Terminal Island by Walter Greatshell Page A

wait a second—”
    “—and now you’re going around suggesting that she might be incompetent, so you can swoop in and take charge of her affairs. Just hear me out. Now, maybe I’m totally off-base. Maybe it’s not that way at all. But it sounds to me as if your mother has been more than polite—she could have sought a restraining order, which is exactly what I will advise her to do if it comes to my attention that you are harassing her or intruding upon her privacy in any way.”
    Henry listens to this with growing astonishment. “ Harassing ? Are you kidding me? Jesus Christ—”
    “I don’t accept people taking the Lord’s name in vain, sir, not in this office, not on this island. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I have work to do.” She brusquely shows him to the door. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

Chapter Thirteen
    BUFFALO
    “D oes this island seem strange to you?”
    “In what way?”
    “Well…just a lot of little things. I’ve just been thinking a lot about everything that’s happened here, and all these crazy ideas keep popping into my head.”
    “Like what?”
    “No, you already think I’m paranoid enough about this place.”
    “Hey, I’ll still love you even if you are delusional.”
    “That’s what I mean.”
    “I’m kidding . God.”
    “Okay. It’s just this kind of crackpot conspiracy theory I came up with after talking to that bitchy cop.”
    “Is this something I should be filming?”
    “Maybe so.”
    “Hold on, let me unplug the adapter…” Setting it up, she says, “Okay, shoot.”
    “All right. Well, I’ve been thinking about those condos and how empty they look. I mean, we haven’t seen a single person go in or out, right?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Okay, and this island supposedly has a water shortage, right? I mean, there are signs about conserving water in every restaurant, in the hotels, in all the tourist literature. You would think the lack of water would hinder development, that there would be a limit to how many people this island could support. And yet development is booming. There must be thousands of new retirement units on those hills, and more going up all the time.”
    “Yeah…?”
    “So where are all these new residents? With the tourists gone there’s practically no one left. Half the businesses are closed for the season.”
    “Who knows? You’ve seen those upscale condo communities before—they always look like ghost towns. That’s the way these people like to live. They raise hell if anybody’s out in the open spoiling the view—that’s why there aren’t usually any sidewalks in those places. They don’t want to see anybody, they don’t want to hear anybody, and definitely no children, pets, or poor. That’s why they put a wall around themselves in the first place.”
    “Okay, but let me ask you this: What if one of those people were to disappear? Do you think they’d be noticed by the others?”
    She laughs, “Probably not.”
    “I’m serious. Think about it. None of them know their neighbors, they’ve probably retired far away from wherever they spent most of their lives, and they’re estranged from friends and families. No one knows anyone else. And a lot of these older people have money, or at the very least a regular Social Security check. So on the one hand you’ve got a lot of disconnected, vulnerable old people, and on the other hand they’re loaded. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
    “Yeah—they’re targets for criminals. I’ve heard of that happening. Are you saying there’s some kind of old people farm going on here?”
    “I’m saying, what if you got rid of the old people and just kept their checks? Is that so impossible to imagine?”
    “Yes. I’m sorry, honey, but it is.”
    “Why? Look, it’s not so ridiculous: You investigate elderly people and find suitable candidates—anyone who has no immediate family or close friends, is either retired or independently wealthy, and moves around a lot.