The Kate Jones Thriller Series 1-4 (Boxed Set)

by D. V. Berkom

  The headlights acted like floods, throwing their light upward, illuminating the powerfully built man, completely swathed in multi-colored feathers. The hood obscured most of his upper face and had a kind of a wooden beak projecting from the top.

  It was like being in a bad Indiana Jones movie. Only he was no Harrison Ford.

  He walked to the passenger door and opened it, reaching across me to unbuckle the seatbelt and lifted me out of the truck.

  I wasn't about to make it easy for him and started to scream, kicking and squirming. He lost his grip with one hand and my feet hit sand, but he recovered quickly and grabbed my legs. I kept fighting him, but his hold on me wouldn't break. The cloak opened, exposing skin. I leaned forward and bit down hard on his left pectoral, drawing blood.

  He grunted and dropped me. The blow from his fist felt like the business end of a baseball bat. I may have seen stars earlier, but it was nothing compared to this.

  He lifted me again and continued down the beach to the canoe, depositing me in the bow. Vaguely aware of my surroundings, I watched as he reached between my legs for the end of the fiber rope, which he tied around my waist. The boat swayed and jerked as he pushed the outrigger into the Pacific and jumped in as we cleared the sand. Still close to shore, I considered throwing myself overboard, but thought better of it. I didn't know what the other end of the rope was tied to. If it was the boat, I'd be dragged underwater. Not a pretty death.

  Alek's uncle faced forward, picked up a large paddle from the side and pointed us out to sea.

  The waves buffeted us with spray until we cut through the break. The ocean rose and fell in large swells, but the canoe rode them gracefully. The fog in my brain began to lift and I slid my feet across the floor, trying to find the end of the rope. My toe came up against the large rock he'd put in earlier.

  Shit.

  He was going to throw me over the side. Weighted down by the rock, I'd sink straight to the bottom.

  While I watched him retreat into a semi-hypnotic state from the rhythm of paddling, I worked at the tape with renewed panic, trying to keep from alerting him by moving too much. I didn't know how far from shore he intended to go, and glanced at the sky to memorize the position of the constellations to fix the location of the beach in my mind, but I couldn't see much.

  The lap of the waves against the hull drowned out the ripping sound of the tape as one side of it finally gave way. I didn't dare peel the rest of it off my wrists, sure he would notice. I'd just have to finish in the water. My ankles would need to stay taped for now.

  I'd lost track of time. Fifteen minutes or an hour could have passed. All I knew was that we were far from shore when he laid the paddle down. I tried to relax so my muscles wouldn't cramp when I went over the side.

  Easier said than done.

  Alek's uncle stood to his full height and spread his arms wide, lifting his face to the sky. An unearthly, guttural sound was followed by chanting in a language I couldn't identify.

  The boat moved in a seesaw rhythm from the swells. The cloak looked top heavy.

  Timing the next wave, I lunged forward and caught him at the knees. He lost his balance and fell backward over the seat, toward the stern. I misjudged the angle, intending to shove him overboard. His hand clamped down on my shoulder and I felt a sharp pain as I crashed into a brace. We both struggled to our knees.

  He didn't look happy.

  I fought to rip the rest of the tape off my wrists, but he had me by the throat before I succeeded.

  "Fucking Haole, you're going to DIE." He spit out the words, the force of his anger rolling off him in waves. I twisted and jerked, trying to shake him off, but I was losing strength from oxygen deprivation. Desperate, I opened and closed my mouth, my lungs screaming, but couldn't take a breath.

  Then, the pressure eased. I sucked in a gulp of air and sank back. Alek's uncle bent down and grabbed first the stone and then a chunk of my hair and yanked us both upward.

  The canoe crested a swell and dropped into the trough. Behind him, a dark wave materialized, growing in size and height until it dwarfed the outrigger. The dark mass hovered for an instant before crashing over the gunwales.

  The water was a shock. I surfaced outside the canoe sputtering, tasting salt. My flesh stung as I ripped the last of the tape off my left arm. I waited for the weight of the rock to pull me under, but nothing happened. The fibrous rope lay draped over the edge and disappeared into the boat. Apparently the boulder stayed put when we were washed overboard. Flipping onto my front, I started to breast-stroke toward the outrigger.

  Behind me, the sound of splashing and sputtering told me Alek's uncle was nearby. I put more force into my stroke to create a larger gap between us, hoping the feathered cape would drag him the hell under.

  My progress was slow with my ankles taped together, and it worked against me. He seized my left foot and I screamed. With no time to take a breath before my head went under, I clamped my mouth shut and kicked. My heel connected with something solid, and he released his grip. Adrenaline punched through me and I carved into the water, propelling myself forward. I swam to the outrigger and gripped one of the spars, leaning backwards in the water to lift my bound feet to the first rung.

  Using what upper body strength I had remaining, I hoisted myself to sit on the lower brace. Alek's uncle sounded close. His breathing came in explosive puffs, punctuated by excessive splashing. Panicking, I slid my feet under me and gripped the next rung, leveraging myself upward.

  The top edge was within reach when I felt the boat tilt. He'd lifted himself onto the lower rung, his face a mask of fury. He no longer struggled with the weight of the cape, having evidently discarded it. I threw myself forward, but he grabbed my legs and dragged me down. I fell on top of him and both of us hit the water.

  No match to his superior strength, dread spiraled through me as he gripped my hair and held me under.

  Black spots crowded my periphery. Struggling to remain conscious, I clawed at him in panic, knowing it would use any remaining oxygen, but unable to stop. Every part of me screamed to open my mouth, my nose, to breathe.

  He released his grip. I broke the surface with a deep gasp.

  Wiping wet hair from my face in order to see, I realized his focus had shifted. The whites of his eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he tracked the dorsal fin now circling him. I froze, scarcely breathing, one hand on the outrigger. His head just above water, he began to chant in a low voice, the sound mixing with the gurgle of the waves.

  Our panicked splashing must have attracted the predator, continually looking for prey.

  The fin cut a second circle around him, then disappeared below the surface. Alek's uncle stopped chanting as he twisted 360 degrees, searching for the creature. Using strength I didn't know I possessed, I climbed out of the water, onto the outrigger and dragged myself up and over the side, into the boat. I peered over the edge and waited.

  The first strike jerked him under like the float on a fishing line, cutting short his cries. The water roiled for a moment and then calmed. Seconds later, his arm shot up and hit the water with a slap. His head emerged, his mouth open in a scream.

  The shark dragged him down a second time. I remained still, my heart pounding, and waited for him to resurface.

  He didn't.

  My fingers curled around the necklace I wore with the protective carving, and I offered a silent prayer of thanks.

  My heartbeat now close to normal, I hinged forward to pick at the end of the tape around my ankles. Funny how much easier it was when I had the use of both hands. Weak from the loss of adrenaline, it took time and determination to unwind the tape and free myself.

  The swaying of the canoe reminded me that I was at the mercy of the current, and it didn't look like I was headed for land. Wearily, I lifted the paddle and attempted to steer toward shore. If unsuccessful, there was no telling where the boat would end up. The most likely scenario would be several miles out to sea.

  Or possibly
Tahiti.

  Sighting on a pinpoint of light, I struggled to bring the canoe about and head that direction. At first awkward, I eventually relaxed into a kind of a rhythmic stroke. Exhausted from my ordeal, I was in no condition to single-hand a power boat, much less an outrigger canoe, and I fatigued quickly. I stopped to take a break, resting the paddle on my knees.

  I'd always felt insignificant when I looked at the stars. This was an entirely new kind of insignificant: adrift in the Pacific Ocean under a huge expanse of night sky. No one knew where I was, or even that I might be in trouble. The thought of hungry sharks gliding silently under the canoe filled me with anxiety.

  Get ahold of yourself, Kate. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine myself reaching shore. I remembered a technique that Sam taught me to calm the mind and took a few minutes to use it. Despair visited again at the thought of him lying in a hospital bed in Anchorage. His brush with death was the direct result of being assigned to protect me. He'd gotten in the way of Salazar's killers.

  Never again would I feel his arms wrapped around me, or hear him whisper my name. Sam meant safety and I didn't get to be safe. Not unless and until I was able to rectify my past.

  That was if I made it back to land.

  Movement in the water caught my eye. Heart in my throat, at first I thought the shark had returned, but a turtle's head popped above the surface. He watched me a moment, then submerged and floated away, popping up again a few feet from me.

  Honu.

  Hawaiian legend said that friends and relatives long gone took Honu's form and often came to the aid of someone familiar to them in a previous life. Crazy Ray's prediction popped into my head. "The headless corpse, Honu will show the way. Do not be afraid."

  A fresh sorrow overwhelmed me at the thought of my old friend, Eduardo. They'd found him in the Sonoran desert, decapitated for his role in my rescue, and for implicating the two men I'd spent the last five years of my life trying to avoid. I mentally shook the thought away.

  Everyone who tried to help me ended up dead or close to it. This was not a good way to make friends.

  A few minutes later, the turtle's head and hard shell surfaced next to the canoe. I stopped paddling and watched. He ducked his head and turned the same direction he'd gone before- far to the right of the light I'd been using to guide me. He stopped a few feet away and raised his ET-like head above the water as if to say, "Follow me."

  To my weary mind, it was as good a sign as any. With new resolve, I followed him toward shore with thoughts of Eduardo to keep me company.

  EIGHT

  Honu stayed with me until I was close to shore, then disappeared below the surface.

  With my last shred of energy, I timed the canoe's landing on the beach so the waves wouldn't pulverize it, and me, to matchsticks. Exhausted, I dragged myself out of the boat onto the sand and remained still, breathing heavily from the exertion. Tempted to lie there for a week, I knew I needed to go to the police and tell them where to find the statue from the museum. Preferably before Alek or Calvin sobered up and realized Alek's uncle hadn't returned.

  With a groan I rolled onto my hands and knees and stood. I attempted to brush the wet sand off my ass, but was only mildly successful. What the hell did it matter, anyway? I probably looked like a half-drowned hooker, wearing nothing but a ripped t-shirt and panties.

  With a deep sigh, I headed across the beach toward the highway. The terrain altered from sand to tufted mounds and long, coastal grasses, but wasn't too difficult to navigate. Before long I reached blacktop.

  Even though it was still dark, I recognized the stretch of highway as being within a mile of Gabby's place. I started to walk, staying on the road to avoid stepping on rocks with my bare feet.

  I'd passed a couple of driveways and had just rounded a corner when headlights slid into view. Hoping they hadn't seen me, I slipped into the shadows. Sure that hours had passed since Alek's uncle took me for a cruise, I didn't trust that Alek and Calvin weren't out looking for him.

  The car drove past a little too slowly for my peace of mind. I stayed in the shadows the rest of the way to Gabby's.

  About twenty minutes later, I reached the iron gate leading to Gabby and Henry's ultra-modern waterfront mansion. It took longer than it should have, but I'd been paranoid about letting anyone see me. I thought there wouldn't be much traffic this time of night, but I'd seen several cars. The same dark sedan passed me more than once.

  I pressed the buzzer on the entry box and stood where the camera could see me.

  "Kate? Is that you? Oh my God. Get in here."

  I'd never been so glad to hear Gabby's voice as at that moment. There was a click and the gate swung open. I walked through and headed down the driveway.

  Gabby met me halfway with a blanket in his arms, wrapping it around my shoulders. He hugged me to him as we walked the rest of the way to the house.

  "What the hell happened? How did you get so wet?" He glanced at my bare legs. "And so naked?"

  I sighed. "Long story. Suffice it to say, I know who stole the statue."

  For once, Gabby was at a loss for words.

  "What? How?"

  "I'll fill you in on the way to the police station. Better yet, can I use your phone? I want to make sure they arrive at the scene before Alek wakes up."

  "The guy who was stalking you is involved?"

  "Yeah. He kidnapped me and his uncle tried to drown me in some freaky ritual."

  "Are you hurt?"

  "Nothing that a good night's sleep and a couple dozen Piña Coladas wouldn't take care of."

  Arriving at the huge portico, we climbed the steps to the front door and entered through the tall, etched glass double doors. The dull pink of dawn was visible through the floor to ceiling windows directly in front of us.

  I sat on one of his white Danish Modern couches, realizing too late I probably should get a towel to sit on. "Sorry about the leather."

  Gabby waved my concern away. "Forget it."

  Drained, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes for a moment, relaxing into the soft leather.

  I was safe now.

  "Did you see the statue?" he asked.

  "The one from the museum, yes. Along with three life-sized wooden tiki gods and some other pieces, although I didn't see anything that looked like the carving you described stolen." I lifted my head and gave Gabby a look. "Probably should have gone to the police about Alek the second time he showed up unannounced."

  "What happened to his uncle? How did you get away?"

  "I'm pretty sure he's dead, although I didn't see the body." I stopped, the effort to speak too difficult. Better save it for the statement to police. "Can we talk about this later? I'm exhausted."

  "Of course. I'll call the police. They should be here in less than ten minutes. You need to rest and figure out what you want to say to them. Besides," he nodded at me, "you're in no condition to go out in public."

  I didn't have the strength to argue with him. He was probably right. A see-through t-shirt and panties would undoubtedly distract from the message.

  "How's Henry?" I felt a momentary pang of guilt for not asking earlier.

  "He's doing fine. Be as good as new in a matter of weeks. I’ll tell him you're here and get you something to wear."

  He climbed the stairs, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  If my luck held, Alek and Calvin most likely passed out from the party last night, and wouldn't notice if Alek's uncle didn't show up right away. The police visit would surprise them before they realized they'd need to get rid of the evidence.

  The only question remaining was where they put the statue. I doubted Alek's uncle would have taken it with him when he took me for the boat ride. The risk of loss was too high. It had to be somewhere in the house or the garage.

  I waited a few more minutes, but when Gabby didn't return, I went over to the phone on the side table behind the couch, picked up the receiver and hit the call button. There was no dial tone. I set the hand
set down.

  At that moment, Gabby walked in the room carrying an armful of clothes which he put down on the couch.

  "Your phone doesn't work," I said.

  "A previous guest ran up a huge long distance bill, so I disconnected that one. Don't worry, I already called police. They should be here soon."

  "Can I see Henry?"

  Gabby frowned and shook his head. "He's pretty groggy from the drugs. In fact, he's probably already asleep again. You're going to stay here, right? You can see him after he wakes up."

  I considered changing into the pair of running shorts and button down men's dress shirt, but decided against it before the police showed up. I wanted to make sure I didn't mess with any evidence they might need.

  Gabby walked outside onto the patio. The sky had turned an orange-hued pink.

  "Kate, come out here. You need to see this."

  I crossed the living room and joined him on the patio. He pointed to a spot several yards out on the beach. I didn't see anything unusual.

  "What?"

  "Can't you see it? Here." He guided me so I stood in front of him. I stepped back when I noticed a deep, freshly dug hole in front of me.

  "What are you going to use that for?"

  "It's for roasting game. I'm hosting a celebration later."

  And then he pushed me.

  ##

  I came to as something struck my face.

  The taste of dirt made me gag. I tried to draw in a breath, but inhaled soil. My ankle throbbed with pain. Disoriented, I tried to move my arms.

  They wouldn't budge.

  I opened my eyes. Horrified, I realized I was covered with dirt.

  Someone is trying to bury me alive.

  I screamed for Gabby.

  His face appeared over the edge of the deep pit, a silhouette against the deep glow of the sunrise.

  "Gabby, thank God, they're trying to bury me alive. Help me-" The plea died in my throat as he disappeared.

  A clod of dirt rained down on my head. I closed my mouth. Another followed. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the clumps.