Those stalwart fingers curled into a fist again. The rhythmic flexing of his hand hypnotized her until she wrenched her eyes away to study the faded storefronts that flashed by at an alarming rate.
“Well, the police will come to us if you keep up this speed−unless that’s your intention?”
The digits relaxed again.
“No,” he tilted his head down at the driver’s side mirror, “that’s not my intention.”
The Cherokee slowed down as the teal-blue roofs of the Blue Moose Cottages passed by. They marked the end of Gull Harbor proper. The turn-off for the police station was now two intersections behind them. A ghoulish chill crawled down the back of her neck as she hugged her arms around her.
“I’ll turn up the heat.” He reached for the panel.
Normally she was never cold. She lived next to the ocean−in Maine for Christ’s sake. She worked on the water. Her skin was thick. But not this day−not inside this stranger’s vehicle.
“Are you going to tell me about your one-sided phone conversation?” Outside the view had morphed into a stockade of autumn foliage−maples and birches in rich blends of orange and red. “I think I deserve to know what’s going on.”
Slate eyes skewed her way. Dark lashes made a contrasting veil above them. It tugged at her breath every time she was the focus of his attention.
“You do.” The fist curled again. “I don’t even know who the hell I’m dealing with. Cryptic phone calls. Cryptic messages. Two days ago, all I wanted from you was a damn charter so I could discreetly search the coastline. And now they know about you. They know that you’ve looked inside that trunk.”
“At what?” her voiced pitched. “A rusty chair from a ship that sank?”
“Believe me, that is exactly what I asked.” Consulting the rearview mirror, he continued. “They seem to think that we possess something more−that another item washed up on shore.”
“There was that panel−”
“The telegraph panel, yes. I can research the serial number on it, and I’m sure it’ll link back to the Eclipse ship.”
“Again, so what? It doesn’t seem to warrant them breaking into my house.”
“There has to be more,” he rationalized while glancing at the side view mirror.” Pacified, his focus returned to her. “You have the shit luck of living on an inconvenient piece of real estate. As unjust as it is, it sounds as if they will use you−they will use me−until they find what they’re looking for. My uncle tried to convey their desperation in those few moments I spoke with him. I would have done anything they asked if they could prove that Warren was alive. Without that motivation they switched to threatening you.”
“Well−wh−what good would that do? You don’t even know me? And, my God, your uncle. What does that mean?”
Jack released his death grip on the steering wheel to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t even want to think about that yet. I can’t. And you’re right…I told them I don’t know you. They hung up.”
Taking a moment to absorb this, Livvy reached to adjust the vent so that the blast of hot air washed over her face.
Insane. That was the only way to describe this mess. Insane. She would consider the man a certified loon if it were not for the fact that he was with her at the time of the second break-in. That still didn’t absolve him, though.
“And you don’t think going to the law right now is a viable idea?”
“I’m afraid to chance it just yet. Whoever we’re dealing with is anticipating that I’ll take you to the police. They will stop us before we get there.”
Livvy looked over her shoulder again. The single-lane highway was empty. Oh! Except for that red sedan a half mile back.
“And you concluded all of this from your scientist background?”
Admittedly, her tone was caustic. But who could blame her? This was absurd. It didn’t happen in real life. She’d had enough trauma in the past. Was fate so vicious as to toss her another challenge?
“Oceanographer, technically.”
The correction fell on deaf ears. She was watching the sedan eat up the road behind them.
“Do you see that car?” she asked.
“Yes.” There was an edge to his tone.
“It could be innocent.”
Reaching across her lap, Jack groped at the dashboard glove compartment, dropping open the bin. Livvy gasped as he extracted a gun. With all the sophisticated fishing weaponry that she had handled, she had never seen a handgun in person. Even living alone at the Sea Lantern she had relied on lobster buoys and mace.
It looked so heavy.
It looked so deadly.
“A common tool for a–an oceanographer?”
“In my case–yes.” He set the harbinger of death on the seat next to his thigh.
Livvy stared at it and budged her hip an inch closer to the passenger door.
Jack detected the motion. “It’s not loaded.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel much better.” She sounded hysterical.
For a blissful period, the red Camry was out of view as Route 119 meandered up the peninsula, but when the road straightened out the car exited the last bend and had gained ground on them.
“Jack!”
“I see.” There was tension in his voice, but he remained calm and casually increased the Cherokee’s speed. “Olivia, we have been through barren spots on this road where they could have easily made an aggressive move. That means that either an innocent family sedan is behind us, or their intentions are not harmful. They’re just following us.”
To catch us when we stop.
“Oh−kay.” She didn’t feel pacified.
Sensing his eyes on her, she skewed him a glance. “What?”
Unconcerned with the view behind them or the road ahead, his ardent stare lingered. Part of her contemplated the notion of opening the door and rolling out of the car. The other part wondered if the Camry would just pull over to the side and destroy what was left of her carcass after she’d done so.
Never. Never. Never again will I pick up trash along the beach.
“Olivia−”
It was the hushed sincerity that yanked her attention back to him. If this was a madman, he looked sinfully sexy. Weren’t the bad guys in movies often attractive, though?
“I can pull off to the side of the road if you want to get out−if you want to get away from me. But I’m hoping you realize that right now I’m a safer alternative than the police. I am not holding you against your will, and I’m simply buying time until I can get you to the proper authorities. The FBI. Someone I can be certain you’ll be safe with.”
It was difficult to swallow. She wanted to look through the rearview window, but could not break from his charged stare. Fortunately, he had to return his focus to the road.
Managing a quick glimpse behind her, she nearly gasped as she saw that the Camry had narrowed the gap even more. They were the only two cars on the rural highway.
“I don’t want you to pull over,” she whispered breathlessly.
Instinct was not always reliable, but it was all she had right now. Baby steps, as the movie said. That was her mantra in life. The first step was to make it to the interstate. The entrance ramp was only a few miles ahead. There was anonymity on the interstate. Make it there and you are one baby step closer to safety.
“I’m going to need you to do something for me.” His deep voice penetrated her thoughts.
“Wh-what?” Where the hell was the stuttering coming from?
“I need you to open the glove compartment and take a magazine out of the box in there.
Somehow she doubted he meant an issue of Women’s Day.
Reaching in, she extracted the box with a bald eagle flying across it. It was lighter than she anticipated. The open top revealed there was only one plastic tray of bullets left. That simple observation set her hands to shaking. Prepared to hand the box off to him, she screamed at the unexpected jolt of impact.
“Hold on!
” Jack commanded sharply.
Livvy dropped the box as her hand lashed out to brace against the dashboard. The next impact jerked her into a seatbelt chokehold. An instant later she was thrust back deep into the bucket seat as Jack pumped his leg down on the gas.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw his brutal grip on the steering wheel, and his dire glimpse into the rearview mirror.
“Alright, listen,” he shouted. “I can’t let go. Our friend is either trying to scare us, or run us off the road. I need−” he exhaled, trying to compose himself. When he resumed his volume had decreased. “I need you to load that gun. It’s really simple. I’ll walk−”
Livvy felt like a bobble-head doll on the next impact. Desperate, she searched the road for other cars−preferably the police. Ensconced in a stretch of dense pine trees, this Jeep and the red Camry were the only vehicles in the mile-span. Using the toe of her Timberland, she scooted the discarded box close enough that she could scoop it up.
“What do I do?” she screamed.
Jack veered into the oncoming lane, a maneuver to avoid the next impact.
“Press the knob on the bottom and the magazine will pop out.”
Livvy’s pointer finger roamed the base of the gun until she located the knob and then felt the magazine strike her palm.
“Okay!”
“Good, now turn your hand upside down with the barrel facing away from you.”
He cast a brief glimpse to gauge her progress, and managed an assuring nod. “Now pull the slide back−the whole top chamber−cup it in your hand and slip it back. You’ll feel it catch into place if you’ve done it right.”
Sweaty palms trembled as they gripped the slide. It moved under her command, but she felt no catch.
“One more time,” Jack encouraged. “I know it’s scary, but you have to put a little more oomph into it.”
A slight fluctuation in the steering caused Livvy to lift her eyes from the weapon. She choked on a scream. The Camry was inching up on the passenger side, its front fender nearly even with her door.
The Jeep responded to Jack’s encouragement, and so did she. She pushed and tugged on the slide and felt it snap into place.
“Okay!” she gulped, relieved to see that the red car had withdrawn.
“You’re doing great. Now take the clip so that the numbers on back are facing you. Take a bullet out of the box and snap it into the clip, so that the back of the bullet is on the end with the numbers on it.”
Livvy’s hands were nearly unmanageable now. She dropped the first bullet. Instead of wasting time to retrieve it, she grabbed the next and inserted it into the magazine. Of course it didn’t go in easy. Of course it needed force. Who the hell wants to be jamming things into a gun? Why couldn’t it be easier?
“Okay, I’ve got it now. How many do I put in here?”
“It’s a ten-round clip, but we may not have time for you to load it. Put a few more in.”
“Alright,” he added, nodding at her progress. “Now slide the magazine into the chamber. Feel it click into place. Make sure to keep the barrel facing away from you.”
No kidding.
Livvy felt the click. A cold slap of reality struck her. She was holding a loaded gun.
“I−I don’t know what to do now.”
After a hasty glimpse into the rearview mirror, Jack released his right hand from the steering wheel and reached across to grasp hers. It felt warm. Strength and assurance secured her frozen jittery fingers. For a second, or a lifetime, he held her hand, but then his fingers wrapped around the gun and suddenly the weight of it was gone.
“You did great, Olivia. I couldn’t have managed that and kept us on the road.” He jerked the steering wheel to avoid the encroaching Camry. “Now, let’s just hope I don’t need to use it.”
Worriedly searching the side view mirror, Livvy cried, “The I-95 entrance is only a mile away.”
In response, the Jeep accelerated. The sedan dallied for only a second and closed in fast. At that moment a refrigerated seafood truck appeared in the oncoming lane. The Camry had no choice but to fall back or risk crashing into it. The entrance to the interstate appeared like the gates of Oz. The Jeep climbed the ramp as the Camry slowed down and then continued on the local route.
Olivia spun in her seat to get a better view of the driver as he passed by, but the sun glinted off the windshield, obscuring him until the vehicle drove out of sight.
“Oh−my−God.” Shock took hold and her hands trembled uncontrollably. She lodged them under her thighs and tried to suck in a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” the concerned voice rumbled beside her.
“No.” she cried. “Not at the moment.”
The three-lane highway was only moderately busy. There were few tourists left this time of year, but the morning commute was still in effect. Olivia eyed every vehicle, particularly the one directly behind them. The silver SUV increased its speed and then flipped on its blinker, passing them on the left.
“We should be alright for now,” Jack observed, although he still gripped the gun resting on his thigh. “Whoever they were, they had the opportunity to run us off the road and didn’t. It was a warning.”
“Dammit. I can’t even believe this.”
Denying the situation wasn’t going to make it go away. She needed to get past the, oh my God, this can’t be happening stage and get back to taking charge of her fate.
“So what now?” she asked. “Do we call the FBI?”
Jack’s hand rung around the steering wheel. It looked powerful−a weapon capable of combat, not something used to handling glass beakers and petri dishes.
Her gaze climbed up his arm, which bulged from the tension of his grip.
“Yes,” he replied. “But first we need to get somewhere safe, and there’s only one place that comes to mind.”
“Where?”
He glanced over at her. “Pennington Center.”
CHAPTER SIX
They were only a mile away from the Pennington Marine Science Center, or PMS as Jack referred to it. If there was one place in the world he could have the upper-hand, it was there. The security was impeccable.
It was a Saturday. There would be minimal staff on hand−even less than a normal weekend because the undergrads had been told to stay home after the news of Warren’s disappearance.
“But wouldn’t that be one of the places whoever these people go to look for whatever it is they’re looking for?”
The incohesive summary was accurate.
“Yes,” he nodded. “But there are certain parts of the facility they won’t have access to.”
Olivia didn’t respond. When he glanced over, he saw her clutching the seat belt as if she was dangling over a gaping canyon. Wistful eyes stared out the window. Empathy surged through him. He reached over and clasped her right hand. It was cold and unresponsive. Could he blame her? To her, his touch was a portent of evil.
“It’s going to be over soon,” he assured as he pulled the Jeep past the vacant guard house and onto Pennington Center property.
“This is your idea of safe?” She cast a skeptical glance around the empty parking lot and peered through the windshield at the concrete steps leading up to a glass entryway.
With the lobby entrance to the Pennington Center perched atop a grassy knoll, it was hard to distinguish from this angle that the majority of the complex resided down the opposite side of the embankment. It was a tiered compound that hugged the edge of Mooreshead Bay. The land was Pennington-owned since 1916. As wealthy as the Pennington boating empire was, the financing for this facility was still a culmination of private and federal funding. The tiered levels each represented an era in which a new wing was added on.
“Once we get inside, we’re as good as in nuclear lockdown mode.”
Olivia wrinkled her nose as she clawed at the seatbelt.
“I’m really uneasy at the moment.”
There was no way to assuage her fears. He cleared his
throat and reached for the Glock. Releasing the magazine, he inspected it and grinned. She had loaded it like a pro. This woman was certainly resourceful.
Snapping it back in place, he eyed the parking lot. They would be exposed for the climb up the stairs, and for the few moments they lingered with the console at the front door. This vulnerability put him on edge.
“Stay there. I’ll come around.”
As he climbed out of the Jeep, an autumn wind snapped off the bay, carrying with it a briny scent. There were no signs of foreign vehicles. Only one other car was parked at the far end of the lot. He recognized it, but still felt that sixth-sense unease.
A dense line of pine trees flanked both sides of the lot. The woods were over a hundred yards away in each direction, maybe too long for an accurate shot. But someone definitely could be watching. Until they were inside he would remain edgy.
Hastily rounding the vehicle, Jack opened the passenger door to find Olivia sitting there, staring forward, her hand still clasping the seat belt.
“It’s okay, Olivia. You can come out now.”
She did not look at him, but her hand slipped to the buckle and he heard the snap release. Stooping over, she reached between her feet to grab her overnight bag.
“I’ll get it,” he offered.
Anxious eyes slid to the gun in his right hand.
“You’ve got your hands full,” she mumbled.
Poking her legs out, she rose before him. He realized that he was crowding her against the side of the Jeep, but he wanted to minimize her as a target. In these tight confines he could feel the heat of her body and the warm dust of her breath against his throat. He reached down between them to secure his hand on her hip.
“We could use that trash can lid right now,” he whispered huskily.
If there was a smile, the wind blew it away.
“Okay,” he roused. “Let’s head up.”
Still clasping her around the waist, he ushered her up the short flight of stairs. Each of them cast furtive glances at the manicured bushes sheathing the glass entryway as if at any moment an assailant would spring out at them. But they reached the front doors uneventfully.
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