New Year Island (16 page)

Her eyes strained against the dimness as she scanned the lines of text. She folded over the next page and read the last few paragraphs. Her mouth hardened, and she deliberately relaxed it. She didn’t want to give herself wrinkles—Botox was expensive.

She wasn’t really surprised by what she had just read, though. Not at all.

A dog-eared manila folder lay by her hand, its flap open. She checked the front of the folder again, where a thick diagonal ribbon of red-and-white label tape cut across the corner. She reread the label:

CONTENTS INCLUDE CLASSIFIED INFORMATION

Sliding the report back into the folder again, Veronica shoved it into the pocket of her travel bag.

C
amilla’s upright rolling bag lay open on her bed. A large object, wrapped in newsprint, lay nestled among her familiar clothes. She gave it a tentative poke.

“Is anything wrong with
your
luggage?” she called out.

“No,” came Veronica’s sharp reply from next door. “Nothing missing.”

“Mine, either.” She prodded the newspaper-wrapped shape again. It was about eighteen inches long and hard, like metal. Definitely not Jordan’s missing shoes.

What on earth had Julian put in her bag?

The newspaper crinkled in her hands as she lifted the heavy item out. The paper wrapping disguised its outline. Peeling back the wrinkled columns about budget overruns and missing women, she peered at the mysterious object. It looked like a large machine part—a metal armature or lever of some sort with a gear on one side. Camilla crumpled the wrapping one-handed and tossed it away. With her other hand, she turned the metal shape this way and that, trying to identify it. She had absolutely no clue what it might be.

She hefted the heavy chunk of metal, holding the lever part like a handle, not liking how the jagged teeth of the gear jutted from its end. Then she dropped it to the floor, struck by a disquieting thought.

It felt like a primitive weapon.

E
verything Brent had packed in his overnight bag was present and accounted for, including his meds. He stood at his room window, watching the last of the fading light and listening to the distant barks, groans, and rumbles on the beach below. The island was noisy at night, but at least the wide area of flat ground outside the houses was now free of seals.

Juan and JT had rebuilt the zigzag log barricade that cut across the center of the island from bluff edge to breakwater. All ten contestants had worked together to herd the seals out, and the southern half of the island had once again been reclaimed by humanity.

Brent shook his head. The others were failing to see some obvious things about their situation. Warning flags. Things that, at this point, they all should be starting to get very concerned about.

For example, no one was questioning the glaring lack of safety precautions. Their complete dependence on their hidden hosts for such basic survival needs as drinking water. The apparent lack of any protocol for dealing with injury or illness. The dangers presented by the native wildlife—and even by some of the contestants themselves.

He needed to bring these things to the group’s attention soon. He would have to raise the subject if no one else did, but he was reluctant to be the first. As the oldest contestant present, trying to fit in with others half his age, he knew how quickly someone like him could turn themselves into an outsider. But he would say something if he had to.

They all needed to understand that there was something very wrong going on here.

C
amilla sat up with a gasp and stared into darkness. The creak and screech of torn metal echoed in her ears, and her heart thudded in her chest and neck. Head fuzzy with confusion, she gulped a few breaths of air, smelling smoke. Where was she? Her legs hurt. She was so cold.

She could still hear the screams, the groans, the hopeless sobbing. Lots of different voices overlapping. But the sounds were different now. Farther away. They didn’t really sound like people anymore. They were only animals. Barks and yips in the distance.
Seals.
Camilla remembered where she was.

Stars glittered, uninviting and cold, through the ragged hole in the ceiling.

She put her feet on the ground and sat on her cot with her head in her hands, covering her ears, as the last wisps of the dream faded. She got her breathing and her heartbeat under control, and pushed away the lingering sadness.

The empty plastic bottle skittered away underfoot when she stood up.

She was so thirsty. But there was no water.

Camilla stepped out into the hallway, navigating by touch as her eyes adjusted. She could now hear deep breathing from the open doorways of neighboring rooms. A few steps down the hall, a board creaked underfoot and she stopped, listening. Sleep sounds came from Jordan’s room, and she peeked in.

A small patch of starlight gleamed through the plastic-covered window, lighting Jordan’s face. She was sleeping peacefully, curled on her side. Camilla remembered the cold look she had seen flicker across that face when Jordan caught her talking to Juan. She was sure she hadn’t imagined it. She needed to be more careful.

The next doorway was Veronica’s. As she passed it, moving down the hall, she sensed the breathing change. She hurried by, feeling like a teenager sneaking out at night.

Mason’s room was next. She could hear him breathing in there. He sounded asleep, but she didn’t look in.

A deep, slow rumbling came from the last room. Brent was snoring. She grinned. Sleepy bear hibernating. No, what he
actually
sounded like was—she pinched her nose shut and leaned against the wall to keep from laughing out loud—an elephant seal.

Her urge to laugh suddenly disappeared, because she could see something at the end of the hall. A shape crouched in the corner, hidden by darkness. What was it? It looked too big to be a seal, but small for a person. Camilla stared at it, straining her eyes, not daring to move.

Could it see her, whatever it was? The skin on her arms crept. She forced herself to breathe slowly and silently as her eyes probed the darkness, trying to make out the shape.

Long minutes went by. Now she could tell that it was a person—a small person, sitting in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest. Natalie. Why wasn’t she saying anything? Did she need help?

Natalie’s eyes glittered in the darkness. She sat motionless as a statue, as if waiting for something. In the gloom, Camilla couldn’t make out any expression at all on her face.

A red team member, sneaking into the blue building at night… why? Camilla started forward. A small motion shifted the darkness ahead of her. She stopped, blinking. The corner was empty now. Natalie was gone.

She reached the end of the hall, placed a hand on the damp banister, and looked down the dark stairwell. It was the only place Natalie could have gone. Feeling a little nervous, she edged down the stairs to the first floor.

Downstairs, with fewer windows, the gloom pressed in closer. Not much chance of finding Natalie now. Navigating by touch, Camilla made her way to the front of the house, where the starlight filtered in through the windows, the clear plastic rustling lightly in the night breeze. What if she was on camera now? Those infrared ones? She composed her face in the darkness; she didn’t want to look scared.

Through the window, she could see a black shape moving outside. A man’s silhouette, edging along the shadows, headed past the house she stood in. Moving to the window, she pressed her nose against the plastic, but the shape remained too blurry to make out. She reached up, pulled the edge of the sheeting free from its staples. Easing it open a narrow crack, she put her eye to it. The cold air chilled her cheek and made her want to blink, but she could see the man’s back in the starlight as he headed toward the barricade. It was Juan.

Where was he going in the middle of the night? Camilla felt a rush of curiosity. Her motorcycle rider was up to something. He turned to look back toward the houses, and she instinctively stepped back so he wouldn’t notice her. Then she pressed forward again, eager to see.

Juan put a hand on top of the four-foot seal barricade and vaulted over, into the seal territory beyond. Was he heading to the factory buildings? To the dock? She had to go find out.

Camilla reached for the door to open it… and stopped.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, sneaking after a man she didn’t know, across a deserted island in the middle of the night. She had seen this movie before: the plucky heroine follows the mystery man, alone and unarmed, and something terrible happens. It was so clichéd that Hollywood screenwriters called the story trope “too dumb to live.”

Still, she might get a chance to talk to him without worrying about Jordan’s reaction. She knew she’d be safe with a man who would casually risk his own life saving a stranger’s child. Well,
probably
safe. No. She was smarter than this.

Camilla reluctantly turned away from the window, and the darkness shifted right in front of her face. She threw her body backward, slamming her back against the door with a thud. Travis grinned at her. He had been standing right behind her in the darkness, almost on top of her. For how long?

“Easy, easy,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.”

He raised his hands, palms out in surrender, and took a step back. “I wanted to ask you something. Your team killed us today, but I can’t say I feel right about how y’all won. What your buddy with the glasses did was pretty low. But then, it’s about what I’d expect from a banker.”

Sending seals into the other building? But that had been her idea, not Mason’s.

“I think you should go now,” she said.

His eyes narrowed. “You got no call to be rude to me. I’ll say one more thing: I heard your buddy didn’t come up with that idea all on his own.”

Travis took a step toward her, and she bumped against the door behind her again. Her mouth went dry. If he got any closer, she’d yell for Veronica.

“I’m telling you now,” he said, “that five mil’s not going to end up with somebody who wins by cheating. It don’t matter if that’s okay by your rich buddy Julian, because it ain’t all right by me. We clear on that?”

“I said you need to leave,” she said.

He pressed in closer, crowding her against the door, his face inches from hers. “Maybe I ought to make sure you understand.”

He had no right, bullying her, terrorizing her in the dark this way. Furious, she balled her hands into fists to hide their shaking. Even if she got hurt right now, she wasn’t going to let herself get intimidated like this.

“Listen carefully, you snake-eyed creep, because I’m only going to say this once.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not afraid of you. Get away from me right now, or I’ll kick you in the crotch so hard you won’t be able to
move
tomorrow—then we’ll see how much your score improves.”

“You little whore…” His bared teeth gleamed in the dark.

Travis suddenly jerked backward as he was pulled away from her and shoved aside.

A voice rumbled out of the darkness behind him. “You heard what the lady asked, Travis. Better get going now.” She could see the gleam of silver hair, a blocky shape towering over Travis. Brent was a big man.

Camilla sagged against the door in relief. She had never been in a physical fight in her life. She was sure Travis wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her.

“I see you white-collar types do all stick together,” he said. “You think you can still kick some ass, old man?”

Brent sounded calm. “Keep after her and we might just find out. The home audience’ll love it.”

“I don’t want you to have a heart attack—they might shut the whole show down before I get that money.” Travis’s voice trailed back from the foyer connecting the two houses. He was leaving. “Sleep tight, y’all. I expect we’ll be having a big day tomorrow.”

Camilla closed her eyes and slid a little way down the door. Her legs were trembling. Then she felt a big hand on her shoulder.

Brent peered at her with a concerned expression. “Are you all right?”

“I guess so.” She let out a shuddering breath. “But I think I made an enemy tonight.”

“People like that are their own worst enemies.” He took his hand away and tucked both hands into his vest pockets.

“You’re a brave one,” he said. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do. Heck, my own son is almost your age, and God knows
he
never wanted to listen to me, either, so why should you?” His eyes were friendly but worried. The sadness was there, too, deep down—it seemed to be a part of him always.

“Sorry to drag you into that,” she said.

“Camilla, please be careful here,” he said. “This isn’t just fun and games anymore—not with so much money at stake.” He looked toward the yawning darkness of the Victorian’s archway. “I don’t know how a person like Travis slipped through their screening, but he’s not someone you should take lightly.”

Camilla felt touched that he was worried about her. She stood up on her tiptoes and hugged him. Her arms barely fit around the big man.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. Then she let go and went up the stairs.

Camilla lay on her bed, listening, but she didn’t hear Brent come back up to his room. Older people often couldn’t sleep because of insomnia, but she didn’t think that was why. Picturing him sitting at the bottom of the steps, she smiled to herself and curled up tighter, getting comfortable. His son was so lucky, she thought as she drifted off.

Camilla felt safe.

She knew that Brent was watching over his team right now. Like a big silver sheepdog. Guarding them from harm while they slept.

Sunday: December 23, 2012

“S
orry, no Starbucks for you this morning.”

Camilla stopped rubbing her eyes and stared at Lauren in surprise. She had never seen the ultracompetitive rock climber smile, not even when making a joke. But judging by the hostile look on her face now, maybe she didn’t understand what she’d said was funny.