Carolina Isle (Edenton 2)

“Same as Effie,” Gideon said. “This will be easy. You need anything else?”

“A backpack, water bottles, socks of course, a good moisturizer, flashlights, and—”

“And a cellphone,” R.J. said. “Get us what you can. I just want to see where the hot springs were.”

“And a toothbrush and paste,” Sara said. “Shampoo and a portable shower, or maybe a big claw-foot bathtub would be nice. And a—”

“A map,” Gideon said. “Wait here while I tell the kids what to get, then I’ll go start a fight with Effie while the kids raid the house. We’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Chapter Fifteen

“TELL ME AGAIN WHY WE’RE DOING this?” Sara asked as soon as Gideon left the cabin.

“I don’t believe what I’m being told.” He was looking out the window. “You think that kid has gone to the police?”

“No. Why don’t you ever believe anybody?”

“I believed what I saw when I first met you,” R.J. said defensively. “It’s just that I don’t think we were told the whole truth about why we were put in jail. I think it was the story that was put out, but it doesn’t make sense.”

Sara was still trying to figure out what R.J. meant about first seeing her. She was told that he’d been on the elevator, the doors were about to close, and R.J. had said, “That one. I want her.” People said that he was trying to make a point, that you could choose some nobody clerk and elevate her to the glorious job of waiting on R. J. Brompton hand and foot, 24/7. But now R.J. was implying that there was more to it. “No, it doesn’t make sense,” she said.

“Right. Jail and dead bodies in the bathtub aren’t going to make a person want to stay someplace.”

Sara had to work to come out of her reverie. “They want to make sure we don’t want to buy any property, don’t they?”

“That’s what I think. I think there’s something here that someone wants to keep secret.”

“I can’t imagine what,” Sara said. “Kidnapping, shipwrecks, you name it, it seems to be going on in this place.”

“Not to mention murder.” He looked at her. “What if we found a dead body in the bathtub, but later managed to get off the island without being found out?”

Sara nodded. “We wouldn’t come back, would we?”

“No. And King’s Isle would become our worst nightmare. We’d spend our lives reading the newspaper and searching the Internet to see if the body had been found yet.”

“We’d live in terror that they’d come after us,” she added. “And in the business world, word would get out that Charley Dunkirk had checked out this island and said it was a bad bet.”

“That would mean that whoever didn’t want outsiders here would have another few years to hide whatever he’s hiding.”

“Good thinking,” Sara said.

“Come on, Johnson,” R.J. said. “You can give me a better compliment than that.”

“It’s a good theory, but we don’t know if it’s true or not. Why did you hire me?” she blurted out. “There are a dozen women in your office who can type. Why didn’t you hire one of them?”

“Your great memory.”

“You didn’t know anything about me when you hired me—except what was in a personnel file and that wasn’t much.”

“Think not?” he asked. “You think that story’s true that I picked you out at random?”

Her eyes were wide. “Yes, I do … did. But you—” She was interrupted by Gideon and the twins bursting into the room.

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“Come see what we got!” he said excitedly.

R.J. and Sara went onto the porch. Before them was a large Radio Flyer wagon full of gear. On the top was a kit that had been put together by a shopping channel for emergencies. There were two flashlights, matches coated in wax, two space blankets in tiny pouches, packets of food, candles, water bottles, a first aid kit. Under the box were heavy hiking boots in size six and three pairs of women’s cotton socks.