The Island. Heather Graham
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reach the beach. It was beautiful. Once upon a time there had been a very small naval base on Calliope Key, a research center. It had been abandoned, but back toward the interior the ruins of the old buildings remained, allowing a safe haven of sorts if the weather turned really foul. Today, though, the sun was streaming down, a soft breeze was blowing, and the sea appeared incredibly serene.
Ben was on the beach, barefoot, in cutoffs and shades, dressed remarkably like the man who had just scared Beth. He glanced up when he saw them coming. “Back so soon? I thought you were exploring, seeing if there was anyone else around.”
At thirty-four, Beth thought, her brother was in his prime. He had, however, taken the task of raising his daughter to heart. Despite the fact that he had lost his wife years ago, he was still far more prone to spend his nights at home rather than out at the boat clubs—though he did belong to Rock Reef, where she worked as a social director—seeking companionship. Beth actually wished he would be more of a sinner at times. She knew how much Amber meant to him, but she was afraid that he wasn’t allowing much room in his life for the future. He had been madly in love with Amber’s mom, his high-school sweetheart, and nothing had ever changed his desire to see that Amber had everything he could provide, including his company—whether she wanted it or not, since Amber had reached that age where she wanted to spend her nights prowling the malls with her friends, rather than bonding with her dad. She adored him. She was simply being a teenager.
“We were exploring,” Beth said.
“We met a guy,” Amber said.
“Wicked cute,” Kimberly added.
Beth groaned.
“Wicked cute young, or wicked cute old?” Ben asked, a sparkle in his eyes.
“Wicked cute your age, or Aunt Beth’s age…well, I don’t know,” Amber said. “He’s not a kid, anyway.”
“Ah.” Ben winked at Beth. “They trying to play matchmaker?”
“I hope not,” she said too sharply.
“So, he wasn’t wicked cute?”
“Oh, no, he was good-looking.”
“But…?” Ben teased.
“Not my type,” she said quickly.
Amber sighed dramatically. “The two of you are hopeless.”
“He’s a total stranger, and you don’t go around trusting total strangers,” Beth snapped.
Ben arched a brow. She tended to be the one who nagged him to lighten up on Amber.
“Girls, go grab the barbecue equipment, will you?” Beth asked.
“She’s going to tell you about the skull,” Amber said.
“Skull?” Ben had been fiddling with one of the tent poles. He went still, staring at Beth with a wary question in his eyes.
“Kim stubbed her toe on something, and…I think it’s actually a skull,” Beth said.
“Did you…pick it up?” Ben asked.
“No, I thought you and I should go take a look. And then, if it’s what I think, radio the authorities. I didn’t want to dig it up with the girls there,” Beth said. She bit her lip. “Except…I’m not so sure we should leave them alone on the beach.”
Ben shook his head. “Beth, this island has been a boaters’ paradise forever.”
“I know that.”
“The naval base has been closed for decades—people who come here have boats and are…well, boat people.”
“I know that, too.”
“So…?” he said softly.
She cleared her throat, glancing at the girls, who clearly weren’t about to leave.
“Ben, damn it! Remember that couple…Ted and Molly Monoco?”
“What about them?” Ben asked, frowning.
“They were last seen here, on this island.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “So what? They had a state-of-the-art yacht and intended to sail around the world, Beth.”
“They disappeared. I heard it on the news several months ago,” she responded stubbornly.
Ben let out a deep sigh. “Beth, a friend called in, worried about them, that’s all. They might be anywhere. The news loves to turn anything into a tragedy.” He caught Amber’s eyes and grimaced. “Maybe your aunt does need to meet a tall dark hunk, huh?”
“Ben!”
“He was blondish!” Amber said, laughing.
“Okay, girls, you stay here and set stuff up, and Aunt Beth and I will go check out that skull.”
“I don’t think we should leave them alone,” Beth said.
“She’s afraid of the guy we met,” Amber explained.
“I’m not afraid of him,” Beth protested.
“It’s all right,” Ben said. “I just saw Hank and Amanda Mason, and her dad and a cousin, I think. They’re just down the beach. Girls, scream like hell if anyone comes near you, all right?”
Amanda Mason. Great. Normally, the concept of Amanda—who could be totally obnoxious—being around on the weekend would have bugged Beth to no end. At the moment, though, she was glad that the Masons were there on the beach.
Within screaming distance.
“You bet,” Kimberly said.
“Unless it’s a really hot guy with a beer,” Amber said.
That brought her father spinning around.
“Just kidding!” Amber said. “Dad, I’m joking. Aunt Beth? Tell him.”
“She’s just teasing you, Ben. Give it a break,” Beth told him.
He rolled his eyes, starting off ahead of her. “Why does she do that to me?” he demanded.
“Because you tend to be completely paranoid, and you’re on her tail like a bloodhound most of the time,” Beth told him, following him through the brush, pushing palm fronds out of her way.
“Right, and you’re not being just a little bit paranoid?”
“Ben, I honestly think we found a skull. I’m worried with reason. If you make Amber crazy enough, then you’ll have reason to worry, too.”
“You wait ’til you have kids,” he warned her, stopping and turning back to her. “She’s everything I’ve got,” he said softly.
Beth nodded. “So let go a little bit.”
“She’s only fourteen.”
“Just a little bit. Then she’ll come back to you and tell you all the wild stuff going on with her friends. You’ve got to let her live a little.”
He nodded, serious then.
They reached the clearing. It was empty.
“Okay, I don’t see any guy.”
“I hardly thought he would just stand around waiting,” Beth said.
“All right, then. Where’s the skull?”
“Right here…I pushed a palm frond over it.”
She walked over to where they had been. Tentatively, she moved away the fallen debris.
There was nothing there. Nothing at all. It didn’t even look as if the earth had been disturbed. “I…” She looked at her brother. He was staring at her with skepticism. “Damn it, Ben, the girls saw it, too!”
“So