the beach in front of him, and pulled out the panties and jewelry that were inside. “Where do you think this stuff came from?” he asked in surprise.

“That’s just it,” she said. “I don’t know.”

He held each pair of panties up and checked the size, something she hadn’t thought to do, mostly because she’d been loath to even touch them. “They’re not from the same person,” he said. “At least, they’re not all the same size.”

That didn’t make her feel any more comfortable.

“I’ve heard of men who like to wear women’s underwear. Maybe Remy’s one of them. But that doesn’t explain the jewelry,” he said, looking at a heart necklace.

“What do you think?” she asked.

He seemed as bewildered as she was. “I can’t say with any degree of certainty. But... I can tell you what it reminds me of.”

The apprehension in his voice caused her heart to sink. She could tell he was reluctant to say, and she could guess why. “Trophies?” she volunteered.

He blanched but nodded. “Maybe it wasn’t Remy who put this stuff in the wall...”

“That’s what I want to believe,” she said. “But I found his notebook with it—not inside the wall but very close to the loose board.”

“How do you know it was his notebook?”

“His name’s on the cover. And I recognize his work.”

He pulled the photograph out of the bag, sat on the beach instead of squatting, and used his phone’s flashlight to study it.

“This is all so weird, isn’t it?” she said as she stood over him and watched. “Do you think whoever owned the cottage before Remy’s family might’ve left this stuff there? It’s possible he didn’t know what was right behind the wall when he put his notebook on that shelf.”

“His family has owned that house for three generations. These panties would look very different if they were from a hundred years ago,” he said.

“True.” The style and brands looked like those she’d been familiar with growing up. That was partly what alarmed her. The items inside weren’t that old. The jewelry made it possible to date them as well. “Who could that girl be? I tried using Google’s facial recognition software, but... I couldn’t come up with anything.”

He didn’t respond.

“Bo?”

“Hmm?”

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I should keep this stuff and try to figure out where it came from.”

“No! What if it’s Remy’s and he tries to look for it?”

“That’s a good point. But if we return it to that hole in the wall, you’ll need to send me that picture, at least. It’s too dark to snap another.”

“And what will you do with it?”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

A shiver rolled down her spine. What was she getting herself into? Did she really want to dig further? This was a small island. What were the chances that Remy wouldn’t hear something about it? “I don’t know if we should do anything,” she said.

Bo put everything back inside the duffel bag and zipped it before getting up and handing it to her. “Ismay, this stuff raises some serious questions. I think we need to figure out where it came from.”

She gripped her forehead. “What if Remy finds out?”

Bo didn’t look as though he had a good answer. “I’ll do my best to keep it quiet, but I guess there are no guarantees.”

Should she just tell her fiancé about what she’d found? She would rather be up front about it. But if she told him, and he was guilty of harming the women who’d owned these panties and jewelry, he’d just deny it. She couldn’t see how that would help. She’d just wonder if she could believe him, introducing more tension into their relationship.

The best possible option was to try to determine who the girl was and go from there. She might as well do all she could to quiet her fears. Maybe by the time he arrived, she’d have the answers she needed and would be able to move forward without the nagging doubts and concerns that’d plagued her since finding that duffel.

She’d actually had doubts about marrying Remy before she came to Mariners, she reminded herself. That was partly why what she’d found had rattled her so badly. But putting her questions on the contents and placement of that duffel bag to rest would enable her to focus on the smaller problems she’d been expecting to sort out this summer. She’d be relieved just to return to her former anxieties and fears.

“It probably won’t come to anything,” she said.

“You’re right,” Bo agreed. “I doubt it will. But...”

“Just in case,” she finished for him.

“Just in case,” he repeated.

She covered her face with one hand before dropping it so she could text him the image. “Okay. But please...be as discreet as possible.”

“Trust me, if anyone in the Windsor family finds out I’m asking questions that could even remotely imply one of them might be guilty of a crime, I’d lose my job. So I’m not eager for them to find out, either.”

“Oh, no,” Ismay said with a wince. “I probably shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I didn’t realize it could put you at risk. I just... I don’t know... I trust you, for some reason. I—I like you.”

There was a second when his eyes met hers and she could’ve sworn he was about to say he liked her, too. She could tell he did. But he straightened instead, and his smile morphed into a scowl. “It’s probably better if we don’t get too close,” he said. “But I’ll let you know what I find.”

Surprised that he’d suddenly stiff-armed her, she felt her jaw drop. She wanted to make it clear that she hadn’t meant too much by what she’d said, but he didn’t give her the chance. He headed down the beach, no doubt intending to circle around to his house farther up the shoreline.

Stung by his reaction, she dropped the duffel bag on the sand, sank down next to it, and burrowed deeper into her sweatshirt while watching the white foamy waves roll almost all the way up to her feet before falling back into the ocean. Had she been out of line? Had what she’d said sounded as though she was making a play for him?

Maybe so. She’d been too impetuous, spoken directly from the heart, which embarrassed her now. She took out her phone to text him an apology, but she was afraid making a point of that would only turn the incident into a bigger gaffe.

Instead, she messaged her brother. I can’t wait until you get here. Maybe then, with his steadying influence, she could find her balance again...

She dropped her head back to appeal to the moon. “Tomorrow night?” That didn’t give her much time. But she could see why he’d leave immediately if he was going to leave at all. Why suffer through facing everyone in Tremonton if he didn’t have to?

Perfect, she wrote back. But nothing seemed to be perfect at the moment.

Bo was restless when he returned to the cabin. He should’ve been worried about the items in that duffel bag, and he was. Because of his experience with other inmates, he knew better than most what a stash like that could signify. But it was the way he’d reacted to Ismay’s declaration that had him all twisted up inside. He’d never expected to care about anything or anyone Remy liked, but he definitely cared for Ismay. He wished he could show her how much better he’d treat her. But he had too much to hide to allow their friendship to grow. He didn’t really have anything to offer her, anyway. What would such a lovely woman—an attorney, no less—want with an ex-con?

I trust you, for some reason. Just hearing her say that reminded him he was a fraud. She’d hate him once she learned. But what she’d discovered in the wall of Remy’s closet made him think that Remy might be the bigger fraud. And Remy could be far more dangerous. Although Bo couldn’t afford to get involved in anything that might drag him under the microscope, he’d known men who’d kept similar trophies, and he knew what they had done, knew firsthand that evil men often appeared to be perfectly normal. If there was a monster like some of the inmates he’d served time with running around free, he had to do something about it.

He pulled up the picture Ismay had sent him and saved it to his photos. He needed to find out who the girl was, and he needed to do it without making any waves. But that wasn’t going to be easy. The Windsors had been a prominent family on the island for three generations. They were well-established, well-known, and, because of their money, well-respected. If Remy was hurting others, and he was smart about it, he could operate with impunity for years. Maybe he already had. Digging to find out if there was something serious going on could cost Bo his job or cause others to look deeper into his past, but if he didn’t take that risk and make sure the items Ismay had discovered were meaningless, who would?

Even if his efforts only saved Ismay from marrying a man like some of those he’d known in prison, it’d be worth it.

After the way their meeting on the beach had ended, Ismay hated to bother Bo again. But with her brother flying in tonight at ten, she had to see if he would talk to Honey. She’d reserved a room for Jack at Hotel Mariners at three hundred and fifty dollars a night. With tourist season upon them, that was the best price she could get, but she knew the financial drain would wear on him so quickly, he’d probably turn around and go home after a few days. That was a lot of money to him—to them both. She needed to be able to promise him that he wouldn’t have to pay it for long, and Bo was the only person she knew on the island who could help her find an alternative. She certainly wasn’t going to ask Bastian for help.

She’d wanted to bring Bo lunch again. She felt she owed him for all the help he’d given her, including the support he was offering on what she’d found in that duffel bag. But after what she’d said to him last night, she was afraid he’d read too much into another meal. So once she’d showered and told Remy’s brother she was going to take an Uber to town to wander through the art galleries and the whaling museum—which he, fortunately, had no interest in doing—she left, and as soon as she was out of sight of the house, veered off the road to go to the bungalow.

Bo was back on the roof, continuing to fix the damage caused by the storm, so she had to yell above his hammer to attract his attention.

Once he heard her voice, he stood. He was wearing a pair of shorts with tennis shoes and no shirt, just a tool belt slung low on his hips.

She tried not to notice how well-defined his arms, shoulders, and chest were. He didn’t have a six-pack, but it was close, so his stomach was quite remarkable, too. Although Remy wasn’t nearly as muscular, he was certainly attractive. She knew Bo’s torso was the last thing she should be admiring.

“Hey, sorry to bother you again,” she said when she realized she had his attention. “I was hoping... Is there any chance we could talk for a sec?”

He glanced in the direction of the cottage, as if he was wary that Bastian might’ve followed her. But then he crossed over to the ladder and came down. “Is everything okay?” he asked. “Did you get that stuff...put away?”

He was obviously referring to the duffel bag. “I did. It’s back behind the wall.”

“Good.”

“This is about something else.”

“Bastian?”

“Jack. He’s coming in tonight. I have a room for him over at Hotel Mariners, but I’m afraid those prices will make him want to leave almost as soon as he gets here, and I’d hate for him to spend the money on the flight to come out here only to feel he has to go right back to the farm.”

“You need me to talk to Honey sooner rather than later.”

“If you would. I hate to ask you, but when Remy found out Jack was coming, he wasn’t happy about it. I can’t have Jack stay at the cottage.”

“I can’t believe any of the Windsors would mind.”

“Really?” she said skeptically.

“Surely, your fiancé can help out your brother,” he insisted.

It was saying something that she felt more comfortable asking Bo for his understanding and help than Remy’s. But she didn’t want to examine that too closely. “If Remy hadn’t set his expectations for a great summer so high—and didn’t feel it was a reward for his hard work—he probably wouldn’t mind letting Jack stay. But...” Hearing how selfish that sounded in the face of what Jack was going through, she stopped and tried again. “I don’t want to feel as though I’m taking advantage of his family’s generosity, and if Honey needs someone to house-sit anyway—”

Bo lifted a hand. “I know Remy and—well, you’ve said enough. So just give me a minute. I’ll grab a shirt.”

“Now?” she asked. Wasn’t he going to finish what he was doing?

“I’ll take you over to Honey’s. I think it will help to have you meet her.”

“It doesn’t have to happen that fast. I feel terrible interrupting you. I just...wanted to let you know, as soon as possible, that he’s coming tonight.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “You’ll rest easier once we have this handled.”

“I will, but I’m not trying to turn my problems into your problems. I seem to be coming to you for everything.”

He looked down before meeting her gaze again. “That’s what friends are for.”

She felt a smile stretch across her face. She liked this man entirely too much.