by Kathi Daley
“I’m fine here. Is the lawn chair we brought for you okay? If you think it won’t be comfortable, we can go back.”
“I’m fine,” Clara said. “I can get up and walk around if need be.”
“There’s no cell reception out here, so you won’t be able to contact us, but we’ll hurry,” I promised.
Fortunately, George and Meg were in excellent shape despite their age, so they were mostly able to keep up with the pace Jack, Kizzy, and I set. I’d noticed George was having more off days recently, so I kept a close eye on him as we went, but today he seemed lighthearted and energetic. It was probably good for him to get out. He’d spent way too much time indoors lately, trying to solve Bosley’s murder.
“I didn’t expect to find so many structures still standing,” I said as we walked along what would have at one time been a main road running through the small colony. While almost every building still standing had suffered from some amount of decay, I guess I was expecting to find them completely flattened.
“There are those who believe some of the inhabitants of the island stayed and rebuilt after the hurricane,” Meg said. “I suppose a lot of what we see now are those buildings, replaced or repaired.”
“Why do you think everyone left?” I asked.
“From the accounts I’ve read, it sounded as if most of the people who lived here died during the hurricane,” Meg said. “I’d always thought those who survived didn’t have the heart to stay.”
I supposed I understood that. If I lost most of my family and friends in a tragedy, it would make sense to want to start over elsewhere. Plus, it must have been in the back of everyone’s mind that something like a hurricane could happen again. Better to head to the mainland, where the risk of weather-related tragedies were decreased.
“If some people did stay on Skull Island to rebuild, are we thinking they were still here when Oswald Bollinger arrived with his test subjects?” I asked.
“Good question,” George responded. “If there was an existing group of people on the island, I wonder what happened to them. Were they killed as well?”
My stomach was beginning to churn at the thought of what must have gone on during that very dark time. Of course, we had yet to find irrefutable evidence that anything like what we suspected actually happened.
“We should reach the lighthouse in the next fifteen or twenty minutes,” Jack said. “I’m not sure we’ll find anything there, but it seems as good a place as any to begin our search.”
“There must be a cemetery,” Meg said. “If we can find it, we might learn something about the culture of the island.”
“If what we think happened really did, don’t you think everyone would have been buried in a mass grave?” I asked.
“Maybe. But there would have been centuries of people living and dying on the island before that. Of course, if the grave markers no longer remain, it would be hard to know where the cemetery might have been.”
We stopped talking as we began to go up to the top of the bluff where the lighthouse had been. It was a steep climb, although there were old stone steps to aid us. When we reached the top, we paused to look at what was left.
“Do you think it’s safe to go inside?” Meg asked.
The structure had been made of wood and stone and looked sturdy enough, but it hadn’t been maintained in almost a century, so who knew what sort of shape it was in.
While the building was made of stone, the door was wooden. Jack pulled it open and peered inside. “It looks like we’ll have to climb to really see anything. All I see now is a stone stairway.”
“Seems risky,” Meg said.
“Maybe.” Jack took a step inside. “I’m going to check it out. You all wait here. That way if I get into trouble, you can save me.”
I called Kizzy to me and made her sit and wait at my feet. She wasn’t happy to be left behind, and to be honest, I wasn’t that happy about waiting behind while Jack risked his life in the old structure either, but it did make sense that most of us wait outside. If there was anything to see, Jack would find it. And while there wasn’t any reception on the island, Jack had his phone, so he could take photos of anything he thought might be important.
After a few minutes, he stuck his head out from an opening about three quarters of the way up. “I found the main living area. I’m going to take a look around.”
“Take photos,” I called up.
Jack pulled his head back inside, and Meg, George, Kizzy, and I continued our wait. Kizzy was restless with Jack gone, so I found a stick and gave it a toss. She took off after it as if her world was once again a better place.
“I hope the place doesn’t come down around Jack before he can get out of there,” I fretted.
“The lighthouse has stood for centuries,” George said. “I’m sure it’s structurally sound.”
“Are you saying that because you believe it to be true or because you don’t want me to worry?” I asked.
“Both. I’m sure Jack is being careful. He knows it would be a disaster if one of us sustained an injury all the way out here.”
I knew George was right, but I couldn’t help but worry a little.
“So the lighthouse keeper actually lived here, up in that tiny area?” I asked, mostly to keep my mind off Jack and the danger he was putting himself in.
“That’s what I understand,” Meg replied. “Lighthouse keepers used to rotate quite often, so no one person was stationed there for too long. Still, it must have been cramped and lonely. Of course, during the day, when the weather was good and the light wasn’t needed, they would be free to wander around the island.”
“That might have provided comfort when a colony of settlers lived here, but once they left?” I shuddered to think how freaky it would be to live alone on the island, and wondered if being alone would be better or worse than living with the people Oswald Bollinger brought here.
“I found a room above the opening for the light,” Jack called down. “I’m going to check it out, then come down.”
Above the light? I looked up at the cylindrical building. Why would anyone put a room above the light? How would you even get up there? I guessed there might be a ladder.
It seemed it was quite a while later before Jack finally reappeared. I let out a breath of relief when he finally emerged from the building. “Did you find anything?” I asked.
“Actually, I did.”
“Something bad?”
Jack nodded. “The little room above the light was, I think, built as a secret of sorts. Perhaps it was somewhere for the keeper to hide if the island was invaded. I can’t be certain of its purpose, but you can’t see the room from the living area. You have to actually go into the space for the light and look up; only then is the trapdoor visible. It was tricky to get up there, but when I managed to get there, I found a windowless, empty room. I can’t imagine it being used for anything except temporary refuge.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.
“There’s more. Carved into the wall were the words, ‘Today is the day we die. God help us all.’ It was dated November 12, 1924.”
I put my hand to my mouth.
“So there was a massacre,” George said.
“So it would seem. I’m sure if we had the time to really look around, we’d find that mass grave we talked about. And I’m curious where Bollinger’s lab was. It would seem it would have to be a large and much more modern building than the partially decayed structures we saw on our way here.”
“I’d be willing to bet the lab, along with anything else that would serve as evidence to what happened here was destroyed,” Meg said.
Jack nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. Let’s go back and see how Garrett and Clara are doing.”
When we got there, they had their own tale to tell, so we spread out a blanket and settled down to eat the sandwiches we’d brought with us.
“I had a vision after you left,” Clara said. “It was truly horrifying. I have no doubt many
people were killed on this island. Not just the group we believe Bosley was here to research, but many, many others, men, women, and children, who were massacred at the hands of those who invaded the land they hoped to dominate over the centuries.”
“It does seem as if there’s a lot of negative energy associated with this place,” I agreed. “And Brooke told me this island has witnessed more than one bloodbath.”
Clara wiped a tear from her cheek. “So much death. It’s hard to even process. But I digress. The main thing I want to share is that in addition to the widespread death and destruction, I picked up on something else. There’s a cemetery over that little bluff.” Clara pointed to it. “I had an image of a grave. A specific grave among many, so I took a hike there to see what I could find. The vegetation has grown to the point that any grave markers that were ever there can no longer be found, but I somehow knew where I needed to dig. I came back and told Garrett what I’d found, and he used his knife to help me fashion a tool to use to dig into the earth.”
“And what did you find?” I asked.
Clara handed George a metal box. It was of sturdy construction and had a heavy lock. It was old and rusty but somehow had endured for however long it had been buried. There was no way to know for certain when it had been put in the ground, but it seemed it must be a piece of the puzzle, and I was anxious to find out what was inside.
“Do you know what’s in it?” George asked.
“No,” Clara admitted. “The vision led me to it, but it didn’t provide any clues to what we’d find inside.”
George turned the box over in his hands. “To open it, we’ll need tools we don’t have here. We’ll take it with us.”
“What did you find?” Garrett asked as soon as we decided to take the box with us.
Jack took the lead to explain. He’d taken a lot of photos of the interior of the lighthouse with his phone, which he passed around. We all wondered whether the lighthouse keeper might have made it off the island alive. I didn’t think we’d ever know. One thing was certain: If he did manage to escape what we believed was the murder of all the island’s other inhabitants, he hadn’t stuck around. Not that I blamed him; I would have been on the next boat off the island as well.
“Look at this.” Garrett pointed to one of the photos Jack had taken. We could just make out a series of marks carved into the wall of the main living area of the lighthouse.
“Do they mean something to you?” Jack asked.
“I think it’s Morse Code. I’m pretty rusty at it, but I have a book that will translate it at the house.” Garrett pointed to a specific section of a wall. “See this here? I think it says something about demons.”
“Demons?” I asked.
Jack frowned. “I suppose people who heard voices and talked to themselves might seem like demons to someone who had no background with mental illness.”
I felt excitement rise in my chest. “Maybe if we can translate what’s written on the walls, we’ll have the rest of the story.” I looked at George. “Do you think Bosley knew Morse Code?”
“It’s possible he might have had a general grasp of it.”
I held my hands together. “So if the code on the walls included damaging information, he might recognize it as such.”
George nodded. “Yes, I believe he could have.”
I turned to look at Jack. “Did you take photos of all the walls?”
“I think so. If it looks as if I missed something, I can always come back. I’d go back now to take a second set of photos just to be sure, but it’s getting late. The sun sets earlier this time of year. We should probably go.”
While we hadn’t found a smoking gun, we had the box Clara had seen in her vision and the writing on the walls. I felt optimistic we’d learn what had gotten Bosley killed at last.
Chapter 9
The day had grown dark by the time we returned to the resort. Clara invited everyone to the main house for dinner. As she tossed together a casserole and a salad, I called to invite Brit and Vikki to join us. Jack set about opening the metal box, while Garrett found his book on Morse Code. There was a feeling of anticipation in the air. We had no idea what we’d find in the box—for all we knew, it could have been the body of a child’s pet—but we hoped it would be a significant find.
******
“So someone buried a copy of the contract between Oswald Bollinger and the four members of the island council in the cemetery,” I said when the others and Rick had arrived, the box had been opened, and the paper studied. “Why?”
“Someone might have wanted to be sure proof of the agreement wasn’t destroyed when things started to go badly and buried it where no one would look,” George said.
I supposed that made sense, but who was that someone? It surely wouldn’t have been Bollinger. In fact, my guess would be that once things began to go south, he most likely packed up and went back to wherever he’d come from in the first place.
“According to this document, the amount of money Bollinger gave to each of the council members was significant,” George continued. “In fact, I would go so far as to say the payout was most likely the foundation for the fortunes of all four families.”
“I really don’t get it,” I said with a frown. “Why did they pay them anything? Did they control Skull Island as well as Gull Island?”
“Actually, they did,” Meg said. “When the founding fathers landed on Gull Island, they established settlements on Skull, Sanctuary, and Treasure Islands as well. The four islands were only short boat rides from one another. Gull Island was the farthest to the west and closest to the mainland, so it grew the fastest and ended up with the largest population. By the time Bollinger came along, Sanctuary Island, the farthest to the east, was all but deserted. It never really did develop due to its rough terrain. Treasure Island grew parallel to Gull Island and continued to boom, and Skull Island, which once had a large settlement, was all but deserted after the hurricane. My guess is, Bollinger needed an isolated piece of land to establish his laboratory, and Skull Island fit the bill.”
“So the island council struck up a deal with this madman who happened to have a lot of cash that made them all rich men,” I restated.
“Exactly,” George confirmed.
“I imagine if word got out today that the fortunes these four men possess was built on the blood of innocent men and women, there might be some fallout,” I added.
“Possibly,” George agreed.
“So we’re back to Sam Castle, Ron Remand, Zane Carson, and Billy Waller as suspects in Bosley’s murder, and Sam Castle, Ron Remand, and Zane Carson as suspects in Billy Waller’s,” I pointed out. “They seem to have had the most to lose if Bosley made public that their grandfathers or great-grandfathers knew about and profited from atrocities committed against innocent people.”
“The problem is, I’ve cleared all but Billy of Bosley’s murder,” Rick said. “Sam was with his lady friend, Zane was out of town, and Ron had out-of-town company for the weekend staying at his home, which he never left.”
“So maybe Billy killed Bosley, then someone else killed Billy,” Vikki said.
“It could have happened that way,” Rick admitted. “Although if you ask me, Billy didn’t seem like a killer.”
“But if not Billy, who?” Brit wondered.
The room fell silent. If Billy’s death turned out not to be related to Bosley’s, it was conceivable the motive for each was something other than the terrible secret we’d uncovered. I didn’t know Bosley well; for all I knew, he could have racked up any number of people who wanted him dead over the years. And Billy was seen dining with his ex-business partner shortly before his death. That meeting could be a motive as well.
“Did you ever talk to Vincent O’Brian?” I asked Rick
“I did. He said Billy was looking into a new development in Charleston and wanted to know if he had any experience working with the man who was putting together the investment team. Vincent had worked with him a cou
ple of times and was going to be on the island anyway, so he agreed to have dinner with Billy to fill him in on the good and bad aspects of going into business with him. Apparently, the conversation was intense at times because of the topic, but there were never any hard feelings between them, even after their venture failed, and at no time did the meeting that night turn negative.”
“And you believe there really were no hard feelings between them?” Brit asked.
Rick nodded. “Vincent seemed sincere—and pretty broken up that Billy is dead.”
“So, assuming someone intentionally ran Billy off the road to kill him, they must have known he was at the restaurant,” I said. “It would seem it happened right after he left the restaurant.”
“I’ve interviewed staff and no one saw anything that stood out. The restaurant doesn’t have a security camera, but I asked them to try to remember who was there at the same time as Billy and Vincent. But it’s a big place, and it was a Friday night, so it was busy.”
I noticed the frown on Rick’s face. “What is it?” I asked.
“The more I think about it, the more it seems the motive for Bosley’s death must have been this huge secret he uncovered. I’m going to recheck alibis. Sam said Bosley was alive when he left Billy’s, but he didn’t have any proof to offer. Billy’s dead, so he can’t corroborate Sam’s statement, and for all I know, the woman he said he was with might be lying for him. Zane said he was out of town and Ron said he had company, but that doesn’t really mean one of them couldn’t have either snuck away and taken care of the threat to their family reputation or hired someone to do it for them.”
“How much do you think it would actually hurt them if the truth came out?” Brit asked. “It’s not like they did anything personally. They certainly can’t be held responsible for what their great-grandfathers did.”
“No, but there could be other fallout,” Rick said. “A lot of people on the island have been campaigning for quite some time to do away with the four founders’ seats on the council and make all of them elected. Despite the pride many of us feel in the founders and want to see the tradition continue, it seems the campaign to eliminate hereditary membership on the council is growing stronger. A scandal like this, coming right out of the founding families, could be just enough to tip the scales and bring true democracy to the council.”