with both hands and pulled it up briskly. “The Hunter obviously got here in some kind of boat. Canoe probably. Maybe a kayak. All we have to do is find it and use it to get back to the mainland. The first priority, though, is getting off this rock. We don’t want to get caught out either on the lake or in the trees while there’s a risk of lightning. Fortunately this island has caves.”
They picked their way back through the empty campground and then hiked through the forest into the center of the island. Finally they reached a place where a gaping hole cut deep into the side of the rock. They stepped into the mouth of the cave and out of the rain.
Luke glanced into the darkness. “How deep does it go?”
“Pretty deep. But it also gets really steep and narrow. We boarded it up a few yards in to stop anyone from going too far. Rumor is, though, if you go deep enough you’ll eventually come out somewhere on the coast.”
“You’ve never tried?”
“Never wanted to. It’s pitch-black down there and turns into almost a sheer drop.” She shivered. Sometimes they’d take campers right up to the barrier and turn off their flashlights, just so they could experience how dark the world could be.
Luke leaned back against the damp, stone wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think for a moment that whoever I saw running into the trees back on the mainland would ever come to the island and threaten you.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Why would you?”
“Because I saw a man in hunting fatigues outside the lodge when it was on fire, and then one attacks you here now. You don’t see an obvious connection there?”
She sighed. Just because she used to buy his stories, didn’t mean she was just going to agree with whatever theories he came up with now. “A lot of people wear hunting fatigues up here. It’s like someone from the city seeing two people in suits in the same day.”
“But you can’t discount the possibility someone is actually trying to hurt you or Camp Spirit. Look, if the person running through the trees is linked to this, he might have been heading to Ace Sports Resort—”
“Or to the highway. Or to someone’s cottage. Or it could’ve just been another trespasser. We do get a lot of them.” Including apparently you.
Nicky slid down the wall and sat on the floor. “Neil is very competitive and I don’t like how he runs the place, but that doesn’t make him a criminal. Also, I don’t see how the lodge catching fire and a trespasser on the island could be connected. Two very different things happened in two completely different places.”
“On the same day.” Luke sat opposite her. “I just think it’s too convenient to be a coincidence, don’t you?”
“You sound like a reporter.” She reached behind her neck and parted her hair down the middle. Then she twisted each half around her fingers to wring out the water. A deep, soft chuckle coaxed her eyes back to his face. “What’s so funny?”
Luke looked down. “Sorry. Just seeing you do that gave me a flash of déjà vu. I always remember you having these long, curly pigtails, and you were always fiddling with them. It was cute.”
She paused, her fingers still in her hair. Did he remember how he used to take her pigtails in his hands and gently tug her toward him until her lips met his? She stuffed her hands into her pockets. Well, she wasn’t that girl anymore. “Grab any dry leaves or twigs if you can. I’m going to build a fire and see about drying us out.”
There were waterproof matches in her jacket. It didn’t take too long before they had a fledgling fire burning. Flames crackled softly. A long pause spread between them punctuated by the sound of rain lashing the trees, thunder sounding in the distance and the drip of water running down the cave.
“You sure our best option is to look for the Hunter’s boat?” Luke asked. “There’s no chance someone will come looking for us?”
“No.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. George would’ve. But the only other person on-site now is Trevor, and he probably won’t realize there’s something wrong until sometime tomorrow. Have you ever met him?”
“Trevor?” Luke turned his face toward the sheet of rain. “Years ago.”
“Well, Trevor’s just kicking around for a few weeks, trying to scrounge up enough to go traveling again. He’s the kind of guy who hates the idea of being tied down to anything.” She frowned. “I can’t imagine him keeping the place after George is gone.”
Luke nodded slowly. “Is it possible that he had something to do with all this?”
“Trevor? No!” First Neil, now Trevor? Was he still beating the bushes for random suspects? “Look, Trevor knows he’s going to inherit this whole place—mainland and island—from George one day. As Trevor likes to keep reminding us, the camp may be struggling, but the land is worth a lot. He keeps pushing his dad to invest in things that push the property value up. Setting dangerous fires that could’ve destroyed the forest and allowing scary trespassers who could randomly attack strangers are exactly the kinds of thing that do the opposite of that. Now, if George and Trevor had any enemies who wanted to both see the camp fail and the land become unsellable, that would be different.”
“Like someone at Ace Sports?”
They were back to suspecting Neil again? She rolled her eyes. This was the problem with random theories. Suddenly everyone was a suspect, whether it was logical or not.
Luke pulled his raincoat off and spread it on the ground. His shirt was so wet it almost looked as though someone had painted it across his chest. He rolled up his sleeves and undid the top buttons of his shirt.
She tried not to stare at how the firelight danced along his skin. Her eyes slowly traced the snakelike scar cutting into his skin. She jumped to her feet. “I don’t believe it. You even lied to me about your scar.”
“I did what?” His face was blank.
She leaned forward and pointed at the puckered white line that gashed across his perfect golden chest. “You told me that you’d been bitten by a dog, and I believed you, just like I believed every other lie. But I’ve seen enough camp injuries over the years to distinguish one kind of scar from another.” Her fingers brushed the edge of his shirt. “That’s a burn.”
* * *
He winced as he watched the sting of betrayal fill her eyes. Well, of course he’d told her that. He’d been both too immature and frightened back then to even consider telling her the truth. Moments such as this made it hard to forgive himself for the man he used to be.
“Looks like you were just incapable of telling the truth about anything. How ironic you became a journalist.”
He leaped to his feet. “Nicky, wait—”
“The lightning has stopped, and we’ve got a boat to find.”
“Please. Let me explain.” He reached for her hand.
She pulled away. “What could you possibly say now that would make any of this okay? I cherished my happy memories of you. Don’t you get that? Even though you’d left. Even though you’d hurt me, I could still look back and know that just once in
