Chapter 29

Val was on Route 28, heading into Star Harbor. Man, he was glad to get back to town! He missed his boat and his brothers, but most of all, he missed his woman. It had been a long, tough week. Most of his time had been spent chasing down leads, doing paperwork, and getting all his ducks in a row for when they’d make the inevitable arrests of the players in the drug operation. The operation was so widespread, so pervasive, that as of today’s tally, he had 103 people on his arrest list, not including Congressman Kirkland.

The sting operation, still underway with his and Cole’s men under deep cover, had yielded the names of close to thirty pharmacists and doctors involved in the procurement of illegal narcotics used in the manufacture of the modified bath salts, not to mention the manufacturers, drug dealers, and money launderers who made an operation like this possible.

He’d been doing this job for a decade, but it never failed to amaze him how good people could go bad, especially when money was on the line. Those doctors and pharmacists had to know how many folks they were hurting by stealing these drugs and allowing them to be used for evil, but they did it anyway. He shook his head. There’d always be those who were ruled by things other than morality, but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

Right now, Jeff Tepper was preparing the multiple complaints encompassing each of the conspiracies that made up the drug operation. He’d also gotten the arrest warrants for most of the people they needed to bring in. Val had contacted seven different DEA offices and read in over two hundred agents to help manage the near-simultaneous arrests when the time came.

All this was good news, but they were still gathering the evidence to nail Kirkland. Since the party, the plane and the helicopter had each taken one-way trips into Canada, stopping near Perth and then continuing on to the Yukon Territory. Val had no idea what the aircraft were doing there. Thalia and Ellen were equally stumped. And they hadn’t figured out the strange IATA codes in the pilot’s log, either.

As far as ownership went, they’d been on the paper trail of that shell corporation for days, but as soon as they followed a lead, they would hit a dead end. Damn, Kirkland was a tricky devil!

As always when he was chasing a seemingly uncatchable target, Val had a flicker of self-doubt. He’d never let it bother him. Sometimes he went months, or even years, chasing a lead only to have it fade and die. But this was different. They were closing in on Kirkland; he could taste it. The DC team had promised him answers by the end of the day. If they played their cards right, they’d have the congressman and he wouldn’t know what hit him. But evidence came first, and until he had that, Val couldn’t—he wouldn’t—act. He was too experienced and he’d been working this case too long to not deliver on what he’d promised—the complete takedown of the entire operation.

A lot of different people owed him a lot of answers, and until he got them, he was stuck. So he’d cut out of work earlier than he thought he’d be able to do, one person on his mind: Cameron.

With every mile that passed, he was closer to her. He’d surprise her for dinner, then take her to the Schoolhouse to hang out with his brothers. And later, he’d spend the night showing her exactly how much he missed her.

He was about to call Cameron to check in when his phone rang. He punched it on.

“Grayson.”

“Valentine?” Hermione Alcott’s voice came through the line, though it sounded a bit choppy. “Is that you?”

“Hi, Hermione. You’re a tough woman to reach. I called you a week ago.”

“I apologize for not getting back to you sooner. Louis and I were in Saint-Tropez.”

“Ah.” He didn’t even want to know. “I was calling to follow up with you regarding the Kirklands’ house party last weekend. I assume your timely interruption wasn’t an accident.”

“How well you know me, Valentine. No, it wasn’t.”

“May I ask your source?”

“Higher than your pay grade. Or Colin’s.” Interesting.

“Well, on behalf of my own team, I’d like to thank you for intervening.” He pulled onto Main Street and drove slowly through town.

“I like that girl. Always have.” Pause. “You know she’s way out of your league, dear.”

He laughed. “Try telling her that.”

“Good man,” she said. “When may I offer my congratulations?”

“I’ll let you know when I have news to report.”

“Always did play them close to your chest, Valentine.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, again, I’m glad we touched base. Just wrap this up fast. Everyone’s getting antsy about Junior.”

“You mean Senior,” he said, checking right, then left at a stop sign before pulling through.

“No, Valentine. Junior. It was he I interrupted following Cameron into the airplane hangar.”

“What?” he roared, just as he reached Harbor Street.

“Oh, dear. I assume my handler didn’t impart this information to you.”

He clenched his jaw together so tightly he could have bitten through steel. “No.” Heads were going to roll as soon as he found out who was responsible for this serious lapse in protocol. “I don’t suppose you could tell me who your handler is.”

“Evan Joyner.”

“I don’t know him, but you can bet that I will soon.” Focus, Val. “So you’re absolutely sure it was Junior that evening.”

“Yes. The fact that you weren’t informed could mean another thing.”

“There’s a mole in the DEA.” And that really wasn’t good.

“Quite so. Looks like you have your work cut out for you.”

He thanked her and hung up before dropping a volley of f-bombs. It wasn’t Hermione’s fault this had gone down the way it had and there was no way he was going to unleash his anger on her. He pulled into his parking spot on the docks and called Thalia’s cell phone immediately.

“Rivera,” Thalia said, picking up after the second ring.

“We might have the wrong Kirkland, Thalia,” Val said.

“What? What are you talking about?”

In a few brief sentences, Val told her what he’d heard from Hermione. By the end of his spiel, Thalia was cursing too.

“We need to pull everything we can get on Junior. Phone records, travel plans—everything to reconstruct his timeline over the last year, year and a half. And pull Evan Joyner’s file. Find out who he reports to.”

“Got it,” she said. “I’m in the office. Can I tell Ellen?”

“Yes. I don’t know how far up the chain of command the mole has infiltrated, but I’d bet it’s pretty high. Anyway, if we can’t trust Ellen, we’re screwed anyway.”

“How are we going to figure out who it is?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something. Who knows? It could even be Hermione herself, telling us this info to throw us off the trail.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Val.”

He snorted. “Like that’s ever stopped me before.”

“Wait—I’m getting a call from DC right now. Hang on.” Thalia was offline, but in a few moments, she came back on. “You’re not going to believe this. The shell corporation angle? The FBI traced it to a lower-level DA employee. And guess whom he works with?”

“Junior Kirkland?”

“Bingo.”

Another thought entered his brain. “Junior could just as easily been using the Kirklands’ Star Harbor home as the congressman.”

“That’s true.”

Junior was looking more and more like a part of the operation but Val still wasn’t willing to give up the idea that the congressman was involved, too. “And those IATA codes—KIR and KIR2? I’ll bet KIR doesn’t stand for Kerry, Ireland. It stands for Kirkland!”

“They gave their private airfields IATA codes? These guys have the hugest egos ever!”

Forget about their egos, the Kirklands were finished. “Alert the team that Operation Clean Up the Beach is a go. We’re going to do all the arrests together, so no one gets tipped off. First to go down are Congressman and Junior Kirkland. They’re the biggest flight risks, and once we have them, we’ll hold them for twenty-four hours, keep it under wraps, and pick up everyone else at six A.M. tomorrow. Tepper promised me that with this information, he has everything ready to go from the prosecution’s side. All we need is to touch base with the other offices and we’re good to—”

“Val, wait—”

“What is it?”

“Your pager is going off.”

“The one for the alarm I gave to Cam Stahl?” He’d left it on his desk at the office.

“Uh-huh. That can’t be good.”

No. It wasn’t good. At all. “Hang on.” He pulled out his personal cell and dialed Cameron’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. “Trace the signal, Thalia.” Fear and adrenaline pumped through his body. “Fast.”

Cameron gazed out at the horizon and took a deep breath. The aromas of salt, sea, wood, and fried food commingled. She’d been to so many places around the world, but there was nothing like a walk on the Star Harbor piers early on a summer’s evening. Tourists were still out in full force, laughing, walking, and eating, enjoying the evening before the rain hit. She could tell it was coming. Dark clouds were forming over the water, and the air was heavy and damp. Val would be able to gauge how far off it was. He could tell the time by the sun and the weather by the feel of the air. Just one more thing to love about him.

As she passed in front of the Clam Shak, she spied a few early birds having some clams and corn. Babs herself was out front, sweeping up some debris with a long-handled broom.

“Heya, Cameron,” the older woman said. “Good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Babs.”

“Val coming home tonight?”

She nodded. “Yes. Late. We’re planning to go to the Schoolhouse with his family when he gets in.”

“Sounds nice,” Babs said. “Hope he beats the storm.”

“He might not, but I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“Never does, that one. Well, make sure you stop by one of the next couple of weekends to get some clams before I close up for the summer. You know I close right after Labor Day.”

Cameron smiled at her. “I’ll do that. Maybe afterward Val will take me for a frappe.”

“Once you try ’em, you’re hooked.”

“They’re almost as addicting as your food, Babs.”

“Ha! Knew you’d be good for Val.” Someone called out from inside the Clam Shak and Babs cocked her head to listen for a moment. “Gotta get back to the place. Catch you sometime this weekend.”

“That’d be nice,” Cameron said. “ ’Bye!” She continued down the pier, when who should be walking toward her but Junior. Tonight, he looked every inch the gentleman sailor, from his crisp dark-blue windbreaker to his khaki shorts to his Sperry Top-Siders.

“Hello, Cameron,” he said.

“Ted!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” Concern creased his face. “Didn’t you get my message that I was in Star Harbor this evening?”

“No,” she said. “Did you call my cell?”

He shook his head. “Work. I talked with a young woman …”

“Anna. She must have forgotten to give me the message.” Things had been a little hectic between three and five, when they’d had a deluge of customers.

“Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters. Want to join us?” He motioned to his thirty-five-foot yacht, the Josephina. It was a beautiful craft, white and sleek, and as she recalled from the few trips she’d taken on it before, quite comfortable.

“I’d love to, Ted, but I’m meeting someone later. And I’m not really dressed to go boating.” She indicated her strappy high-heeled sandals, which were decidedly not rubber soled.

“We’re docked for a while. Why don’t you come on board, have a drink, and relax after the long day. I won’t take no for an answer.” He was putting on all the charm now.

“All right,” she said. “I would like to see the boat again, but I don’t need a drink.” The glass of wine she’d surely have later at the Schoolhouse would be plenty, and maybe she could use this opportunity to call it off with him for good. Safety in numbers, right?

“Wonderful,” he said, his hand in the small of her back as he ushered her down the pier and onboard the Josephina. She slipped off her sandals as soon as she reached the deck so as not to scuff it. “Just head on downstairs to say hi to the others in the saloon. I’ll be there in a second.”

“All right,” she said, heading below deck. It was pretty quiet down here. No voices. Bypassing the cabins, she was going toward the saloon when she heard the motor start. What the—?

A pit in her stomach, she ran back topside as quickly as she could manage. She burst out onto the deck only to watch the boat pulling away from the marina at a rapid pace. She went straight for the cockpit.

“Ted, what are you doing?” she demanded. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but this isn’t funny. Take me back to the piers right now.”

“It’s perfect sailing weather, Cameron,” he said. Was his tone hard or was it just her imagination? “I don’t want to waste the evening. I came all the way down here just for you. You used to love boating.”

It wasn’t perfect sailing weather. Not by a long shot. “I don’t love being taken captive,” she said, debating whether to jump overboard. Was that too dramatic? They were pretty far out now, past the outer harbor, and she wasn’t the strongest swimmer. With the choppy waves and the tide going out, she’d most likely be swept out to sea unless another boat picked her up fast.

“We can unwind on the open water. It’s very peaceful out there. Quiet.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously, Ted, I am not joking around. There’s a storm coming. Take me back to shore right now!”

“Just relax, Cameron. You’re always so uptight.”

“I am not going to relax! This is insane. You can’t do this!”

“I just have,” he informed her, coolly.

She walked to the deck and contemplated her next move. They were close to Star Harbor Point now, and she could still jump overboard, but she really didn’t feel comfortable enough swimming in the open water. Another option would be to lock herself in a cabin below deck, but that would just trap her further. She didn’t have any weapons, and anything she had Ted would probably use against her anyway. But wait—the alarm Val had given her the night of the congressman’s party!

She reached into her bag and pressed it, fully aware of the irony of the situation. It didn’t make a sound, but she prayed that Val could hear it on the other end. A moment later, from inside her bag, her cell phone rang. Junior just walked over, wrenched the bag from her grasp, and flung the entire thing overboard.

“Ted! What are you doing?” Crap, would the alarm even work if it was underwater? She couldn’t panic. She mustn’t panic. Think!

What could she use? Buoyancy. Yes. She picked up one of the seat cushions and found a stash of life jackets. But when she pulled one out, Junior snatched it from her hand and threw it overboard.

“You’ve gone crazy!” she yelled.

“Never been saner in my life,” he said, tossing the rest over the railing. “I know you’re not a great swimmer, and you’re very risk-averse. Two of your greatest failings.” He reached out to stroke her cheek, but she jerked away.

Junior merely shrugged and went back to the cockpit, where he cut the engine.

Silence. Well, not quite silence. More like white noise, what with the sound of the water hitting the boat, the ebb and flow of the waves, the occasional seabird crying overhead, and a buoy clanging in the distance, a harbinger of the storm. She usually enjoyed the feeling of solitude on the water, but today it was almost oppressive.

He strode back onto the rear deck. “Time to relax,” he said, sitting down on a white-cushioned bench seat and leaning back so his arms were stretched out on the boat’s rail. “Have a seat.”

“I think I’ll stand,” she said, furious at the whole situation. And scared. Very scared. The lifejackets had floated far away from the boat now. She crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her hands against her body so he couldn’t see how hard they were shaking.

“Suit yourself,” he said, pulling out some champagne from an ice bucket and unwrapping the foil. Incredulously, she watched as he undid the wire and popped the cork, then poured two servings into plastic cups designed to resemble champagne flutes. As if they were out on a pleasure cruise. “Champagne?” he asked, offering her the cup.

“No, thank you,” she said icily.

He shrugged and tossed back her serving, then put the cup down. “An Endicott through and through.”

“Why am I here, Ted?” she asked, losing patience with this whole charade. “You lured me onto this boat under false pretenses, threw my bag overboard, and now have disregarded my wishes to return to shore. What is going on?”

He took a sip of his own champagne and regarded her, his gaze cold. “I think you know what’s going on, Cameron.”

She frowned. “I have no idea.”

“We can start by talking about that little hide-and-seek game you were playing at my father’s party last weekend.” Is he baiting me? Panic began to set in, but she tried to keep her cool.

She gave him her best Endicott stare. “Hide-and-seek game? It was an evening soiree, not a kid’s birthday party.” She rolled her eyes for good measure. “Seriously.”

“Oh, you are good. You are really, really good,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “For a while there, you even had me fooled, and I am one tough customer.”

Convince him. “I’m not trying to fool you, Ted. I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, shaking her head. “But you’re starting to scare me. For the last time, take me back to Star Harbor.”

He stood up. “I think we both know I can’t do that. Not after you grilled my dad about his trips to Canada.”

“Cici told me—”

Junior shook his head. “And after you scoped out the grounds at the house.” Did he know? “You went missing at the party for so long, I got suspicious. After you left for the evening, I checked the video footage.”

Oh, God! The security had been disabled but the feed had still been on. No wonder Junior had been texting and calling her over the past week—he wanted to know what she knew! Well, she wasn’t going to tell him anything. Maybe she could bluff her way through this. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well that night,” she said, praying the feed hadn’t captured her going into the hangar. “I stepped outside for some fresh air.”

“Cut the crap, Cameron,” he said, his voice harsh. “Or have you forgotten what I do for a living? I’m an assistant DA. I listen to people lie all day long. You think I can’t tell the difference between truth and fiction? You’ve been playing me for months. Me!” He was getting angry now, a sneer distorting his face, his voice much louder than she’d ever heard it. “Do you think I’m a stupid man, Cameron? Do you?” He stepped toward her.

“No. No, I don’t think you’re stupid,” she said quickly, taking a step back.

He calmed down immediately and took a sip of champagne. “And you’re not stupid, either,” he said. “I was so sure—” He shook his head. “Look, I know you’re helping the DEA investigate my dad.”

He knew. And based on the way he was acting, she was in real trouble. At this point, reasoning with him didn’t seem like the right option. “What?” she said, trying to sound outraged and giving him her best Clarissa impression. “Endicotts do not involve themselves in any sort of government shenanigans.”

“Come on, Cameron. You’ve been hot and cold with me for the past couple of months, and now I know why.”

“I’m not happy our relationship has had its ups and downs, Ted. I like you, truly, but with all this going on,” she uncrossed one of her hands and waved it around, as if to encompass the whole situation, “and the scrutiny I’ve been under with the Symphony fundraiser, you can imagine how overwhelming it’s been. Clearly, you’re overwhelmed, too.”

He just shook his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he said. “Obviously, they didn’t fill you in on all the little details.”

She frowned and tried to keep up her cover. “Who’s ‘they’? And what ‘little details’ are you talking about?” She was so tired of this. Tired of the lying and the talking in code and the double-speak.

He just gave her that unattractive smirk again.

“I don’t know what that smile means, Ted,” she said, tapping her bare foot on the deck. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Is that what you’ve been angling for all along? A confession?” He eyed her. “Or maybe you just want in.”

He and his father were a team? “In to what?”

“Oh, no,” Junior said with a disgusting smile as he put down his champagne flute. “First we find out if you’re wired.”

“If I’m what?” Before she realized what he intended, he’d grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close. Then he ran his hand up her back and ribs and over her breasts.

“Stop, Ted! Stop!” she cried, batting at his roaming hands. “This is not okay.”

“No wire,” he said, backing up and reclaiming his glass. “You’re a smart woman, Cameron. Very smart. So we can talk. I’ve been looking for a partner. Someone who’s got the connections and power to really take my operation to the next level. Dad’s out. When he stumbled upon my files a couple of months ago, it killed him to keep the secret, but he wanted to see me ascend to power so badly, he couldn’t let up. Gotta keep the politics in the family, right?”

Junior had been running the drug operation by himself all along! She pressed her lips together. She was going to throw up. She really was.

He cocked his head at her. “By the look on your face, I gather that’s not what you were expecting to hear. What a pity.” Junior sighed. “I thought—clearly foolishly—that you were pumping Dad for info on Canada and checking out my assets because you wanted to be invited into the operation. And that would have been fine with me. You have a thriving import business. We could have used that to our advantage to get the money and drugs out and in. Plus, your reputation is … pristine.”

As if she would ever have joined an empire based on drug running and illegal activity and hurting innocent people! “You don’t know me at all,” she murmured. God, she’d totally misjudged him! Ever since Cici had told her about what he’d done at Taylor’s party, she’d had doubts about Junior’s character, but not to the extent that he’d be the mastermind behind a colossal drug operation. And she realized with the utmost clarity that her lapse in judgment was probably going to cost her her life.

Even though she hadn’t admitted her involvement, Junior was convinced she was a CI. And he was right. She just blinked. Val had been right all along. She was way out of her depth here.

“I thought you understood me, Cameron. I wanted to build an empire with you,” he said bluntly. “But now that’s not going to be possible.”

He was pacing now, back and forth. “I would have given you the world. With our connections and power, we could have had everything—the power, the money, the prestige—everything you could possibly want. But there’s just one little problem. One I didn’t see until just now.” He stopped and regarded her. “I repulse you.”

She shook her head, trying to deny it. “No. No. You don’t. Ted, I—”

“You don’t love me,” he said, keeping on talking as if she hadn’t even spoken. “I get that. I don’t need love. But if you’d just shown me the slightest bit of interest, if you’d have kissed me with a fraction of the passion that I’m sure you kiss Val Grayson with, I could’ve made this work.” Her eyes widened at Val’s name, but he went on. “After all, alliances are established on much less. But you didn’t give me anything to work with, Cameron,” he said. “Nothing. I see I’m never going to be able to turn you; your reputation is too squeaky-clean for that. And without sex to make you want me? Well, I’m afraid it’s a lost cause.” He sighed dramatically. “Why couldn’t you have been one of those naughty heiresses?”

“Ted, this is crazy,” she pleaded. “Listen to yourself. This isn’t you talking.”

“Oh, it’s me all right.”

“No. No, it’s not.” There was no other explanation for his lunacy. “Why would you get involved with drugs?”

“Why not?” he said, shrugging.

“Because you already have everything.”

“All from my father. I wanted something all my own.” He was calmer now, leaning back on the railing and looking up at the sky. “Day in and day out, I spend my time prosecuting bigtime players in the drug sphere. They thought they were invincible, but eventually, they made mistakes. They slipped up and got caught. And I was there to catch them.” He straightened. “I knew I could do it better. Run an empire and have it all to myself. I know all the laws and how to get around them.”

He was a sociopath. The way he was acting, he had to be. But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to focus on keeping him talking so she could get out of this alive. “We’ll get you the help you need. Ted, I care about you. I want you to get better.”

“You do, hmm?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You really care about me? Maybe we’re not as dissimilar as I thought, Cameron. You wanted something of your own too, didn’t you? Your boutiques. Just like I wanted this.” He put his champagne flute down and slowly, deliberately, stalked toward her, backing her up against the edge of the railing until she was trapped between cold metal and his hard body. His expression was determined.

“Ted? What are you doing?” she breathed. Oh, please don’t touch me again.

“Testing my theory.” Then he took her head in both hands and smashed his lips to hers.

Oh God, God, God. This is awful. Worse than awful. Please, stop. Stop!

She didn’t even realize she was yelling and pounding on his chest until he’d grabbed both her wrists and held on tight.

“Ted, stop,” she gasped. “You’re hurting me.”

“Quite right,” he said, letting her go. “We wouldn’t want there to be any bruising later, would we?” She rubbed her wrists, trying to get the circulation to return while he went to the side, pulled up a rope attached to a huge bucket full of seawater, and dragged it onto the deck.

And then she realized exactly how this was going to play out. “Hurting me won’t solve anything,” she said, backing up. “It’ll just be one more crime on your head.”

Junior shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Cameron. It’s well known you’re not the strongest swimmer. I’ll just say you went for a dip and never surfaced.” He was between her and the cabins below. There was no way she could push past him to get there.

“But my body will wash up on shore.” She didn’t have any experience in this area, but from the crime shows she’d seen, didn’t the medical examiners do an autopsy? Couldn’t they figure out if she was murdered? She backed up more.

“All part of the plan. If you disappear, well, then I’ll really have some explaining to do.”

“They’re going to figure it out, Junior.” She’d told Val about the plane and the helicopter. She had to pray they’d traced them back to Junior. Slowly, she reached back to the rail and put one hand on it. She was going to have to jump. Without a life jacket.

He laughed. “Intelligence. That’s the difference between me and the two-bit players I’ve investigated all these years—the ones who can’t cover their tracks to save their lives. I knew I could do it better and I have. I’ve made my trail so convoluted, destroyed every bit of evidence so that they’ll never figure it out. Right now, they’re chasing a ghost. Yes,” Junior said, a smug look on his face. “I wasn’t happy to do it, because it just means I need to start all over again, but I’ve erased all traces of my role in the operation. My records, my cell phones, even my calendars are all gone. There’s only one thing left I need to get rid of.” He turned to her. “And that’s you, Cameron.”

She scrambled onto the rail, but he grabbed her by the waist and began to drag her toward the bucket.

She kicked and hit at him. “No. It doesn’t have to be like this. We could still—”

He stopped and twisted her around, searching her face. “Do you love me?” he demanded.

She kicked him again and tried to scratch his eyes out.

He grabbed her hand. “Wrong answer,” he said, continuing to drag her across the deck.

She kicked and thrashed like a wildcat, but it did no good.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he said, pulling her down right near the bucket, her arms still trapped behind her, one hand on her neck. “A lady doesn’t resort to violence.”

“You’re insane,” she said, struggling to get up. He was too heavy, too powerful.

“And you’re still so beautiful,” he said. “I would have given you everything, Cameron. And I still can. Last chance.” His lips were right up against her ear now, feather light on her skin. His touch repulsed her.

“Go. To. Hell.”

“I’m sorry, Cameron. Don’t worry,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ll do this the easy way. It’ll just be like going to sleep.”

“No!” she gritted out, trying to hurt him. It was impossible with him behind her. And then she heard it—a cacophony of sound coming closer. An aircraft. And a man on a megaphone shouting at them, but they were still so far away.

“Hard and fast it is,” he said, grabbing her ankle and tying a rope around it.

Before she knew what was happening, he’d dragged her across the deck and shoved her overboard. She came up for air fast, treading water, reaching for the knot, wiggling it back and forth. He’d tied it double, and now that it was soaked through with frigid Sound water, she just couldn’t make her trembling fingers work properly enough to untie it.

And then she felt it, a long, slow pull tugging her down. Oh, God, he’d tied it to the anchor! She swam harder, doing her best to keep her head above the choppy water, but that maddening tug was dragging her under. The knot was even tighter now from the weight of the anchor.

Frantically, she worked her fingers around the rope, struggling with the heavy fibers. No. No. Not like this. She was getting tired, and there was so much noise. It sounded like a helicopter. And another boat. And the waves crashing around her just made everything louder. Just before the water slipped over her head, she managed to catch a short breath, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. Because the anchor was pulling her down.

She sank slowly, and it was almost like a dream. It was quiet down here. So quiet. She kept at the knot, without any luck. Her senses were dulling now, the lack of oxygen impacting her movements. Her lungs were going to burst so she let out a few air bubbles. Now she was light-headed, and her ears were popping. Her fingers kept fumbling with the rope even as she was dragged to the Sound’s floor.

Her brain grew dim. She couldn’t think. And then she took a breath. Water. Wrong. She struggled. White light flashed behind her eyes.

I’m sorry, Val. So sorry.