by Noelle Hart
“No!” The cold blade of the knife vibrated against her delicate skin as she spoke. “I came on my own.”
The pressure of the knife increased, held for ten horrifying seconds as Drew seemed to grapple for control. Finally the knife eased away. Yanking her arms behind her back he applied a plastic cuff, his expression bland.
“Where's Max?” she demanded.
“He's waiting for us. C'mon. Move.”
He marched her around a final curve in the road to where a white van was nestled among a stand of saplings. The light was failing now, sped up by dark, roiling rain clouds ready to spill their load.
Drew had given her an idea. Bread crumbs.
He left her standing for a few unguarded seconds while he opened the rear doors of the van. In that tiny sliver of time, using the tips of her fingers, Kylie extracted from her back pocket the red bandana that she habitually used at work to mop sweat from her brow. Quickly she balled it up in her fist, then tossed it to the ground and pushed it with her boot under the van.
Drew gestured for her to climb inside. Max was there, curled in a fetal position. Kylie's heart lurched in fear. She shuffled closer to him as Drew slammed shut the rear doors. Through the small window openings she saw him go back around the bend.
“Max!” No response, but he was breathing so she knew he was alive. The relief came in waves.
Drew appeared and wedged a branch between the exterior handles, effectively locking them inside. He circled around to the driver's seat, climbed in and twisted around to face his passengers.
In his fingers was the blue flag. “You failed the test, Kylie. I wanted to trust you, but you left this behind when I made it clear to bring it with you. Now why would you do a thing like that?”
Kylie's mouth opened but nothing came out. What could she say?
“Yeah, that's right. Goes to show how untrustworthy you are. That's why I only left one flag, Kylie, 'cuz I knew you'd do a Hansel and Gretel and try to lead our intrepid friend Crane our way. Now he'll never know which way we went, will he?” Drew tapped the side of his head. “Gotta be smart. You, my dear, clearly are not.”
He started the engine and eased the van onto the road, retracing Kylie's previous route. The ten speed was no longer in sight; he must have tossed it into the bushes. So much for leaving bread crumbs.
Ethan Crane and Stacie Holye stood on Drew Hammond's balcony taking in the stupendous midnight view while the rest of his team searched the apartment. They'd found hanging in his bedroom closet a row of expensive business suits, shirts and ties, with another row of shiny leather shoes placed neatly beneath.
His casual attire and toiletries were gone. Clearly Hammond had no intention of continuing his business career. His two bank accounts had gone the way of his closet, emptied of funds as he had apparently reverted to cash in lieu of his line of credit. So far the apartment had yielded no clues as to where he'd gone, but now one of Crane's team came out holding a stack of magazines.
“Found these in a rack beside the toilet, sir. Three more beside the bed. They might be significant.”
Crane thanked him and with gloved hands took the magazines, flipped through the first one. He handed it to Stacie. “What comes to mind when you look at this?” he asked.
Used to being coached and tested, Stacie took the magazine and studied the cover. “We know he doesn't own a boat, sir. Or if he does, it's not registered to his name. The fact that he's got a large collection of boating magazines means he's at least a borderline fanatic. He might be keeping a vessel somewhere that nobody knows about. Worth looking into.”
Rubbing his tired eyes, Crane smiled grimly. “Good. Just what I thought. Let's go knock on some doors.”
* * * *
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The floor of the van was lined with stained carpet. Kylie and Max took a bruising as the vehicle bounced over pot holes and ruts in the road. Night had fallen as quickly as a stage curtain. A light drizzling rain had ensued. They'd gone only a few kilometers before Drew pulled onto a grassy lane, the van's headlights eerily sweeping the pitch black forest.
Max was still passed out, most likely drugged. Kylie squirmed closer to him, taking the brunt of the jostling onto herself.
Drew drove at a brutal speed that punished the van's undercarriage as he skimmed over low rockery, the lane becoming less and less navigable. Indifferent, he plowed along until finally the terrain became impassable and they could go no further.
He braked hard, slamming the gear shift into park and cutting the engine. Getting out, he came around the back, yanked out the tree branch and opened the doors, letting in a blast of cold night air wet with rain.
“C'mon, c'mon, move!”
When Kylie didn't react he reached in and pulled her out onto her feet. She wanted to fight, wanted to run. But with Max drugged, she simply glared at him.
He pulled Max's limp body toward him.
“What happened to you, Drew?”
Kylie's quietly asked question made him go still. He looked at her through the light drizzle in the moonlight and she glimpsed for a moment the Drew she'd dated and liked. The Drew she'd slept with, for God's sake. He seemed imbued with a terrible sadness.
Then his eyes glazed over and whatever was inside of him took charge. His smile was taunting and it felt surreal that only moments before he'd been his old self.
“I woke up,” he said before slinging Max over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Follow me.”
Fully aware that she wouldn't abandon Max, he took off into the darkness. He seemed to know where he was going as they moved along an almost non existent trail up a rise and over the other side.
Beneath them lay a small cove. An anchored boat bobbed on the black water. Straining her eyes, Kylie made out a small row boat on the shore.
Hope dwindled; they would be heading out to sea.
“A boat?” she gasped. She'd thought those boating magazines in his bathroom to be a pipe dream. Obviously she'd been mistaken.
“Perfect, isn't she?” Drew said with pride. “She's used, but seaworthy. Got her from some old fart who didn't deserve her. A real steal. Got a nice cabin below. Plenty of room for all of us.”
He acted like they were a family out on holiday, his tone conversational as he headed down the treacherous slope at an angle, carting Max as though he were merely a backpack. The fact that Max hadn't even stirred confirmed her suspicion that he'd been heavily sedated.
Kylie discovered that going down a wet, mossy slope with hands tied behind one's back was a true challenge. Slipping and sliding on mud, she landed on the pebbled beach where Drew hustled her into the row boat. Soaking wet and shivering, she sat with Max's small body crumpled at her feet, his face all innocence in the blue tinged moonlight.
Drew rowed them out to the cabin cruiser. Pulling a small pocket knife from his cargo pants, he cut Kylie's plastic cuff, then climbed aboard and indicated that she help him bolster Max's dead weight up the ladder. For one blitzing moment an image of herself making off with Max in the row boat sliced through her mind. But with Max passed out, escape would be near impossible. When she had him upright, Drew reached down and pulled Max up by his armpits. Kylie scrambled after him.
Aboard, Drew carelessly dumped Max onto a bunk below. The boat had been cared for, polished wood and chrome gleaming. Kylie sat next to Max and stroked the hair from his face.
“Aw, isn't that nice,” taunted Drew. “You're practicing to be a mom. Too bad he needs to die.”
Sudden and fierce, Kylie's heart raced. “You said I could replace him! You said...”
He stepped close, menacingly towering over her, his immediate spitting anger cutting her off. “I said I would marry you! I said I'd buy you a house and take care of our baby! You tossed me aside like I wasn't worthy. Tell me Kylie, did Will Delaney make you a better offer?”
His chest heaved, eyes boring into hers, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. Her fear sliced deeper, became acute. Drew had
formulated his own conclusions. It didn't seem likely he'd listen to her, but she had to try.
She kept her tone even and played to his ego. “Will means nothing to me. Not like you. I've been thinking a lot about us, Drew. We should be together; you, me, the baby when it's born. We'll be a family, just like you said. Let's go away, just you and me. We can leave Max here on the beach. Please, Drew, it's the right thing to do.”
His laugh was a cackle that stopped as suddenly as it started. “You make me sick. You think I'd fall for that bullshit? The kid is a liability. He has to go.”
“Yes, yes! Let's put him on the shore...”
The hunting knife came out swiftly from a deep pocket. Brandishing it, Drew slid the blade mockingly over a pulsing vein running up the side of Max's throat. Insanity shone brightly in his eyes as he looked directly into Kylie's, enjoying himself.
“It's his destiny,” he said, then abruptly sheathed the knife and pulled two plastic ties from his pocket. He tied one of Kylie's wrists to the metal bedpost. “I'd do him right now but I don't want blood all over my nice new boat. Besides, I want him awake. Some place where I can take my time.” He lifted Max's limp wrist and tied it to the opposite bedpost.
Disappearing up the steps he slammed shut the hatch, locking them in and leaving Kylie to drown in the terror of his ominous statement.
A moment later she heard the inboard motor engage and they were off, headed toward their destiny.
*
“Julia and Tom are coming over on the first ferry,” Will told Lyle, Jolene and Kim. He'd sent everyone else home. “Someone has to be here to meet them.” He hadn't slept a wink, having spent the night making deals with God, and now with daybreak an hour away, he filled a thermos with coffee and tugged on his rainproof jacket.
Outside the rain came down in a steady drone but the forecast said the skies would clear just after dawn. It wasn't soon enough, but he'd take any little break the elements offered.
Lyle rubbed his eyes. He'd managed a few hours sleep but he knew Jolene had remained awake. She and Will looked like walking zombies.
“Buster can meet Julia and Tom,” provided Jolene, getting out her cell. “I'm sending him a message now.”
Will was crawling out of his skin. “Let's move!” he barked.
Kim materialized wearing rain gear, ready to go.
“Got the directions?” asked Lyle before whistling for Dino.
“Yeah. Let's go.”
Crane hadn't slept either. He'd informed Will it was likely Hammond had taken them to sea. He and Stacie Holye had been busy rousing people from their beds, asking questions, getting answers. They'd found out from the owner of a small marina in Metchosin that one of the cabin cruisers had been stolen. Up for sale, the owner had taken his potential client out for a spin and never returned. The marina owner had assumed they'd docked elsewhere or broken down somewhere along the coast. An old timer with partial dementia, he hadn't thought to call the coast guard.
The CCG, or Canadian Coast Guard had several stations dotting the coastline that ran along Vancouver Island's outer rim. Will knew they'd deployed search vessels from several locations, but he couldn't sit idly by and twiddle his thumbs. He'd called the emergency number listed for Cal's Air Adventures and begged the man to take them out at first light in his seaplane. A fat fee offered, he'd agreed. Fifty something Cal Sherwood waited for them at the downtown inner harbor. His air craft stood ready, a six seat Cessna that looked as sturdy as its pilot.
Introductions made, Will and his posse climbed in, and as the sun stretched tentative fingers of light over the horizon and the rain abated, they taxied out of the harbor and took to the air.
They arrived in record time to East Sooke, the outlying section of parkland boasting scenic coastal hiking trails. Beyond that was the Pacific Rim, a long series of trails with stunning views but unsuitable for novice hikers. That was bear country, where tawny cougars prowled the northwest forests for prey. Hawks, ospreys and other sea birds provided close encounters with nature that made the parkland a sought after destination for wildlife lovers.
And now, it seemed, for a killer.
*
She had to pee. Bad.
Hours riding in the dark with Max snoring lightly beside her, Kylie had fought sleep but finally succumbed. When she'd woken, she'd found Max's bright eyes staring at her in the dim light.
Thank God.
He probably had to pee too.
The boat's motor droned on. How far had they come?
Max whispered, “What happened?” He seemed to sense the need for quiet. “Where are we?”
His ten year old brain couldn't possibly fathom the complicity of Drew's damaged mind. For that matter, neither could hers. How much should she tell him, she wondered, and longed for her mother's wisdom. It reminded her that she would be a mother herself soon, and realized that if this were her own child, she would want him to know of the danger but not be afraid.
Nonetheless, fear resided in Max's eyes. He'd been kidnapped at knife point, dragged off by a madman. What could be more terrifying than to be in the clutches of the ultimate bogeyman?
She decided to play it straight. Whispering back, “Yesterday a man who is very mad at me decided to get my attention by kidnapping you. He called me to come and get you so I did. Now we're both being kidnapped. Understand?”
Max nodded and then clutched his head. “My head hurts.”
“It's because he gave you something to make you sleep. That's why you don't remember how you got here. I'll do my best to protect you. Please try to stay calm, because if you don't the man might get more mad. We don't want that, do we?”
He shook his head in agreement, his eyes solemn.
After a moment, “I have to pee.”
“So do I. We're going to have to hold it a bit longer. Can you do that?”
“I... I'll try.”
She watched Max squeeze his legs together and bounce.
Abruptly the motor stopped and the hatch opened. Light spilled in. Because of the blackout curtains on the windows, daybreak had occurred without them noticing.
Drew came down the stairs. Ignoring them, he set about making a cup of instant coffee. Neither Max nor Kylie had eaten or drank anything for close to twenty four hours. Dehydration had further drained Kylie, especially after her harried bike ride.
Her voice came out a croak. “Drew, please. Can you give Max some water and let him take a leak?”
Drew whirled around and executed his hundred megawatt smile. “How noble of you. You ask for the brat but you don't ask for yourself. Could it be that you're not as much of a selfish bitch as I think you are?”
“I'm pregnant, Drew. You do know about morning sickness, right? I need to eat something. Some crackers to absorb the bile.”
The wattage dimmed. “You have a graphic way of putting things that takes the shine off. Fine.” He looked around and found a bucket, tossed it at Max who barely caught it in time before it hit him square in the face. “Go for it, kid.” Pulling water from the sink faucet into a plastic cup, he placed it on the floor. “There you go, in one end and out the other.”
Laughing at his own humor, Drew cocked his head at Kylie. “You can use the bucket too. If you give him a show, maybe Max here will share his water with you.”
He was toying with them. Getting his jollies.
“Why not the bathroom? There must be a marine toilet.”
“More fun like this.”
“How about undoing our wrists first?” she asked.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” He got out his pocket knife and cut Max's cuff. “Only his. Max here can help you. You've got five minutes. We've reached our destination. It's party time.”
He went back up the steps but did not close the hatch. Party time. She didn't want to think about what that might mean.
“Max,” she urged, “quick, take a pee sweetie. I'm not going to watch, okay?” She closed her eyes and turned her head to give him privacy an
d heard his zipper go down, then a tinkling noise. Zipped back up, Max drained the water cup, then refilled it from the tap and held it out for her.
She drank it down. It felt like cool silk going down her parched throat. Her body felt weak, dead tired and on the verge of nausea.
Max helped her to her feet. He opened the snaps on the bib of her work coveralls and then turned his back, waiting while she too alleviated herself.
Drew tromped back down the stairs as promised. He tossed a loaf of bread onto the bed. “Knock yourself out. Can't have you puking on our little morning trek now, can we?” It was a self-serving gesture as obviously he didn't want to be inconvenienced by his two guests not keeping pace due to basic human needs.
When Drew went back on deck, Kylie told Max to eat a few slices while wolfing one down herself. It amazed her how quickly her body responded to being watered and fed. Kylie felt a small surge of energy and her jumpy stomach settled.
Stuffing more bread down her throat, she looked around the cabin. Other than the jar of instant coffee it had been cleared out. Silently she indicated to Max to open a cabinet under the sink. Nothing. No chemicals, no cleaners.
Drew was coming back. She found herself sitting on the remainder of the bread, crushing it. A thought zipped through her brain. Bread crumbs. Quickly she snatched up as many slices as she could and pushed them into her back pockets just as Drew came down the stairs.
He was uncannily tuned in to her. “Forget about finding something here to help your cause, Kylie dear.” He reached around and cut through her plastic cuff with his pocket knife. “Get up. You too, brat. We're heading out.”
On deck Kylie looked around. The crisp morning air pricked her nostrils and scratched at her lungs. They were in another cove with high rockery on either side. The beach here was sandy and the pungent odor of seaweed tackled her senses. The forest was dense with no visible pathways leading inland.