“We’re leaving,” Dad announced, striding toward the door.
“Shouldn’t we call the home office?” Mom sounded nervous as she trailed behind.
“We’ll call from the house. We’re getting out of here right now.”
I tilted my head when the whispering grew louder. “He’s almost here.”
Dad didn’t wait to figure out who “he” was. “That way! Right now!”
He scurried toward the door, sparing a final glance for the flickering gate. He didn’t wait around to see what came through.
That was probably a good thing. He’d seen the picture. That was enough.
One
Present Day
Two decades after my parents died, I returned home.
I’d spent more time off Belle Isle than on over the course of my life, but I still thought of it that way. Home. It felt weird to return, yet the excitement coursing through me was almost debilitating.
“So, you’re Isabella, right?”
The cab driver taking me over MacArthur Bridge kept flicking his eyes to the rearview mirror to watch my reaction as we closed in on the isolated piece of land that split the Detroit River. He hadn’t said much since picking me up at the airport — the cab was arranged for me by my new employers — but I had a feeling he was more than what he pretended to be. What that “more” was, though, wasn’t easy to determine.
“Izzy,” I corrected automatically, keeping my eyes out the window to stare at the water. It wasn’t exactly blue, as you’d expect of ocean waves or certain lakes, but the slate gray greeting me matched the worry cascading through the pit of my stomach. My mood was gray, so it somehow made sense that the river matched.
“Izzy.” The driver bobbed his head, as if mulling over the word. “I’m sorry. The paperwork I received said your name is Isabella.”
“It is. I simply choose to go by Izzy.”
“Not Bella?” Mirth flitted through the man’s eyes. “I would think, given why you’re here, it would make sense to go by the name Bella.”
I grasped exactly what he was getting at and managed to hold on to my temper ... although just barely. “I prefer Izzy.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
Thankfully, the chatty driver must have picked up on my mood because he kept his mouth shut for the duration of the drive. Once the end of the bridge came into view, I found myself leaning forward, eyes straining to take in the island I hadn’t seen since I was a child.
It had been so long between visits that I couldn’t decide if the things I remembered were fact or fiction, so I had read up about the island to reacquaint myself. Those facts flooded my mind now.
Located in the Detroit River between Michigan and Ontario ... one and a half miles ... museum ... golf course ... lighthouse ... boathouse ... yacht club ... aquarium ... nature center ... casino. I didn’t technically remember most of those things. The ones that seared themselves in my memory were the lighthouse, beach house and aquarium … and a little cottage long since gone. I figured the rest would eventually work its way back to me.
The driver took me straight to the beach house, which wasn’t what I wanted, but I was so eager to get rid of him I didn’t argue.
“Thank you.” I fumbled in my pocket for a tip, which he waved off.
“Your employers have already taken care of it.”
I stared at him for a long beat. “Well, consider it a bonus.” I pressed the twenty into his hand and took my suitcase handle from him. “Thank you for the ride.”
The cabbie, who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, appeared amused at my abrupt goodbye. “Good luck in your new position.”
“Thank you.”
I kept my suitcase close as I slung my leather carry-on bag over my shoulder and directed my attention to the large boathouse. The main floor, used for weddings and other events, had become something of a social gathering hall. The house I had lived in as a child had been destroyed, so I would occupy one of the second-floor rooms. I was warned it would be loud on weekends when the weather was fair, but to basically suck it up. I was eager to return to the island, so I readily agreed to all their demands and ignored the warnings. Now was not the time to be persnickety. That was for later.
The boathouse appeared empty when I walked through the front door. I cocked my head to the side as I searched for the telltale sounds that someone was inside. When that didn’t happen, I turned my attention to the front desk. A slip of paper waited for me there, and as I approached I realized it contained instructions. It was basically an invitation to show myself to the second floor and unpack. It also explained that a golf cart awaited me outside the side door. That’s it. No signature, and I wasn’t sure the building was empty. Of course, I didn’t really care. The boathouse wasn’t my biggest concern. That was still to come.
I took the elevator to the second floor and found my bedroom relatively easily. I briefly searched my new abode — it was about the size of a hotel suite with a bedroom, living area and bathroom. There would be plenty of time to explore later. For now, I had more important things to do.
I found the golf cart, and while it started on the first turn of the key, I didn’t pull out of the parking lot. Sadly, I couldn’t remember the exact layout of the island, which meant I had to Google a map to find my way to the correct location. The aquarium was to the west — something I remembered well — but the exact roads remained a mystery. The island was small, so I knew the layout would come back to me within a few days. Still, my heart skipped a beat as I sped along Riverbank Drive until I found the road I was looking for. It didn’t take long for the aquarium to swing into view ... and it was breathtaking.
To be fair, the aquarium wasn’t overly large. It wasn’t the sort of facility you might find on the east and west coasts, where money is poured into the operations budget because it’s a huge tourist draw. The Belle Isle Aquarium was much smaller, basically housing some tropical fish and reptiles, along with specimens from the region, but the building itself was old and glorious.
I parked in the designated employee section. I was listed as part of the aquarium’s upper management team, but I would have nothing to do with the day-to-day operations of the facility. That was for other people. Normal people. My title was a front because my real job lay behind the aquarium walls, where the gate was housed.
It was the gate that called me home, after all. It was the gate I needed to see now.
“Isabella Sage?”
I jerked my head to the left as I entered the aquarium lobby, forcing a smile for the young woman standing behind the counter. She seemed to be expecting me — at least that’s what her bright eyes and sunny smile reflected — and the grin she lobbed in my direction was earnest enough to be grating. I didn’t do earnest. I was a realist.
“Izzy,” I automatically corrected. “Call me Izzy.”
“Okay, Izzy.” The woman was unfazed. “I’m Tara Middleton. I’m supposed to show you around.”
I pursed my lips as I shifted my eyes to the main floor of the facility. “Who is going to watch this place if you’re giving me a tour?”