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“Oh, come on,” he said. “You’re far too leery of me. I’m not that bad. Really. And you don’t have to eat. Just order a drink or dessert or something. We don’t even have to go to town. We can walk over to the restaurant you went to last night.”
Except she’d never visited that restaurant. Was there some way he’d be able to figure that out?
She couldn’t see how. If he asked what kind of wine she’d had, she’d say she didn’t remember unless she had the menu in front of her, in which case, she’d just pick one. It would be difficult to turn him down. It was only seven o’clock and she had to pick up her brother with the Jeep, if it was available, at ten o’clock. Her alternative was to sit with Bastian and watch TV until Jack arrived.
She preferred to go to the restaurant. At least there’d be other people around. And he was watching some horror flick she had zero interest in. “Fine. Let me grab a sweater.”
He was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs when she came down. She’d changed, pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, and applied some lip gloss. He’d cleaned up a little, too. She could smell his cologne before she even reached him.
“All set?” he asked.
She was impressed by how well he held his liquor. She guessed he’d had quite a bit, but he didn’t sway or slur his words. He’d combed his hair and pulled on some chinos with a simple cashmere sweater. That sweater had probably cost five hundred dollars, but he wore it as casually as a holey T-shirt.
“I’ve never seen identical twins quite as identical as you and Remy,” she said. “It’s uncanny. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m so much better-looking than he is.”
She smiled—grudgingly. Shedidlike the way Bastian wore his hair. It was longer than Remy’s and slightly curly in front, reminding her of the actor Timothée Chalamet.
“You might be too pretty to go out with me,” she said jokingly.
He made a face. “I’m not buying that. You’re gorgeous. With any luck, you’ll decide to marry me instead of my brother.”
He laughed as though he was joking, but she still found that an odd thing to say. “Wow, you really are turning over a new leaf.”
“It might seem like he’s the better man—” he winked “—but you haven’t gotten to know me yet.”
Charming Bastian should’ve bothered her as much as the former version. But it was hard not to soften, at least a little, since he was finally making an effort to be nice. And it wasn’t just that. For the first time, she noticed a hollowness in his eyes that made her wonder if he acted the way he did because he was miserable. And that begged the question—what could possibly be wrong?
Bo had searched the internet for the girl who matched the picture Ismay had given him—and, like Ismay, had come up empty-handed. But without a name, he couldn’t perform a very thorough search. He felt she had to have lived on the island, wasn’t just a tourist. But really, she could be anyone. And the stuff in the duffel bag could have no meaning. But he had little doubt some of the rapists and murderers who’d been behind bars with him had taken trophies that resembled what Ismay had found. He was aware of that behavior in an up close and personal way.
Bottom line, it was a safe bet that anyone who’d hidden such items—in the wall of a closet no less—was trouble, which was why he was so alarmed.
But it wasn’t in just anyone’s closet. It was inRemy’scloset—someone who was supposedly a law-abiding soon-to-be doctor. Did that change anything?
Bo sure as hell hoped so.
He checked the clock. He had some time before Jack would be arriving—time he could use to attempt to solve this mystery.
He grabbed a jacket and pulled it on before stepping outside and locking the door behind him. He thought about asking Ivy Hawthorne, who’d worked at the public library since she was a teenager, and kept abreast of what happened on the island better than almost anyone. But the library had closed for the day.
He could pay Honey another visit, though. It was probably risky to create a potential connection between him and the girl in the photo, but he trusted that Honey would never try to make trouble for him.
When he reached the road, he couldn’t help glancing toward Windsor Cottage and wondering how Ismay was doing with Bastian. Knowing Remy’s brother was alone in the house with her made him feel he needed to figure out what the items in the duffel bag signified as soon as possible.
The porch light was on at Honey’s, even though it wasn’t quite dark. He’d put her lights on a timer, just to help keep her safe, and had set them for thirty minutes before sundown so they’d be glowing even before she needed them.
“Hi, Bo,” she said when she answered his knock. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to cancel our lunch tomorrow...”
“No. I just wanted to make sure the timer on the lights was still working.”
“It’s been working perfectly. Just like magic,” she said. “Why don’t you come in?” She pushed the screen door wider. “I’ll give you a piece of the coffee cake I just baked for our lunch tomorrow.”
He could smell it from the door. “Sounds great.”
Her place was getting a bit threadbare since she didn’t replace anything as it grew older, but it was always clean and tidy. He sat at her small kitchenette, where she offered him a cup of coffee with the cake, which he gladly accepted. There was a small TV on the counter. She had a classic black-and-white movie on, and Clementine immediately jumped into his lap and twitched her tail back and forth. “Can I bring anything for lunch tomorrow?”
“Good Lord, no,” she said. “I can certainly manage a meal for four.”
