Wolf Island by Cheryl Gorman Page B

bad, but not ...” His
voice trailed away, and Abby watched anger and fear blanket his face. Devlin
tossed his napkin on the table, scraped back his chair, and dug some bills from
his wallet. He threw them on top of the table -- the cost of their food,
along with a generous tip. He laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks,
Anson. I’m right behind you.”
    As
the man headed toward the door, Devlin stepped close to Abby and gently grasped
her chin. “Wait for me here.”
    Without
another moment’s hesitation, he walked swiftly toward the door. Right before he
opened it, he turned his head and looked at her. Then he was gone.
    Abby
waited until the door closed behind him, then rose from her chair and walked to
the bar. She slid onto a stool and introduced herself again to Corinne, the
owner. Corinne nodded in greeting and prepared two bowls of rich blueberry
cobbler. Her curly brown hair hung in a thick braid down her back. Loose
strands had escaped and wreathed her round face in a tawny halo. “That smells
wonderful. Mind if I try some?”
    Corinne
set a bowl on the counter in front of Abby and topped it with a scoop of
vanilla ice cream. “Seems Dev’s deserted you. Hope he gets his boat back in.
Doesn’t deserve to lose it.”
    Loyalty.
It seemed everyone on this island was loyal to Devlin Morgan. Their loyalty
bound the village and Devlin together like an invisible net. Abby lifted a
spoonful of cobbler to her lips and tasted it. “Delicious.” She licked her
lips. “There’s a flavor I can’t identify.” Abby smiled at Corinne. “What is
it?”
    “Secret
ingredient.”
    More
secrets. “There seems to be a lot of secrets on this island.”
    Corinne
threw her a casual smile. “You were in here the other day, looking for a room.
We had a ghost chaser here recently -- Miranda Chapel. Any relation?”
    Abby
sat up straighter on her stool. “She’s my sister. Did she come in here often?”
    A
customer called out for a refill, and Corinne went to oblige him. After serving
the man another beer, she moved to a small stainless-steel sink and began
washing glasses in soapy water. “She came in a couple of times. Nice girl.”
    Abby
ate another spoonful of cobbler and swallowed. She thought about the e-mail
she’d found on Devlin’s computer from someone named J.D. “Did she come in
alone?”
    Corinne
stopped her washing, looked at Abby, and went back to scrubbing glasses. “I
can’t remember.” She plucked a clean dishtowel from a drawer and wiped her
hands.
    Abby
sipped her tea. “You know more about Miranda than you’re telling me.”
    Corinne
smiled. “Like I said, she was in here a few times and seemed like a nice girl.”
Despite her patient tone, she seemed eager to end the discussion about Miranda.
    “I’m
worried about her, afraid something might have happened to her. If you know why
she left or where she is, please tell me.” Abby used an urgent voice, hoping to
gain more information from Corinne.
    Corinne
looked away and wiped the already clean countertop. “I don’t know anything.”
    Abby
felt sure she was lying. But why?
    Was
Miranda still somewhere on the island? Abby spooned more of the cobbler up, but
this mouthful seemed to stick halfway down her throat. “I think you do. I’ve
already been to the authorities, but the sheriff hasn’t been much help, and
Devlin is --”
    “Look,
Dev’s a good man,” Corinne interrupted. “He’s not responsible for --”
Corinne shook her head and got busy washing more glasses.
    “Not
responsible for what?”
    “Never
mind.” The words weren’t much more than a mumble.
    Why
was everyone on this island so steadfast in their loyalty? It was as if Devlin could
do no wrong. No one was above reproach.
    Corinne’s
demeanor changed and she warmed up to Abby a bit more as Abby told her about
her plans to build a website promoting the island and offered some ideas
Corinne could implement for advertising Wolf’s Lair.
    Abby
remembered