an eccentric millionaire. He had this group of what you might call followers. They were all into this idea of getting back to the land and living communally. He bought Bitter Rock and brought all his people here. They built the Landontown Fellowship.” He pointed down the hill. It dropped away for a bit, then leveled out into a plateau before the hill fell away again to the sea and a barren beach. There were only a dozen structures standing; a few more that had collapsed or burned down.
“And they all vanished,” Abby said. Her camera clicked.
“Right,” Liam said. “There are lots of theories. Mass suicide—they were kind of a cult. Storm. Murder. Cole Landon’s widow was the only survivor. She was visiting relatives at the time. She established the LARC and never set foot here again.”
Above the town to the north was a short, curved concrete wall with a gap running along the center. Something metal stuck out from the gap. “What’s that?” I asked.
“Artillery,” Liam said. “Don’t worry, it’s just decorative at this point. There’s a bunker, too, right over there.” He pointed out along the hillside. A metal door was set into the hillside, surrounded by more concrete and rubble that indicated there must have once been a wall a few feet in front of the door. “There was an airstrip here during the second world war. The bunker’s flooded or something, though—can’t get in.”
“Have you tried?” Abby asked.
“No,” he said. “Not being a huge fan of tetanus, I have somehow resisted the allure of a ruined hole in the ground.”
Abby raised her eyebrows. “I’ve got all my shots.” But she didn’t press the issue. We headed down the hill, taking short, careful steps over the dew-slicked grass. A signpost stood at the entrance to the town, but the sign itself was long gone. Abby strode out ahead, snapping pictures as she went, and Liam and I naturally fell back at a more sedate pace.
“You know a lot about the island,” I said. “How often do you come here?”
“Not very,” Liam answered. “Twice since I was a kid, that’s all. Usually quality time with Dr. Kapoor is arranged at some neutral third location, where my mum doesn’t have to see her, and Dr. Kapoor can rely on guided tours to supply quality content instead of filling the silence herself.”
“I’m picking up that you’re not very close,” I said.
We’d stopped, and Liam put his hands in his pockets, looking out over the ruined buildings. “My parents split when I was young. Right after Dr. Kapoor came to work here, actually. After that, quality time required several months of notice. My grandparents—her parents—fly out to see me for months at a time and help out, but she can’t be bothered. So, yes, we have issues.”
“Is that why . . .” I cleared my throat and gestured generally at his wrist, suddenly embarrassed. “You didn’t seem to care about hiding it, so . . .”
“This?” He laughed, pulling his sleeve up to bare the bandage. “I didn’t do this to myself. Well, I did, but it was stupidity, not intent.”
“I see.” My cheeks flamed. “I thought—”
“Oh, I’m horrifically depressed,” he assured me cheerfully. “And intensely medicated. I’m all right just now,” he added, seeing my look of alarm. “I have good days and bad ones and a lot of mediocre ones. And I overcompensate with a cheerful demeanor, or so my therapist says. It’s under control, promise. I just . . . had a bad patch, recently, and got into a bit of trouble.”
“Trouble that left your arm cut up?” I asked.
He winced. “Wounds inflicted by a prisoner I was retrieving from confinement.”
“You staged a jailbreak?”
“I stole a falcon,” he answered. “She was being used as the mascot for an amateur football team and wasn’t being cared for properly, so I arranged a rescue. She did not appreciate my chivalry, however, and this was the result.”
Abby chuckled. I jumped a little—I’d almost forgotten that she was there. Judging by the look Liam gave her, so had he. “You gotta ask the damsels if they want to be rescued,” she called over her shoulder.
“Right, so when you’re kidnapped I’ll go ahead and wait for a signed consent form before I rescue you, then?” he called back. He sounded jokey, but there was a definite barb under the words.
“I can rescue myself, thanks,” she shot back.
“Glad that’s settled,” I declared before just joking turned into actually arguing. Abby shook her head ruefully