11. Bella - The Next Morning #2
I sigh. “You’re all in on this, aren’t you?”
“On what?”
“Being cryptic. Seems to be a town trait.”
She laughs softly. “We just know when to speak and when not to.”
“Which is?”
“That depends on who’s asking.”
I glance at Finn.
He shrugs. “Told you.”
“Well, nice to meet you. I look forward to visiting your shop soon.”
“Good luck, doctor.”
We move on.
The little island museum is exactly as advertised—one room on the town square, packed with history. Old photographs, tools from the whaling days, fossils, old newspaper articles, models of ships, a timeline that stretches back farther than I expected.
And the Hunt name. Everywhere.
“The Hunt family built this place,” Finn says, nodding toward a plaque. “Or at least the version of it we’ve got now.”
I scan the dates. The names. Then I spot a plaque hanging on the wall.
Dr. Elias Mercer — Resident Physician, 1880–1912
“Found him,” I murmur.
Finn steps closer. “What?”
“I found his medical journal last night. Upstairs in the house… What happened to him, Finn?”
He hesitates. “He died.”
“Yeah, but any details?”
“Not that I know.”
I glance back at the name, at the dates, at the quiet weight of history pressing in around it. Something in my chest tightens.
“Bella,” Finn says, a little more gently now. “You don’t have to figure everything out in one day.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
I look up again, past the museum window, toward the cliffs.
The estates are there. Watching.
Finn follows my gaze.
“We don’t go up there, Bella. The Cliffs. They have their world and we have ours down here.”
--
By the time Finn drags me up the steps to town hall, I’ve met half the island and been warned about the other half.
“This is the easy part,” he says under his breath. “Smile, nod, don’t start diagnosing the mayor.”
“I don’t diagnose people without symptoms.”
He glances at me. “That’s so adorable.”
We step inside. Mayor Calloway looks exactly like a man who enjoys being mayor. I notice he has the kind of smile that lands before the words do.
“Doctor Russo,” he says, stepping forward with his hand already extended. “Good to see you again. Settling in?”
“Yes, thanks,” I reply, shaking his hand. “And thank you for the house. And the delicious casserole—your wife saved my first night.”
He laughs easily. “She likes to make sure people feel at home. She’s a great cook.”
“It worked,” I say. “I may never leave.”
Mayor Calloway gestures for us to sit.
“So how was your first night?” he asks.
“Better than expected,” I admit. “The clinic’s in good shape. But we’ll need to order some additional supplies. Nothing too dramatic.”
“Bill the town,” he says immediately. “That’s what we brought you here for.”
I like that answer.
“Good,” I say. “I’ve made a list for Finn who will coordinate.”
“Excellent.”
“He’s shown me around town. Getting to know people.” Then I lean forward slightly. Casually. “So,” I say. “While we’re on the subject of getting to know the island … I wanted to ask about the woods.”
Finn freezes beside me.
“What about them?” he asks neutrally.
“Any known wildlife issues?” I continue. “Aggressive animals, unusual behavior, rabies, attacks—anything I should be aware of medically.”
A flicker of a look flashes across his face but it’s gone fast.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he says. “Foxes, deer, raccoons, the usual. Occasionally something gets too close to town, but nothing serious.”
“Silas mentioned something in The Wilds,” I say.
Calloway smiles, easy and dismissive.
“Silas has a habit of wandering,” he says. “And a habit of drinking more than he should while doing it.”
Finn snorts softly.
“I’m serious,” I say, keeping my tone even. “If there’s anything that could pose a risk—”
“There isn’t,” Calloway says smoothly. “Not beyond what you’d expect anywhere this remote.”
The answer is too clean. I file that away.
“What about past incidents?” I press. “Strange illnesses, injuries, unexplained—”
“Doctor,” he says gently, cutting in just enough to redirect, “this island has been here a long time. If there were anything significant recently, we’d have already addressed it.”
That’s not a no.
That’s a we’re not talking about that.
“Okay,” I say. I pause and then say, “Dr. Mercer. What can you tell me about him?”
This time, he pauses longer.
“He served the town well long, long ago,” Calloway says. “For many years. At the turn of the last century.”
“And then?”
“And then he retired.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all I know.”
That’s not true. We all know it. But I let it go. For now. I shift back in my chair and change direction. Lighten up the conversation.
“You weren’t kidding about the bell,” I say. “Everyone really does go inside when it rings at sunset.”
Calloway brightens immediately.
“Yes,” he says. “Tradition. Isn’t it charming?”
I study him. Because there’s nothing charming about the way people react to it. Not really.
“It’s something,” I say.
“It’s part of what makes this place special,” he continues. “People here respect history and routine and tradition. It keeps things orderly.”
“Orderly,” I repeat.
“Predictable,” he says.
“Right,” I say.
As we stand to leave, he shakes my hand again. Firm and confident.
“Doctor Russo,” he says, “we’re very fortunate to have you.”
“Thank you.”
“Let me know if you need anything. We have a budget for you.”
“I will, thanks.”
We step back out into the daylight. The door closes behind us. Finn exhales.
“Well,” he says.
“Well,” I echo.
“You asked a lot of questions.”
“He answered none of them.”
“True. At least we have a budget.”
I glance back at the building. This island seems to be hiding something. Or maybe agreeing not to see something they should?