Captain Hugh peered up into the sky as the three of them set foot on the tarmac. He bowed his back and stretched in the chill humid air blowing in off Lake Erie. “It’ll be light soon,” he observed. “Either of you two ever visited the island? No? Well, I don’t know what your business is, but if you get a chance you should spend a day. There’s a real town here—schools, police department, the whole thing. Lots of shops and restaurants. My wife and I came a few years ago on our anniversary. A cave, too. Crystals...I forget exactly what they called them, but it was like being surrounded by diamond walls. Okay, they don’t pay me to pitch this place, so I won’t hold you up.” He gave a nod towards the little terminal. “My wife handles my bookings. She said the man who’ll ferry you out to Wailing Isle should be waiting inside. Said to tell you he’d be an older fella with a European accent.” Issabella had been stifling a yawn, but seemed to snap to alertness as the captain spoke.
