Prisoners of Hope by Barbara Fradkin

Author:Barbara Fradkin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2018-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The drive to Skerryvore stretched on forever through dense forests and rocky clearings. They passed only two other vehicles, both pickups of indeterminate age and colour. Once again, they were guided only by vague directions, although Venetia had given them a street address, which they punched into Chris’s GPS.

“But it’s not much of a road by then,” she’d said. “More a track. Look for the smallest cottage at the end of it. It’s an original log home. The Saint Clairs own it and sometimes use it if they’re stuck on the mainland by bad weather.”

The small community of Skerryvore occupied a peninsula surrounded by water, so there was little chance of getting lost. The modest cottages were tucked into the trees and scattered along the waterfront, creating a relaxed, natural feel. There were almost no vehicles in sight. They looped along the gravel road until it petered out, and at the end they found tire tracks continuing on through the mud.

Chris stopped and leaned out to eye the track dubiously before announcing they would walk from there. As they climbed out of the truck, he put a restraining hand on Kaylee. “I want her to stay in the truck.”

“She’ll have a fit.”

“We don’t know what we’re facing. I don’t want her to bark and warn them.”

“Okay,” Amanda said, reluctantly shutting the truck door and pulling her hood up against the chill. “But I can’t promise she won’t howl.”

Chris grinned. “Just like her mom. Has to be in the thick of things.”

True to the prediction, Kaylee began to howl the minute they left but fortunately stopped once they rounded a bend out of sight. Ahead of them was a rustic log cabin with a dock overlooking the sullen grey water of the bay. Islands were sprinkled about, obscuring the view across the main channel, but Amanda suspected Saint Clair Island was directly opposite.

The cabin stood cute and proud on its rock, commanding the bay. It was in good repair; the winter’s debris had been swept off the deck, the windows sparkled, and a pair of freshly painted Muskoka chairs sat on the deck. Two kayaks were overturned side by side on the shore, and a small runabout was still under a tarp beside the house. Despite the tire tracks, however, there were no vehicles parked in the lane.

Chris was studying the ground. “One vehicle. Big tires. The tread is thick and new. I’m guessing a big SUV or truck, new or at least with new tires.” He straightened to follow the track toward the back. “But today’s rain has partially washed the tracks away, so they’re not fresh.”

Amanda tiptoed up to peer in the cottage windows. Deserted. But through the screen of cedar she spotted a third kayak pulled up on the shore beyond the point. A familiar lime green. Damn, she’s been here, she thought. The silly girl. She headed for a closer look. The kayak was haphazardly pulled ashore, still half in the water and bumping in the waves.

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