The Inn at Angel Island (36 page)

“Why hello there,” Marion Doyle greeted her. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” Liza replied. She quickly explained that she was looking for Will. Walter Doyle had come around his side of the counter and listened with interest.

“Oh, dear. That doesn’t sound good,” Marion replied with concern.

“You know kids, they just don’t think sometimes,” her husband added.

“No, they don’t,” Liza agreed. “Has he been by this morning?”

Marion frowned, carefully considering the question, then shook her head. “No, dear. I don’t remember seeing him. How about you, Walter?” She turned to her husband. “You remember Peter Martin’s boy? They were in here about a week ago.”

“Sure, I do. But I didn’t see him this morning.”

“Let me give you my cell number,” Liza said, “just in case he does come in.”

“Good idea,” Marion said, handing her a pencil and a small brown paper bag to write on.

“Who’s gone out looking?” Walter asked.

“It’s three of us—me, my brother, and Daniel Merritt. He’s been painting the inn and offered to help.”

Walter quickly untied his apron and laid it on the counter. “I’ll help you. I know some places where a boy might want to explore—or hide.”

Liza was surprised by his generous offer. Everyone on the island knew Walter and Marion Doyle, but they had no special relationship with her aunt. Not as far as Liza knew.

“That’s very nice of you. Are you sure you don’t need to stay in the store?”

“Marion can handle it,” Walter assured her. “I’m in her way most of the time.”

“He’ll just worry anyway,” Marion explained. “He needs to help. It’s just our way out here. We all pull together.”

Liza nodded. Audrey had told her the same thing. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Walter had grabbed a red and black plaid jacket and a big black cap with ear flaps off a hook by the door. There was a map of the island on the wall nearby, and Liza showed him the places that they were all covering and also exchanged cell phone numbers with him, just in case he found Will.

“Okeydokey, let’s go. See you later, Marion,” he called over his shoulder, and headed for his truck.

Liza felt good knowing someone else had joined the search. She walked over to Daisy Winkler’s shop and knocked, but there was no one there. Liza left a note, asking Daisy to call the inn if she had seen Will or if he turned up at the tearoom. Unlikely, but possible.

Liza walked over to the building that housed the environmental office and the village hall. It was dark and the door looked locked. Liza tried it just in case.

Just as she turned away, a man in a small open Jeep drove up and parked. He climbed out and walked toward her with a purposeful stride.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked. He stood back and looked down at her curiously. He wasn’t that tall, only a few inches taller than Liza, but he had an athletic build and the windblown look of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt under a dark green nylon jacket with an official-looking emblem on the sleeve.

“I’m looking for my fourteen-year-old nephew, Will,” Liza explained. “He and my brother have been staying with me at the Angel Inn, down the road. Will seems to have left the house early this morning without telling anyone or leaving a note. He took a bike,” she added. “We’re pretty sure he hasn’t left the island, but we can’t be positive.”

The man listened with a serious expression. “I was working down at the beach near the inn and a little farther south. I didn’t see any cyclists on the road this morning. Or any teenage boys on the beach,” he added. “But I’d be happy to help you look. I’m Eric Hatcher, by the way.” He held out his hand. “I work for the environmental office.”

“I figured that,” Liza replied. She took his hand and shook it. “I’m Liza Martin. You may have known my aunt Elizabeth Dunne. She ran the inn.”

He nodded. “I did know her a little. Lovely lady.” He smiled briefly. “Is there anyone else out looking for your nephew? Or are you on your own?”

Liza explained the search group and the areas they were covering. Eric listened without interrupting her.

Then he said, “Sounds like you could use more help on the far side of the island near the fishing cottages. There’s some marshy land out there. It’s not smart to walk around there unless you know your way.”

He didn’t add, it could be dangerous. He didn’t need to. Liza already knew the dangers of getting lost in the marshes in that area of the island. Her aunt and uncle had warned them each summer and never let them go there. She hoped Will hadn’t been reckless enough to go exploring in that direction.

A few minutes later, Liza and Eric climbed into their vehicles. Eric set off for the south side of the island. Liza sat in her SUV a moment, getting her bearings. Her phone rang, and she answered it at once.

“Any news?” her brother asked.

“I’m afraid not. No one has seen him. But two people have offered to help us look, Walter Doyle and a man named Eric Hatcher. He works for the environmental office and said he’s going to look in the marshes down by the fishing cottages.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” Peter said. “I just spoke to Claire. She’s been calling all over. The people who own the goat farm—the Gilroys? They’ve gone out to look, and the Cape Light police force is sending two officers to help us. I’m going over the bridge to meet them.”

Liza wasn’t surprised. She had a feeling that Audrey would jump in to help once she knew what was going on.

“The more people out looking, the better,” Liza said.

“Right. I keep calling and calling, but he won’t answer his phone. I think he may have just gone out for a short bike ride and forgotten to leave a note. But I’m scared that something has happened to him,” Peter confessed. “He could have been hit by a car or gotten stuck somewhere . . . Anything could have happened . . . I’m really worried, Liza.”

“Of course you are.” She took a deep breath, pushing back her own fears. “But let’s try to stay calm and keep searching. We have a lot more help now. Someone will find him. He’s going to be okay,” she promised.

Peter just sighed. “I see the police cars. I’ve got to go.”

Liza hung up, too. She put the keys in the ignition but didn’t start the engine. It suddenly occurred to her that Eve was going to call today, expecting her to take the promotion. And it seemed completely absurd that she had ever worried about it at all.

Liza sent a quick text:

Will’s disappearance put everything in perspective: All the job drama, losing the inn, even allowing the building to be knocked down—none of that was important now.

 

 

LIZA had always thought of the island as very small, tiny even. But trying to search the roadside, inch by inch, ditch by roadside ditch, it didn’t seem small at all. It seemed endless. After she drove around her assigned territory twice and carefully combed the roadside, she consulted again with Peter and Daniel by phone.

Still no sign of Will, they both reported.

“I spoke to a guy who thought he saw a bike rider early this morning on the Ice House Road,” Daniel told her. “But he wasn’t sure. I went up and down the road in both directions. I didn’t see any sign of him.”

“He’s got to be somewhere. The gatehouse is watching for him now. He can’t get past them,” Liza replied.

“Let’s just hope he didn’t get past them already without them realizing it.”

She headed off again on the same roads, this time stopping every hundred yards or so to check the area off the roadside, any place where she saw a path into the woods or one that led down to the water. She even walked up and down the hillsides, searching along various stretches of the beach that weren’t visible from above.

She didn’t find a thing. Not even a water bottle or a candy wrapper. The boy could not have disappeared into thin air, she reasoned. But at the moment it seemed that was exactly what he had done.

Liza squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a short prayer. “Dear God . . . please let Will be all right. I don’t care about keeping the inn. I don’t care about anything. Just let him be found safe and sound. Please . . .”

 

 

THE search went on until the late afternoon. Darkness was falling when Liza, Peter, and Daniel finally agreed to return to the inn. Peter had wanted to join the police, who had called for more men and were going to continue to search the island and the town of Cape Light. But Liza finally talked him into coming back to the inn, at least for a little while, to rest and have something to eat.

She parked her SUV near the front of the house, then walked slowly to the porch. It had gotten much colder as the sun went down, she noticed. It was going to be a chilly night, and Will was still out there somewhere.

It was hard to believe that they hadn’t found him yet. When they started off that morning, Liza was sure they would find him easily. Nearly eight hours later, there was still no sign of him.

She wasn’t sure what she would say to Peter, but she knew she had to help him through this. Even before this crisis, she had come to see that she and her brother needed each other. They had to stay close and support each other—not just in an emergency but all the time.

Something about coming back to the island had helped her see that life was about connection, to the people you loved and the places and the work that had meaning for you. She had spent so much of the past years disconnected. From her brother and nephew . . . from her heart’s own desires.

Even if she lost the inn, she had learned something important here, she realized. The priority was finding Will. Her heart twisted with the hope that he was safe somewhere, just unable, or unwilling, to find his way home.

She walked into the front parlor and found Peter, Daniel, and Claire waiting for her. Peter was on the phone, finishing up a call. “Thank you, Officer Tulley. I appreciate the news. I’ll be in touch in an hour or so.”

He closed the phone and looked up. “That was the police, Officer Tulley, Fran’s husband,” he explained. “They found Will’s cell phone, but there’s still no sign of the bike—or Will.”

“No wonder he didn’t answer your calls,” Claire said. “He probably didn’t even realize he lost his phone.”

“Where did they find it?” Liza asked, dropping down on the love seat.

“In the old cemetery. I wonder what he was doing there.” Peter leaned forward and held his head in his hands. “I’m a terrible father. Of course he ran away. I was too hard on him, always nagging him about something, dragging him out here, trying to force him into living with me half of the time . . . He doesn’t want to live with me at all. He hates me. That’s why he ran away.”

“You’re a good father,” Claire assured him. “You’re fighting for time with him because you love him. Anyone can see that. I think even Will knows that.”

“All parents have some conflict with kids this age. That’s part of growing up, Peter,” Liza reminded him. “We both acted out at his age.”

“And teenagers can be very dramatic,” Daniel pointed out.

“Daniel’s right,” Liza said. “Will can be dramatic and emotional. You can’t blame yourself, Peter,” she added. “Please don’t do that to yourself.”

Peter took a long breath but didn’t seem convinced. “I used to stay out all day wandering the island when I was his age. But at least Elizabeth and Clive had some idea of where I was. I wasn’t trying to run away from them . . .”

They sat silently. No one knew what else to say.

The truth was, they didn’t even know for sure that Will had run away, Liza thought. He could be stuck someplace, hurt and unable to return. Which was an awful thought, one she didn’t want to think about or talk about right now.

“There was this place I would go,” Peter went on. “The caves under the Angel Wing Cliffs. I loved that spot. I even camped out there once with Uncle Clive, remember Liza?”

“I remember. I had no interest in that adventure. I was terrified of bats,” she admitted.

“Did you look down there?” Daniel suddenly asked.

Peter nodded. “I checked this morning. That was one of the first places I thought I might find him. I showed him the caves when we were out biking.”

Liza remembered. It was one of the sights on the island that had impressed her nephew.

Daniel glanced out the window. “Maybe we ought to go back and check again. It’s dark and cold out now. Will might be looking for some shelter if he’s really trying to stay away.”

Peter considered the idea a moment. “You know, that makes sense. It’s worth a try.” He glanced at Daniel and then at Liza. “I can’t sit around here any longer. I want to get out there and keep looking.”

“I’ll come with you,” Daniel offered. “You might need some help.”

“Me, too,” Liza said. She turned to Claire. “Can you let us know if anyone calls?”

“Of course I will,” Claire promised. “You ought to take some blankets. He’ll be chilled.” She walked into the hallway and opened a few boxes that were stacked there, then took out two big wool blankets and handed them to Liza.

Peter had already gone out, but Daniel waited by the door with a large flashlight. Moments later they stepped outside, only to see the taillights of Peter’s rental car disappearing down the drive. “I guess he couldn’t wait,” Liza said.

“Understandable,” Daniel replied. “Come on, let’s catch up.”

He rested his hand lightly on her back as they walked over to his truck. Liza climbed in her side and fastened the seatbelt. Daniel did the same, quickly started the engine, and pulled out.

“At least it’s not raining.” Liza stared out at the dark, velvety blue sky, studded with thousands of stars. “Do you think we’ll find him?” she asked quietly.

“I did at first . . . Now I don’t know what to think.” He glanced over at her with a serious expression, and Liza felt a pang of dread.