Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
As Ethan helped Ms. Montague into the golf cart, the back of which was loaded with equipment cases, Nigel said, “Let me ride with you. That way, Ethan can prep the catamaran for departure, while I bring the cart back for another load.”
Montague looked as though she wanted to object, but just then a crack came from somewhere in the ghost forest as a particularly rotted tree toppled in the wind. “Very well—anything that will help speed our departure.”
He clambered into the back, perching awkwardly on a case in the front of the bed. He gripped the metal bars of the roof support as Ethan stepped on the accelerator. The rain was growing stronger, and the trees almost seemed to growl as the wind rocked them.
Leaning forward, he said, “Why did you really choose us to work with, Ms. Montague?” He had his ideas, but he wanted to hear what she had to say.
“Are you going to insist on discussing this now?” she asked.
“Yes.” While they were away from Dr. Lawson and the OutFoxing team, because he didn’t think Montague’s answer would be kind.
“You could have hired anyone. And I know you said you wanted to work with someone who was a genuine medium, and you were interested in renewing the relationship with the Institute of Parapsychology. I always assumed you came to me because I was Dr. Lawson’s successor, that you chose OutFoxing because you recognized Oscar’s talent. But that isn’t it, is it?”
“Don’t insult your boyfriend.” Montague didn’t look at him, merely continued to peer out the rain-spattered windshield. The canopy was keeping her mostly dry, but Nigel’s back and butt were getting soaked. “I only work with the best. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“There are other, better funded, more experienced researchers you could have picked. The US isn’t the only country with parapsychology departments—you have the money to fly someone in from Edinburgh or Zurich.
As for mediums, Oscar was a complete unknown.
He might have turned out to be a fake, or just a little more sensitive to spirits than the average person. ”
“Then we would have found someone else. You know this, we discussed it the day we met.”
She wasn’t going to come out and say it.
“Again, you could have hired someone with a track record. But I think you looked for a struggling ghost hunting group with a medium so you could dazzle them with your money. Make them indebted entirely to you. Then, if they got out of line, use the threat of withholding that money to keep them under your thumb.”
“A fascinating theory.” She still didn’t look at him. “And what about you?”
“It’s no secret the Institute moved on from survival research decades ago. It hung on as a legacy position, but with budget cuts aimed at anything that doesn’t result in an MBA or a job in tech, my post was on the chopping block. Your grants turned that around.”
“As well as some words in the right ears.” She turned her head slightly, so he could see her patrician profile.
“You’re a smart man, Dr. Taylor. If I had my choice, I would have left this island to rot.
But with Robin visiting in my dreams, something needed to be done.
I refuse to spend my last years haunted.
If this damned storm…but no matter.” She faced the front again.
“Once it’s blown past, you’ll return and finish things here.
I will have my peaceful sleep, you will have your job, and OutFoxing the Paranormal will have unfettered access to whatever gadgets or equipment they need. No one need ever know about the Pack.”
“Did you know, before you came here the first time?”
“No. There was a diary—Gloria showed Robin where it was hidden, after we found the remains. I burned it that very day.” Her mouth tightened. “Robin claimed she’d destroyed the tape we made that night, but clearly she lied to me.”
Damn it. The diary would have been the best evidence. At least she’d missed the ledger, though it was hardly proof of anything, given the shorthand nature of its entries.
“I hope you’re not considering either going to the press or blackmailing me,” Montague added as the golf cart emerged from the ghost forest. “You’ll find that—”
Her words died, and Ethan let out a gasp. The golf cart rolled to a stop at the foot of the pier, and all three of them stared in horror.
The catamaran was gone.