Survival Instinct. Rachelle McCalla

steeper, which hampered their progress on the slippery path. He looked Abby full in the face as he admitted, “I don’t know. My mom and Mitch are planning to drive around the Great Lakes to see the fall colors. They got a room in Bayfield last night, and I drove up from Saint Paul this morning. By the time I arrived, they’d already booked the boat.”

      “Did they mention—” Abby began, but Scott shook his head.

      “They didn’t say anything about it.” At the look of trepidation that crossed her face, Scott wished he could tell her that Mitch would have done the right thing, but he really had no grounds for such assurances. In fact, in his experience, Mitch tended to get things wrong pretty consistently.

      Abby seemed to understand. “If he wasn’t booked through the Park Service, no one else may have a record on him.” Her voice held steady as she explained the possibilities. “There are plenty of places he could go on this lake. He may not go back to Bayfield. He may not even be named Sal. In fact, it seems, just based on what we know of the situation, that the Captain didn’t just fall prey to temptation. He may have planned on pulling a stunt like this, and just got lucky that your mom was so willing to leave her jewelry on board.”

      Her words articulated the vague fears Scott had felt ever since he’d seen the Helene speeding away from Devil’s Island. But he took one of Abby’s hands and squeezed it. “That’s all the more reason why we need to get to that radio and alert the authorities promptly. The sooner they get after him, the better chance they have of catching him.”

      “Right.” Abby pasted on a smile for him, but he could still see the fear in her sapphire-blue eyes and hear the slight tremble in her voice. “Let’s get going, then.”

      They had to pick their way up the slimy road, and it was slow going. Abby nearly wiped out twice, so Scott didn’t let go of her hand until they reached the keeper’s quarters. The sturdy old whitewash and brownstone house looked solid, almost impenetrable.

      But Abby seemed to know just what to do. She dropped his hand and immediately began tipping back the large fieldstones that encircled the autumn remains of a flowerbed at the front of the house.

      “What are we looking for?” Scott decided to interject a little humor. “A trapdoor?”

      “No.” She gave him a chuckle that only sounded a little bit strained. Then she lifted another rock, plucked up a slender object from the earth, and announced triumphantly, “This.”

      Abby wiped the key on her jeans and took the front stairs two at a time, explaining, “Seems that once, many years ago, some Park Service staff came out here and forgot their key, then had to turn around and go all the way back to headquarters. They lost a full day’s work. Ever since, there’ve been keys to just about everything hidden on each of the islands. You just have to know where to look.” With that, she slid the key into the modern brass dead bolt and gave it a turn.

      “I’m so glad you came along today.” Scott bounded up the stairs after her and had to stop himself before he instinctively gave her a hug.

      “Thank me after we’re rescued, okay?” She barely glanced around before heading through the tomblike chill of the old house to the back kitchen.

      Scott spotted the radio communications box on the counter just as Abby reached it and began flipping switches, waiting impatiently and then scowling when she didn’t get a response.

      “I don’t understand,” she muttered, flipping a toggle down and up again.

      “I think I do.” Scott reached past her to the lifeless power cord. He held up the severed end for her to see. “It’s been cut.”

      TWO

      “Cut?” Abby looked from the cord to Scott in disbelief. “But tampering with Park Service equipment is illegal. Who would do such a thing?”

      The line of Scott’s mouth was tense and white. “Perhaps the same person who would leave four people stranded on an island just so he could steal their jewelry and credit cards.”

      “No.” Abby backed away, bracing herself against the counter for support. It didn’t add up. “No, it’s not worth it. I mean, I don’t know how much your mom’s jewelry is worth, or her credit cards, or—What did you say she drove?”

      “An Escalade. Next year’s model.”

      “Okay.” Abby nodded. “So that’s an expensive vehicle, but think about the risk. The Apostle Islands National Lakeshore is a national park. That makes his crime a federal offense. And leaving the four of us here, with no way to communicate with the mainland, with no way to get back…” The reality of their situation came crashing down on her in waves, and she crumpled back against the cupboards. “The temperatures get down well below freezing at night. We don’t have any food, we don’t have proper clothing. This island has wolves, foxes, bears—all kinds of dangerous animals. The tourist season was over weeks ago. No one’s likely to come by here until after the spring thaw.” She felt her eyes widen with realization as she lifted her head to look at him. “We could die out here.”

      “No.” Scott shook his head and reached for her, his hand warm on her shoulder. “We’ll get off the island. We’ll be back in Bayfield this afternoon.”

      Abby wanted to believe him, but she knew the island too well. “How?”

      She quickly saw that his words were empty hope.

      “I don’t know, but there has to be a way.” He fingered the raw edge of the power cord. “Maybe we could splice this back together again.” He tipped the machine over and looked at the back. “I’m sure whoever cut the cord took the backup battery, too.”

      “Wait.” Abby headed to the far wall. “I thought of this just before you showed me the cord.” She flipped the light switch into an upright position. Nothing happened. She flipped it back and forth a couple more times just to be sure, then headed to the refrigerator. The light didn’t come on when she opened the fridge. She checked the freezer anyway, and found two full ice trays, which she pulled out and showed to Scott.

      “Look,” she said, staring down at the little rectangles of ice that floated in thawed puddles in each compartment. “This freezer had to have been running until recently. I wonder how long it would take the ice to thaw this much.”

      “In this weather, maybe a couple of days, maybe less, who knows? Either way, it looks like Captain Sal went to a lot of trouble to make sure we wouldn’t be able to get that radio up and working.” Scott took the ice trays from her and put them back in the freezer. He was apparently optimistic about getting the power back on.

      That thought would have been enough to make Abby smile if it weren’t for the cold dread she felt. She tried to shake the feeling. “Do you think it’s just a weird coincidence?” she posited. “Captain Sal would have had to know somebody wanted to come out to this island, and that he’d be able to steal enough from them to make it worth his trouble. What are the odds of that?”

      “What if he had prior knowledge my parents were coming out?” Scott challenged.

      As Abby looked into Scott’s face, his I-dare-you-to-deny-it expression made her wonder whose side he was on. But then his eyes crinkled into a smile and she dismissed her fear. “Would he have any way of knowing that?” she asked.

      “Who knows? Mitch has always liked to run off at the mouth. He could have been blabbering about their plans all over town yesterday. Anyone could have overheard him and noticed how much jewelry my mom was wearing. I doubt it was some grand conspiracy.” He shrugged. “We don’t know why we’ve been left here. But it seems to me we’re going to have to do something if we want to get off this island.”

      Abby agreed. “You’re right. And we need to get back to your folks and let them know what’s happening.”

      “No, Abby, wait.” Scott’s hand caught her shoulder, pulling her gently back toward him.

      She