"There are dozens of them."
I nodded, and wondered if I had ever actually looked at a map of Washington. I didn't think so. Then again, geography was never my strong suit. Catching bad guys, now, that was a different story entirely.
"Lots of people live on the islands,"
she went on. "Except for my grandfather's island."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a private island. His is the only house, along with a few guest bungalows."
I thought it was time for that map. I asked her to step around my desk and show me on Google Earth where he lived.
She did, leaning in next to me, smelling of perfume that I didn't recognize. She had me scroll above Seattle and - son of a bitch - there were various chains of islands scattered up there. No doubt the last Ice Age had had something to do with that, but I knew as much about ice ages as I did about maps of Washington State.
Next, she took over control of the mouse and positioned it over a speck of land above an island called Whidbey, and near another island called Lopez Island.
"I don't see it," I said.
"Hang on." She magnified the page and soon, the very small speck of land became much bigger than a speck. As it took shape, the name of the island appeared on the screen.
I looked at Tara. "You're kidding."
"About the name? No, that's what it's called."
"Skull Island?"
"Yes. I kinda like it. I used to love going there as a kid, especially telling my friends that my grandfather lived on an island called 'Skull Island.'"