Deadline (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Maggie K. Black

  “Wesley seemed so shy and nervous.” She shivered. “I still don’t want to believe he’d hurt anybody.”

  “Wesley was strapped for cash after his parents died. Rachel’s the only heir of a very wealthy, elderly woman. She’s worth a lot of money when her grandmother eventually passes. People have killed for far less.”

  She leaned back deeper into the safety of Jack’s arms. “Please tell me the police are coming.”

  A flash of lightning shone through the open window, casting Jack’s face in shades of sepia-brown and shadow. “No. Trust me, Benji and I tried hard to convince them to send a boat. But even with Duncan’s arrest, the evidence linking him and Wesley to the Raincoat Killer was tenuous at best. Benji tried reaching the police on the radio when we saw you signaling for help. But we’re too far from a cell tower and he couldn’t reach anyone on a radio. We didn’t dare head back to civilization and risk losing sight of you.”

  The rain was falling steadily now, pounding on the deck, nipping at their bodies. Thunder echoed in the distance. The storm was still small enough to boat in, but it wouldn’t last that way for long.

  “The only way this boat is going to survive the storm is if we find shore and drop anchor,” she said.

  “The boat is inching along at a crawl. I was able to outswim it no problem. I slipped onto the back and jimmied your window open without anyone noticing. They’re lucky they haven’t hit a shoal yet. The good news is that we’re not that far offshore. Soon we’ll be close enough to risk jumping out and swimming to Benji and his boat.”

  She nodded. “But we can’t leave Rachel.”

  “You’re asking me to risk your life in order to save hers?”

  “I am.”

  His hand cradled her face again as his lips slipped over her skin. Then he unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt and pressed it into her hands. “It’ll go like this. You slip out the window and onto the deck. Count backward in your head from a hundred and if you don’t see me coming by the time you get to ‘one,’ jump overboard, swim to shore and call Benji. If you hear me shouting or you think Wesley spots you, don’t wait, just swim. But don’t use the walkie-talkie until you’re ready to swim, otherwise Benji said the feedback could be loud enough to alert them something’s up.”

  She clipped the walkie-talkie to her belt. “What about you?”

  He sighed and ran his hand over the back of his head. “I’m going to try to get through this door and find Rachel. But I’m only searching the cabins down here and I’m not about to go up on deck and risk running into Wesley. Even if I do find Rachel, I might not be able to convince her to leave him. There’s no way to knowing what lies he might have told her. My goal is to get both of us out there safely, not jump into a fight with a killer. If I can’t find her, we go without her. Once we find Benji, we’ll head back to within radio range and pray the police will be able to get to her in time to keep her safe.” He stood. “Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” She took a deep breath. “And thank you. I—”

  The cabin door flew open with a crash. The Raincoat Killer stood in the doorway, his face fully hidden in the deep folds of the hood. An orange raincoat enveloped his body. A hunting rifle was held steady in his leather-gloved hands. Even if she or Jack managed to knock the barrel away from him, if the killer let off a single blast at this range, it would spray the tiny cabin with so much shrapnel, there was no way either of them would make it out alive.

  “Wesley! Stop!” Jack stepped in front of Meg, shielding her with his body. “I know you love Rachel. I know you don’t want her to get hurt. Let Meg and Rachel go. We can settle this, just the two of us.”

  Meg’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart ached for Jack, for his courage, his strength. All this time she had wanted to keep him safe. But he didn’t need her protection. He deserved her respect. The killer’s finger tensed on the trigger.

  Jack’s hands rose, but when he spoke it was with a steady calm that sent chills up Meg’s spine. “What do you want, Wesley? Revenge? Freedom? Duncan has been arrested. You think he’s not going to tell the police it was you who killed Krista and Eliza? It’s not too late to turn yourself in, cut a deal and tell the police that Duncan was behind it all. You were just doing what he told you to, right? Because he frightened you, or threatened you, or paid you off somehow? We can tell people that. Just put down that gun, and you and I can go sit somewhere quiet and talk. I’ll give you all the time in the world to tell your story and I’ll get it out to the media. I’ll make sure everyone hears your side of the story. Please, for Rachel. Let the women go, and we can settle this man to man.”

  The killer paused. Meg held her breath. Then the killer giggled. The hood pulled back.

  She stared in horror at the Raincoat Killer’s face.

  It was Rachel.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The sound of Rachel’s laughter sent shivers down Jack’s spine as the final piece of the puzzle he’d been pursuing for so long finally fell into crystal-clear focus.

  “Rachel,” Meg gasped. “What are you doing? Whatever Duncan or Wesley has told you, whatever they’re making you do—” Her voice was lost to the clap of a thunder roar.

  The jacket fell open, showing the pure white wedding dress on underneath. The smolder of disdain in Rachel’s eyes had blazed into a full, raging anger. But the dancer’s fingers stayed calm and steady on the trigger.

  Oh, Lord, what should I say? What can I do?

  “Rachel,” Jack said, “where’s Wesley?”

  Lightning forked through the air. Jack counted silently under his breath. Before he could hit four seconds, thunder rolled again.

  “Wesley and Duncan, Wesley and Duncan,” Rachel snapped. “Is that all you can say? I told Meg. I don’t know where Wesley is.”

  The boat swayed beneath them, but Rachel’s footing stayed firm. Balance of a dancer. Strength of an athlete. Mind of a killer. “Do you really think either Duncan or Wesley is smart enough to be the mastermind behind any of this? Let alone strong enough to make me do anything I don’t want to do.”

  Focus, Jack. Think like a journalist, and not like a hostage. What do you see? Her wedding dress was full and knee-length, so he couldn’t count on it harming her agility. Her knuckles were pale. Her voice shook. Okay, so she was frustrated. This was a woman with a plan. A well-thought-out plan—he suspected—and he’d just thrown a wrench into it. And now she was stalling while she tried to figure out what to do.

  Meg stepped back. “I don’t understand.”

  “I do,” Jack said, his hands raised, his voice steady. “Rachel, I’m sorry for not seeing it sooner. Wesley was vulnerable. Duncan was volatile and violent. But you, Rachel, were the cunning one. You were the brains behind this entire hoax.”

  “Hoax?” Rachel spluttered. “Is that all you think this is? This was about setting things right. Did you know Krista Hooper was a third-rate dancer who didn’t deserve half the callbacks she got, let alone any of the parts she landed? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to sit there, time and time again, and watch her get the roles that I deserved?

  “With Wesley moving to England, I had to get that London audition. There was no way I was going to let Krista Hooper take it away from me. So I broke into her room, just looking for something to discredit her. But then she came home early. She called me ‘a delusional, entitled diva.’”

  A snarl turned the corner of her lips.

  A shiver ran down Jack’s spine. “So you hit her with a lamp.”

  “It was self-defense. She should have just admitted she cheated.”

  Images of the crime scene flashed like a slide show through his mind. There was no sign Krista even had a chance to fight back. No, Jack. Don’t get sidetracked. You need to get out alive. You need to get Meg out alive. You’ve got to find a way to distract her so you can get the gun a
way from her. Interview her. Do your job. You’ve interviewed plenty of criminals before.

  “How did Duncan get involved in this?” he asked.

  “I called him after Krista died. He’s been caught up in stuff before and I knew he’d understand. Besides, I ended up needing him to do something for me.”

  Jack felt Meg’s hand brush against his side. Everything inside him wanted to take her into his arms and away from this tiny room, with the barrel of a gun to their faces and the ravings of the delusional bride blocking the door. “So you killed Eliza Penn for him?”

  “Duncan was going to kill her anyway.” Rachel sniffed. “He was furious with her for dumping him. It was my idea to be smart about it, and to do it when he had an alibi. It was my idea to make it look like the work of a serial killer too. Like the ferry schedules. It was supposed to be like a trail of bread crumbs, so that after everything was done, detectives could go, ‘Oh, look, it was obviously a serial killer and it was all pointing to Manitoulin Island all along.’ But they were only supposed to figure it out after it was all over.” She shot Jack a withering glance. “Seriously, dude. I never imagined some reporter would jump the gun like you did. Does that mean you’re smarter than the average cop or a lot more gullible?”

  She was baiting him. He wasn’t about to rise to it. “Why the island? What do you mean by after it was all over?”

  Rachel’s eyes rolled. Okay, so she wasn’t about to answer that.

  He tried again. “Why did you want Duncan to kill Shelly Day?”

  The darkness crossed her eyes again. “I didn’t. I never even met her. Duncan just saw her outside some bar one night and she insulted him. So he followed her home to talk some sense into her. One thing led to another and somehow she ended up dead. I don’t know. I’m just glad he remembered about the raincoat and the flyers. Duncan’s got a temper problem. Especially when he’s insulted. He’s taken too many drugs and they’ve scrambled his brain.” Frustration rumbled through her timbre of the voice. “It wasn’t part of the plan. I don’t know what drugs he took before he boarded the ferry that made him decide to attack Meg for being ‘rude’ to him. He also wasn’t supposed to kill some random old man, thinking he was related to the Duffs. Thankfully I made him go back and get the stupid note he tried to leave.

  “But then he hires some kid he bought drugs off of to run around in a raincoat after he found out you were digging into things, and my rehearsal dinner was ruined! Along with my pavilion! Was he kidding me with that nonsense?”

  Lightning flashed. Jack counted under his breath. Three seconds later, thunder rolled.

  “It’s your grandmother’s pavilion.” Meg’s voice was soft but strong. “Why do you care about it so much? All this time, you were so insistent that’s where your reception had to be. You had to get married here on the island, with a big, shiny celebration at the pavilion that practically everyone on the island was invited to, all for your grandmother, a woman you clearly don’t like, despite the fact that she gave you everything you ever wanted.”

  “Everything I ever wanted?” Rachel barked out a laugh. “You think I didn’t want a father in my life? You think I wanted to spend the first twelve years of my life living in the back of a car? Shuttling around from dirty motel room to dingy basement apartment while Mother cried and begged Grandma for money?”

  “Your mother was a drug addict,” Meg said. “Your grandmother begged her to come home and get help. Your father abandoned you.”

  “My father had no choice!” Rachel’s voice rose to a scream. “He didn’t want to leave me. My grandmother drove them apart and practically forced him to go by making us broke. Then she sentenced my mother to death and forced me to come live on this wretched island. You know she nearly didn’t agree to pay for my university when I was accepted at Toronto? Then when she heard I was moving to London with Wesley, she threatened to cut me off financially again. She was too afraid we’d just elope or live together. She wanted us to have the big, shiny wedding my mother never had. What’s next? My grandmother won’t be happy until I give up every single one of my dreams and move back here to live the life she’s chosen for me. So now she’s going to die and take her beloved town with her.”

  “How?” Jack said. Just one word, one final question, which echoed through the cabin like an anchor.

  Rachel grinned. “I planted an explosive device in the flower fountain. Duncan was supposed to die at the wedding reception tonight, along with everyone else. All my carefully planted bread crumbs would point to him being the Raincoat Killer. The police would think he tried to kill me at my own wedding. Wesley and I were supposed to be on the boat when it went off.

  “The explosion should still be big enough to take out Grandma’s retirement home, the whole of downtown and everyone in it, even if the rain keeps it from setting fire to the forest and spreading across the entire island. Then her money will be mine, and I’ll finally be free.”

  Meg sucked in a painful breath that sounded more like a whimper. He could only imagine what must be going through her heart and mind.

  “Let Meg go,” he said. “You’ve got me. You’ve got revenge on your grandmother. But Meg’s innocent, and she’s been nothing but kind and caring to you and Wesley.”

  “Innocent? Her brother ruined Wesley’s life!”

  The storm broke fully, unleashing a downpour onto the decks, filling the small cabin with the sound of the rain. Water ran through the open window. The boat rocked as waves roiled around them.

  “You know Wesley practically clung to me the first few months we were together? His parents were dead, and now he was the exact same age his cousin was when he died. It was all he could talk about. His cousin died at eighteen, so he felt like he should be dead too. He had nightmares about it. I couldn’t live with that.

  “I’m going to make it right. Benji killed Wesley’s cousin. Therefore, Benji will die—and lose his sister too. That’s why I needed you as my wedding planner. I needed to know you’d be in the middle of town when the bomb exploded so you would die, along with this wretched place. Then when you canceled on me, I had no choice but to bring you out here onto the boat to make sure you didn’t survive. My Wesley deserves nothing less. Then I’ll find him, he’ll understand and we’ll be happy again.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Meg followed Jack into the galley, single file. Rachel kept the gun trained on their faces. The room was narrow but deep. As dangerous as it was to fire buckshot indoors, if they could knock the gun from her hands just enough to get her to fire away from them, there was a chance the shot would get absorbed by the cabinets with little of it ricocheting back toward them.

  “Wesley left you, Rachel,” Meg said. “I know you love him. I know you want him. But killing me and destroying the town won’t bring him back.”

  “Wesley loves me.” Rachel’s gun was trained on her face. “He only left because he couldn’t handle being back here. I never should have let him talk to your brother yesterday. You know Benji actually had him believing he hadn’t killed Chris? Once the island is gone, and you are gone, I will find him and set the record straight, and then he’ll love me again. I will get him back. He belongs with me.” She waved the gun toward Jack. Meg felt her heart pounding so hard in her chest she thought the world was going to spin out from underneath her.

  Then she heard Jack’s steady voice in her ear as he moved behind her. “It’s okay, Meg. Breathe.”

  She gulped a cleansing breath and glanced at his face. But he was staring at his feet with his eyes almost completely closed. His lips moved, as if he was counting down to something.

  “Move,” Rachel barked.

  Lightning forked outside the window, illuminating the sky and filling the tiny cabin. Spots danced before Meg’s eyes, temporarily blinding her, before leaving behind a forked afterimage of light. Rachel hesitated.

  “Meg! Run!
” Jack threw himself at Rachel’s legs and knocked her to the floor.

  The sound of thunder filled the cabin, mingled with Rachel’s screams of fury. Meg ran for the stairs up to the deck. Buckshot exploded in the galley behind her, shattering glass and splintering cabinets. Her fingers fumbled for the walkie-talkie as her feet reached the top of the stairs. She shoved open the hatch and felt the rush of heavy rain.

  “Benji!” she shouted, clutching the walkie-talkie to her lips.

  “Sis!” his voice crackled back. “Are you okay?”

  “No. Rachel’s the other killer. She might have shot Jack.”

  “I’m coming for you—” His engine roared.

  “No. Don’t! Go back to the island. Keep trying to call the police. There’s a bomb in the pavilion. In the fountain of flowers. They have to evacuate the town before it goes off.”

  Static greeted her on the other end.

  Then he said, “But what about you?”

  “I’ll be okay. I’ve got Jack. I love you. Go—”

  The blow of a sudden fist flew across her face, knocking her head sideways with such force her neck screamed in pain. The walkie-talkie fell from her hand. It slid across the deck and landed in the water beyond.