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Frankenstein—maybe I’m just trying to oblige.”
    â€œOblige my foot!” Katrina muttered as he moved past her to set the cups on the table.
    Katrina felt little chills of unease slip down her spine. When he had been near, she’d felt a sense of déjà vu. There’d been something about him that was so familiar. His scent, perhaps: a subtle after-shave, fresh and like the air after a storm—
    And just like that pleasant, lingering scent in the cabin, on the sheets….
    She shook herself vehemently. It was obviously his cabin. The damned after-shave was sitting on his dresser.
    â€œQuite honestly, Mrs. Denver, it’s just milk. The container broke, and I had to put it in something.”
    Katrina rose, bringing the glass vial with her. She slid into a chair across from him. “Milk—and what else?” she inquired with a saccharine smile.
    â€œJust milk,” he repeated.
    She stirred milk into her coffee uneasily.
    She was somewhat surprised when he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his top white shirt pocket, and lit one, inhaling as he watched her, almost as if he were as nervous as she was. His eyes, steely gray this morning, seemed to penetrate into her soul.
    â€œI’m waiting—”
    â€œFor an explanation, yes.” He inhaled, then swore softly as the coffee cups slid across the table at another lurch of the boat. He caught his cup; she caught hers.
    â€œHow are you feeling this morning, Mrs. Denver?” he asked her suddenly, and once again she felt that she was being carefully observed—more so than just physically.
    And her strange dreams rose to the forefront of her mind, causing her to bow her head slightly and as she replied a bit curtly, “Fine.” Then she added, “How am I supposed to feel?”
    He waved a hand nonchalantly in the air. “Fine. Rested. Happy. Are you all of those things, Mrs. Denver?”
    â€œYou’re forgetting, I’m irate. And I’m supposed to be asking the questions.”
    â€œShoot. I’ll answer what I can.”
    â€œWhat you can!”
    â€œAll right, all right. Let me start, and we’ll see where it leads. Mrs. Denver, you were supposed to be off that island—”
    â€œI own the island!”
    â€œI know—but you signed a government consent form to leave it for the period of a week. And you were compensated for that time. I know that you were sent a check, because I signed the draft myself. And I’ve spoken to the base; they guarantee me that they have your signature on the consent form.”
    Katrina inhaled sharply. “I—I did rent out the island, to the government. But I was called—at least three weeks ago—and told that another site had been chosen for the ‘exercises’!”
    He frowned sharply. “Nothing was ever changed, Mrs. Denver.”
    She sipped her coffee, staring at him warily. The uniform looked real….
    He smiled, very much aware of her scrutiny. “I assure you, Mrs. Denver, I am a captain with the Navy. The U.S. Navy. I am an M.D., and I also have a doctorate in chemistry. What happened—”
    â€œYou don’t look so smart,” she interrupted.
    He laughed, and she thought again that he was a striking man. He had the rugged, outdoors type of face that looked its very best when twisted into a grin.
    â€œI’m not at all sure if that’s a compliment or an insult, Mrs. Denver. And, I didn’t claim to be smart.” A silvery light of amusement was in his eyes and it seemed that he leaned a little closer to her. “The degrees are real, though; I’m licensed to be a Frankenstein, at any rate. But, Mrs. Denver, I swear to you, the plans were never changed.”
    â€œSomeone called me!”
    â€œIt had to have been a crank.”
    â€œIt couldn’t have been—I never told anyone I had rented the island.”
    â€œBut I’m telling you, it was never