“No.” Oscar had heard enough. “Because you knew she’d do the right thing. And you somehow convinced Robin to go along with you.”
Her cold gray eyes moved to him. “Stay out of this, Mr. Fox.”
“Why should he? You’ve endangered everyone by keeping this from them,” Lawson spat. “Just as you endangered Robin by insisting we take on the original investigation.”
Montague’s head jerked slightly, as if she’d been slapped. “My father sold this house—I couldn’t have the Vanderwalls dragging our name through the mud. People would assume he knew, that he’d kept it secret for a reason. And,” she went on, when it seemed as though Lawson would interject, “if things had gone differently, this would have been just what your career needed. Robin came here for both of us.”
“I thought she wanted to break up with Dr. Lawson,” Chris said from near the door.
Montague shot them a hard look. “I will not have an audience for this spat, Ruthie. As we were discussing before Dr. Taylor interrupted us, the storm is moving faster than was originally predicted. Rough sea warnings have been issued. As much as I hate it, we should prepare to leave the island.”
Oscar couldn’t argue with that. “We’ve already packed up everything but the laptop.”
Lawson shook her head. “We’re going to tell everyone You can’t keep this a secret.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Montague’s words were aimed at Lawson, but her gaze took in the entire group. “Everyone here signed an NDA. If you so much as breathe a word about what you found, I’ll sue down to your last penny. You’ll never see another dime from me, or another grant.”
The floor of the trailer seemed to drop out from under Oscar. He’d wondered about the NDAs at the time, but signing seemed harmless enough. He’d thought Montague only wanted to protect Robin’s memory, that she wouldn’t ask for anything they wouldn’t be glad to give.
“NDAs are null and void when it comes to hiding evidence of a crime,” Tina said, though she didn’t sound certain about that.
Montague raised an eyebrow. “A crime that happened over a hundred years ago? With everyone involved long dead? This isn’t a police investigation, it’s an archaeological dig.”
Oscar wasn’t entirely sure she was right…but he also wasn’t sure she was wrong, either. If they tried to report what they found to the police, someone might come out just to make sure the bodies weren’t fresh, but beyond that…
“Do you really want this hidden just because your great-great uncle was involved?” he asked at last.
Montague arched an eyebrow. “I suppose your family no longer has a reputation to protect, since they lost whatever standing they had in backwater West Virginia when the distillery closed. But the Montague name carries weight still. Do you have any idea how many southern universities have buildings named for us? There are no less than four my grandfather donated in memory of Noah. If word gets out, there will be months of bad press while the institutions in question dilly-dally over whether or not his name should be removed. Investors are a nervous bunch, and stock in our companies will fall.”
“So it’s ultimately about money.”
“Reputation and money are the same thing. An agreement between gentlemen was all that was needed to secure funding in Noah’s time, and that is still true today at certain levels of society.”
Among those sufficiently wealthy, in other words. Oscar hadn’t thought the situation could get any more depressing, yet here they were.
A gust of wind rocked the trailer, and Montague frowned. “Now, if there are no more impertinent questions, I’m afraid we must evacuate. I’m not happy that you failed to put Robin to rest, but I acknowledge the tropical storm is arriving sooner than expected. Once it has passed, you will return and rectify the situation. Move Robin along, abide by your NDAs, and I will let bygones be bygones and continue to support your future endeavors.”
“This isn’t over,” Dr. Lawson growled.
Montague shook her head. “I think, Ruthie, you’ll find that it is.”
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?”
