A scarf, my mind fills in. A woman’s scarf.
And then it is gone.
Someone is watching for us.
5
Old Bones
The crew begins to shout, and Jack appears back at my side. “We’re putting in. The radar looks nasty, the first of the storms is coming in faster than they were expecting. I hope the hydrofoil is right behind us. They might have some trouble if they haven’t launched yet.”
“What did the Crows want?”
“Malcolm and Gideon,” he corrects automatically. “You have to stop calling them that, darling. Especially now. They were just running me through the new schedule. Mom called, she thought it might be wise to move everything up a day. The storm will blow through during the night and day tomorrow, then there will be a break in the weather. So, the rehearsal dinner will be Thursday night instead of Friday, and the wedding Friday instead of Saturday. Is that okay?”
I fight back the urge to snap—Are you kidding me? We’ve had this schedule laid out for months. What if the guests don’t get here on time?
But the girl who’s marrying Jack isn’t the type to get fussed over something so insignificant as a schedule change. No bridezillas here. Ana and Brice are funding most everything for the wedding anyway, and with Henna planning everything, I’m just along for the ride. My only goal is Jack’s—our—eternal happiness.
“No problem. With everyone here I suppose it doesn’t really matter when things happen. If Henna’s cool with it, so am I.”
“Good. Thanks for being so understanding. Now the only issue is getting the ferry here before the worst of the storm hits.” He looks over his shoulder to the open waters as if he can conjure the hydrofoil. I run a hand along his arm, for once reassuring him.
“I’m sure they will. I have faith in the Compton magic. Everyone will be here safe and sound before the heavens start to squall.”
“I love how you talk.”
“I love you. By the way, someone was watching for us on the cliff. I saw a flash of white, a scarf, I think. Your family must be expecting us.”
Jack’s brows furrow. “No one should be up there now. It’s blocked off for the renovations.”
“Someone cheated then.”
“You’re sure you saw someone?”
Am I? The flash of white, the sense that a woman had turned and walked away...
“Yes. Of course, I am.”
“All right. I’ll mention it. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
The engines reverse, growling their displeasure. The teak deck shifts beneath our feet, and I grab onto the railing for extra balance. The island looms ahead, its lush, forested hills gleaming, the massive cliffside disappearing from view as the boat comes around. The sun catches my ring, making it flash and sparkle.
I breathe in the sea air, taking a moment to revel in the warm sun, the shrieks of the gulls, the calls of the crew, the strong arms folded across the rail next to mine. The incessant whapping of a helicopter’s rotors bleeds through the bucolic seascape. Jack’s father and brother, beating the storm.
“It’s all going to be fine,” Jack says again, sensing my need for reassurance. The past forty-eight hours have been off the charts nerve-racking.
“I know. I’m not worried.”
Many marriages are made on such little lies. It’s so much easier to reassure than laying oneself bare. Saying I am terrified is unthinkable. All of this—the break-in, the trip, the island, the wedding, the storms—it is too much for me to bear. And yet, I smile winningly at my fiancé, squeeze his hand. He mustn’t know I’m second-guessing everything. He would take it the wrong way.
I look toward the pier. A knot of people comes into focus, and there is the small strobing of a blue light. Alarm seizes my stomach.
Malcolm shot the intruder.
“Jack, what’s going on? I can see blue lights flashing. Is that the island’s police?”
His attention snaps to the pier. “Our local island polizia, yes. The Italians have both local police and military police, but here on the island, it’s just a couple of local guys. There’s no crime on Isola.”
Unspoken—Our security sees to that. You’re safe with me, Claire. Always.
Safety is something Jack offers in spades. After Monday’s escapades, I’ve been shown that in person.
“What do you think’s happened?” I ask. “They aren’t here about Monday night, are they?”
“I don’t know. I suppose we’ll find out. They’re blocking our way up to the Villa.”
It’s another ten minutes before we can disembark. Jack is silent and watchful the whole time. He holds my hand and plays absently with my ring. I see the muscle in his jaw tick, tick, tick as he grinds his teeth.
When the gangplank finally settles against the ground, he says quietly, “Just follow my lead.” He steers me down the pier toward the flashing lights. We’re fifteen feet away when he sucks in a breath and says, “Wait here.”
“But—”
“Wait here, Claire.”
Jack doesn’t normally command me. I’m so shocked I halt immediately, and he surges ahead, disappearing into the crowd. I stand awkwardly alone, shivering in the salty breeze. I can hear Italian, spoken very quickly, much too fast for me to follow even the few words I’ve picked up, then Jack’s baritone, all overlaid with a cacophony of seagulls—the island’s rookery for wayward birds must be nearby. I’m just grateful for the solid ground. Maybe I was getting a little seasick.
Jack reemerges moments later, his face pale.
“The timing is impeccable,” he grumbles.
“Are they here for us?”
“No. The restoration people dug up a body.”
“A body? Whose?”
“No idea. Sorry, technically it’s not a body, it’s a skeleton. Remains. This happens frequently in historical restoration.”
“Remains?” I’ve had just about enough death for a lifetime. Two bodies in two days?
Jack smiles. “Don’t freak out. You know this island dates back. Sometimes there are little mudslides that expose ruins, or the restoration people my dad hired will dig into the ground and find a tomb, or tunnel under a building and uncover disarticulated bones.”
“So it—they—aren’t recent?”
“Goodness, no. I’m sure they’re not. My parents will have to meet with the people from the historical society, just to be certain, but it’s all going to be fine. It’s just one more thing to handle.”