28

On the way down the hill back to Tranquility proper, Miss Isabelle tried to console Gillian. “How am I ever going to develop a rapport with people now?” she asked. “Red is going to blackball me with everyone and my boss is going to crush me for failing to get the scoop he needs. I’m totally getting fired.”

“Oh dear, don’t sell yourself short! You’ll bounce back with folks quickly, you’ll see. Even with Red. There’s no way you could have known about Martha,” said Miss Isabelle. “She’s been catatonic up in that mansion for years. All of the locals know about her condition and none of them bring it up, even though everyone has questions. She doesn’t ever speak, and the only people to check in on her are Red, David, and Dr. Steinman. Well, and Carol doubles as the cook and her personal nurse. I sneak in there occasionally to brush her hair or read her some poetry but Red doesn’t really like that. Poor old soul, she hasn’t really lived for several decades, but there’s nothing that can be done except to keep her comfortable.”

Leo turned to Miss Isabelle and asked, “What made her like that?” 

“No one here really knows,” Miss Isabelle admitted. “Red and Martha had both moved out of the mansion as young adults, leaving their parents to the mansion itself. I don’t think either of them were really happy living there under their parents’ strict set of rules. After a stint in the Navy, Red was captain of several cruise ships, and after pursuing music in college, Martha got a job on one of them, playing the piano for a band. She could play the keys like no one’s business, and her voice was out of this world. Everything seemed to be going fine for them, and then all of a sudden, Red showed up on the dock one day with Martha in a wheelchair. He’s never said a word about what happened and no one is going to ask. That’s his business, I think, but he carries a sadness he didn’t have when he first left the island. He was just so excited to explore the world.”

The glow of the moon lit up their path and cleverly strung street lights hung just below the coverage of the pine trees, making the cobblestone path as bright as if it was daylight. They passed a few people out later than expected, strolling around the island, with many returning from dinner at one of the eateries on Main Street, and several riding five-speed bikes on trails just off of the cobblestone path. 

Miss Isabelle seemed lost in her own thoughts, and Leo realized that the older woman cared quite deeply about the old cantankerous man. Gruff or not, there was something Isabelle knew about him that kept her connected even when he pushed everyone else away. Walking down the hill, looking at nothing in particular, Isabelle seemed to have been lost to her memories. But that didn’t stop their companion from forging ahead. 

“There’s definitely a story there,” Gillian said, brightening up marginally. “But it’s going to take the jaws of life to get that story out of him now.”

Turning to Leo, she asked, “Hey Rev., do you think you could crack the case for me? Find out what happened? ‘Mysterious rich island magnate finds his way forward after tragedy.’”

“I think people’s stories are their own to tell, and besides, isn’t everything anyone tells me the pastor confidential?” Leo retorted, with a wink. “Besides, I’m still trying to find a way to get everyone to like me! I don’t need to get caught up in your drama and intrigue. I mean, Captain Burchard did invite us out to the Princess Kay, but that seems more your cup of tea than mine.”

Gillian wasn’t laughing, but she wasn’t as glum as she had been moments earlier. The scent of a story had the wheels turning, and she was raring to go. Miss Isabelle and Leo shared a look, and shook their heads, stifling chuckles. 

Turning the final bend toward the town, Miss Isabelle stopped, and said, “This is my street here. Do you have a dying desire to meet a couple of old feral cats and see my mess of a kitchen?”

Gillian and Leo laughed, and shook their heads. “I’ll assume the two you can find your way back into town?” she continued.

Leo grinned. “As long as she doesn’t go prying into anyone’s secrets on the way, we should be fine.” 

Gillian punched him lightly in the arm, and the two continued down the road as Miss Isabelle watched them get smaller and smaller in the distance. She sighed, remembering her own youth, and headed into her quiet cottage. 

Leo walked Gillian to the Bed and Breakfast, noting that half of the rooms now were lit up by residents who had taken up refuge for the evening. A few of the tourists from the morning ferry were sharing stories around a firepit outside, and offered them a cold beer and a seat. Gillian said she would stay to see what other background she might find out and Leo wished them all a good night. 

Back at the chapel, he soaked up the quiet in the dark of the empty chapel. It felt peaceful, and pure. Recognizing that he had his work cut out for him, he rose from the pew and walked back to his sleeping quarters. 

Washing out his shirt in the sink, Leo hung it on a hanger, and unpacked the rest of his duffle bag. Staring into the mirror above the sink, he pushed back the dark curls that had fallen down into his eyes. He almost didn’t recognize the person he saw in the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes or the three days worth of growth on his chin. He wasn’t sure exactly he was supposed to pastor the people of the island, with the levels of brokenness he’d already heard in their stories. 

Little did he know that this was just the calm before the storm. 

29

The salty waves crashing against the rocks along the shore splashed droplets up onto the camera lens, but the heat from the motor caused them to dry quickly. The salt remainder fell away as the drone flew inland again. Most of the island was cloaked in darkness whenever the moon went behind a cloud, but the night vision lens allowed the camera to scan for people of interest.

The drone floated and hummed above the trees, its winding path less linear and more haphazard, as it traced the edge of the island. It had already explored the edges of the island closest to the ocean, scanning up and around the lighthouse and down to the rocky shore below. 

The thickness of the forest trees and underbrush made it too difficult to fly lower than the tallest tree, and its camera, especially at night, was no match for the depth of the dark on the forest floor. It scanned in a circular motion, its night vision picking up a raccoon staring up at it and a pair of teenagers engaged in kissing behind a thick copse of trees. They were oblivious to its whirring rotors and the drone flew on, leaving them to their young romance. 

Pausing to examine some of the domiciles interspersed throughout the thinning forest closer to Main Street and the dock, the drone was less effective filming the area given the ambient light from Tranquility’s ‘downtown’ area. The drone operator knew that the intended target wouldn’t be located there, too close to too many people and too dangerous to be left out in the open. 

Flying on, the drone visited the outer end of the island past Main Street, and found that the marshy area of forest populated that portion of Tranquility, too. Nothing would be located there, as there was too much chance that the hidden goods would be floated away by a rising tide or stormy winds. 

This left only the mansion side of the island and the giant cliff below. Of course the drone couldn’t get access into the mansion itself, but the drone operator used the camera to scan the outsides of mansion walls and ducked up over the roof before it could attract the attention of the guard dogs. A smaller building stood adjacent and beyond the mansion, but it too seemed to be too intimate a setting to be the location the drone was sent to observe. 

Miles away, the drone operator sighed and pushed the drone out over the edge of the cliff. There wasn’t much left to see about the island, but the steps down to the cove were intriguing. The news that he had gotten implied that the whole gambit was in jeopardy, that authorities might already be aware of the drug trafficking through Tranquility. The timetable for this particularly situation had just been moved up, from theoretical to immediate action. 

The drone’s camera rocked, signifying that the drone itself was drifting a bit. The operator squinted, trying to ascertain details from the night’s flight, but the constant motion was making it hard to distinguish what was helpful and what was shadow. Rock walls on either side loomed large, and the meter on the drone controls began to blink, with growing insistence. Apparently the sides of the cliff were interfering with the signal. 

Still, the drone operator pushed the little machine farther. There was still enough battery power to fly the drone back. And the night vision camera seemed to be picking up some kind of signature below. Zooming in, the operator tried to highlight the water level near the cove…

The drone camera connection fizzled out, and the operator checked all of his meters. Looking up, he realized that the drone itself seemed to be spiraling, aimed at the rocky wall. There was no sound from the drone, but there seemed to be something causing the drone to fly off target. Then the drone picture seized up, and started tumbling end over end, until it slammed against the wall. 

The camera feed stopped altogether, and then the drone’s battery signal blinked once, twice, and then went out. Cursing the machine, the drone operator threw the controllers across the room, where it shattered into a million pieces. Somehow, one way or another, the search on the island would require manually walking from place to place until the cache of drugs was found. The man was tired of being the inbetween for the drug dealers on the mainland and the island. He wanted a bigger cut of what was happening and he had decided there was no time like the present to make a move. 

30

In the Bed & Breakfast, Gillian couldn’t sleep. She decided that lying in the bed staring at the old-fashioned stencils on the walls wasn’t getting her anywhere, so she threw on a pair of pants, a shirt, and a baggy sweatshirt. Lacing up her running shoes, she realized that the only exercise that she’d incorporated into her day so far was the walk up the hill to the mansion. After a few stretches, she checked that her bags were away and that her computer was hidden in the back of the closet. One could never be too careful.

On the landing outside of her room, she stopped, listening. But the only sounds she heard were from the open windows in the hallway, where the sounds of the waves crashing on the side of the dock could be heard. Nothing else stirred within the house, and she pulled the door shut behind her. 

Tiptoeing down the stairs, Gillian made it to the common area where different meals were served throughout the day. Again, she looked around for signs of other people lurking within the dining room or living room areas. She didn’t want to have a repeat of her experience at the mansion. Everything seemed as it should, and she eased the front door open, letting it close behind her with a quiet click. 

Instead of heading out toward the dock, Gillian pulled a flashlight out of her pocket and shone it on the cobblestone path that ran between the B&B and the business next door. She followed it as it meandered away from Main Street, and through residential areas, leading her deeper and deeper into the forest and away from the town, in the opposite direction from the path up to the mansion.

Slowly, Gillian picked up speed, breathing slowly and regularly, regulating her heart rate. She had left her airpods at home, but the night noises provided a soundtrack that her legs seemed to respond to.  Through the breaks in the foliage above her, moonlight broke through periodically to shine on her path. Instead of being tentative or scared, she found the dark, silent forest comforting. Away from the drama of the people she had met and her own inner monologue. Away from the office drama she’d left behind. She scowled in the darkness at the thought of the overbearing Dewey, who was always trying to find ways to minimize her efforts and take responsibility for her success. 

The forest opened into the far side of the island, which was clearly less people-friendly than the section that the town had grown on. Rocks of different shades of black and gray made up the shoreline, and led up to the flat ground where hundreds of years before, the early inhabitants of the island had built the lighthouse. 

As Gillian passed the edge of the forest, the lighthouse light swiveled around and the light momentarily blinded her. She slowed her pace and finally came to a stop staring over the edge of the dropoff. She explored around the upper edge of the rocky beach, and saw nothing else of note. Approaching the lighthouse, she stopped and soaked in the way that it served as a beacon out into the darkness over the water. 

The breeze blew a sea mist over her, and she wiped away the salty taste from her lips. Walking out onto the lighthouse landing, she saw that there was a relatively new padlock on the door, and the chains didn’t give at all when she pulled. Different graffiti adorned the door and some of the walls facing the ocean. Apparently the culprits were aware that the lighthouse would shield from unwanted attention, so they’d tagged one side and not the other. 

As she read some of their messaging, Gillian heard voices approaching, carrying over the sound of the waves, Gillian heard voices approaching. She didn’t know who or what she might be dealing with, and ducked behind the lighthouse itself as flashlight beams illuminated the area, bouncing off of the lighthouse, the ground, and the hazy sea fog in the air. 

Gillian stayed still, pressed up against the lighthouse. She heard the voices closing in on the lighthouse, and then she heard the sound of the chains on the door rattling. Laughter followed, and then the voices were lost in the roar of the waves crashing on the stone beach below. Gillian heard movement inside of the lighthouse meaning that they had the combination to the padlock, but she didn’t move, knowing that there were no windows on the first floor, and that whoever was in the lighthouse couldn’t see her on the outside wall. 

The time of night seemed suspicious to Gillian, but she knew that if she revealed herself, she would appear suspicious, too. She considered making a break for the forest, but she knew that if the people in the lighthouse exited, that she would be caught in open ground, unable to hide. She sank to a seated position, edging up against an alcove in the exterior of the lighthouse, and waited for the people to leave. 

Gillian woke up with a wave of panic, as the sky above her was brighter now, the clouds having rolled away. She had apparently nodded off, lulled to sleep by the gentle breeze and the ambient sound of the waves. She looked around but didn’t hear anyone or see the flashes from the others’ lights. She crept slowly on her hands and knees around to toward the back of the lighthouse, and still saw nothing. 

Looking at the closed door, Gillian realized that the door had been chained shut again, and the padlock replaced. She couldn’t hear any voices coming from the forest, and figured the people must have left long before she woke up. Looking around, she saw an old piece of rebar and tried to pry away at the chain. When she realized that was futile, she went to work on the hinges to the door itself, but that too went nowhere. 

Recognizing that her surveillance had nothing to show for it, Gillian took one last look at the lighthouse and headed back to the town. The farther she went, the more tired she became, as the events of the previous day caught up with her. When she finally arrived back in the residential area, she turned off her flashlight, disinterested in drawing attention to herself. By then, Gillian was nearly sleepwalking, so it came as a shock when she ran into another late night walker just outside of the B&B.

Both Gillian and the other person let out muted shrieks as they collided. Gillian quickly apologized when she realized that she wasn’t being mugged or attacked, noticing that the other woman was the mother from the ferry. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, bending down to help the other woman collect the belongings that she had dropped. 

“Oh, it’s not your fault. I’m not supposed to need these anymore, so sometimes I sneak one on the side,” said the woman. “I’m Betty Williams by the way. I saw you on the ferry.”

Williams offered Gillian a cigarette, admitting that she had recently fallen back into the habit, stressed by the trials of raising a toddler. Gillian passed on the offer, but sat down on the front step of the B&B with Williams, looking at the waves rolling into the dock. 

“It’s peaceful here,” Williams was saying. “My husband and I are thinking about relocating. Do you know much about the people here or what you think of the island itself?”

Blowing smoke away from Gillian, Williams turned to see if Gillian had any thoughts on the matter. “I don’t know if I could live here, but I’m sure it works for some people,” she said, not sure that she was the one to advise Williams correctly. 

“George and I wanted to give Bryan a different life than what we have seen so far in the city,” Williams said, wistfully. “It feels like we need a new start, and Tranquility might just be the place for that.”

“Speaking of new starts, tomorrow is going to come faster than I’d like,” Gillian said, standing slowly to her feet. “I better try to get some sleep now, or I’ll regret it tomorrow.”

The women said good night to each other, and parted ways. Gillian fell asleep on top of the bed, still snug in her sweatshirt, one leg dangling over the slide.

Chapters 31-33 coming May 3!