Wolf Island (12 page)

Abby
reached over and laid her hand on Ms. Townsend’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
upset you.”

“That’s
all right.” She blinked back her tears. “Just when I think I’ve put it behind
me, memories crowd my heart and it’s all fresh again.”

She
looked pensively at Abby and cocked her head to the side. “Do you believe that
events in the future can be foretold?”

Abby
remembered the article about Alice’s attack and how Ms. Townsend had predicted
the horrible event. Had her prediction been coincidence, or had she truly been able
to see what was about to happen? “I’m not sure.”

Ms.
Townsend was silent for a moment. “Sometimes things have a way of being very
real on this island.”

Abby
waved her hand through the air. “I don’t believe there is anything that logic
can’t explain. We have our senses to guide us.”

A
frown creased Ms. Townsend’s brow. “That’s true. Our senses are an important
conduit to intuitive thinking. It’s sometimes necessary to open our minds and
hearts to accept the visions that are sent to us, no matter how good or how bad
they might be. Especially if someone’s life is at stake.”

Abby
thought about poor Alice. Her life had been at stake, and no one had believed
Ms. Townsend’s prediction.

“Not
everyone has this ability, but for those of us who do, it can be a blessing and
a curse at the same time.” Ms. Townsend’s expression softened, and she gave
Abby a mercurial smile. “What did your senses tell you regarding the sound of
chimes you heard when you first arrived on the island?”

A
chill danced over Abby’s skin. “How did you know I heard chimes? I haven’t
mentioned it.”

“When
trouble is brewing, our resident ghost jingles her chimes in warning.”

Abby
wanted to roll her eyes, but she kept a straight face. “Does she try and
frighten them by leaving mutilated animals with chimes wrapped around their
necks, too?”

Ms.
Townsend’s eyes widened a little, and she leaned forward, laying her hand on
Abby’s. “Someone left you a dead animal?”

“Not
me, specifically. Devlin. He found it last night in the library. And we heard
chimes ringing in the hallway, as well. Dev thinks it was someone playing a
prank.”

Ms.
Townsend’s fingers tightened around Abby’s hand. “Be very careful.”

Abby
frowned. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Ms.
Townsend took her hand away and leaned back in her chair. She turned her head,
then glanced back at Abby. Her eyes were grim. “You’ve been given a warning.”

Anxiety
skimmed Abby’s spine. “What do you mean?”

The
older woman set her cup on top of the desk, folded her hands in her lap, and
sighed deeply. “At the time of her death, Alice was deeply in love with a man
who was an artist here on the island. He worked with metal and learned to make
the chimes from his father. His father taught Emily how to make them, and she
taught Alice.

“One
day Alice and her young man quarreled. Storm clouds were beginning to form, but
he ignored them and took his boat out for a sail to cool his temper. As you
might guess, a gale blew in, and his boat was lost. For weeks after the search
for his vessel was called off, Alice stood on the dock with a set of chimes in
one hand and a lantern in the other, hoping that they would guide him back to
her.”

Abby
felt tears burning in her eyes. She pushed them back. No time to be
sentimental. “That’s a lovely story, but what does it have to do with dead
animals and the chimes I heard?”

Ms.
Townsend gave her a benign smile. “The chimes ... are Alice.”

The
older woman’s whimsical answer dissolved the romantic haze concerning Alice and
her lost love. “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” Abby brushed a strand
of hair away from her face. “Let’s see if I can sort this out. Alice floats
around the island, ringing the chimes and leaving dead animals to warn visitors
of impending danger. Or is she still trying to find the man she loved?”

Ms.
Townsend straightened in her chair and sighed. “Perhaps a little of both.” She
leaned forward and looked directly into Abby’s eyes. “The important thing to
remember is that Alice rings those chimes only when treachery looms, and you
must take her seriously.”

A
little knot of pressure grew in Abby’s chest.
Get a grip, Abby.

“There
have been numerous signs forewarning that danger is imminent.”

Signs.
Abby shook her head. “You shouldn’t let superstition and old wives’ tales color
your judgment. After all --”

Ms.
Townsend gripped her hand and squeezed. “These are credible sightings. An owl
appeared at my window in the light of day three days in a row before your
arrival on the island. They are night creatures. The owl’s appearance is an
omen that shouldn’t be ignored.”

Abby
tried to pull her hand away, but Ms. Townsend held fast. “You and Devlin haunt
my dreams. I see poor Dev trapped by a hideous creature that I can’t see quite
clearly. Forbidden shadows cloak the image. But there is a crimson stain on the
creature’s fur. I fear it is Devlin’s blood.”

The
older woman’s grip tightened. “No one believed me when I predicted that Alice
would be murdered. But it’s imperative that you believe me about Dev. He needs
you. You are the key to his survival and the survival of this island. Without
your help, he will perish for sure, and our way of life here with him.”

A
trickle of hysteria fizzed into Abby’s throat. With a strong jerk, she
succeeded in pulling her hand away. She popped up from her chair, walked around
to the back of it, and gripped the wood to steady her trembling hands. “This is
ridiculous. I don’t believe in predictions, and I don’t like being frightened.”

Ms.
Townsend rose from her chair and moved closer to Abby. She reached out and laid
her hand on Abby’s arm. “I’m sorry if I’ve scared you, but please understand
that danger stalks Devlin the same way it stalked dear, sweet Alice. You are
the only one who can help him. You have the power to save him. Without you, he
will surely die.”

Abby’s
mouth fell open. “Me? What could I possibly do? Dev’s a grown man. He can take
care of himself.”

Ms.
Townsend shook her head in a jerky manner. “No, he can’t. Not from this. You
must believe in my prediction. You must accept your fate. The last time I observed
these signs and had such vivid dreams, my only niece was murdered. I can’t
allow that to happen again.”

Abby
wanted to laugh off her prediction, but the sudden and unexpected shiver of icy
fear that raced over her skin wouldn’t allow it. She thought about Alice and
Catherine Townsend’s prediction of her death.

If
the people in the village had believed her -- or if Alice had believed
her -- would she still be alive? What about the footsteps Abby had heard
behind her as she walked toward the shop, and the scraping noises and chimes
she’d heard up at the castle?

Were
they real, or the result of an overactive imagination? And now Ms. Townsend was
telling her that without her help, Devlin could die. What was she going to do?
What should she believe?

Devlin.

She’d
almost forgotten. He expected her to be at the café when he arrived. Abby
pulled the strap of her purse up over her shoulder. “Thank you for your
prediction, Ms. Townsend. I’ll think about it. Now, I really have to go. Devlin
will be wondering where I am.”

Abby
turned to leave.

“Listen
to me, Ms. Chapel, please. Don’t leave this island. Devlin’s life depends on
it.”

Chapter Seven

With
Ms. Townsend’s dark prediction filling her head, Abby left the shop. The heavy rain
had turned to a fine mist that drizzled down from a cloud-laden sky. Thick gray
fog hovered in the air, obscuring nearly everything from view.

Her
jacket and clothes were still a bit damp, so she rubbed her hands over her arms
in an attempt to warm herself. Instinctively, she turned in the direction of
the café and began to walk. The fog swept icy fingers over her cheeks and
against her neck.

“Whore.”

She
stopped dead in her tracks and whirled. Her gaze darted this way and that,
trying to find the source of the whispered voice. “Who’s there?”

Her
heart pounded so hard, Abby felt it might burst from her chest. A cold sweat
popped out on her skin despite the chill in the air, and her lungs heaved with
each breath. Nothing moved except the murky vapor surrounding her.

Not
wishing to linger, she turned and headed once again for the café. She heard
them again.

Footsteps.

Slower
this time. She jerked her head around and peered over her shoulder. No one was
behind her. Only the mist and the encroaching darkness. Visions of some large,
unknown man raping her flashed in a hideous kaleidoscope through her brain
until fear buzzed in her ears.

She
quickened her pace, hoping to reach the safety and warmth of the café before
she became a tragic headline in the local paper like Alice.

It
happened so suddenly that she barely had time to react.

Something
slammed into the middle of her back.

Hands.

Yes.
Hard, strong hands. They shoved with a bitter, rough slap between her shoulder
blades. Abby stumbled forward, her feet fighting for a grip on the sidewalk,
slipping greasily over the curb. The toes of her boots rammed into the
pavement. Her arms wheeled in the air, her fingers grabbing for something to
hold on to, but clutching only handfuls of mist.

The
bright glow of headlights streamed through the fog. Abby tumbled to the street.
She held out her hands in an attempt to cushion her fall, and her palms scraped
harshly over the bumpy surface. She heard the squeal of brakes and a shout
before her head banged against the pavement and she rolled onto her back.

Strong
arms enveloped her, and a warm hand pushed her hair back from her face. She
opened her eyes to find Devlin staring down at her. Someone stepped up beside
him, and a pair of dark eyes studied her. The man took off his hat, revealing a
thatch of salt-and-pepper hair. He clutched the hat between nervous fingers.
“Are you all right, miss?” His eyes brimmed with worry. “You came out of
nowhere. I almost didn’t have time to stop.”

Abby
looked at the man, then back at Devlin. Worry shrouded his face. She tried to
shove out of his arms, but he held her fast.

“Rest
a minute.”

She
didn’t want to rest. “I’m fine. The wet street is soaking through my clothes.
Let me up.”

This
time he relented, and she pushed herself to a sitting position. The world spun.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and gingerly touched her temple. She
felt a large knot beneath her fingers.

“I
told you to sit still a minute.” A low growl edged Devlin’s voice.

Abby
ignored him and forced herself to stand. She swayed slightly on her feet, and
Devlin steadied her with his hands on her arms. She looked at his hands and
wondered.

His
hands were big, hard, and strong. Could he have shoved her into the street? How
long had it taken him to secure his boat? Was the harbormaster with him the
whole time? Or did Devlin take care of it by himself? He would have had plenty
of time to get back up here, but he had no way of knowing that she would visit
the gift shop.

“I
thought I told you to wait for me at the café. What were you doing out here in
the street, anyway?”

“I
wasn’t in the street on purpose. Someone pushed me.”

“What?”
Devlin and the man exclaimed at the same time.

Devlin
turned to the man standing beside him. “Did you see anyone, Luke?”

“No,
sorry, Dev. All of a sudden she was flying in front of my truck. She took ten
years off my life. But I didn’t see anybody. ’Course, with the fog and all, it
would have been easy for them to slip away unnoticed.”

“Come
on.” Devlin swept her up into his arms. “I’m taking you to the doctor.”

Mortified,
Abby shoved against his arms. They were immovable. “Put me down. I’m very
capable of walking. I’m not an invalid.”

Devlin
ignored her. He nodded to the man. “Thanks, Luke. I can manage from here. You
go ahead home.”

·
        
* * * *

While
Abby lay resting upstairs in her bed, Devlin sat across the kitchen table from
the sheriff, Jake Dutton. “Anson told me he hasn’t seen anyone down by my dock
today except for a couple of guys I hired from the marina to check the pilings.
With the last couple of storms we’ve had, I wanted to make sure they were
secure.”

Jake
took a sip of the strong coffee. “I don’t believe for a minute that one of them
cut the line to your boat.”

No,
Devlin didn’t believe that either. He knew who had done it. He turned and
looked out the kitchen window. Maybe
he
was there now ... waiting.

“Two
men will be stationed in the pine grove whenever I can spare them.” Jake
brought Devlin’s attention back to him.