Whisper of Revenge (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 4)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Two choices, Hannah. I can shoot you now and walk away. Or you do what I tell you and, who knows, you might have a chance.” Another wave lifted her again. Feet braced, he held the handgun steady. She couldn’t see his smirk, but she heard it. “Maybe your lover will race to your rescue.”

  A bullet to the brain or battered on the rocks? she thought hysterically. But…maybe one of Jasper Beach’s many senior citizens might decide to go for a late night walk on the beach and see them. Or… what if this tide wasn’t as high as the one that had killed Elias’s artist friend? Would Fletch have calculated? She could miraculously scramble high enough on a rock to hold on, even if she didn’t have the use of her arms and hands.

  Or maybe he’d just shoot her when they got there, but she didn’t think so. Replicating the other death meant something to him.

  Hopelessness engulfed her. Even so, Hannah rolled and tried to get her feet under her. Once again, a hand roughly boosted her to her feet.

  Just ahead, white water frothed.

  *****

  Daniel stood for a long moment staring down at the mattress that lay on a bare concrete floor. A thin blanket lay crumpled near the foot. A long, red hair clung to the filthy white sheet. A cop serving on the multi-jurisdictional SWAT team had crouched and showed him fine, copper red hairs on the floor where Ian had gotten his buzz-cut.

  Lifting his gaze, Daniel turned slowly. Two rough concrete walls formed an L met by two sheet-rocked walls that had never been taped and spackled. Dents, dirty smears. A solid wood door had had a shiny hasp recently added on the outside. The padlock was missing. He’d already seen the unfinished bathroom with a window that would have been way above a five-year-old’s head.

  If he’d released what information he had for the early news, they might have found her. The knowledge settled on his shoulders, a weight he’d never be able to dislodge. In his job, decisions were never easy, and they sometimes had devastating consequences.

  “I’ll call for a crime scene unit,” he said gruffly to the SWAT lieutenant, and turned to walk out. He got as far as the front porch before he took out his phone.

  Elias first.

  *****

  Elias parked beside a tiny cottage that sat closest to the beach and the high point with the lighthouse that separated the unincorporated community of Jasper Beach from Cape Trouble. The shabby cottage was slated for demolition. This piece of ground would soon be the landing place for a funicular, a kind of cable railway being built to carry guests from Rand Bresler’s resort clinging high above down to the beach.

  Only a dense fog could have made this night any darker. He could just make out the silver line of breaking waves. Beyond, there was nothing, not even a distant light on a passing ship. He narrowed his eyes. No, not true; the buoy was out there. If only the light swung in a full circle, it might have been a help.

  He was alone here for now, after having stopped by several of Fletch’s favorite spots yet again. Loner though he might be, Elias appreciated knowing he’d soon have backup. Sean Holbeck had called earlier, wanting ideas for distributing the available sheriff’s deputies.

  Elias had dredged up things he hadn’t thought of in a lot of years. Fletch had liked heights, he’d remembered, especially when he could scare the shit out of someone else. He’d have enjoyed Polly’s terror as her car broke through the guardrail and went over the precipitous edge.

  Holbeck assured Elias that sheriff’s deputies and the state patrol were already driving the highway and paying close attention to turn-offs and the condition of guardrails, a task made easier because traffic was so scant at this time of night. They had someone parked at the old resort, and other officers were checking illegal campsites along the bluff above the beach.

  Elias had been getting hoarse when he told Holbeck, “Fletch had a reckless streak. He got in trouble a few times swimming out too far, or cutting it close trying to make it across some rocks before the tide got too high. He seemed…fascinated by the explosive power of the waves when they hit rocks.”

  Holbeck had promised to get more people down on the beach, then to personally follow Elias as soon as he could. He’d bring ropes, life preserver, lights. “If you go out, you be careful.”

  Sure. Careful.

  And all this on a gamble he’d chosen the right place for Fletch’s final scene. Best guess, he told himself. Powerful ocean swells, rocks, a chance to replicate Amy’s death, this felt like Fletch. He’d enjoy taunting everyone he’d fooled: I was smarter than all of you, who never even suspected that she was murdered.

  Elias locked the Land Rover and dropped the keys behind a back tire. His phone, he might need. Then he jogged toward the water.

  *****

  Fletch had to lift Hannah onto the basalt outcrop before climbing up in front of her. Despite the force of eons of pounding waves, these rocks were still jagged. Maybe she should have opted for the quicker death.

  “Move it!”

  Another yank forced her to stumble forward. The rope, the kind used for clotheslines, was thin enough to have enabled him to tie a tight knot. Hannah moved each foot carefully. Although they seemed to be obeying her commands, she couldn’t feel her feet at all, which would make it easy to stumble. The soles of her athletic shoes usually had good traction, but wet now, they felt perilously slick.

  The journey of what couldn’t be more than a hundred yards felt as if it took forever. Occasionally, the crescent moon would appear, making her more aware of the foaming ocean around the rocks, the hiss when a wave receded, the crash when the next struck. Ahead was a taller outcrop, black even against the night behind it. Appearing ominous now, it was a familiar part of the rugged point – and even that highest point disappeared entirely at high tide. Right now, she saw only a faint glow beyond it, where the buoy floated. Hannah realized how foolish her hope had been. Unless he removed her handcuffs, she wouldn’t be able to climb at all.

  “Stop.”

  Exhausted and in pain, she swayed where she stood, watching as he… What was he doing? And then Hannah understood.

  He had wrapped the other end of the rope around a narrow column and was tying it. He had just tethered her, like a goat staked out for a predator.

  With a burst of primal rage giving her unexpected new strength, she leaped forward. When he turned, she slammed into him with her shoulder. He bellowed, driven against the rough rock as she fell to her knees. When he shoved himself toward her, she head-butted him, even though that brought her toppling down on her face, with no way to soften the fall. Despite the agony of torn flesh, she rolled against his legs. Still yelling, he took a step back, windmilled his arms and fell into the seething ocean. Her entire body on fire, she waited for him to reappear.

  *****

  Elias gave up thinking his eyes would adjust to the light. What light? Better question, what was he doing out here?

  Hannah. He tried to picture her sunny smile, and failed. He’d failed her in too many ways. I’m sorry, Hannah. So sorry.

  Wracked with despair, Elias was convinced he was on a useless quest by the time he was close to the rocks. Waist-deep when each wave struck, he was barely able to keep from being flung back toward the beach or pulled under. The beam of the heavy-duty flashlight he held high was useless against the vastness of night and ocean. What were the odds Fletch would have brought Hannah here? There were too many similar rocky outcrops along the coast. He could have taken her into the woods, or drowned her in the river. Tied her to a piling beneath the long pier, where she’d be engulfed as the tide rose.

  That thought was so horrific, Elias faltered, staggering when the next wave tried to knock him off his feet. He looked back toward the beach and saw only the scattering of porchlights and streetlights normal to late night in the tiny community. Holbeck might have gotten pulled away.

  But then he heard a yell. A sea lion? But the sound wasn’t right. With renewed energy, he forged toward the rocks.

  He had to cling to them until a wave receded and
he was able to scramble up. He heard nothing else over the constant roar of the sea, but he started forward carefully, using the beam of the flashlight to choose his footing. Stepping into a hole could be fatal. Much of the rocky landscape was already submerged by the froth of the rising tide. The occasional flashes of light from the buoy helped him choose a path. Soaked, his body numb, he kept going, even knowing that if he didn’t turn back soon, he wouldn’t make it.

  *****

  Frantic, Hannah somehow maneuvered until her knees were under her, then her feet. Her thigh muscles felt like jelly, nowhere near strong enough to get her up from a crouch without a free hand to brace herself. The next big wave would drag her off the rocks if she couldn’t stand. Pushing her shoulder blades to the basalt column, she awkwardly worked her way up. She had to be scraping off more layers of skin…but she was so cold, she could hardly feel the damage. She fumbled blindly for the knot Fletch had just tied.

  He was gone. She had no idea if, satisfied, he was letting the surf carry him to shore, or whether he was dead. She hoped he was dead. Every breath wanted to be a sob, but she was gagging instead against the cloth tied tightly over her mouth. The numbness extended to her fingers, she discovered; with the roughness of the rock, she couldn’t even find the knot, never mind undo it.

  A wave hit, water reaching mid-calf, the spray striking her face and somehow getting into her sinuses.

  Gagging again, she went still, straining her eyes. Was that a light? How could it be so close?

  Oh God, she thought – he was coming back. But…why would he?

  Maybe she was seeing the white light reported by people who had returned from near-death experiences. Only, this light wasn’t really white.

  She kept staring, probably crying. The next wave, higher yet, lifted her before reluctantly retreating, the pull almost more than she could resist. The tide rose so much faster than she’d ever imagined. No wonder unwary people got trapped.

  I am trapped. It was almost funny.

  The light touched her, rose toward her face. She had to close her eyes.

  “Hannah!” a man’s voice called. “Hold on. I’m coming!”

  Please don’t let this be a delusion, she prayed. To see Elias again… To have hope…

  He reared in front of her, wet clothes plastered to his body. Lowering the beam to her waist, he saw the knot. When she heard the string of obscenities, she knew he was real.

  He pulled the gag down to free her mouth and put his face close to hers. Even then he had to raise his voice. “Where’s Fletch?”

  “I don’t know. I tackled him and he fell.”

  “We need to go.”

  Hannah shook her head and took a step away from the column so he could see. “Tied.”

  More swearing, and he set to work on the knot. Her own hands felt like blocks of wood. Maybe her circulation had been cut off by the cuffs.

  A frighteningly big wave crested. Hannah cried out a warning. Elias grabbed her and braced himself against the rock shaft. As the water receded, he released her and went back to work, not wasting any more breath to swear.

  “Got it!” he said suddenly, but the next wave was equally high.

  They wouldn’t make it, she knew, but then saw him wave his flashlight in an arc, over and over again. And…could that possibly be a light being waved in response?

  *****

  They had to risk picking their way closer to shore. Elias didn’t think they dared wait this far out for a rescue that would take too long to mount.

  He didn’t know how she was still standing. Blood mixed with the salt water on Hannah’s ripped clothing and streamed down her face. New rage rose in him at the sight of her hands, cuffed behind her back. They were swollen and bloody.

  Once again, he put his mouth next to her ear and said, “We’ll start toward shore. They have ropes, but it will help if we’re closer.”

  Her head moved to tell him she understood, even if she hadn’t caught every word.

  He knotted the loose end of the rope around his own waist, allowing only about three feet between them. The hell he was losing her, not now. Then he aimed the flashlight low, so they could both use the light to see where to step, and started along the uneven rock shelf.

  Once she started to topple and he turned, barely catching her in his arms. The next wave slammed into the rock, lifting the water to their hips, bathing them in stinging spray. Smaller than him, weakened, she would have been dragged off the rocks if he hadn’t already been holding her. He forced himself to let her go and grimly started forward again. A part of him knew a floodlight had been set up and men strung together with a rope were wading toward them, but his entire focus was on the next step, the next wave.

  The angry surf seemed determined to keep them from escaping. It became the enemy. When each wave receded, he hurried as much as he thought Hannah could manage, then stopped to brace his feet and hold her against the turbulent surge.

  And then, suddenly, he was bathed in the light of a powerful flashlight, and hands were reaching for them. It was shock he felt as much as exultation. We made it.

  *****

  Hannah opened her eyes and peered muzzily at the sunshine pouring in between a crack in the blinds. She blinked a couple of times. Her eyelids felt sticky.

  Sun?

  A creaking sound and a faint scuff suggested she wasn’t alone. Very carefully, she rolled her head on the pillow. Pain, but not unbearable. The pole beside the bed holding an IV bag gave her an idea she’d been doped up.

  “You’re awake.”

  She had to blink a few more times to focus on the man rising from a chair at her bedside. Elias, of course.

  He looked a lot better than she felt, although she couldn’t picture him ever looking awful, not with his body and face. Oddly, he seemed to be wearing blue scrubs. She worked her mouth a little. A sort of…burning on her back and hips and knees and one side of her face made her hope they kept the painkiller coming.

  “You’re clean.” Her voice sounded weird.

  Laughter lit his silver gray eyes and carved lines in his cheeks. “I am. They let me shower. In fact, they encouraged me to shower.”

  “Oh.” Then why hadn’t they let her shower? But her memory unrolled like an old silent movie, reel by reel. Falling on rocks. Again. And again. Rolling to hit Fletch’s shins, then again as she tried to regain her footing. That burning feeling meant she’d been scraped raw. Only…her fingers were numb. Shouldn’t she be able to feel them? With an effort, she lifted one hand. White gauze wrapped her wrist. An IV needle was taped down on the back of her hand. More gauze wrapped her palm, and the fingers that emerged from it were unpleasantly purple and swollen. “Are they going to fall off?”

  She loved his low, husky laugh.

  “No. Give ’em a day or two.” His face sobered. “You remember what happened?”

  “I think so,” Hannah said uncertainly. “You came for me. How did you know?”

  “I guessed.” Any amusement was gone; the bleak look on his face was more familiar. “If I’d guessed wrong…”

  “But you didn’t.”

  Anger and self-recrimination still darkened his face. “He had succeeded in killing Mackenzie there. It…probably gave him a rush. Why not give it a rerun?”

  She swallowed.

  Mumbling under his breath, Elias produced a cup of water with a straw. He lifted the head of the bed enough for her to be able to take a few swallows. The water was tepid, but tasted heavenly.

  “Wait. You said ‘where’s Fletch’. How did you know it was him?”

  He talked about things his mother said, his own memories, and how they’d eliminated other possibilities one by one.

  When he offered more water, she whispered no. He hadn’t said…but she had to ask. “Fletch?”

  Elias’s mouth tightened. “His body washed ashore early this morning.”

  “I killed him.” Hannah wasn’t exactly sorry, but…the knowledge was something she’d have to grapple
with eventually.

  “The way he died was fitting.” No sympathy, no regret, showed on Elias’s lean face. “You saved yourself. You should celebrate.”

  Yes. She felt more apprehension about her next question. “Ian?”

  Elias traced the line of her cheek and jaw with his fingertips. “He’s good. He spent the night with his buddy, Walker. I tucked him in. He knows you’re okay. I’m guessing he’ll be showing up any minute.”

  Not letting herself completely succumb to the pleasure of his touch, Hannah gazed searchingly at him. “He’s not hurt? At all?”

  “He was pretty hungry and scared for you.” He hesitated. “He’s as bald as Captain Picard. He was upset about it until I reminded him about my mother shaving my head.”

  Her mouth trembled into a smile. “Because of the lice.”

  Elias smiled, too. “Yep. Ian decided if I could survive the humiliation, he could, too. Plus, everyone knows he was kidnapped, so I’m betting he’ll be a heroic figure to the other kids.”

  He would. She lay there thinking about how much Elias had given away. Did he know how his expression softened when he talked about Ian?

  His fingers kept moving softly over her face, massaging her temples, smoothing her forehead, stroking into her hair. He was careful to avoid every sore place, and she was discovering how many of those there were, now that her head was clearing. She tilted her head like a cat seeking more.

  “I was scared,” he murmured. “So damn scared. Don’t do that to me again, Hannah.”

  A bubble of humor rose from somewhere deep inside her. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but almost. “I’ll do my best.”

  Suddenly, he wasn’t touching her anymore. “He hurt you because he hated me. How did I never see how he felt?”