A part of her wanted to pack up as much food and water as she could carry and run into the woods, wait there. But wait there for what? For the plane? For some sort of rescue operation?
Movement caught her eye and Abigail spotted Eric, who’d probably just emerged from his own bunk, cutting across the lawn.
Without thinking, she darted outside and went to him. As strange as it was, he was possibly a friend, maybe the only friend she had here.
“Eric,” she half shouted as she closed in on him.
He stopped and turned. “Hey,” he said.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure. I was just heading up to get some lunch. Do you want to join me?”
“Can we go to your bunk, actually? I know that sounds … It’s not what it sounds like.”
“Okay. Sure.”
Together they walked back to his bunk. Eric was quiet, and she wondered what he was thinking. She hoped he wasn’t thinking that she’d changed her mind about their relationship, but that was the least of her worries right now. They reached the door, and he held it open for her. Inside, it was laid out differently than her and Bruce’s bunk, but with the same luxury feel. The walls were stained a darker brown, and there was a moose head mounted on the wall above the bed.
“Can I get you anything?” Eric asked, as Abigail sat on the dark green sofa near the unlit fireplace.
“No, I’m fine.”
“What’s going on?” He perched on the edge of a leather club chair facing her. He wore jeans and a faded Ween T-shirt, and there was something about his outfit, so casual, almost collegiate, that reassured Abigail. She had a brief, alarming flash of the two of them together in California, her sliding his jeans down his narrow hips.
“Remember when we were talking in the woods this morning?”
she began.
“Uh-huh.”
“And you said that you thought there was something strange about this island, something off.”
“Yeah.”
“Because there was no way it was a real business, right? That’s what you said.”
Eric nodded.
“Was there anything else? Anything else that you think is strange about this place? Or was it just that?”
He hesitated, and Abigail could tell that he was thinking, trying to decide what to say to her exactly.
“What is it?” she said.
“Sorry, I’m thinking. Why are you asking me these questions?
What happened?”
“Well, for one, they’re not letting me off this island.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told Bruce I wanted to leave today, and he said that he’d arrange a plane to get us, but now he’s saying it won’t come until tomorrow morning.”
“Uh-huh,” Eric said, and she tried to read his expression.
“So I asked to use the phones that are here, the landlines in the lodge. I just thought that maybe I could make my own arrangements with another airline, or at the very least I could talk with my friend and she could look into it.”
“And what happened?”
“The phones are out. They’re not working.”
“It’s suspicious,” he said.
“Are you just saying that, or do you agree with me? I need to know. I think I’m going insane here.”
He pressed the heels of his hands against his knees and raised his shoulders, then after a moment said, “I’m going to tell you something I’m not supposed to tell you. It might have something to do with what’s happening here and it might not, but either way I think you need to hear it.”
“What is it?”
He stood nervously. “Ah, Jesus. So what I’m about to tell you will make you hate me, and that’s the last thing I want, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“Seriously, what is it?”
“Okay. Just please let me tell the whole story before you judge.
Okay?”
“Sure. Okay. Whatever.”
“So when we met at the vineyard in California, it wasn’t an accident. I was paid to meet you.”
CHAPTER 22
The sun must have gone behind a cloud, because the interior of the bunk dimmed for a moment, then returned to normal.
“What?” Abigail said.
“I was paid. To meet you.” Eric’s whole body was tense, but he was looking directly at her.
“Who … who paid you?” Abigail asked.
“I don’t know exactly. I mean, I know. It was through my agent in San Francisco. I have an acting agent, even though he obviously doesn’t get me work that often. But he told me that someone had seen my headshot and wanted to know if I was available for a job that wasn’t exactly an acting job. It was good money, a lot of money, so I agreed to at least hear about it. I didn’t talk directly with whoever was hiring me—it all went through my agent.”