The Island

“Quench the maternal instincts,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We may well be talking criminals here. Hell, we’re definitely talking criminals.”

“Or misdirected young people who just need a helping hand,” she said firmly. All her life, Molly had been involved. Blessed with Ted, her high-school sweetheart, she’d worked alongside him at many a club. Then—when she hadn’t been able to produce the family she would have loved—she’d tried to help out where she could, at the church, with the homeless, and for various good causes, raising funds, even working soup kitchens. She could afford to, once Ted began making good money.

And she remained blessed. At sixty-five, she was no spring chick. But she was in good health, good shape, and pleased, mainly for Ted’s sake, that people would say what an attractive woman she was.

“It’s food, Ted. Nothing but a little food,” she assured him. “And the last handout we’re giving, since we’re setting off on our own excursion.”

He sighed, and a small smile crept over his face. Coming to her, he wrapped his arms around her. “How did I get so lucky?” he asked.

“Chance?” she teased, smiling.

He gave her a swat on the bottom. She giggled. Flirting was fun. They were older now, so a pat on the behind didn’t lead to an afternoon in the handsome master cabin. Forget Viagra. He had a heart condition; she wouldn’t let him take it. When there was this kind of amazing affection and closeness after so many years, nothing needed to be pushed.

In his arms, she thought with wonder what a great life they’d had together, and how wonderful it was that they still had each other—and the Retired! They could go anywhere, live out their dreams, explore—wherever the whim took them—and do it all in luxury.

“Okay, woman, we’re moving on, so go and be lady bountiful, and then we’ll get cracking,” he said firmly.

“Right.”

Molly headed for the ladder that would take her to the deck, her bag of goodies in her arms. She hummed softly as she emerged topside.

For a moment she just stared, confused. She even started to smile.

Then the tune she had been humming abruptly halted, broken on the air.

Her mouth began to work.

No sound came.

TED HEARD, OR THOUGHT HE HEARD, a slight sound from topside.

“Molly?”

No answer.

“Molly?” he called, a little louder this time.

He felt a little thud against his heart. Maybe she had fallen, taking the dinghy, getting on or off the main boat. Hurt herself. Worse. They were neither of them young. What if she’d suffered some kind of attack? Fallen—maybe unconscious—into the water?

He leaped up, some instinct suddenly warning him of danger.

He ran up the steps to the deck.

And froze.

Two thoughts occurred to him.

What an ass he had been!

And then…

Molly, oh, Molly, Molly…

“Time to talk, Ted,” snapped an angry voice.

“I can’t tell you what you want to know,” he protested, tears in his eyes.

“I think you can.”

“I can’t! I swear, before God, I would if I could.”

“Start thinking, Ted. Because trust me, you will tell me what you’ve found.”

1

IT WAS A SKULL.

That much Beth Anderson knew after two seconds of dusting off bits of dirt and grass and fallen palm debris.

“Well?” Amber demanded.

“What is it?” Kimberly asked, standing right behind Amber, anxiously trying to look over her shoulder.

Beth glanced up briefly at her fourteen-year-old niece and her niece’s best friend. Until just seconds ago, the two had been talking a mile a minute, as they always did, agreeing that their friend Tammy was a bitch, being far too cruel to her best friend, Aubrey, who in turn came to Amber and Kimberly for friendship every time she was being dissed by Tammy. They weren’t dissing anyone themselves, they had assured Beth, because they weren’t saying anything they wouldn’t say straight to Tammy’s face.

Beth loved the girls, loved being with them, and was touched to be the next best thing to a mother for Amber, who had lost her own as an infant. She was accustomed to listening to endless discussions on the hottest music, the hottest new shows and the hottest new movies—and who did and didn’t deserve to be in them, since the girls were both students at a magnet school for drama.

The main topic on their hot list had recently become boys. On that subject, they could truly talk endlessly.

But now their continual chatter had come to a dead stop.

Kimberly had been the one to stub her toe on the unknown object.

Amber had been the one to stoop down to look, then demand that her aunt come over.

“Well?” Kim prodded. “Dig it up, Beth.”

“Um…I don’t think I should,” Beth said, biting her lower lip.

It wasn’t just a skull. She couldn’t see it clearly, there was so much dirt and debris, but despite the fact that it was half hidden by tangled grasses and the sandy ground, she could see more than bone.

There was still hair, Beth thought, her stomach churning.

And even tissue.

She didn’t want the girls seeing what they had discovered any more closely.

Beth felt as if the blood in her veins had suddenly turned to ice. She didn’t touch the skull; she carefully laid a palm frond over it, so she would recognize the spot when she returned to it. She wasn’t about to dig anything up with the girls here.