“I’ve spoken with her and she wasn’t out last night.”
“What about guests?” Abigail asked.
“Actually,” Chip said, “now that Jill has left the island, you’re our only female guest. Tomorrow there’s a whole group of female executives coming from Atlanta, but right now it’s just you.” He said it almost apologetically, as though he’d been working hard to ensure gender equity and he’d been failing.
“I just … I know it wasn’t a dream,” Abigail said, and all three men frowned sympathetically at her. She felt a surge of anger, but more than anything she wanted to get away, grab some coffee, and try to wake up a little.
“We did search the woods,” the detective said, pulling at the long lobe of his ear. “Of course, there are a lot of woods around here, but we didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. We can … I can organize another search later.”
“Never mind,” Abigail said. She just wanted the conversation to end. “Obviously, I had the world’s most realistic dream. Either that or I’m going crazy. Bruce, did you eat breakfast?”
“No, not yet,” he said. “I’ll go with you to get something.”
All she really wanted was coffee, but Bruce made her drink a large glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and then she picked at a blueberry muffin.
“I want to leave this island,” she said after Bruce had finished a second plate of eggs.
She completely expected him to immediately dismiss her, so she was surprised when he said, “I agree. We should leave.
Maybe coming here wasn’t such a great idea.”
He looked crushed as he said the words, and Abigail said, “No, it’s not this place. It’s nice here. It’s just, I don’t think I can enjoy myself after what happened last night. I can’t just stay here and pretend I didn’t see anything, or pretend I really believe it was all a dream.”
“I totally get it. When do you want to leave?”
“Can we leave this afternoon?” she said.
He nodded. “Yes, I’ll arrange it.”
“You understand, don’t you?” Abigail said.
“I do. I get it.”
After walking back to the bunk, they both began to pack in silence, when Bruce said, “Oh, I forgot to talk with Chip, tell him to book the plane.”
“We could call Paul,” Abigail said, and she was moving toward the call button.
“No, let me run up and talk with Chip. Also, I was thinking about what we could do before the plane comes. Take a walk, maybe. Or go for a swim. It might feel good, get some of the tension out.”
“I want to look around the woods, Bruce,” Abigail said, her back to him. “I’m going out this morning. I need to see if there’s any sign of her, of the woman I saw.” She turned, expecting Bruce to look disapproving, but he was nodding.
“I get it,” he said.
“I’m going right after I finish packing.”
“I’ll come with you,” Bruce said.
“If you want to help you can look separately, because it doesn’t make any sense for you to come with me. We should spread out.”
“I don’t want you in the woods by yourself.”
“I won’t get lost. It’s an island.”
“Look. Just wait for me and we’ll search together, okay?”
She made a noncommittal sound, and he said, “We’ll go together.”
After Bruce left, Abigail quickly finished packing her things, then changed into her walking shoes. She had already decided to search the woods herself—she’d seen a bleeding woman enter them the previous night, and she needed to at least go look for her. Bruce might be upset, but she didn’t care. It was increasingly clear he thought she’d dreamt the whole thing. They all thought she’d dreamt it. The thought almost enraged her, but she told herself to calm down. Maybe it was possible that she’d had a dream. Maybe it had been triggered by the stress of having Eric Newman on the island. Her subconscious had projected all those anxieties onto the image of Jill, bleeding and running away. Abigail moved her head rapidly back and forth and shook out her limbs, just to get blood moving through them. Either way, whether there was something terrible happening on this island or she really was losing her mind, she needed to look in the woods.
The day had warmed up even more and two staff members were carrying archery targets out onto the lawn. She walked along the row of bunks, her eyes raking over the bunks’ names, looking for the one that Eric Newman was staying in. What name had he given her? Pinehaven, she thought. She spotted it, the second-to-last along the row, and walked rapidly past, not looking toward its windows, hoping that he wasn’t inside, looking out.