The Water Keeper

by Charles Martin

  A few seconds passed. “Briefly. Two minutes maybe. Nothing more.”

  “Long enough for someone to get off or on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could you see a home or outbuildings on the island?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you get me back there?”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “’Cause he’s gone.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Yes, he is. I saw him leave.”

  “He may have left. But he’s back. I’m staring at him.”

  He’d circled back around! “Where?”

  “Loggerhead.”

  Loggerhead Key is a forty-nine-acre key three miles due west of Dry Tortugas National Park. Its most noticeable feature is a 157-foot-tall lighthouse, which can be seen for twenty nautical miles. I glanced over my shoulder. The lantern rotated like a giant eye scanning the surface of the ocean.

  I turned hard 180 degrees. The wind was picking up.

  He prodded. “Is Summer with you?”

  I gave him the ten-second version of the events.

  “And you?”

  “I’ll live.” I glanced at Gunner. “Find the best vet south of Miami. I need him waiting on me when I dock.”

  “Done.”

  “And, Bones?” I needed to tell him about Marie.

  “Yeah, Bish—”

  “Marie is alive.” Silence echoed as the words settled. When he didn’t respond, I said, “You hear me?”

  His tone of voice changed. “I heard.”

  The change betrayed him. I fought to understand. “You knew?”

  A pause.

  “Bones—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry?”

  “Bishop—”

  “How long?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Bones, how long?”

  Regret in his voice. “She faked the video.”

  “You’ve known for fourteen years? How?”

  “The confessional.”

  I was screaming now. “And you think that justifies it?”

  His voice fell to a whisper. “Nothing justifies this.” He swallowed.

  I hung up and let the wind dry my tears.

  Chapter 48

  I had grown stiff. My leg and my shoulder were screaming, not to mention one of my ribs. I was in a bad way. I drove straight at the light. Four minutes later, we circled the island. Loggerhead Key. The picture of the shopping list taped to the refrigerator returned to my mind’s eye. Loggerhead soup. Serves 11. When he left Pluto, the demon boat had gone in the direction of Key West. Making me think he was headed for the mainland. But he wasn’t. He’d made a giant circle.

  The cigarette boat lay dark and sleek against the horizon, tied up at the long dock that served the lighthouse keeper’s house—right next to a sea plane floating on its two pontoons. I throttled down, killed the engine, and glided onto the beach just north of the lighthouse. My body begged me not to get off the boat.

  I stared at the lighthouse and knew I needed weapons, but I’d lost my AR, and my Sig was empty, as was the Benelli. That left the crossbow. I stepped into the sand, grabbed my crossbow from the forward hatch, cocked it, and slid an arrow onto the rest. If I was lucky I’d get one shot with this, and then things would turn ugly. The only good news was that it was quiet, and whoever I hit with it wouldn’t know my location. But once empty, it would serve little purpose other than to beat somebody off me.

  Summer was climbing out when I stopped her. “No. And don’t argue with me. If I’m not back in five minutes, head east.” I handed her the sat phone. “Bones will get you home.”

  She swung a leg over. “I’m not about to—”

  I put my hand on hers. “Summer, this is not a dance.” I held up my hand. “Five minutes.”

  She extended hers and pressed her fingertips to mine. I nodded and crept across the beach.

  The lighthouse scanned the sea above me while solar LEDs lit the dock and sidewalk that led from the water’s edge to the lighthouse and surrounding buildings. I heard screaming coming from somewhere near the lighthouse. The dunes were low, which didn’t grant me much cover, so I knelt and watched as a man tried to drag a body out of the base of the lighthouse. The voice suggested the body belonged to a female. She was kicking and screaming. Wildly.

  Having trouble holding on, he let her go. Momentarily, bending double at the waist, giving me a split second to make a decision and send the bolt. I did. The arrow entered his right buttock and exited out his groin. I know this because I heard the scream. It was higher pitched than hers.

  I ran up the lit walkway where Angel lay fighting against zip ties that bound her hands and ankles. She had pulled off her blindfold, but that did little to help her recognize me in the darkness. I tried to cut her bands and she kicked me in the face. I rolled onto the man who was screaming and bleeding beneath me. When I climbed off him, I got a good look at his face. Only then did I realize he wasn’t the driver of the demon boat.

  I started to ask myself where he could be when he spoke behind me. “Figures.”

  I turned slowly. He stood like a cat. Holding a knife. I waved my hand across the island. “Pickup only.”

  He smiled but said nothing.

  I pointed at the lighthouse. “I bet if I open that door, I’ll find ten girls just like this one.”

  He smiled again. But there was no humor in it.

  Given my condition and the fact that he was faster than me, I had a pretty good idea I couldn’t beat him in a fight. So I tried to appeal to his greedy side. “You’re a businessman. What if I offer you more money?”

  He paused. His accent surfaced when he spoke. European. “You can’t afford them.”

  “I might surprise you.”

  “What will you pay?”

  I paused. I figured we were finished talking about money. “Whatever it costs.”

  He understood. “I gave my word.”

  “An honorable thief.”

  Another smile. “Thief, yes. Honorable, not so much.” He pointed at me. “I’ve heard of you.” He motioned toward his back. “You’re the guy with the names.”

  I nodded.

  “You’ve cost us some money.” He waved the knife at me. Circling. “Why you do that?”

  “Because I know what it is to love someone and lose them.” I paused for effect. “’Course, a maggot like you wouldn’t understand that.”

  He shook his head and laughed, his eyes flashing red. “Flesh. A place to put something. That’s all.” He switched the knife to his other hand. “We have a nickname for you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mercury.”

  Mercury was the fabled messenger of the gods, sent to rescue prisoners from Hades. “Fitting.”

  He smiled again. Mirthless.

  He was older than me but faster. And given the holes in my shoulder and leg, plus what was probably a broken rib, he was currently stronger. The most I could hope for was to slow him down. Hope I got lucky. He crossed the distance between us in a blur and rolled head over heels. I reached but he was gone. Before I could turn, he stabbed that knife into my thigh. The searing heat and pain brought my attention to the fact that he was on top of me. His hands were paws and his forehead a sledgehammer. His grip crushed down on my esophagus.

  I struggled but I was played out. He was too much. I made one last attempt but he blocked it. As if he could read my mind. He knew what he was doing. As the walls closed in, he leaned in, laughing. The vessels of his eyes were red and bulging. He rammed a fist into the hole in my shoulder that Summer had just sewn shut and sent a pain-train to my brain.

  Next to me, Angel screamed, kicked at him, and pounded his back with her fist. He swung a powerful arm and sent her rolling. Watching my world come to an end, I felt an odd calm rain down over me. I tried to pry his hand off me, but it was no use. It was a vise. Just before the world went dark, a shadow passed through the air behind him. A snarling, growli
ng, angry shadow. The man screamed, let go of me, and turned his attention to the thing that was threatening to rip off his leg.

  Having escaped Summer’s grasp, three-legged Gunner had run across the beach, up the sidewalk, and launched himself at my executioner. He landed on the man’s back and sank his teeth into his hamstring. The man immediately let go of me and swung violently with his knife, catching Gunner in the same shoulder where the bullet had entered. The dog whined, winced, rolled, and didn’t move while blood poured from his shoulder and mouth.

  The man rose, glanced at the steady stream of blood draining out of the back of his leg, and took one step toward me with his knife before a boat paddle crashed down across his head. The paddle snapped and he staggered, turning his attention to Summer, who stood holding what was left of the paddle.

  The man took a swipe at Summer but she dodged it, distracting him just long enough for me to climb to my feet. I sent one fist down through the man’s face, feeling something break. But I knew I couldn’t manage a second swing. If he came at me again, Summer and Angel would watch me die.

  For some reason, he did not. He staggered, dropped his knife, wiped one hand across the back of his thigh, assessed his own wound, and then stared at me. Spitting, he smiled and said one word: “Ellie.” Then he began shuffling toward his boat. Unable to chase, the three of us watched him leave.

  When he reached the end of the dock, he threw the lines off the seaplane, climbed inside, cranked the engine, and throttled into the wind. When he’d turned ninety degrees, putting the wind in his face, he revved the engine, skimmed across the face of the water, then lifted heavenward, circling eastward. In less than two minutes, he was gone from sight and sound.

  While Summer sobbed and held her daughter, I stared at the end of the dock. The demon boat. I turned to Angel and directed her attention to the lighthouse. “They in there?”

  She was clinging to her mom. Crying, but no sound came. She nodded and loosed the dam that held back the sound. The cry echoed out across the island. I shined my light into the base of the lighthouse and saw ten beautiful young girls, each blindfolded and zip-tied. I began lifting blindfolds. “Can you walk?” They were young. Not yet sixteen. “Come on. We’re going home.” Each nodded. With the knife from the sidewalk, I cut them loose, then knelt next to Gunner. His breathing was labored, gurgling. His heavy eyes were having trouble focusing on me. “Easy, boy.”

  He tried to lick my face, but there was too much blood. I slid my arms beneath him and limped my way to the two-million-dollar racing boat.

  I had to get to Ellie before he did.

  Chapter 49

  Summer and Angel leaned on each other down the sidewalk as Gunner and I painted our own path to the boat. The ten girls followed, huddling against one another. I set him on the deck below the back seat. The girls climbed in and began strapping on seat belts. Summer helped me loosen the lines, and I throttled away from the dock. Then she handed me the sat phone.

  I circled west, then south, slowly routing through shallow water. When we reached four feet, enough to plane, I shot the throttle forward, rocketing us up and out of our lighthouse grave. Within seconds, we were traveling ninety-seven miles an hour. The boat is equipped with a key fob of sorts, which—when engaged—allows the captain to make use of all the power the motors possess. The fob dangled in front of me across a dash that looked more fighter jet than boat. I clicked the button, and the engines roared like an F-16. Given the glass-like conditions, we nearly took flight. When I looked down, I saw we were traveling at 122 mph.

  The keys were slippery with blood as I dialed Bones. He answered with, “I’m sorry.”

  I didn’t have time for him and me. “You see a plane flying east?”

  “No, but your demon boat is traveling east at a hundred thirty-seven miles an hour.”

  “That’s us.”

  “What?”

  “No time. Find the plane. It’s small. Like a bush plane.”

  A pause while he checked the satellite. “Got it.”

  “Tell me where it lands.”

  Twenty minutes later, he called back. “He just landed.”

  “Where?”

  “The shoreline at your hotel.”

  “Where’s the vet?”

  “Where do you want him?”

  “Sisters of Mercy.”

  “He can be there in five.”

  I hung up and charted a course for the south side of the island and Sisters of Mercy. Five minutes later, I beached the demon boat on the sand in front of Marie’s cottage. I grabbed Gunner, stumbled out of the boat, fell into the water, and hobbled our way up onto the beach. He wasn’t breathing.

  I turned to Summer. “You sit with him?” Rewrapping the tourniquet around my leg, I limped my way up Marie’s back steps. I threw open the door and found Sister June spoon-feeding soup to Marie. When she saw me, her eyes grew wide and she began breathing fast and shallow, willing the oxygen to fill her lungs. I scanned the room. Ellie was nowhere to be found. I spoke through the pain as I stood there bleeding. “Where’s Ellie?”

  “Went to get some pictures.”

  “From where?”

  “Your hotel.”

  The words were registering in my brain when my phone dinged. A text. From Ellie. It read, “Midnight Ballet.”

  I jumped off the back steps, rolled in the sand, stood, fell again, and climbed my way back to the demon boat. Summer sat cradling Gunner while Angel and the ten other girls huddled on the beach. Sirens and flashing lights told me Bones had brought the cavalry.

  I couldn’t do anything more here and there would be time for conversation later. I climbed inside the boat, slammed the throttle into reverse, and dragged the fifty-foot boat off the beach while digging through the sand with the powerful propellers. Free of the beach, I turned east toward the resort. When I passed Sunset Point, I was traveling above a hundred miles an hour.

  Seeing the resort, I turned ninety degrees right, aimed for the tail of the seaplane, and gunned it. The boat skimmed across the water and cut the plane in half, sending it spinning. With way too much speed, I glided up onto the beach, and the demon boat came to rest on dry ground in between the pool and the tiki hut where a guy stood singing cover tunes. I fell out of the boat and began limping to Ellie’s room amid the screams and angry hollers rising up out of the bar.

  When I reached her and Summer’s room, the door was open. Handle busted. I walked in and found the room in disarray. Table upturned. Lamps broken. A trail of blood led in and out. In the corner I heard moaning. I clicked on the light.

  Clay was on the floor behind the door. Blood pouring off his face. He shook his head. “He got her.”

  “Which way they go?”

  He pointed toward the boardwalk and Sunset Point. Once there, he could skirt around the crowds, get to his apartment, his Porsche, and he’d be gone. I started running.

  Or hobbling.

  I rounded the corner where a crowd had gathered to gawk at my boat-driving skills. The pool had emptied. As had the bar. Fifty people stood staring and holding drinks with umbrellas sticking out the top. The seaplane listed in the water, looking scalped without its tail wing. I circled around the crowd and ran along the waterside in the dark. Streetlamps lit what would otherwise be a romantic stroll along the shore. I hobbled, feeling warmth drain down my leg. I’d bled a lot. I didn’t know how long I had left. Not long. I clutched my rib because every breath sent a knife through my lungs.

  Ahead of me, I heard a commotion among the people on the boardwalk and heard a muffled cry. I screamed, “Ellie!”

  A crash sounded. Followed by a woman yelling and another scream. This time it wasn’t so muffled. I willed my legs to move faster and screamed again. “Ellie! Ellie!”

  The first time the reply was muffled and difficult to make out. The second time it was not and I heard exactly what she said. “Daddy!”

  Daddy.

  There it was again. The word circled inside my head, takin
g laps around my brain, finally coming to rest in my heart. The meaning registered, and it finally struck me that Ellie was calling to me.

  She called me Daddy.

  He was less than a block from his apartment garage and his Porsche. If he got her in the car, I’d never see either one again. A table crashed, a bottle broke, and more screams erupted from a waterside bar. Seeing my last chance, I slipped behind an office building, through a garden, around two people in a Jacuzzi, through a carport, and finally across the street and into the shadows at the entrance of his garage.

  I watched helplessly as he shoved Ellie inside the Porsche and then fell into the driver’s side. I closed the distance. He slammed the door shut, reversed, and shifted into first—which was when I punched through the driver’s side glass and grabbed him by both his hair and his leg. Gunner had turned the back of his hamstring into hamburger, so when I squeezed it, he gave out a yelp.

  I pulled harder and extracted him from the Porsche, where we spilled onto the asphalt in the garage. He kicked into my leg, sending me to my knees. I stood, and we traded blows. Behind him stood his freedom. Behind me stood my daughter. When I caught him in the jaw, he caught me in the throat, temporarily stunning me. I shook it off but he was on me. Trying to remove my head from my shoulders. I just could not do anything to best this guy. With one final burst of energy, I stood to my feet, jumped for all I was worth, and arched my back. We pivoted in the air and came crashing down. Me on top of him on top of a cement parking stop. He grunted, let go of my neck, rolled, and was on his feet before I could climb to my knees.

  Sirens sounded in the distance.

  He turned to Ellie. “Every day, whenever you turn around, I’ll be standing over your shoulder.” He swung, caught me in the chin, and nearly turned out my lights. I spun and watched him limp through the alleyway that led back onto the boardwalk along Sunset Point. As he receded into the darkness, I knew I’d have to spend the rest of my life keeping Ellie safe. Watching over her. My singular mission would be making sure she never lived a single day in fear of that man.