“Well, you don’t have to worry about her anymore. She’s gone.”
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” he asked.
“I mean she’s left. This island.”
“Has she?” He looked surprised, and it was clear that Porter, at least, hadn’t heard the whole story about what Abigail had seen the previous night. Either that or he was pretending he hadn’t heard.
“She left yesterday afternoon with her husband. By plane.”
He looked confused for a moment, but all he said was, “Oh, I didn’t know that,” his eyes searching the room as though he were looking for someone. Abigail looked up at his jawline, noticed a small muscle twitching. Clearly, even the idea of Jill Greenly made him anxious.
“I’ll let you go, Porter,” she said, and he looked back down at her, scratched at his collarbone with his free hand. It drew Abigail’s eyes to his open shirt; he was wearing some sort of necklace made from braided leather. Whatever was hanging from it was hidden by his shirt.
He finished his beer in one long swallow and said, “You going in to get some lunch?”
“I’ll be there soon,” she said, and went toward the stairwell instead. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been hoping to get from talking with Porter, but just the fact that he seemed evasive, nervous almost, confirmed for her that he might have had something to do with what happened to Jill Greenly. Maybe he’d been the one who attacked her last night.
The office door was open, but no one was inside. The room was filled with the barely noticeable hum of electricity and the flicker of bad lighting. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to face the same staff member she’d met when she’d come to this office previously.
“Hi, Mrs. Lamb,” he said. He was carrying papers in one hand and an arrow in the other. Abigail’s eyes must have rested on the arrow, because he held it up and showed her the end. “Apparently when an arrow is missing its feathers it doesn’t fly right.”
“It’s fletching,” Abigail said automatically.
“What’s that?” he said.
“Sorry. It’s the name for the feathers on an arrow.” The word had jumped into her head because of Ben Perez, her ex-boyfriend, who’d once written a poem with the word in it. They’d had a disagreement, Abigail claiming that no one would know what the word meant. It was so strange to suddenly think of Ben here on Heart Pond Island, where she felt about as far away from New York City and her old life as possible.
“Fletching,” he said. “I’ll remember that. I’m Aaron, by the way, if you don’t remember.”
“Hi, Aaron.”
“You here to make another call?”
“I am.” Abigail’s plan was to call Zoe, get her to jump onto her computer and research ways to get off this island. Maybe she’d find another charter service that would agree to fly to Heart Pond Island. If anyone could figure it out, Zoe could.
“Come on through,” Aaron said, and led Abigail to the same desk she’d used before. He bent over the phone, cradled the handset between his shoulder and his head, and pushed a bunch of buttons on the phone. She stared at his cleanly shaved neck. He had closely buzzed hair on the back of his head and the sides, but a long blond lock at the top that he had to push back now that he was bent over.
“Here you go,” he said, pulling the chair out for Abigail. “I hope you don’t have a problem getting through. Phones have been tricky this morning.”
“What do you mean?” Abigail said.
“They’ve just been in and out a little bit. No big deal. If you have trouble getting through, just keep trying.”
“Okay,” Abigail said, but she felt angry just hearing about the possibility. Even if Zoe couldn’t help her get off the island, she desperately wanted to talk to her, just to hear her voice.
“It sometimes happens,” Aaron said, smiling.
Abigail dialed Zoe’s number from memory, was thrilled to hear a ringtone, but after about five rings she was cut off and a busy signal interrupted the call. “Fuck,” she said to herself. She tried it again and the same thing happened. Then she dialed her own cell phone number. This time it was just a busy signal, not even a ringtone. She turned back to look for Aaron, but he was no longer in the office. It was all she could do not to pick up the phone and throw