Cara

I wake up to rain. Thankfully, I shut my windows last night before bed because the wind is even stronger than yesterday. It's not the ideal weather for a treasure hunt, but it isn't really my problem. Still, I get dressed in a wool sweater, a heavy skirt, and a pair of sturdy boots.

The mood at breakfast is just as awkward as I expected. No one brings up the topic of the hunt. I ignore Marcus, as I'm still annoyed with him. He's also dressed in a sweater, a heavy dark grey guernsey. Almost everyone is in sweaters, except for Fiona and Bridgette who wore woolen dresses and boots.

Armin doesn't bring up the hunt either. "Damn weather," he mutters over his toast.

"You couldn't have done this in the summer?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

"Don't start."

I sigh and sip my coffee. He told me he had his reasons, but as with everything else in this job, I'm operating on incomplete information.

Travis and Cody have their heads together, speaking softly. Fiona and Bridgette are having their own private conversation, although it's mostly Bridgette doing the talking while her sister listens quietly. She throws an occasional nervous glance my way. I pretend not to notice.

The brothers Elijah and Jacob don't say much, but I suspect the two of them have decided to team up for the hunt. Everyone, it seems, would be paired up. Except me, of course.

Marcus, the only other participant in the hunt who isn't currently plotting strategy, is carrying a conversation with Amber to his left, and Gwendolyn across the table from him.

I try to tamp down on my curiosity but I can't help but wonder what he's up to. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he planned to go it alone. Yet if I were to put my money on the person winning this hunt, it would be him.

"Is Sevel not having breakfast with us?" Gwendolyn says, in her heavy French accent.

"He's sleeping in," Fiona says. "He's not really much of a breakfast person."

A hangover, probably. I noticed he seemed to almost always have a drink in his hand. I wonder if his fondness for alcohol was what contributed to his unsuccessful acting career.

Armin snorts, but no one else notices but me. He doesn't like Sevel, and I could tell he was not pleased when he showed up late yesterday. While not officially a competitor in the hunt, there's no rule against him working with his wife. I don't expect he'll be much help to Fiona, even though he has a stake in her winning.

"It is lovely weather to stay in bed with a book," Gwendolyn says wistfully. "Perhaps I'll do that. Will you show me the library, Marcus? I didn't bring any books with me."

"Sure," Marcus says.

"Oh, sorry, I forget. You will be busy hunting today, n'est ce pas?"

"I can do that later." He grins. "Or maybe I'll just keep baby Aldéric company."

I narrow my eyes at him over my coffee mug. What is he playing at? Is his strategy to pretend he isn't interested in winning the hunt? I can't imagine any reason he would skip it to babysit Travis and Gwendolyn's infant son.

Armin is looking at me with an amused smile. Ever since I told him about my secret fling with his grandson, he's been observing how I behaved in Marcus's presence as though we were here to entertain him.

"Don't start," I mutter.

***

The howling of the wind is even louder than the crashing of the waves on the shore. Struggling to keep my right foot from sliding over the rocks, I curse under my breath. The rain is pouring down now, having gotten worse since breakfast. The hooded coat I have on is barely keeping me dry— my face is already dripping wet. Wool was definitely a sensible choice because at least I'm warm.

I'm feeling stupid right now. The island is huge, and I don't know my way around it, having never been here before yesterday. There is no way I'll find that stupid gun, at least not before any of Armin's grandchildren who have been coming here since they were children.

But I'm not here to win the hunt.

I'd like to say I'm not paid enough to be here— wet and soaked from the rain and probably about to catch a cold — but that isn't true. It would be great if I knew why that stupid gun is so important to Armin, but that information is apparently still above my pay grade. I feel like kicking myself for not bringing a map. I could have taken a photo of it with my phone so I had something to guide me. But I was overly confident I could find the fisherman's cottage easily.

"Cara!"

I squint and try to make out the figure in the distance walking toward me. It looks like a man in a coat and hat, but I can't recognize his voice over the wind.

He's walking toward me, so I don't move. By the time I recognize Sevel's face, he's only a few feet away. "What are you doing here?" I say, having to shout over the wind to be heard.

"There's a storm warning," he says. "You should go back inside."

"You go on ahead. I'll be fine."

He's still coming closer and I instinctively take two steps back. He isn't menacing, exactly. But the way he's smiling just strikes me as odd.

"Come with me, I know the fastest way back to the house."

Before I can reply he takes hold of my arm above my elbow. I try to jerk my arm away, but he grips it more tightly. "What are you doing?" I say, still trying to get free. The action is putting me off balance and I feel my feet threatening to slip over the wet rocks.

"I'm trying to help you, Cara."

"Thanks but I'm fine." I'm glowering at him at this point but the man only smiles wider.

"If you don't want to go back to the main house, there's a guest villa just over that bluff. It's nice and warm. Very private."

My stomach churns in disgust. "I don't think that's a good idea."

He pulls me close, and I notice the faint smell of whisky in his breath. "Don't be stubborn, sweetheart. No one has to know. You and I can swap notes." He leers at me. " Let's work together."

"Why aren't you working with your wife?" I try to keep my voice even, hoping to keep him distracted as I slip my free hand into my coat pocket. When I feel my fingers close around the comforting shape of cold steel, I smile. "Fiona knows this island better than me."

"Well, I figured Armin tells you stuff he doesn't tell the rest of us. If not" — his gaze sweeps over my face —"I know you can convince him to."

"Like I said," I say sweetly as I pull out the small Glock from my coat and aim it at his stomach. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Sevel's smile falters at the sight of the gun, but only for a moment. But he loosens his grip on my arm enough that I'm able to pull free.

"Why don't you go back to the house, Sevel," I say, keeping the gun aimed at him. "I can take care of myself."

"Little girls shouldn't be playing with guns." His stupid grin still on his face, he makes no move to back away from me.

"Oh, I don't know. From this distance, if I aim for your balls" — I lower my aim to his crotch — "I probably won't miss."

At that, his expression flattens. He takes a step back. And another. "Forget it then. You still haven't said what you're doing here."

"No, I didn't."

Another figure appears, this one on the bluff above us. I recognize the grey rain jacket before I could make out his face.

Marcus doesn't say a word, just stares down at us. At the gun I'm holding in my hand, the one I'm aiming at his brother-in-law.

Marcus

"Are you positive?" I ask, feeling a cold lump of dread form in my stomach.

"Not until I can physically examine the scarf," Nova says. The private investigator's voice is emotionless and clipped over the phone, the way she always does when discussing a case. "But as best as I can tell, that could definitely be a bullet hole."

"I see." My mind is racing as I try to think. Cara wasn't imagining things. That was a gunshot aimed at her. Here, in an isolated island populated by only family and staff. Who the hell is going around shooting at people?

"Are you in danger, Mr. Ryan? Should I call the authorities?"

"How soon can they get here?"

There's a pause. "There's a storm warning in your area. Visibility is limited for aircraft and the water isn't safe for small craft. It may take a while."

"Hold off for a bit, then. At least until the weather clears." And until I can talk to Cara find out why she hasn't told Armin.

For the next five minutes, I try to get her on the phone, but all my calls go to voicemail. According to the staff, she had set off toward the beach. Alone. I contemplate taking the shotgun with me, but I don't want to raise any questions. The last thing I need is to alarm the staff or Armin. Instead, I put on a raincoat and make my way outside.

I walk along the cliffs as I search the beach, heading north and finding nothing for twenty minutes. Finally, I see two figures on the rocky shore. I walk to the edge of the buff to get a clearer view through the heavy rain.

They're facing each other. The taller figure takes a few steps back, allowing me to see the other one holding up something.

Cara looks up at me, her expression unreadable from this distance. It's only then that I recognize the gun she's holding in her hand.

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