Relative Silence

by Carrie Stuart Parks

  I followed him.

  * * *

  Tucker played through his choices. If he could get in touch with her on a two-way radio . . . He had no idea how to do that.

  Maybe it was time to talk to someone who knew about what was going on. He picked up the phone and dialed Mandy Chou.

  * * *

  I hurried through the rain after Nana. “When I catch up with you, I’m renaming you. You’re no Nana. You’re like Hooch. Or that Saint Bernard . . . what was his name? Mozart. No. Beethoven. You’re Beethoven.” I could easily follow his tracks in the mud beside the path. I came to a fork where one direction led to the house, the other to the dock. His tracks headed to the dock.

  Slowing down, I approached with caution. The Taire was tied up to the dock, engine running. In the dim light of the cabin, I could see Silva waiting at the helm. Nana was already on board, cheerfully settled into the rear cockpit settee.

  No one else was around.

  Silva could get me off this island. The Taire was large enough to handle the waves—assuming we left right away—and Silva was an excellent captain.

  But what was he doing here? Had someone noticed that Nana wasn’t on board when they evacuated? Someone had deliberately locked the dog into the pool area. An opportunity to return, like I did, when the island was supposed to be empty? Was someone searching for something like I’d been? Searching for me?

  Regardless, I needed to get on that boat and get away from here.

  The settee gave me an idea. The curved seating surrounded a table with electric legs. The legs allowed the table to be raised for meals or lowered to provide a large flat surface with space below for storage. It was lowered at the moment, allowing the giant Newfoundland to sprawl across it. I could slip under the table and get across to the mainland. It was dark enough that no one would be able to see me. There was only one problem. My claustrophobia.

  * * *

  Mandy answered immediately. “Piper?”

  “No, it’s me, Tucker. We haven’t met. I’m—”

  “Piper’s hero. I know who ya are. How can I help ya, Tucker?”

  He explained what had transpired and the problem with the phone. After he finished, he waited for Mandy to comment.

  “Well, that sounds like one big ol’ goat rodeo,” she finally said. “Listen, I’ve only known Piper for a few days, but she’s impressed me as being smart, tough, and resourceful. She’ll get to safety somehow. Speakin’ of which, you’ll need to get out of here pretty quick. I saw on the news that the police are lookin’ for ya. What do ya say if Hannah and I come pick you up and we get on out of Marion Inlet?”

  “I think I should stay and wait for Piper.”

  “Then I think we’ll come on over anyway.” She disconnected.

  What was he doing here? He hadn’t helped Piper, couldn’t help her now. He was holed up in a house on stilts with a hurricane on the way. The police were after him. He was about to be picked up by a stranger. Rescued by a woman. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one helping women? All he’d ever done was let them down . . . or let them drown.

  Tucker made it as far as the dining room, where the well-stocked wet bar was located. The desire to drink was overwhelming. Just one. Something for the road. He could control it.

  He could almost taste the burn of the whiskey on his tongue, feel the liquid heat rushing down his throat, enjoy the rush of the alcohol as it hit his stomach.

  He reached for a bottle.

  * * *

  Crouching, I hurried onto the dock and onto the boat’s transom. I didn’t worry that the boat would bobble under my weight and be noticed by Silva. The boat was already tossing in the rough seas. Dropping to my hands and knees, I crawled next to the lowered table, closed my eyes, and slipped under. I started reciting “Who’s on First.” I’d gotten as far as, “Have you got a first baseman on first? Certainly. Then who’s playing first? Absolutely,” when the engine revved and the boat moved away from the dock.

  The first big wave rolled me from under the settee. I doubted Silva would pay any attention to anything going on outside of the helm. I stood. The ocean roiled around us in shades of angry brown and green. The boat rocked and bucked like a bronco under my feet.

  A storage compartment inside the nearest seat held life jackets. I pulled one on.

  The rain had increased and the wind sent sideways sheets of water off each wave. A second breaker almost sent us over. I grabbed the gunwale and held on. What was wrong with Silva? He wasn’t even trying to hit the waves correctly.

  Nana had jumped off the lowered table and was standing straddle-legged on the deck.

  After the boat righted, I wiped the water from my eyes and looked frantically around. It was almost dark, but we had no running lights on. A glass door and large glass windows looked into the saloon, a plush room with a galley, leather seating around built-in cherry tables, and a flat-screened television. In the dim light I could see Silva seated at the helm.

  His hands weren’t even on the wheel. The autopilot light was on.

  “Silva!” Another wave hit and splashed over the side and into the cockpit, sending the boat into a corkscrew. The propellers lifted from the water and briefly spun wildly. I grabbed one of the bolted-down stools in front of the wet bar. I was shaking so hard from the cold wind, rain, ocean, and, most of all, fear that I could barely hang on.

  Nana slid across the deck, his nails extended as he tried to grip the smooth surface.

  The boat steadied briefly.

  Slowly I moved toward the saloon. This boat needed a pilot, not autopilot, and Silva seemed intent on going down.

  The man was no longer even upright. He’d toppled sideways in his seat, both arms dangling to the floor. His back was stained deep crimson.

  I reached for the sliding door and opened it slightly. The stench of gas hit me.

  I shut it quickly and leaned my face against the glass to see better. In the light of the instrument panel I could see a clock duct-taped to the dashboard.

  The second hand was about to click on 12:00.

  I spun and lunged away. “Nana!”

  The boat exploded.

  Chapter 25

  Tucker opened the trapdoor, then climbed down the ladder beneath the house. Only the streetlights gave illumination. The few homes around him were shuttered and dark. Piper’s car was still parked where she’d left it. The wind was constant and strong, the rain at times flying sideways. Even though he was in the center of the house, a fine mist dampened his face. In one hand he clutched a bottle of whiskey.

  A car drove up and parked.

  He ducked behind a support column. A small woman got out of the car and looked around, then raced up the stairs and pounded on the door. “Tucker? Tucker! It’s me, Mandy Chou.”

  Tucker left his hiding post and walked to the base of the stairs. “Mandy?”

  She rushed down to him. “Tucker! Quick. On the way over here we saw an explosion. It was in the direction of Curlew Island.”

  Tucker’s heart leaped to his throat. “On the island?”

  “No. A boat. I called the coast guard, but they said they didn’t have anyone close. A container ship off Charleston Harbor is in distress and has everyone tied up.”

  “What—”

  “How long ago did the Taire leave?” she asked.

  He told her. She looked at her watch, chewed her lip, then said, “The boat had time to reach the island, wait for a short time, then be headin’ back for the mainland. No one has gone out from the harbor since the hurricane warning. I think we might consider that the explosion was the Taire.”

  “Then I have to get out there.”

  “Tucker, ya don’t understand—”

  “No. You don’t understand. I’ve let down too many people in my life. I told Piper I’d help her, be there for her. She’s out there. I know it, I feel it in my gut. If I don’t help her, her family sure won’t. They want her dead.” He’d been squeezing the bottle of whiskey in his hand so
tight it hurt. He made a deliberate attempt to loosen his grip.

  Mandy’s gaze went to his hand. She stiffened. “I don’t think you’re in any condition—”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I haven’t touched a drop.” He held it up so she could see the unbroken seal, then threw it under the house. That felt good. He pulled a rock out of his pocket and threw it at the bottle. It hit with a satisfying clink. That felt even better.

  “Good aim.”

  “I’ll have to go after Piper. The Boones have other boats—”

  “No! You’d go down in these seas unless you’re an extremely competent sailor. Are you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She began to pace. “Okay, okay, okay, okay. I am supposed to render aid to boaters in distress. If I called it in after we were already out there . . . I’ll still get fired . . . but what else can I do?” She stopped pacing. “What I need ya to do—”

  “I’m going with you.” Despite the cool gusts, he broke out in a sweat.

  She leaned close and stared at his face. Then she gave a short nod. “Let’s get going then.”

  * * *

  I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. My ears rang. I flailed, surrounded by water, not sure which way was up or down. My head hurt. My face hurt. I opened my eyes to watery blackness. Kicking my legs, I opened my mouth to scream, then the life jacket pushed me up and my head cleared. I sucked in a deep breath, only to have a wave splash water in my mouth. I started coughing. Water everywhere. No light. The boat must have already sunk.

  Where was land? Where was I? The water tossed me like a cork, alternately crashing over my head, then sending me into a trough.

  I was going to drown, to wash up like that tiny body did fifteen years ago. No one would even know for several days I was gone.

  No one except the person who’d set the bomb.

  The cold water leached the heat from my body. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going.

  Something bumped into me.

  I screamed.

  My body was jerked around, then started cutting the water. My arm brushed against swirling fur, muscles tensing, a leg driving forward. Nana. The giant dog had the tether line on my life vest in his jaws and was towing me backward through the waves.

  Thank You, God! I began to kick to help him. I just prayed that Nana knew which way was land.

  * * *

  Mandy drove like a race-car driver, tearing through the empty streets. Halfway to the marina, Tucker noticed Hannah in the back seat. “What are we going to do with Hannah?”

  “Hello? I’m right here. You can talk to me directly,” Hannah said to Tucker. “But to answer you, wherever you go, I’m tagging along. So is Piggy. In the words of Ruth, ‘Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you.’”

  “‘Where you go I will go,’” Mandy added.

  “‘And where you stay I will stay,’” Tucker said. “I get the drift.”

  Mandy gave a half shrug. “I can’t leave her at my house or the Boone place with a hurricane on the way. I’d hoped she could stay with you and the two of you would get out of danger, or that I could drive her to a shelter.”

  “And I told her,” Hannah said, “that I’d tell everyone what Mandy was going to do and then invent a whole bunch of stuff to tell the police. Besides . . .”

  Tucker turned to look at her.

  “Grandma wanted me to fly out to meet someone.” Hannah cleared her throat. “She said it was time I knew. I don’t know what she meant, but I think she wanted me to meet Piper.”

  Marion Inlet was a ghost town. The downtown stoplight bounced on its wires. They pulled into the harbor lot and parked. Hannah got out first. “Tucker,” Mandy said quickly, “I don’t expect to find much, if anything. You realize that?”

  “Yes, but we have to try.”

  They hurried across the lot to the docks. Most of the slips were empty, with a few of the larger boats tendered in the protected harbor. Mandy led the way to the official marine patrol boat. “Get in and put on life jackets, then hang on. We’re in for a bumpy ride.”

  Tucker didn’t have to be told twice, though tying the life jacket on with his slick hands was difficult. He kept the image of Piper in the front of his mind. I can do this, but I have to face my other demon. Water.

  * * *

  I’d been in the ocean forever. My arms and legs ached. The salt burned my throat and nose. I couldn’t take a deep breath or more water would get into my lungs. The waves were getting larger, the troughs deeper. Still the dog plowed on.

  Nana doesn’t have a life vest. How much longer could he go on? Maybe I could get him to release my life jacket. Then he, at least, would have a chance to survive. He would die trying to save me.

  I tried to find the release on the life jacket. I could slip out and go down to the depths. Like my daughter. There’s no way she could have survived. The DNA proved . . . proved . . . My brain couldn’t form the thought. My fingers were numb. I couldn’t feel anything.

  * * *

  Tucker wanted Mandy to go faster, but he figured she knew what she was doing. The ocean tossed them around, stinging them with wind-whipped pellets of water. He had one arm around Hannah, bracing her, while his other clung to the boat. He had no idea what she could see through the driving rain and ocean spray. The spotlight she’d turned on showed small mountains of black sea. He closed his eyes. His stomach clenched so hard he thought he’d vomit.

  Eventually she slowed. “Now, Tucker, ya need to make yourself useful. I’m gonna run a grid as best I can, so you’ll need to work this spotlight.” She handed him a large flashlight. “I’d say call out her name, but with this wind, it wouldn’t carry five feet. Hannah, you come over here and hang on real tight.”

  “What am I looking for?” Tucker asked.

  “Hopefully debris, maybe a life jacket.” She didn’t look at him.

  Holding tightly to the handrail, Tucker edged toward the water. Dark water. Murky, brown-black, crashing, closing in. Stop it! He turned on the light. The rain was a curtain of silver, sucking in the beam. He gritted his teeth and moved the light around, searching for something, anything.

  His jacket was soaked and adhered to his back with a clammy embrace. Water dripped into his eyes and down his face.

  In the distance, a light flashed.

  * * *

  Nana was straining, his legs pumping harder, faster. He whined and jerked on the tether.

  The crashing water thundered around us.

  “Nana.” I knew he couldn’t hear me. I couldn’t hear my own voice. “Sweet Nana, let me go. Save yourself. You did your best.”

  Something hovered in my mind, but I couldn’t grasp it. Was it something I still had to do? Something I should know? Was it important?

  Whatever it was, I wouldn’t cause Nana to die.

  Again my brain nagged me. You know. I knew what? About Dove? Or the island? Sea turtles? Bailey Norton? I couldn’t make any sense of it.

  A large wave picked us up and hurtled us. It crested, flinging water over our heads. I made one last attempt to unsnap the life jacket. It opened. I was flung forward, rolling, tumbling, then falling.

  * * *

  The boat dipped and Tucker lost sight of the light, then another wave lifted them. He saw it again. “Over there!” he called to Mandy. “Two o’clock. A light.”

  She looked, then eased the boat in that direction. “It’s comin’ from the island. Maybe Piper made it ashore and spotted our searchlight.”

  Tucker prayed. Please, Lord, let Piper be safe.

  Mandy, face stiff with concentration, frantically worked on keeping the boat from capsizing, but water kept rolling in. The deck was awash, and anything not fastened down rolled with the seesaw movement. She gave Tucker a quick glance, then nodded to Hannah. Tucker moved closer so he could hear her without Hannah overhearing.

  “We’ll be lucky if we make it,” she said. “If we do get to the island, we’ll have to hunker down
and wait out the hurricane. It’s only going to get worse out here.”

  He touched her shoulder to indicate he’d heard her, then stepped over to Hannah. “Tuck Piggy into your life jacket and hang on.” He made sure she had hold of a rail with both hands, then did the same.

  The light grew closer, but the water in the boat grew deeper.

  Chapter 26

  I hit something with a bone-jarring crunch and rolled in the crashing surf. Smashing my hand against something hard, I then flipped over and landed on my back. Water was everywhere and it tumbled me like a washing machine. A final rush forward in the swell and the water receded. I could breathe. Land! He did it! I wanted to kiss the ground, but something had grabbed my leg and was dragging me backward. Nana. He didn’t let go until I was out of the sea. I was afraid he’d yank my pants off. “Nana, good boy! I’ve got it from here.”

  Nana released his grip on my clothing and lay down beside me, panting from his exertion. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. “You’ll have cookies the rest of your life,” I whispered. His wet warmth felt good.

  A blast of wind wildly tossed the bushes around us and the rain came in sheets. Onyx blackness surrounded us. The hurricane was almost here, and I had no idea where we were.

  “Nana, go find a cookie.”

  The Newfie jumped to his feet and dashed off.

  * * *

  The light came from two floodlights at either end of the dock. A third light illuminated the beachfront, now pounded by waves. Mandy worked the wheel and engine, trying to get close enough. They didn’t so much dock the boat as ram onto it. A wave lifted them above the dock, then dropped them, smashing the bow and lodging it in the splintered surface. The next wave submerged the aft.

  “Get off! Get off now!” Mandy yanked Hannah, clutching Piggy, to the side, waited for the water to recede slightly, then pushed her onto the dock. “Run!”

  Tucker didn’t wait. He grabbed Mandy’s hand and leaped for the dock. The next surge caught them both and hurtled them sideways. He caught the nearest piling, jerking Mandy backward to safety as she was about to be swept away. Before the next surge, he let go of the piling and charged up the dock to the beach, half dragging Mandy behind him.