Carl strode toward the office, passing the two tour boats, and opened the door.
With faded paint on the hulls and battered and scratched awnings, the tour boats didn’t look like the once gleaming vehicles she remembered. In her memory, the boats sparkled under the sun, their decks filled with smiling tourists.
Ashley glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t see the new dinner boats.”
Steve continued to wave her on.
She assessed the bigger threat. Carl was a known hothead. But Steve’s cold behavior was an unwelcome discovery. Her survival depended on her correct calculations of their dark souls.
“Sit,” Carl said, pointing at a chair opposite the desk. He walked around behind the solid piece of furniture to claim his spot.
She did as she was told, sinking into the seat and darting her gaze. She spotted a desk calendar and froze. She’d been home for a little over a week. In sixteen days, her husband could claim the Inn free and clear. If the Prims killed her, she’d really clear Christopher’s path to her inheritance. In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t want it.
Steve entered the room, shut the door, and stood with his back against the solid panel.
The office had no windows. No other means of escape besides the door behind the armed man.
Steve frowned and motioned for her to turn.
She shifted in the chair, turning toward Carl.
Now you’re meek and mild? Now you do as you’re told?
As clear as if he stood opposite, Ashley heard Dad’s voice. She dug deep, infusing her backbone with steel. If she had to charm her way out alive, so be it. Her story wouldn’t end here. “Listen, don’t do this. Let me go. No one will notice I’m gone.”
Steve’s hardened gaze softened. The man she’d known since childhood lurked somewhere inside him still. Good. She had a chance. She turned toward Carl. “We can pretend this never happened. I support your family’s business. I believe in your new idea. We can be great partners.”
Carl rolled his eyes. “The dinner cruise? That wasn’t real.”
“It wasn’t?” she asked.
“No,” Carl snapped. “We wanted to egg on Christopher. Get him to act rashly, show he’s unhinged without the old man steering the ship.”
She bit her lip. The old man hadn’t had his hands on the wheel for years. Admitting that wouldn’t buy her time or safety. She needed another stalling technique. “Okay. You riled up Christopher. Mission accomplished. What happened next? Did you put Mr. Willie on your payroll?”
“Mr. Willie?” Carl threw back his head and let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I wish. That man is practically a guard dog, constantly prowling the perimeter. He made our reconnaissance so much harder. As did you with your lighthouse stunt.”
Reconnaissance for what? She was missing some deeper part of the play. “The treasure was never real.”
Carl scoffed and rolled his eyes. “We’re not idiots. We know that. Something was taken from us almost a hundred years ago.”
“By my family?” she asked. Her stomach twisted. She didn’t shy away from her feelings. She embraced every ounce of emotion, savoring the end of her life as she stalled for more precious seconds.”
“Stole the land the lighthouse sits on. The island had been the site of operations for the Prims. But the handshake agreement was voided by one of your ancestors.” Carl sniffed.
“What would you do with it now? You’ve set yourselves up here very nicely. Why go through the hassle?” she asked, hoping she’d instilled enough empathy and concern into her tone.
“Because the island is an asset, and we need every one we can claim,” Carl said.
“How could you possibly take over property that is legally part of the Inn?” she asked.
“Eminent domain.” Carl lifted an eyebrow. “We have a shell utility company ready to stake the claim for the land.”
“Another ploy?” She curled her lip, unable to stop herself.
“No, it’s very real,” Carl replied. “It’s under the guise of updating infrastructure and getting the town up to modern standards for internet connectivity.”
“And you think you’ll have town support?” she asked.
