The Lost Bones (Widow's Island #8)(23)



“Morning,” Henry said to the men with rifles as he walked to the end of the dock, two cardboard boxes in his arms. “I’m Dr. Powers. We’ve got some medical supplies we thought some of your residents could use.”

“We don’t need nothin’,” said the man wearing a Seahawks baseball cap. “You can load those boxes right back up in your plane.”

Cate grimaced. Dammit.

The younger man stepped forward, curiosity in his eyes. “What’s in the boxes?”

Good.

“Sterile bandages. Medical tape. Acetaminophen. Benadryl. Topical antibiotic cream. Rubbing alcohol.”

“Got anything stronger than acetaminophen?” the second man asked hopefully. He was missing several lower front teeth.

“No, sorry,” said Henry. He’d told Cate to expect one of the first questions to be about painkillers. Everyone wanted free narcotics.

“We’ll take the boxes for you,” said the man with the toothy smile. “You can be on your way.” The Seahawks fan glowered at his partner.

“I’d prefer to hand them out,” said Henry. “Anyone on the island need looking at? Any infections or sicknesses going on? Kids healthy?”

“We don’t need any doctors,” said the first man. His partner, who had agreed to take the boxes, gave him a side-eye.

“Everyone feel that way?” Henry asked. “Seems like people should decide for themselves if they want me to take a look at something for them. Or do you make the decisions on everyone’s health?”

“He’s not in charge,” said the man with missing teeth. “We’re all free men here. If you follow me, I’ll take you in and put the word out that a doc is visiting.” He gestured for one of the boxes, and Henry handed him a large carton of bandages.

Henry turned around and met Cate’s gaze. She nodded at him, pleased he’d gotten them onto the island. They’d agreed that the type of men on the island might respond better if Henry appeared in charge.

Twenty minutes later, they’d hiked to a small clearing with their load of supplies. Adam stayed with the plane, at Cate’s request. She didn’t want anything hampering their plan to leave—like a resident deciding they wanted a seaplane for themselves.

“No cell service,” Henry muttered.

“Nope,” said Cate, unsurprised. “That’s why Tessa gave me a sat phone.”

The Seahawks fan spoke into a beat-up walkie-talkie as they were leaving the plane. She heard him explain that a doctor was on the plane everyone had seen fly over the island. The doctor was bringing in a few supplies and was willing to take a look at any problems.

Now in the clearing, nearly a dozen people waited. Cate studied the men; none of them had any resemblance to Rich Causey. She tamped down her disappointment.

Rich wouldn’t come to see a doctor.

On the hike in, Cate had glimpsed some large tents linked together deep in the woods and an assortment of chairs and rusted barbecues set up near the tents. Tarps stretched between the trees, offering more cover. Cate wondered if all the residents lived in tents or if some had fashioned any homes out of wood. The docks were proof that some sort of construction had happened on the island at one point. Here in the clearing were a few chairs and large logs that had been dragged to surround a firepit. It was clearly a central meeting place of some sort.

Cate counted three guns tucked into holsters on the other residents and wondered how many weapons she couldn’t see. Where there’s a gun, always assume there’s another. No one looked upset to see Henry and Cate. In fact, several looked quite eager.

“Shit,” Henry said. “Look at his leg.”

The calf of one of the waiting men was swollen to nearly twice the size of his other. Somehow he had acquired an actual medical crutch and leaned heavily on it as he watched them approach. Cate made eye contact with the two women who were present and nodded. Neither was Ashlee Garnet.

Is this a wild-goose chase?

She hoped Tessa and Logan were having better luck.

Henry headed straight for the man with the bad leg, and Cate carried her box over to the women. She’d thought carefully about what to pack to break the ice, knowing she would probably need to gain a bit of trust before anyone would answer her questions. Both women appeared to be in their thirties. One was thin and wore stained jeans. The other wore navy yoga pants with a hole in the knee. They both had expressions of curiosity, their gazes locked on the large box Cate carried.

“Good morning,” Cate said. “I’m with Dr. Powers, and we’re just checking in to see if anyone has any health needs on the island.”

“What’s in the box?” asked the woman in yoga pants.

“Women’s sanitary products and—”

“I’ll take some of those,” the woman said immediately, and the thin one nodded, her face lighting up. “The men will never buy those on supply runs.”

“They’re chicken,” said the thin woman, rolling her eyes. “Also claim it’s a waste of money.”

Cate had suspected basic women’s care would be much-needed products.

She squatted as she set down the box and unslung a large bag from her shoulder. She dug out a few packages of pads and tampons, which the women eagerly took. “Any medical issues you’d like to talk to Dr. Powers about?” Cate asked as she also gave each one a bottle of generic acetaminophen and a box of Band-Aids.

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