The paddling was easy since the current did most of the work. As he neared the mouth of the channel, Overton took out the geological map. He’d marked it with longitude and latitude coordinates of the slight anomaly in the channel floor that he’d seen. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Overton knew this anomaly wasn’t natural, something man-made was there and he had a good idea who made it—the old pirate Isaiah Blackmoore.
Glancing at his GPS watch, his heartbeat sped up as he checked his location. If his hunch was correct, the entrance to the maze was just to his left. He used the paddle to steer the dinghy to the side which gradually sloped downwards toward the water, giving him a convenient place to park.
He hopped out of the boat into water that was up to his knees. His breath rasped into his lungs as the frigid chill slapped him. His neoprene boot clad feet were almost instantly numb but he managed to shake off the cold and pull the boat up onto the side. He’d need it for his getaway later on.
Hitching up his pants, he turned his attention to the rock covered slope and searched for the indentation that he knew would be there. His heart kicked when he saw it right in front of him.
He grabbed the shovel and started moving the rocks away. His shoulders ached with the strain of the heavy boulders. He wasn’t used to this type of physical labor but his excitement kept him going. Especially when he saw the gaping hole the rocks revealed … the mouth of the passage into the maze.
He quickly moved aside enough of the boulders to fit himself and his dolly inside, then he disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel.
Chapter Twenty Five
Fifty five minutes until dead tide.
Celeste leaned back on the couch stretching her arms up over her head, her neck cracking loudly at the effort. She glanced at the clock, her skin prickling with nerves. It was less than one hour until dead tide and they still hadn’t discovered where the treasure was.
“Who’s hungry?” Jolene lay stretched out on her back on the other side of the informal living room. Belladonna was curled up on her stomach, the cat rising up and down every time Jolene took a breath.
“I am,” Morgan answered.
“Me too,” Fiona said.
“Ditto.” Cal looked up from the journal with a sigh.
Celeste rubbed her stomach. Despite her nerves, she did feel a little hungry. “I could go for pizza.”
Jolene rolled over, dislodging Belladonna who protested with an angry meow. She grabbed her cell phone from the table. “I have Gino’s Pizza on speed dial. What do you guys want?”
They decided on a large pepperoni. Jolene made the order and they all leaned back in their chairs to take a break from the journal.
“Is anyone else getting worried that we haven’t figure out where the maze is yet? I mean, it’s less than an hour until the tide is its lowest,” Fiona said.
Celeste looked over at her. Was the very bottom of her aquamarine pendant glowing? Must just be a reflection from the bright, full moon.
“It’s frustrating,” Morgan said. “I think we should come up with a plan B.”
“I don’t know about a plan B, but one of us has to go pick up the pizza,” Jolene said.
“I’ll go,” Cal volunteered. “I could use the down time to try to figure out what the tie in is between the two maps. I feel like that could be a significant piece of the puzzle.”
He got up from the chair he was sitting in, waved off an offer of money from Morgan and disappeared down the hall. Celeste’s heart sank—he hadn’t even looked over at her as he walked away.
“This journal deciphering is back breaking work.” Fiona stood and stretched out her back.
“It sure is. And straining to make out the writing is killing my eyes,” Morgan added.
“Especially with Belladonna sticking her face into the book all day,” Jolene said petting the cat affectionately.
Celeste felt the corners of her lips tug upwards in a smile. The cat had been a little disruptive all day, sticking her face in the journal as if she was trying to turn the pages. They’d had to shoo her away a few times because she’d caused them to lose their place in the book. Still it was kind of cute that she wanted to be a part of it.
“We’ve been at this all day and we haven’t made any progress.” Celeste looked out the picture window toward the ocean. Were the pirates out there waiting to attack or would they just slip in, take the treasure and leave? She stared at the black ocean. Usually the light from the full moon reflecting off the tops of the waves was a calming scene. But tonight she knew what might happen out there would be anything but calm.
“That’s why I think we need another plan. We should prepare to meet these pirates head on. Let’s let them lead us to the treasure and then we’ll take it from them," Morgan said.
Fiona’s forehead wrinkled. “How would we battle a bunch of killer pirates?”
“Well, we’ve done it before,” Jolene pointed out.
Celeste shrugged. “Sure, maybe if our skills were more refined. But even then, if we tried that, Luke would have his men returning us to ‘safety’ before we even set foot out of the house.”
“Yeah and Jake’s out watching the house making sure no one breaks in too,” Fiona said. “I’m sure he’d take a dim view of us seeking out the pirates.”
“It’s frustrating to sit here and wait for something to happen.” Morgan paced the room, gnawing on a nail, Belladonna following back and forth at her heels.
“Or for the pizza to show up,” Jolene joked.
Celeste picked up the poetry book. The book was the key to deciphering the journal, but it was also just a regular book. She wondered why Isaiah Blackmoore had chosen it as the cypher key.
Thumbing through the old book, she breathed in the musty smell of old paper. She’d always like that smell for some reason. The pages were brittle, and she thumbed them carefully, stopping to look at some of the black and white illustrations on the pages.
“Hey, let’s take a break and read some of these poems while we’re waiting for the pizza. Just for fun,” Jolene said.
Celeste shrugged, opening the book to the first page. “Sure, why not.”
Fiona sat down opposite Celeste and Celeste couldn’t help but notice the aquamarine pendant. It was glowing—just at the very bottom—and if her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, the glow was getting brighter.
Chapter Twenty Six
Fifty minutes until dead tide.
Overton sloshed through the knee-high water, his breath coming in ragged gasps from the exertion. He could hardly feel his feet anymore—the water was like ice. Once the tide receded fully, the entire tunnel would be dry, but he wanted to get to the treasure as quickly as possible to ensure he could get out before the incoming tide filled the tunnel entirely and trapped him inside, sentencing him to a watery death.
He stumbled ahead on wooden feet, pulling the dolly under the water awkwardly behind him. The sharp, salty smell of the sea permeated his nostrils. The tunnel was dank and slimy. He slipped a few times but that didn’t deter him from his quest.
His flashlight illuminated garlands of seaweed and starfish that clung to the tunnel walls. Flashing it ahead of him, his heart jerked when he saw a solid wall. He could go either left or right. Which way?
He took the map from his top pocket where he’d stored it in a ziplock bag so it wouldn’t get wet. Drying his fingers thoroughly, he removed the paper from the bag and studied it.
He thought he was at the west entrance. But if he was, there should be no wall here. He turned the map one hundred eighty degrees and found it matched where he was better. The map indicated to go to the left, which he did.
Another ten or twenty feet and he felt the water level getting lower with each step. He didn’t think it was the tide—too drastic of a drop for that. It felt like he was going uphill. He frowned down at the map. Shouldn’t he be going downhill below sea level?
According to the map he should go straight, turn left through an o
pening a little ways up, and then left again. He followed it obediently, except there was no second left—he could only go right after the opening. Overton felt seeds of doubt take root in his belly. Was the map even right? Maybe he had taken a wrong turn?
He studied the map, turning it this way and that, trying to make out exactly where he was. He couldn’t be lost—he’d planned everything so carefully—getting lost inside this dark, smelly maze was not an option. He shrugged and continued forward since it was the only path to take. Surely, the maze couldn’t be so complicated that he couldn’t figure out how to navigate it to the treasure?
Dragging the dolly forward he felt a spark of hope when he noticed the path was getting wider. He quickened his pace. He was nearly there … he could feel it.
The floor of the maze was damp with shallow puddles here and there. Overton could hear his boots crunching on the few unfortunate snails that had clung onto the rock floor instead of going out with the tide.
He turned into a narrow opening in the wall. He was going on instinct now, not even following the map, but he felt like he was heading in the right direction. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the remnants of what he was seeking—a sea chest lay open against the wall. It was empty, its edges sagging, the wood rotted from years of exposure but proof nonetheless that the treasure was near.
Shining the light in the passage ahead of him, his heart leapt when he saw a gaping hole in the passage floor in front of him. He crossed to the edge, shining his flashlight down into what looked like a black, bottomless pit. Two weathered boards lay next to each other as a bridge to cross to the other side. Overton eyed them dubiously but then his flashlight caught several glints of light from the other side of the path. He angled the flashlight, craning his neck to see what it was.
Gold coins!
He rushed on ahead, his skepticism about the sturdiness of the boards overruled by his greed. The old boards groaned as he stepped on them, causing his heart to twist. The gap was only about four feet and Overton figured he could make it in two or three long steps. He stretched out his right leg and placed it further on the board, his heart stopping when the board bowed under his weight. It held. He put his full weight on the right foot, lifting the left and moving it along the left board. That board bowed too, but he was almost to the other side. He lifted his right leg to repeat the process.
Snap!
The board gave way and Overton felt the sickening sensation of weightlessness before he fell. His arms grappled out by instinct catching on the other board and stopping him short with an abrupt jerk that practically pulled his arms out of the sockets.
The flashlight, which he had dropped, had miraculously landed on the board. It cast an eerie light on the passage. Fear clutched at his chest as he looked down at his legs dangling in the open space below. Sweat dripped from his brow.
He struggled to lift himself up onto the one remaining board but his weight was too much for him. He looked around the passage, his stomach sinking when he realized the only other people down here would be Goldlinger’s men. If they found him down here, they’d know he was trying to get the treasure for himself and that would mean certain death.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Forty five minutes until dead tide.
Belladonna flicked her tail against the coffee table trying to draw attention to the two maps that lay spread on the surface but the sisters paid no attention to her, preferring to oooh and aaah at the sappy love poems in the old poetry book.
She sighed in exasperation, flopped down on her belly and licked the inside of her paw. Sometimes it was so hard to get through to the humans. She wondered why she even bothered. She’d spent most of the day trying to point out the very page in the journal they should look at. But they’d paid no attention, even going so far as to shoo her away!
She felt the hairs on her back prickle and sat upright, becoming alert to the energy in the house. Something was happening below … something that needed her attention.
She slipped out of the living room and into the kitchen, pausing at the rope covered scratching post her humans had conveniently installed in the pantry, and took a few seconds to hone her claws to needle like points. She would need them to be as sharp and deadly as possible.
She trotted over to the basement door and stood on her hind legs, her front paws twisting the knob and pulling the door open. Then she used her nose to push it open wide enough so that her slim body could slip through. She trotted down the stars, turned right, and slipped through the crack behind the cask and into the darkness.
It didn’t take long for her cat’s eyes to become used to the absence of light and soon she could see just as good as any human with a flashlight. But she didn’t really need her eyesight—she followed her instincts. Trotting down the twisting corridors, her calloused paws barely even registered the damp, coolness of the floor as she closed in on her quarry.
Less than a minute later, she saw the light, like a beacon in the dark drawing her toward her destination. She picked up the pace, her paws silently slapping on the wet rock. She turned a corner and her whiskers tingled at the sight in front of her.
Sheriff Overton was hanging over a precipice, clutching on to a weathered plank, a flashlight sitting precariously on the edge next to him. She sniffed the air, her nose turning up at the foul stench of human fear.
She padded over to the board, sitting just on the very end and stared at him flicking her tail over the edge out into the precipice.
“Hi, kitty. Nice kitty.” Overton’s eyes were wide with fear as he looked from her to a rope that was tied to the wall.
“Get the rope.” He nodded his head in the direction of the rope.
Belladonna made a big show of going over to the rope and rubbing against it. Why not have some fun?
“Yes. Good kitty.” He crooned. “Bring it here and I’ll give you a treat.”
“Meow.” Belladonna picked up the rope with her teeth and looked at him tentatively.
“Yes, that’s right.” He gestured with his hand for her to come toward him.
She took a few steps toward him, noting the hopeful look in his eye. She stared at him for a few heartbeats, then dropped the rope. His eyes turned cold and hard. She continued toward him, walking out onto the plank but staying far enough away so he couldn’t grab her and send her over the edge. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, her whiskers twitching with heightened awareness.
“Get the rope, you damn cat!” His voice was hard and rough.
Belladonna might have felt sorry for him if she didn’t see the evil malice in his eyes. She thought back to all the things he’d done to her humans and her stomach curdled.
She inched closer, her highly developed senses knowing just how far away she should stay. Then, in a burst of energy, she shot out her paw, her claws shot out like switch blades and she raked them across the back of his hand.
“Ouch!” He jerked his hand away which also loosened his grip on the board. He dangled precariously by one hand, the other grappling for the board again. But Belladonna was too fast for him. Her paw shot out again, alternatively scratching his other hand and then slipping under the side of the board to pry his fingers.
She saw his hand loosen its grip. Overton was holding on only by the tips of his fingers now. She watched dispassionately as he flailed wildly trying to regain his grip on the board. She could have moved in for the kill and forced his fingers off, but she knew he wouldn’t be able to support his weight for long.
She saw one finger slip off, then another and finally his whole hand slid off the board and into the darkness below.
“Nooooo!” His scream echoed in the passage. Then a loud splash.
She looked down into the hole ruefully. She took no pleasure in killing humans. Mice, on the other hand were a whole different story, she thought, eyeing a juicy brown field mouse as it scurried around a corner.
She tore her gaze away and leapt off the board to the safety of solid ground. She
didn’t have time to track down the mouse and besides, her humans never appreciated the warm, fur covered offerings of mice bodies she left for them after devouring the delicious heads.
She trotted off the way she had come, glancing back once over her shoulder at the gaping hole. She wondered if a human could survive the long fall and plunge into the icy ocean waters. Unlikely, she thought.
She didn’t have much time to ponder it, though. She needed to get back to her humans. Her keen senses told her tonight would be extraordinary and they may need her services for even more important matters.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Forty minutes until dead tide.
Luke sat in the Bayliner cruiser, his binoculars in hand. The rocking motion of the boat did nothing to soothe his nerves—the tide was running out quickly now and so was his time. The bad guys would be here any minute.
Buzz turned on the motor and moved the boat forward a few feet. The pull of the tide was making it difficult for the anchor to keep the small boat in place.
Luke put the binoculars up to his face and continued his vigilant watch alternating his focus between the open ocean and the Blackmoore house.
He felt his shoulders knotting up with tension. He had no idea where these pirates were going to come from. His instincts told him they would come up the coast by boat, but he wasn’t sure if they’d be coming from the north or the south. He’d positioned the boat in a spot where he could easily watch both sides.
But he couldn’t take a risk they’d attack the Blackmoore house again, like they had during the summer, so he had men stationed all around the area ready to assist at the house or in the water at a moment’s notice.
Dead Tide (Blackmoore Sisters Romantic Cozy Mystery Series) Page 13