Dear Killer (Marley Clark Mysteries)

by Lovely, Linda

  “Come. Show me this ice trough.”

  Thank, God. He read my shakes as fear of death not the flood of adrenalin before a battle. The nearness of his quarry and my perceived fright excited him. Still he took care. His fist tightly gripped my tether as we crossed a spongy patch of grass to the pavilion’s graveled apron. Moonlight bright enough to cast shadows silhouetted the building. Shadows pooled at the intersection of walls where I hoped to find treasure. Was anything there?

  Kain recognized the rectangular ice bin and walked faster. The noose tightened around my neck as he jerked me forward. The rope was a spare four feet. Not enough to maneuver. The trough was six feet from the fire pit and hatchet—if it was there. I strained to separate a shape from the shadows. I saw it. Hallelujah.

  Kain reached the trough, my tether wound round his left hand. With his right hand, he reached to lift a metal cover designed to keep out animals and leaves. He’d almost forgotten me. It’s now or never.

  I grabbed the rope upstream of my throat and yanked as I lunged toward the hatchet. Kain lurched sideways. I dropped the rope and staggered to the hatchet. I closed my manacled fists around the handle. Swing now. As I followed through, I realized my target had shriveled. The man crouched, reaching for his gun. I saw a glint of metal. My aim was off. Kain screamed as the hatchet connected with flesh. A second later, the blade bounced on the dirt. A glancing blow. Oh, no.

  I tried to lift the hatchet, swing again. Kain copied my rope trick. He jerked my leash and toppled me. I collapsed flat on my face. I saw his boot coming at my head. Black, ugly, huge.

  ***

  I came to sprawled on a dock, my head painfully canted at a ninety-degree angle to my spine. A shift brought instant pain. My choke chain now anchored me to one of the dock’s steel piers. However, I’d seen enough to identify our location. The Cuthbert dock.

  Kain leaned over and slapped me lightly on the cheek. “Colonel Clark, how disappointing.”

  He held up a USB flash drive encased in a bulky plastic package attached to a lanyard. He slowly swung the computer memory device before me like a hypnotist with a pocket watch. “It’s even waterproof.” He chuckled as he stashed the gizmo in a jacket pocket.

  “As a reward for helping me recover my property, I’d planned to let you die quickly. Now, well, infractions must be punished. You cut my thigh. Quite a bit of blood, no permanent damage.

  “Wonder why you’re alive? It would have been no fun to kill you while you were unconscious. Besides, you have value as a hostage—until I’m safely off the island.”

  His slow, singsong words smothered hope. He didn’t expect an answer. Had he wanted one, he wouldn’t have left the wadded rag in my mouth. I snorted like a pig trying to inhale enough oxygen to fuel my frenzy.

  My tormentor looked down at me and rocked contentedly on his heels. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked upward, hoisting me to a sitting position. My scalp burned.

  “Stand up,” he ordered.

  I felt woozy. My head throbbed. Oh my God, Braden. What time is it?

  I glanced at my watch. The round face confused me. Digital ants marched in circles. Oh. I was staring at my GPS, not my watch. In my groggy condition, I looked at the wrong wrist. It seemed a lifetime had passed since I’d strapped on my GPS to check Hugh’s coordinates. I looked at my left wrist.

  My God, nine o’clock. Only three hours left.

  Despair crept in and threatened to swamp me. I wanted to cry.

  Kain’s words hit me like ice water. “Sunrise Island. That’s my first stop, your last. We’ll have a private party. You, me, and the crabs.”

  He hummed a little ditty.

  “Wonder who’ll find you? Maybe someone you know. I was surprised to learn you were friends with that black girl’s aunt. America’s chaotic social structure often amazes me.”

  He glanced at me. “I didn’t kill Bea’s maid, you know. Just drugged the girl and shipped her off. Piece of ass like her is worth money. Never hurts to tend to the bottom line. After all, I am a businessman.

  “But even a capitalist needs entertainment. Once I’m off the island, I could just dump you overboard. But what fun would that be? We won’t part company quickly. No, ma’am.”

  I’d passed panic. My stomach heaved at the thought of this miscreant torturing me for hours on an uninhabited island. My brain ceased to function. A short-circuit caused the same prayer to play over and over, like an old recording with a skip. Dear God, please help me… Dear God, please help me… Dear God, please help me…

  Not very helpful if you believe God gave us brains so we can help ourselves.

  But I can’t do anything, I mentally whined.

  Think ahead, dummy. He still has to wrestle you into his boat. What are your options? Another swim?

  The doomsayer side of my brain answered: How long can you hold your breath, genius? You’re gagged and handcuffed. You’ll be lucky not to sink like a stone.

  I refused to give up. My kayak waited right around the bend, one dock down.

  Kain quit humming and started whistling.

  “I haven’t had much fun lately,” he chortled. “This makes up for it. What message should I leave beside your remains? Notice I said ‘remains’ not ‘body.’ What’s left won’t be readily recognizable.

  “Maybe I’ll let you vote on your epitaph—while you can still talk. It’s hard to find a pun using Marley or Clark, and I’ve already done Colonel. Perhaps I should combine a pun with a visual. How about She-Crab Soup?”

  The gag quelled my sudden impulse to scream. Besides, no one would hear. No occupied homes within earshot.

  Kain limped slightly, his only souvenir of my axe attack. I’d blown my one chance to save myself and Braden.

  My tether offered little play. If I so much as nodded my head, I choked. Kain disappeared down the dock ladder and into the flat-bottomed skiff. He pulled the motor starter and revved the engine. Oily fumes belched from the two-cycle engine, adding to my nausea.

  “Okay, showtime.” He sounded like a carnival barker.

  Cautious before, Kain was doubly wary now. He pushed a switchblade against my throat as he undid the knots that tied me to the pier. After freeing the rope end, he gathered the excess and wound it round his fist. He jerked until I gagged.

  “So far, so good,” he said. “Move slowly. Walk to the edge of the dock and kneel. Then put your legs over the edge so you’re sitting and drop into the boat. I’m right behind you. Any stupid tricks and I’ll jerk this rope so hard your eyes will pop out. But don’t worry: I won’t let you die. Not till we party on Sunrise.”

  Unfortunately, my frazzled brain couldn’t think of any stunt—stupid or otherwise.

  It’s hard to talk with a giant wad of cotton flattening your tongue. Yet my involuntary silence seemed to irritate Kain. He kicked my leg where I’d filleted it playing demolition derby with the Bobcat.

  “Nod that you understand, bitch.”

  I winced and nodded.

  The moon rode high in the sky, offering ample light to scan my surroundings. My mind raced as I tried to think of a ploy. Anything. Come on.

  “Walk forward,” he ordered. He treated me like a dog he wanted to heel. From the corner of my eye, I watched his gaze travel over the bruises that covered my left side from haunch to ankle. Under the garish dock lights they resembled ripening eggplants. To Kain, they were magnets, tempting bulls-eyes. He kicked my calf. My strangled vocalization, the high-pitched product of intense pain, brought a smile to his lips. He’d really enjoy himself once he could remove my gag and hear my unmuffled screams.

  My pathetic compliance turned Kain on. He was addicted. The vulnerable skin on display through my shredded pants must look irresistible. I sensed his overpowering need to kick me again…soon.

  That’s when it came to me. Wait till he lifts his leg to kick. Charge him while he’s off balance. Force him into the water. It may be your last chance.

  I’d barely completed the thought when I
caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Kain hauled his foot back to land a stout blow on my calf. I coiled all my energy into one explosive full-body thrust. I locked my elbows, pivoted at the waist and used the power in my legs to land the blow to his face. My handcuffs worked like brass knuckles. I carried through with all my weight. Our bodies collided.

  “Bitch,” Kain screamed as our momentum took us sideways.

  My feet left the dock. Yes! I felt myself suspended in air. Then I met the icy water in a graceless belly flop.

  I had surprise going for me. I’d planned to land in the drink; Kain hadn’t. He flailed like a drowning man. He made a desperate lunge at me. I weaved and ducked out of his grasp. His heavy camouflage weighed him down. Blood spurted from his nose where I clocked him with my heavy-duty bracelets.

  Good. Where’s a shark when you need one?

  Even without the handicaps, the man didn’t appear to be a swimmer. Me, I was Red Cross certified. Never mind that was thirty-odd years ago. I’d never stopped swimming. I could evade him—if we both stayed in the water. And if his hand weren’t still twined around a rope that terminated in a noose circling my neck.

  I pulled the gag from my mouth, tearing my skin in the process. While doing a modified float, I wiggled my cuffed hands between the noose and my neck so he couldn’t choke off my air. Kain was smart. In a minute, he’d quit thrashing and reel me in like a hooked fish. I couldn’t give him that minute.

  I heard the whine of the skiff’s motor and made a decision. I sucked in air and dived. Kicking with all my might, I pulled the rope and Kain with it. My body went numb with cold. My lungs burned.

  I kicked harder. My eyes opened. I might as well have been swimming in ink. Sound offered the only guide. Had I gone far enough? I jackknifed to the surface and gave a fierce yank upward on the rope. The motor whined; I was thrilled. The dead weight on the other end was gone. The rope floated free. The motor blades had sliced it in two. Hallelujah.

  Kain’s screams failed to penetrate for a moment. My tug had brought more than the rope in contact with blades. I’d hauled some part of his anatomy into the motor’s twirling maelstrom.

  “You’re dead, you whore,” he yelled. The swear words and female slurs that followed were in Polish. Apparently English could no longer express his rage.

  That’s when I saw a swatch of red and blue, bobbing my way. The flash drive. I grabbed it. Kain saw me sweep the prize into my hand.

  Treading water, I gasped to inject oxygen into my burning lungs. Saltwater stung my eyes. Barely six feet away, he pulled himself up the ladder one handed. Darkness wouldn’t let me assess his injuries. He was down, not out.

  “I’m coming for you,” he yelled.

  That got me moving. My rope trick fouled the motor. He had to free it before he could start the boat. And he was injured. But as cocky as I was about out-swimming Kain, I knew better than to think I could outpace a motorboat—or a bullet. He still had his gun. I had to hide, then find a way to reach Braden.

  I knew of no swimming stroke to adapt to handcuffs. At least my hands were secured in front. I stretched my arms ahead and flutter-kicked for long yards. When exhaustion set in, a frog kick carried me the last few feet to the dock where my kayak waited.

  I’ll choose waterways too shallow for his motorboat. Ditch the kayak upstream. Then head for civilization.

  Climbing the ladder proved a challenge. No way to separate my cuffed hands to reach the next rung while I clung to the step below. Finally I used my chin as a lever. I heaved myself onto the dock, then shoved the kayak into the water. The splash sounded deafening. Had Kain heard it over the cough of his starter?

  I held onto the ladder frame and slid into the seat. I undid the bungee-style clip to free my paddle from its cradle.

  Bollocks. From the first stroke, I was in trouble. With handcuffs, I couldn’t spread my hands far enough apart to gain leverage on my down stroke. And shifting the paddle from side to side proved a coordination nightmare. Fluid movements that seemed second nature with unfettered limbs became jerky comedies of error.

  Maybe I could dog paddle faster.

  Kain’s motor caught. Our game of hide and seek had begun. I veered from the main creek into an unfamiliar feeder rivulet. I needed less than a foot of draft. I prayed it was too shallow for his motor to clear.

  I paddled to a Y, one of dozens of idiosyncratic dips in the meandering creek, and set off down the narrowest passageway. Where would it lead? Moonlight glittered on the waves. Still it was difficult to pick out landmarks. At this tide, the grass towered three feet above my head. Good for camouflage, not for navigating. I brushed against the decaying marsh grass. It felt surprisingly soft. In two months, the brown vegetation would vanish; a sheen of chartreuse would signal the marsh’s rebirth. If I lived to see it.

  The chug of the motorboat engine sounded close, too close. My feeder creek ran right back to the main waterway. Damn. Only a small strip of marsh separated me from Kain. To my dismay, I realized this portion of the channel, though narrow, was plenty deep for a skiff.

  I could track Kain’s progress as he poked along, methodically probing hidden nooks and crannies. His searchlight beam projected a tiny halo of light above the marsh.

  How long would he stay with the main creek? With the paddle I pushed deeper into a little cove of grass. The fecund, slightly sweet smell of rotting marsh made me queasy. Inches away the pluff mud teemed with tiny crabs waving pincers twice the size of their bodies. On the opposite bank a pile of oyster shells gleamed. If I abandoned the kayak here, I’d sink in mud or cut my feet to ribbons on razor-sharp shells.

  I fumbled with my paddle to angle my wrists and check the time. Ten-thirty. Less than two hours to reach Braden. Get moving. Unfortunately, Kain and his gun stood between me and civilization…phones…Braden. While checking the time, I inadvertently glanced at my GPS first.

  Hmm. I had a vague notion of my whereabouts within Beach West’s undeveloped heart. My mind flashed on the image of a structure, one Kain couldn’t possibly know. One he was unlikely to see at night. Long before Dear became a nature preserve, it served as a poacher’s paradise, and ambitious locals built a hunter’s blind in the top of a huge oak. A place to drink beer and shoot wild turkey and alligators.

  Strips of wood nailed to the oak’s trunk formed a ladder. The blind overlooked the island’s alligator spa—the deep, dark pool fed by artesian hot springs. The structure was in disrepair. Rotting floorboards punctured by gaping holes. But it was the best place I could think of to safely hide from his searchlight. He’d be unlikely to look up.

  It took a little handcuff maneuvering to work the GPS buttons, but in a couple of minutes I was set. I’d already marked the alligator spa as a geocaching waypoint. Now I set it as my destination. A row of glowing digital breadcrumbs flickered on as a reward. The blinking ants marched steadily, showing the shortest route.

  My mind was working again, logic reasserting itself over primitive fear. It wasn’t enough to hide. I had to come up with a plan. If I didn’t, Braden was dead. I prayed Kain hadn’t lied about when the bomb would go off.

  By the time I reached the first dry hillock, the outline of a scheme presented itself. Crazy, risky, insane—it was all I had.

  I abandoned the kayak on the sandy rise. I ran fifty yards or so, then yelled. I tried for a blood-curdling scream—as if I’d been injured in a fall. Something to get Kain salivating.

  The subtropical forest was dense, dark and confusing. I checked my GPS regularly to see which way the green digital ants headed. I picked up a fallen tree branch to use as a probe and poked the ground ahead like an Army grunt testing for landmines. The blind was close by, but I needed to circumnavigate the neighboring lagoon. I wasn’t anxious to take a dip with the alligators.

  The lagoon proved easy to spot. White vapor rose steadily from its oily black surface. The tall oak loomed above the water, its silhouette quite distinctive. Light scissored the woods above my discarded kayak.
Good. Kain was following. I ran to the base of the tree and swore. The first ladder rung had rotted to little more than splinters. Were more steps missing?

  I grabbed hold of a rung well above my head. My feet scrabbled against the trunk for purchase. After gaining a queasy purchase, I maneuvered for the next notch. Sweat ran into my eyes. Thirst made me dizzy. While I’d been free of my gag for half an hour, it felt as if it was still in place, siphoning off saliva faster than a dentist’s suction tube.

  I climbed faster using my elbows for leverage. All of the higher rungs felt sturdy. My hand touched the blind’s decaying floor just as Kain’s flashlight speared me in its beam. Pure rotten luck. I’d planned to drop on him, a banshee descending out of the blue. Surprise was no longer an ally.

  Kain’s discovery prompted a bellow of rage and euphoria. The hunter had run his quarry to ground. I pulled myself through the blind’s entry and lay panting on the rough boards. The board nearest my hands teetered when I moved. The nails that once held it to the joist had popped. Only the imbedded heads kept the rusted protrusions in place. Careful.

  Kain closed to within a hundred yards. I stared at the ground below, where an audience gathered for the coming confrontation. Beady red eyes glowed in the dark. At least six alligators had congregated at the edge of the hot lagoon.

  Hell and damnation.

  I hid myself as best I could in the foliage of the live oak—a tree that never loses its leaves. My best wasn’t good enough.

  “Oh, Marley, you do like to play games. Unfortunately for you, I have the trump card.” He held his pistol high in the moonlight. “How many shots will I need to wound you? Want to wager?”

  The first shot gouged a branch inches from my shoulder. Splinters of bark exploded around me. The second bullet buried itself in thick wood just shy of my torso.

  “I’m getting closer,” Kain crooned. “Bet I wing you with shot number three.”