CHAPTER 16
“What do you want, Boone?” John’s pulse slammed as he pulled the Jeep to the side of the street. He willed himself to speak calmly. Emma was staring at him, frozen in horror.
Boone’s laugh was pure, cold evil. “I’ll give you one guess. You’ve got something I want. I’ve got something you want. We get together, we make a trade. Your son for my woman. Everybody wins.”
Shock and denial struck John like a blast. This had to be some kind of hideous joke, he tried to tell himself. Any minute now, Boone would laugh, admit that it was all a prank, and end the call, just like he might have done in the old days.
But the situation was all too real. Boone had his son, and his only hope of saving the boy was to accept it and act calmly and deliberately.
“How do I know you’ve got David?” he demanded. “How do I know he’s alive?”
“He’s alive, all right. And it’s up to you to keep him that way. Here, take a listen, brother.” There was the sound of fumbling and a noise like ripping tape, a pause, and a voice.
“Let me go, you filthy piece of—”
The rest of the words were cut off by what sounded like a blow. But the voice was unmistakably David’s. Hearing it was like a knot of barbed wire twisting tight around John’s heart. He pictured his son bound and taped, maybe in pain, surely scared, but still defiant. In spite of everything he felt proud of the boy.
Boone laughed again. “Satisfied?”
“Where are you?”
“Remember the fun we used to have with those old paintball games? Wait about fifteen minutes. Then come alone, just you and the woman, and we’ll make the trade. No weapon. If the cops show up, I’ll kill the boy. You know I can do it. I’ve already killed once. I don’t have a damned thing to lose.”
“So why did you kill Bethany Ann?” Keep him talking. Stall any way you can while you look for his vehicle. He has to be somewhere close in order to know you’re out here with Emma. He might even be watching you.
John pulled the Jeep away from the curb, turned around, and drove slowly back toward the docks, looking up and down the streets. He was aware of Emma, leaning close to hear the conversation. She was shaking.
“I got tired of the bitch,” Boone said. “Always whining and wanting to go home. She couldn’t cook worth a damn, and she was like cold mashed potatoes in bed. I couldn’t let her leave. She’d seen too much of my business, and I’d pretty much spent her money, so there wasn’t much use keeping her around.”
“How did you do it?”
“Waited till her back was turned and whacked her in the head with a log splitter’s maul. The bitch went down like she didn’t feel a thing. Pretty smart the way I buried her with that deer, don’t you think?”
The man was insane. And John could see no vehicle that might be his. If he could get a description, he could call the troopers and have them stop it on the highway. But Boone was probably aware of that, and he was too wily to let it happen. He knew every back road and shortcut in the county. If he didn’t want to be seen, he wouldn’t be.
“You’re not that smart. You didn’t fool the dog,” John said.
“Well, I won’t make that mistake again. I’ve said enough. You know the plan. Don’t make me kill this boy.” Boone ended the call.
* * *
Emma had heard the conversation, and she knew what John was facing. Still, she wasn’t prepared when he pulled up in front of the hotel and stopped. “Get out and go inside, Emma,” he said.
“No.” Her answer came without hesitation.
“Go on. I’ll find a way to rescue David. I’ll do anything I have to, even if it means killing the bastard. But I can’t ask you to go back to him.”
“I’m the one Boone wants,” she argued. “If I’m there, it will give us the best chance of getting David back. At least we’ll have more options.”
John didn’t answer. She gazed at his grim profile in the darkness and understood the agonizing choice he faced. She couldn’t allow him to make it. She would have to make it for him.
Maybe that’s what love was.
“You have to take me with you,” she said, knowing what that could mean for her. “We’ve got to do this together.”
Without a word, John pulled the Jeep away from the curb and headed up the highway toward Ward Cove. Emma knew the place where Boone had said he’d be waiting with David. It was the old pulp mill site, closed down more than twenty years ago. John had mentioned breaking in there with a gang of teenagers to play paintball.
She tried to picture the place in her mind, the way John had pointed it out to her. She closed her eyes, struggling to bring back every detail. The largest warehouse was in use, but there were other buildings farther down the long, flat stretch of the dock, which extended past the water’s edge.
She should have noticed more—doors, windows, fences, empty spaces, but at the time she’d seen the place, she’d barely given it a look. This was the best she could do.
Her pistol was in the zippered pocket of her jacket. The one thing she didn’t have was her cell phone. She’d left it in the hotel room with her work clothes. That ruled out any chance she might have to call for help.
They’d gone about five miles up the highway when John’s phone rang again. Without slowing the Jeep or checking the caller ID, John snatched the phone out of his pocket. “Boone?”
“What in heaven’s name is going on?” Marlena’s shrill voice carried to Emma’s ears. “David hasn’t come home yet. He’s not answering his phone. I’m worried sick. Is he with you? Tell me the truth!”
“He’s not with me. I can’t talk now, Marlena. I’ll call you later.” He ended the call and dropped the phone into the cup holder.
She needs to know the truth, Emma thought. But she knew that John was in no position to tell her. And this was no time to argue with him. Marlena would call the police. But the police wouldn’t know where to look or what to do. She and John were on their own.
* * *
John turned the Jeep into Ward Cove and headed for the gate to the pulp mill. The gate appeared padlocked, but when he got out of the Jeep, he saw that the lock had been cut and was simply hanging in place. Boone had been there ahead of him. It was easy to remove the lock and swing the gate open.
Back in the Jeep, he switched the headlights on high beam and drove through. The glaring lights would help him see ahead. They would also shine into Boone’s eyes, making it hard to see what was directly in front of him. It was a small advantage, but right now everything counted.
Emma sat silent beside him, trusting him to do whatever was the right thing—trusting him to have a plan. But in this dark hour, his only plan lay in the certainty that he couldn’t lose either of the two people he loved more than life.
He recognized the warehouse where he’d played as a teen, but the building, which stood next to the dock, was dark. Picking up his phone, he brought up David’s number and called it. Boone answered. “I see you’re here. Have you brought my lovely bride?”
“Emma’s here. I want to see my son.”
Something stirred in the shadows beyond the light. Someone—it had to be Boone—was standing outside, near the open doorway. John’s pistol was under the seat but he couldn’t risk using it. Not until he knew where David was.
“Leave the phone and get out of the vehicle, both of you,” Boone ordered. “Put your hands up and walk into the light where I can have a look at you. If I see a weapon, the boy will be the first one to die.”
John put down the phone and glanced at Emma. “Don’t get out. No matter what he says, stay right where you are.”
Leaving the pistol, he climbed out of the Jeep and walked into the circle of light. “Her, too,” Boone said. “Get her out here.”
“Not until I’ve seen David. Nothing’s going to happen until you bring him out where I can see him.”
He waited, refusing to move. Boone wouldn’t really kill David, he told himself. Without his hostage he’d have nothing to bargain with. But then, Boone wasn’t sane. It wasn’t safe to assume anything.
* * *
When John got out of the Jeep, Emma was tempted to grab the phone and call Marlena, or call 911 to bring the police. But that would only make the situation more dangerous, and she was running out of time. John had left his .44 under the seat. Trying to use it could get David or John killed. But the little Kel-Tec was still zipped into her jacket, its shape barely visible inside the quilted pocket. Boone might expect her to have a gun, but even if he did, the small pistol might escape his notice.
John was unarmed, and Boone had nothing to lose by killing him. But Boone wouldn’t kill her. If that was all he’d wanted, she’d be dead by now. Boone wanted her alive, so he could torment her. That, and the hidden gun, gave her advantages that John didn’t have.
John had ordered her to stay in the Jeep no matter what. But if she wanted both John and David to live, she would have to act, and act decisively.
In the beam of the headlights, she could see that Boone had brought David out the door of the warehouse, holding him like a shield. David’s mouth and wrists were bound with silver duct tape. His ankles were hobbled with rope so he could walk a little but couldn’t run. The pistol in Boone’s hand was pressed against his temple. David’s eyes were wide with terror. Emma could imagine what the sight of him was doing to John.
She’d rolled down the window of the Jeep to hear what was being said. What she heard was Boone laughing. “See, your boy’s just fine, bro. But he’s a scrappy one. Put up a right good fight before I got him under control. It’d be a real shame to have to put a bullet through his head, wouldn’t it?”
“The boy’s your own flesh and blood, Boone. Doesn’t that count for anything?” John was clearly stalling for time, waiting for an unguarded moment. But any move he made would be risky for both him and David. Emma knew what she had to do.
Boone laughed again. “Hell, that crap-assed sister of mine wouldn’t spit on our family. She’s no kin of mine in the way it counts, and neither is her boy. Now tell my woman to get out of that Jeep and get her butt over here before I get an itchy trigger finger.”
Emma opened the door, climbed out of the Jeep, and strode into the headlights. “Let the boy go, honey,” she said. “I’m here, and as soon as these two no-accounts are on their way, I’ll be ready for a real man. I’m all yours.”
Even without seeing or touching him, she could feel John’s tension. He’d ordered her to stay put. But it was as if they’d both known the truth—the only way to save David was for her to defy him. All he could do now was trust her.
Had she overdone her performance? But no, Boone was enough of a narcissist to lap up every word. He was even grinning.
“Come on,” she said, walking toward him with a seductive sway of her hips. “We can’t get the good stuff started while we’ve got company. Just let the boy go. Let his daddy drive him out of here before somebody sees that open gate and calls the police.”
Boone’s gaze narrowed. Maybe she’d overdone her act after all. “No tricks,” he said, still holding the pistol to David’s head. “You come over here and stand next to me. Then I’ll think about turning the boy loose.”
Knowing better than to take a false step, Emma walked to stand at his elbow. The door behind them was partway open. Emma’s hand brushed its cold metal surface. “Here I am,” she whispered in Boone’s ear. “Now what do you say we get out of here?”
She felt him tense. Boone was strong, and he had the reflexes of a cougar. As long as he had his gun on David, there was no way she could outmaneuver him. Even with the pistol in her pocket, she could do nothing until John and his son were safe. She could only react to whatever move Boone chose to make.
When he made it, she had no time to prepare. In a single motion, he shoved David forward onto his face, yanked Emma through the door, and slammed it shut behind them. She was still fumbling to unzip her pocket and get to her pistol when he slid the heavy bolt and turned around with his gun pointed at her.
“Pretty good show out there, baby,” he said. “But you didn’t have me fooled. When we get to where we’re headed, I’m going to make you scream.”
The warehouse was a cavernous space, most of it empty. The only light, falling through high windows and two glass skylights in the roof, was cast by the waning moon. Emma could see her way, and she could see Boone, standing next to her, gripping her arm, but little else.
She imagined John outside the door, picking up his son and helping him to the Jeep. They would be all right, but there was no way he could get past the locked door to help her. It was time to fight for her life.
“Please, Boone.” The fingers of her free hand had made it past the zipper to the gun in her pocket. Her fingertip disengaged the safety. She couldn’t get the gun out without his seeing it, but maybe she wouldn’t have to.
“Please let me go,” she begged, trying to distract him. “Without me along, you can make a clean getaway. You can start over somewhere, make a new life.”
“Sorry, babe, but I can’t leave you behind,” he said. “You set the fire that burned me and turned me into a freak. No way am I letting you go. But I’ll give you a choice. Either you come with me, or I shoot you right here. What’s your answer?”
She’d found the trigger. Twisting the gun inside the pocket, she turned and forced herself to kiss him. But the kiss was awkward enough to make him suspicious. She was just squeezing the trigger when he shoved her arm. The shot went wild. The gun’s recoil knocked her hand out of her pocket and sent her staggering backward. The weapon skittered across the floor, into the dark.
“You little bitch!” Boone slapped her so hard that she saw stars. “I could kill you now, but that would take the fun out of it. Come on, let’s go.”
Yanking her arm, he dragged her toward something she hadn’t noticed until now. Framed by a low wooden rail was an opening in the floor with a stairway leading down to the water under the dock. At the foot of the stairway, barely visible in the dim, reflected light, was a boat.
As Boone dragged her down the stairway, Emma could see the boat more clearly. It was an open sport boat with an inboard motor, the kind of craft that might be used for water skiing or light fishing. It would make for a clever getaway. No one would see Boone leaving with her until it was too late to stop him.
Emma tried to keep fighting, but Boone was a powerful man, and by now she was exhausted. He dragged her down the last few steps and shoved her forward into the boat. As she fell, something struck her head. Stunned but still conscious, she lay still.
* * *
John had pulled the tape off David’s mouth, freed his hands, and was about to help him up when he heard the gunshot from inside the warehouse. He recognized the report of a small pistol, most likely the Kel-Tec he’d given Emma. But he had no way of knowing what had happened.
David was sitting up, looking pale and shaken. “I’m fine,” he said. “Go.”
John ran to the jeep, grabbed his .44 from under the seat, and sprinted back to the door of the warehouse. That was when he discovered the door was made of painted sheet metal and securely bolted from the inside. From inside he could hear Boone’s voice, fading with distance. So Boone was still alive, but did he still have Emma?
Mouthing something between a curse and a prayer, he raced around the corner of the building to look for another entrance. Then from underneath the far end of the dock, he heard a sound that made his heart drop. It was the starting roar of a powerful motor.
As John raced down the dock, a boat shot from between the pilings and headed out of the harbor, bound for open water. Boone was at the wheel. Emma, barely glimpsed, was lying across the rear seat. She was struggling to sit up.
By the time John reached the end of the dock, the boat was a hundred yards away. He could see it in the moonlight, headed for the mouth of the harbor, but the distance was too far for an accurate pistol shot. He might hit Emma or shoot a hole in the boat and sink it. All he could think to do was rush back to the Jeep and call the coast guard in the hope of intercepting the boat.
Then it happened. Boone glanced back and saw John, standing there. Whooping like a savage and revving the motor, he did something only a person as crazy as Boone would have done. He made a wide, circular turn and came back around on a course that would take him past the end of the dock at a distance of fifty yards. As he roared past, he shouted something and raised his hand, middle finger up, in an obscene gesture.
John shot him.
And Emma flung herself out of the boat.
* * *
The water felt like striking rough concrete as she hit. Then the icy cold closed around her. Such cold. The shock of it went clear through her.
Instinctively she kicked to the surface. She’d had a swimming class in college, but as a swimmer she was no better than average. And she’d never tried to swim in water this cold.
Her legs were stronger than her arms. She lay on her back, exposing as much of her body as possible to the air as she kicked with her legs. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should have stayed in the boat with Boone. But drowning or freezing would be a kinder death than what he would have done to her.
A memory flashed through her mind, the movie Titanic, with Jack clinging to the wreckage, slowly freezing to death in the icy water. Jack had taken a long time to die. Something told her that dying for real didn’t take anywhere near that long.
How much distance had she covered? If she couldn’t make it to shore, maybe she could at least reach one of the log rafts she’d seen floating in the cove. But she could feel the water sucking the heat from her limbs. She tried to kick harder but her legs were leaden. She was so cold, and so tired....
Then she felt strong arms around her, supporting her in the water. “Hang on to this.” John’s voice rasped in her ear. He was out of breath, probably just as cold as she was, but when he pushed something in front of her, she managed to grab it. It was a floating log.
Ahead, in the moonlight, she could see one of the rafts, with some kind of shed on it. Then there were men, reaching down to pull them up. Somebody was wrapping her in a coat. In the near distance she could hear the wail of sirens.
John was holding her, his body shivering against hers. “It’s all right, love,” he murmured. “You’re safe. It’s over.”
* * *
Emma spent the night in the hospital, being treated for moderate hypothermia. She woke the next morning with John sitting by her bed. No spooky roses, thank heaven. But he’d picked her up some good chocolates from the gift shop.
They held hands while he caught her up on all that had happened. It was David who’d made the call that brought the troopers and paramedics, followed by another call to his frantic mother. He and John had been checked over by the paramedics and released. Only Emma had needed treatment.
Boone had been shot in the shoulder. He’d blacked out from blood loss and wrecked the boat on one of the rocky islands outside Refuge Cove. Incredibly, he’d survived to be arrested by the state troopers. He was under guard in another part of the hospital, awaiting arraignment for murder and kidnapping as soon as he recovered. His lawyer would likely offer an insanity plea.
John lifted her hand and buried a kiss in her palm. “You did an incredibly brave thing, going with Boone, knowing what he could do to you. I would have given my life to free David, but I couldn’t ask you to risk yours. I love you too much for that.”
“I know. But I knew it had to be done, and that it had to be my decision. I couldn’t lay that burden on you. I love you too much.”
Freeing her hand from his, she reached up and laid it against his cheek. As he bent to kiss her, she felt, for the first time, the peace of knowing complete love and trust. There could be no room for doubt, for fear or even for a Plan B. They would always be there for each other.