“What? Nothing to say? Ah, you’re not so tough when you know the knife is about to slice your neck, are you? Human skin is very much like gift wrap. Did you know that? It tears so easily. I am not going to merely cut your neck though. No, I’m going to remove your entire goddamn head from your pathetic little body. You’ll feel every bit of that first cut. I’ll make sure of that. It will be slow and deliberate. The blood will flow. Oh, so much blood. You will scream and scream until you can scream no more. Not because you are dead but because I will sever the cartilage that is your windpipe. You will feel it. You will hear it. And I will smile as I continue to cut deeper and deeper until there is nothing left.
“Go on. Stop averting your eyes and look at your friends over there. See how they stare at you. Their heads are now vacant rooms—nobody home. The sheriff fought so hard. Even with his hands and feet bound it took two men to hold him down. He raged like a bull, but as his blood poured down his chest even he weakened and then gave in to the inevitable. Roland fought as well, but he also attempted to bargain—not for his life but yours. He offered a great deal of money for me to let you go, but this isn’t about money, Adele Plank. No, this is about honor. This is about a code. And this is about respect. One cannot murder a Vasa and have it go unpunished. My family has survived far more powerful enemies than you. The ending of your pathetic life is little more than a bit of brief entertainment and distraction.
“And let me tell you more about Tilda. In many ways she was by far the strongest of the three. There was no fighting. No begging. No bargains coming from her. It was almost enough to make me regret cutting her head off. Almost. She stared into my eyes and I into hers as the skin of her throat was parted. Perhaps for just a second there was a hint of panic, but it was quickly replaced by a refusal to show me any fear. Not even a tiny bit. I respect that. Such a shame it was your actions that led to the ending of her life.
“It is now your turn to feel the blade, Adele. Will you fight like Lucas? Will you bargain like Roland? Or will you attempt to hide your fear like Tilda? I really do hope you scream for me. I have waited so long to hear it.”
Adele finally looked up. “Then stop talking and just do it, you crazy bitch.” Her hands were tied behind the chair she sat in. The space was lit by a single bulb that hung from the ceiling directly over her head. Beyond the light was impenetrable darkness.
Liya emerged from the gloom, grabbed a fistful of Adele’s hair with one hand, yanked her head back, and then pressed an already bloodied 12-inch knife against her throat with the other hand. “Beg,” she hissed.
“Go to hell,” Adele growled.
“Stupid girl trying to act tough, but I can feel the terror coming off you. C’mon now, beg for your life and I might show you mercy. Perhaps your having to live out your remaining days knowing that you were the cause of your three friends’ deaths will be punishment enough.” Liya pressed her cheek against Adele’s and whispered into her ear. “Tell me how badly you wish to live. Beg for your—”
Adele snapped her head sideways and bit down on Liya’s lower lip as hard as she could. Liya cried out, dropped the knife, and fell backwards. She brought her hand to her mouth, looked down, and saw her fingers covered in her own blood. Adele spit out a chunk of Liya’s lip and then grinned at her, exposing a row of blood-soaked teeth.
“You bitch.” Liya picked up the knife. “Now you die.”
“Bring it,” Adele snarled back at her.
Liya lunged, digging her nails into Adele’s scalp and pulling back her head to again expose her throat. Adele felt the blade pressing against her skin. Liya gasped as she struggled to catch her breath.
The first cut was made.
Adele screamed.
The knife went deeper.
Adele panicked as she felt blood rushing into her mouth and throat. She heard a horrible gurgling squeal and then realized she was the one making the sound. With each mad beat of her heart more blood oozed from the wound. More skin was cut, then tendon, cartilage, and finally bone as the blade worked its way through the front of her throat and into the spinal cord.
Liya withdrew the knife and knelt in front of Adele smiling. “Seeing my face will be your eternity. Your heart is slowing. You have just seconds left. I wonder if you can still hear me.”
Only a remnant of brain stem kept Adele’s head attached to her body. There was no more pain. There was no more anything. Liya’s face retreated into oblivion and soon her voice did the same.
Adele was alone without the power to see, or hear, or feel. It was the absence of everything, and it terrified her far more than the cut from Liya’s blade. And then even her terror retreated into horrible nothingness.
It was as if she had never been.
From somewhere beyond the beyond came a sound.
A flutter of wings.
A croak.
The call of a raven.
Adele’s remaining consciousness was a flickering candle, barely burning and in danger of going out completely, but the raven’s arrival gave her hope. As its call grew stronger, so too, did Adele’s flame.
The raven’s cry was suddenly more urgent.
“That old bird can’t save you,” Liya whispered. “It is done.”
Adele gasped as she sat up in bed while frantically feeling her throat with both hands. I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. I’m in my sailboat. Roland, Lucas, Tilda . . . we’re all safe.
The hammering in Adele’s chest subsided. The trembling in her hands lessened. She breathed deep, pushed the images of the nightmare away, shuffled out of bed, and started to make some much-needed morning coffee when something made her stop everything.
A flutter of wings.
A croak.
The call of a raven.
Adele leaned forward and looked out the porthole over the galley sink and came face to face with George. Clamped between his beak was a piece of twine and at the end of that twine was a small crystal. He hopped backwards, dropped the twine, squawked loudly, and then took off.
It was an especially beautiful Roche Harbor morning. Adele stepped onto the dock, reached down, and picked up the necklace. Despite its small size the heart-shaped crystal felt unusually heavy in the palm of her hand. She slowly traced its uneven edges with the tip of her finger and then slipped the crystal over hear head and around her neck.
“Hey, you. I’m making eggs. You want some?”
Adele smiled but didn’t turn around. “Can you do over easy?”
Roland spoke low and slow, like warm syrup being poured over French toast. “I’ll do it however you like it.”
“I’ll take the eggs. You can keep the perverted innuendo.”
Roland laughed. Adele turned around. “How’s that George Harrison song go?” he asked. “The one where he says you were perverted too?”
“While My Guitar Gently Weeps?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Good tune. So, should I start cracking those eggs?”
“You get to cracking,” Adele answered. “I’ll bring over the coffee.”
After Adele went back into the sailboat and started to pour the coffee, she heard George Harrison singing of someone being controlled, bought and sold, learning from their mistakes, and unfolding the love that was within them.
Roland was right.
It was a good tune.
39.
Three weeks later.
“C ’mon, get off that thing and let’s go for a morning swim.”
Adele closed her laptop and joined Roland at the back of the yacht. “I had to make sure Jose received the pics for the story so we don’t miss our deadline. You know how my public demands they get their island news on time.”
Roland rolled his eyes. “Your public, huh? Girl, you need to learn to unplug and take it all in. I mean really—just look where we are.”
The place was Desolation Sound, a 37-mile stretch of protected fjords bookended by the massive snow-capped peaks of the Coastal Mountai
ns located on the northernmost edge of British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast that had long been used as the primary seaway connection between the waters of northern Washington state and untamed Alaska. The Burger yacht took them there at a leisurely 12-knot pace that afforded them ample time to enjoy the remarkable views which, at one point included watching a mother grizzly and her two cubs foraging for food on a remote stretch of beach a few miles north of the mouth of the Powell River.
“You sure about the temperature?”
Roland took off his shirt. “These are some of the warmest waters north of Mexico. I promise.” He stepped out onto the swim step, bent his knees, and dove in.
“Well,” Adele said. “How is it?”
“Perfect.”
Adele undid her robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing the almost-nothing-to-the-imagination white bikini she had bought for the trip. “Well? How is it?”
Roland whistled. “Ms. Plank, I do believe you just managed to make perfect even better.”
“I really hope you’re not lying to me about the temperature.”
Roland grinned while floating on his back. “Only one way to find out.”
Adele jumped.
The rest of the morning was spent swimming, grabbing a quick brunch inside the yacht, and then using the dinghy for the rest of the day to poke around the nooks and crannies of the rocky shoreline, which included briefly following a massive humpback whale as it slowly made its way north. By the time they returned to the yacht the light from the setting sun arced across the glasslike water in shimmering slivers of golden amber.
“This,” Roland said, “is a 1987 Opus One—a Napa Valley red. It’s one of the few bottles of wine left from my grandfather’s collection. I’ve been waiting to open it so I could share it with just the right person.” He looked down at his watch. “Actually, she should have been here by now.”
“Careful, smartass.”
Roland had prepared a light meal of caviar and crackers to go with the wine and laid it out on a table on the bow of the yacht. He pulled out a chair for Adele and filled her glass.
“Mm,” Adele said after sitting down and taking a sip. “It’s very good.”
Roland swirled his wine, had a drink, and nodded. “Made even better by the company I get to keep. And we pretty much have the place to ourselves. The nearest vessel is anchored a half-mile away.”
Adele peered over the rim of her glass. “I guess that means we can make all the noise we want.”
“Hold that thought.” Roland got up, went inside, and then came back.
“Forget something?”
Roland cocked his head. “Wait for it.” When the music started to play, he smiled. “There it is.”
“You and your music.”
“Hey, I paid a lot of money for this sound system and I’m a man who expects a strong return on investment.” He stuck his hand out across the table. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”
“Such a formal proposition.”
Roland shrugged. “I thought it might improve my chances of getting you out of those clothes later.”
“Is that right?” Adele leaned forward. “Just between you and me, I already like your chances in that department. That said, I’m happy to have that dance first.”
Roland stood, took Adele’s hand, and led her to the front of the bow. Despite the evening chill he remained shirtless and barefoot. He drew Adele in close and lightly pressed his hand against the small of her back. His skin smelled of soap and saltwater. “This is it,” he said.
Adele looked into his eyes. “What?”
“The perfect day. I’m never going to forget this for as long as I live. I have a family again and I have you. Nothing else matters as much as that.”
A duet by folk artists Johnny Flynn and Laura Marling began to play. Adele felt Roland’s heart beating in time to the guitar chords when she pressed her cheek against his chest as he began to sing the words to her. “The water sustains me without even trying,” he whispered. “The water can’t drown me. I’m done with my dying . . . where the blue of the sea meets the sky and the big yellow sun leads me home. I’m everywhere now, the way is a vow, to the wind of each breath by and by.”
“That’s beautiful.”
Roland looked out at all the water that surrounded them as the sun’s departure revealed a twinkling canopy of stars over their heads. “I first heard it at my grandfather’s funeral. Delroy Hicks sang and Lucas’s father Dr. Pine played guitar.”
“Tilda mentioned those three were pretty tight.”
“Yeah, they were. You would never think it looking at them. They were so different, but whenever I saw them together, whatever the chemistry between them was, it seemed to work. Grandmother described them as all trouble and triple the nonsense.”
“All trouble and triple the nonsense—kind of like Lucas, you, and me.”
Roland chuckled and then spun Adele around. “I don’t recall them ever dancing together,” he said. “Or doing this.” He held Adele’s face between his hands and kissed her. When he began to pull away, Adele pulled him closer and kissed him back.
The very last of that day’s sun winked and then departed for good. Adele and Roland stood together on the yacht’s bow breathing in a future they were more determined than ever to experience together.
When a lone shooting star flashed across the night sky, Roland squeezed Adele’s hand and told her to make a wish. She put her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t have to.”
Roland looked down at her. “No?”
“No,” Adele said with a shake of the head. “It already came true.”
Prologue Two
Several years before.
Delroy Hicks raised his whiskey glass high. “To Charles Soros. It’s been a while since you left us, but it still feels like it was yesterday. We miss you, friend, but are glad to report your island empire remains intact as your grandson Roland does the family business proud.”
“Here-here,” Dr. Edmund Pine said as he clinked his glass against Delroy’s.
A third glass had been poured in Charles’s memory and sat between the two older men on the balcony railing of Tilda Ashland’s Roche Harbor Hotel. It was a warm spring afternoon decorated with brilliant blue skies and flowers in bloom.
Edmund set his glass down and turned to Delroy. “Can I admit something to you?”
Delroy refilled his glass. “Better hurry and tell me before you forget.”
Edmund had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s the previous year and it seemed with each subsequent month that went by since then a little less of him remained. Joking about it was Delroy’s way of coping while also trying to put his longtime friend at ease.
“I never thought you’d have outlived Charles. After your first diagnosis I reviewed your file a hundred times. I saw the blood work, the scans, the final prognosis. Your body was riddled with tumors and yet you refused treatment and then somehow managed to outlive the oncologist who delivered you that original six-to-nine-month death sentence.”
Delroy absentmindedly rubbed the heart-shaped crystal that hung around his neck. “What I recall is how angry both you and Charles were when I first refused the chemo.”
Edmund scowled. “I was angry?”
“Not as much as Charles. He was really upset with me.”
“Yes, that’s right. I remember now. You two had quite an argument.”
Delroy grunted. “That we did. I promised out of spite that I’d outlive him. I don’t think either one of us actually believed I’d ever make good on it though. I almost felt guilty that he wasn’t still here when I went back to the hospital last year and let them cut out part of my liver and blast me with radiation. They pushed the chemo hard again, but I refuse to allow that poison to be put into me. I may not have much time left but what little there is it’ll be my own.”
Edmund took a sip of whiskey and stared up at the sun. “As sick as you are, I wonder if
you might still outlive me?”
“Stop talking like that. You’re the healthiest man I know.”
“We both understand that’s not really true,” Edmund replied. “Physically I’m fine but mentally? It’s getting worse—like a door slowly closing right in front of me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Just yesterday, I walked out onto my front porch and had no idea why. I stood there for five minutes trying to figure it out and then gave up and went back inside. Things like that are happening to me more and more.”
“Lucas is coming back home, right?”
Edmund smiled. “Yes, in a few months. He’s hoping to get on with the sheriff’s department.”
“Well, there you go. And I’ll wager he’ll be running that department before long.”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps nothing. Mark my words, Edmund. We’ll be calling him Sheriff Pine in no time. You’ll see.” Delroy took off his necklace. “In the meantime, why don’t you wear this for a while?”
Edmund shook his head. “You know how I feel about that metaphysical nonsense. I don’t require the delusion of hope hanging around my neck. I’m a doctor. A man of science. I have a disease for which there is no cure. Your crystal isn’t going to change that.”
“Exactly,” Delroy said. “So, what do you have to lose? C’mon, just put in on as a favor to me.”
Before the Alzheimer’s Edmund had been a man who rarely lost his temper, but now that temper showed itself more and more. He angrily swatted Delroy’s hand away. “I said no.”
The necklace fell and bounced off the red brick walkway below. Edmund’s face immediately registered his guilt. “I’m so sorry, Delroy. I’ll go right down and get it for you.”
Roche Harbor Rogue Page 26