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Chapter 4

Ashley

I WALKED OUT OF THE research station, squinting against the bright daylight. Shielding my eyes with my arm against the sun, I looked out over the water, then at the path I had taken to get to this remote part of the island.

Still no one.

The cabin door shut behind me, the interior dark and cool again. A small pot bubbled on the camp stove, the steam rising above it smelling of noodles. I stirred the pot, taking deep breaths into my lungs, trying to still the sense of unease.

It had been two days, and I had yet to hear from the rest of the team. I’d tried to reach them multiple ways, but I had few resources here, and my attempts had failed. The field office was just as in the dark.

Ripples followed the spoon as I stirred the bubbling water, the noodles swirling around it like a wild sea creature. Where in the world could the team be? They were supposed to have landed the day I arrived here. Even if one of them had been late, maybe a canceled flight, that should still have given them extra time to reach Japan.

Maybe some part of their transport up here had broken down—a bus, a train, the truck picking them up at the station. But even if one had broken down, it wasn’t like there wouldn’t have been another to take its place. Japan, of all places, would have ensured a swift and reliable replacement to get them to a destination on time.

Maybe the boat here was the one that had broken. That was the one part of the chain that didn’t have a replacement.

I suddenly felt reassured, my anxiety climbing down a notch. That had to be it. The boat had broken down, and they needed time to get replacement parts and even more time to fix it. I’d been on hundreds of ships in my life, and I knew I’d heard a strange sound coming from the engine on the way here.

Except, no one on the team had messaged me to let me know what was happening.

The three other people on the team were familiar to me, and I had worked on prior research missions with them. One of them was terrible at communication—getting him to answer any correspondence was like pulling teeth. He’d told me himself he was always too absorbed in what he was doing, too much of a pragmatist, and felt communication was overrated. Far overrated. Maybe he had dismissed the idea of giving me a heads-up, knowing there was little I could do to make the time pass faster, anyway. They would get here when they got here.

That was one possibility, anyway.

Except he wasn’t the only one on the team, and someone else probably would have given me a heads up, even if he hadn’t.

With that thought, my anxiety spiked again.

There had to be a reason they were late. A normal, explainable reason, and the rest of the team would be here any time now.

I managed to snag a noodle on the spoon after several failed attempts and, deeming it cooked enough, turned off the burner. I dumped in the seasoning packet and stirred, the seasoned tofu cake floating to the top.

The food had been an extra weight in my bag, an annoyance when my goal was to pack as light as possible. Luxury wasn’t a thing on a mission like this. You packed only what you could carry, and most of that space went to instruments and other items needed to collect data and samples. You were lucky if you had several changes of clothes and even more fortunate if the place had some kind of bathing facility.

But some of the instant noodle bowls you could buy in Japan had become a weakness over the times I’d had extended work there. I’d left a few personal items at home just to be able to fit them in my bag.

Who needed an extra pair of socks in the middle of summer, anyway?

Now, I was even more grateful I’d brought a few with me—they were something of a comfort. The fragrant, steaming broth spilled into the chipped bowl I’d found in a half-filled cabinet, the noodles following in a large tangle that sent the liquid sloshing over the side. The scent of spice wafted into the air on the steam that curled into the air. I sat at the table with my instruments, notebooks, results, and charts strewn across the top, pushing at them to make a small space.

The old chair creaked as I sat down, struggling to catch a spoonful of noodles even before my butt was fully in the seat. Why hadn’t anyone thought to stock this place with a fork? Or maybe they had, and it had gotten lost, accidentally packed, or used to cobble together a fix for a machine that had broken but was still needed.

But there was no one to ask because the guide-caretaker who had been the one who was supposed to meet me here hadn’t ever shown up, either. When I’d radioed my issue, the voice at the other end hadn’t had a solution except to wait longer.

I blew gently on the first bite and chewed thoughtfully as intrusive thoughts wormed their way back into my head.

No one had come to the small cabin. No one had tried to contact me about being late. And the silence and sense of isolation were starting to get to me.

I had electricity, thanks to a generator. I’d worked in some places where the only thing available had been lanterns. My institute had also fitted my laptop with an Internet card connected to a government satellite so I could work, but the coverage was spotty at best. Music downloaded on my phone was my only companion, along with the books I’d downloaded onto it at the café in Nemuro while I’d been waiting for the ferry ride.

But even they were becoming a poor substitute.

I was alone, and the silence was starting to get to me.

The last conversation I’d had with my mother back in the café pushed its way into my mind. Suddenly, her concern didn’t seem so far-fetched, nor her feelings of agitation and apprehension. But what was concerning was the way I’d tried to ignore the fact that I felt the same stirrings, the same concern rippling just under my skin and swirling in my stomach.

My mother was a worrier—it came to her as naturally as breathing. She’d forever been running after my brothers, reckless as most small boys. But she had also had to deal with me, the daredevil of our family. I’d been forever diving into the water to search for dubious treasure, or reaching for a potentially dangerous fish, or climbing up the top of my uncle’s fishing boat. I always conveniently forgot that one slight misstep would have sent me into the shark-infested waters around San Francisco Bay.


Tags: Lexy Timms Romance