Devil's Claw

by Valerie Davisson

  It was past her own dinner time, and she was getting hungry herself. She wouldn’t have minded sharing Sadie’s shrimp if they came cooked, shelled, and with a little cocktail sauce on the side.

  The baby otter polished off several scoops of her favorite food in no time, then dove back into the water to roll around with pleasure and play with her toys.

  Last week, Dennis hooked up a mini basketball hoop on the side of her pool, and the sleek little animal delighted in dunking the rubber ball whenever possible. It gave her additional exercise and was often used for older otters who had arthritis, Gina explained, to keep them flexible and reduce joint pain.

  Amy looked up at the clock. She still had a little time. By the sound of the waves, the storm was picking up, but it didn’t sound too strong yet. No lightning or thunder. Maybe it would just rain. A little water wouldn’t hurt an otter—or her.

  “Hey, little girl, how would you like to go in the big pool?”

  When Sadie didn’t react, she added some excitement to her voice and opened her eyes wide. “Big pool!”

  Sadie didn’t understand the words, but Amy’s tone of voice told her something fun was being suggested, and otters are all about fun. She swam quickly to the edge and hauled herself out onto the rubber mat, eager for the next adventure of the night. Amy was definitely more fun than her usual babysitters.

  Amy did a quick but thorough towel dry—she had learned that much—and coaxed Sadie into the cat carrier they used to transport her down to the lab for bloodwork and weighing. The training pool set up on a cement slab was about the only thing on that level. Beyond that was just the cove enclosed by rock on each side.

  “If you keep eating like a little pig, I’ll have to rename you Wilbur, and I won’t be able to carry you to the pool anymore,” she said. “You’ll have to learn to waddle down these stairs all by yourself!”

  31

  Saturday, July 25, 2015

  Amy hesitated as she stepped out onto the narrow deck. The wind was louder out here, and she smelled rain in the air.

  She couldn’t see much but knew there was a floodlight by the pool. Once she got down there, they’d be fine. There was a switch by the entrance to the pool area, and in the meantime, she could hang on to the railing with one hand and see well enough not to fall down the steep metal stairs.

  Growing impatient for release, Sadie started moving around in her carrier, verbally complaining as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The wind began whipping Amy’s hair across her face. Not in her usual work mode, she hadn’t pulled it back into a scrunchie or braided it down her back like she usually did.

  Thinking more each moment that this wasn’t such a great idea, she quickly circled around the left of the above-ground pool. She felt better when she reached the gate and located the light switch on the side.

  She would just let Sadie in the pool for a few minutes, scoop her out, and get back upstairs in plenty of time before the storm hit. She already felt guilty about lying to her mom and to Liam.

  As she reached out with her right hand and flipped the switch on, she felt something behind her, and before she could turn around to see what it was, a large hand clamped down on her wrist.

  A slice of terror stabbed her gut. Fighting panic, keeping a grip on Sadie’s carrier, she wrenched around, jabbing blindly with her elbow while simultaneously stomping down on what she hoped was her attacker’s instep. She couldn’t decide whether to hit him in the head with the carrier or try to smash his throat with her elbow. She couldn’t get the carrier high enough anyway, with Sadie in it, so both missed, but her foot made a satisfying, solid connection. Maybe even a crunch. She didn’t know if it would stop him, but maybe it would slow him down.

  Her mom’s friend, Iona Slatterly, head of security at the arts festival in town, had taught them all some basic defense moves. Iona was tough and made sure all the first-year summer hires knew how to protect themselves when walking to their cars at night in the big, empty parking lot in the back of the festival grounds. Right now, Amy wished she had practiced more.

  She couldn’t see the man’s face, backlit by the floodlight, and he was wearing one of the welding masks. His suit flapped, snapping like ersatz sails as the wind whipped around in the compact cove. His shirt was plastered to his chest with rain, which was coming down harder now, and his leather dress shoes couldn’t make good purchase on the wet cement. He fell back from her unexpected response but quickly regained his balance. Spreading his arms, he effectively cut off her only avenue of escape, the stairs.

  The crash of the waves was deafening this close to shore, amplified by the acoustics of the cove.

  Behind the man, at the foot of the stairs, Amy saw someone lying on the cold cement, half-in and half-out of the light.

  Jeff! Was that Jeff?

  Something black seeped from his head, across the cement, disappearing into the inky shadows beyond the reach of the security light.

  She had no idea if he was still alive, but she knew the only way she was going to help Jeff was to find a way to escape.

  But there was no way out.

  Quickly, she assessed her surroundings. So far, the man in the mask hadn’t resumed his attack, but just stood there, between her and the stairs, as if trying to decide if she was worth killing or not.

  Devil’s Claw rose a good forty feet to her right. Another, smaller rock formation fashioned the opposite edge of the cove, but she knew she’d never reach it in time, let alone be able to climb over it in the rain and dark while hauling a screaming sea otter.

  The storm had arrived, and with it, slashing rain.

  There was no time to think of other options. At the next crack of thunder, Amy turned and bolted toward the cove. If she was going to die, she was going to die trying. If she could make it past the breakwater, she knew she could swim south, around Devil’s Claw, parallel to shore, until she got to Main Beach and help. At least, she hoped so. She wasn’t in swimming shape.

  She hoped the monster behind her couldn’t swim at all.

  Brave, but not stupid, she looked for her best shot. She’d have to time it just right, or she and Sadie would never make it.

  Powerful waves smashed up the side of Devil’s Claw, sending white spray straight up and white foam sliding back down, to be sucked powerfully out to sea, rushing right back in again, to a soundtrack of howling winds. Mother Nature was truly impressive.

  How was she supposed to get past that without being completely mashed and broken on the rocks?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shape that didn’t fit. A rounded lump of light gray with a black stripe.

  The Zodiac! She’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

  She had no idea if she could get the motor started or if it even had any gas in it, but it was better than swimming. One of Solange’s supporters had donated the raft to the center. It was an older model you had to start like a lawn mower versus just pushing a button.

  Any raft in a storm, right?

  “Hang on, Sadie!”

  Hoping she could outrun her assailant, Amy splashed right into the cold water, sprinting toward the Zodiac, half expecting a strong hand to grab her shoulder and yank her back at any minute.

  Saltwater stung her eyes and made it hard to find a good spot to board the inflatable. Grabbing on to the rope that ran around the top of the raft, she hoisted Sadie’s carrier in first, then, using the ropes on the side, hauled herself up and scrambled in.

  This wasn’t a Junior Guard test or drill. This was for real. Shaking with cold and terror, she unsnapped one of the oars and pushed off from the rocks to put as much distance as possible between herself and her attacker. Risking a quick look back over her shoulder, she didn’t see him anywhere. Was he in the water?

  Sadie’s screams were heart wrenching, but she couldn’t stop to comfort the little otter now, or they w
ere both dead.

  Wind and rain lashing her face, almost knocking her out of the raft, she pushed against the rocks on her left to get clear, then dug in deep with the paddle. Incoming waves got bigger. One of them threw her back against the rocks, scraped her arm, slicing her from shoulder to elbow. Saltwater seared into the open wound, causing her to cry out. Securing Sadie’s carrier as best she could in the bottom of the raft, Amy crawled to the back of the Zodiac and focused on getting the motor started. Hoping it was idiot proof, she yanked on the cord.

  Nothing.

  Was there a button you pushed first, or did you pull one time all the way, or several short pulls to prime the engine? She just couldn’t remember. It took several tries, but by some miracle, the engine turned over and she aimed the raft toward open sea. Even then, it took every ounce of energy and concentration she had to keep the raft from being flipped or shredded on the rocks. She couldn’t see Sadie but could definitely hear her. So far, the carrier was staying in the boat.

  Fighting the power of the storm surge, avoiding being forced onto the rocks again, it took what seemed like forever to clear the last outcropping of Devil’s Claw, but finally, to her left, Amy saw the lights of Main Beach. She could barely keep Sadie’s cage in the raft and the raft on course. If there was enough gas, she was pretty sure she could make it to the relative safety of the long stretch of open beach on the other side.

  If they did run out of gas, there were some small sea caves on that side, too. One of them might be high enough for her and Sadie to wait out the storm, but she had to get help for Jeff as soon as possible, so waiting out the storm really wasn’t an option. She willed herself not to think of his still form or the life oozing out of it.

  Her mind flooded with mounting panic. Why hadn’t she thought this through? What was she thinking, taking this tiny, vulnerable animal out when a storm was coming? Why did she always do such idiotic things?

  And it didn’t help that Sadie wouldn’t shut up! If only she would just stop screaming, Amy could think! There had to be a way out of the mess she’d gotten herself into. Of course, she couldn’t have anticipated being attacked, but if she hadn’t lied and taken Sadie out when she wasn’t supposed to, none of this would have happened.

  Main Beach was only about a mile south. If they could make land safely, she could get help. She could make it to her mom’s. She would know what to do.

  “Don’t worry, Sadie, I’ve got you!” she said, wishing she felt as confident as she was trying to sound.

  Pushing Sadie’s carrier down as far as it would go, holding it in place with her foot, Amy grabbed the tiller and looked up. Where was the moon? At first she thought the storm clouds were blotting out the moon and stars. Her stomach fell as she realized what she was seeing.

  Gathering itself into a huge swell, the power of the Pacific Ocean was racing toward them.

  And all that was behind them was the unforgiving reach of Devil’s Claw.

  32

  Saturday, July 25, 2015

  Logan looked at the front door again, avoiding the temptation to get up and see if Amy was back yet. She’d already checked three times. Getting up again would only make her admit to herself how worried she was. Besides, staring at the empty driveway wouldn’t make Amy get there any sooner.

  The storm outside swirled around her home, alternately buffeting the walls and whispering secrets down the chimney. Even with the winds picking up, she would have heard Lola’s reassuring growl if her daughter did pull up.

  Another fifteen minutes passed.

  “She should be back by now,” Logan said, standing.

  Giving in to her anxiety, she opened her front door and peered into the darkness. No Lola. The storm rewarded her motherly concern with a slap of rain across her face before she could close the door again and stalk back to the couch.

  “Malls don’t have windows,” Bonnie said, nudging deeper into the cushions, glass of wine in hand. “She’s probably lost in a delicious flurry of wedding dresses and cupcake sampling. Mere thunderstorms mean nothing to a young girl in love.”

  Scowling, Logan didn’t look convinced.

  “Liam’s with her,” Bonnie added. “If they did get caught in the storm coming back, Liam would use good sense and pull over. If there’s one thing that boy is, it’s responsible. They’re probably tucked into that Thai place Amy likes, making goo-goo eyes at each other, completely oblivious to the weather.”

  “You’re probably right.” Logan looked at her phone. “I’ll give them another thirty minutes,” she said. “If they’re not back by 10:00, I’ll call Rick.”

  “You’ve already called the hospital and the highway patrol, what do you think Rick can do?”

  “I don’t know, exactly,” she said, getting up to pace. “This is new territory. I never had to worry about Amy. I never had to call the police to track her down. She never gave me a lick of trouble. Never stayed out late. Didn’t drink. Didn’t do drugs. Got good grades, used common sense. Well, not always . . . I don’t think going to Africa exhibited very much common sense . . .”

  Logan was rambling now, and knew it. She looked over at Bonnie, who had become uncharacteristically subdued. Curled on the couch, Bonnie took a small sip of her wine, looking down into the glass. All Logan could see was the top of her friend’s thick mop of blond curls.

  About an hour ago, Bonnie had shown up with enough Mexican takeout for an army. She’d stopped by Juan’s on the way down.

  “Girls night in!” Bonnie announced upon arrival.

  The twins were at Outdoor Science Camp, and Mike had taken the girls to see the new Minions movie for a daddy/daughter date.

  Her timing couldn’t have been better.

  Logan had been at it all day, either on her computer or on the phone—trying to solve the funding issue for Fractals. Ben was visiting his sister, so she’d worked straight through dinner. She was ready for a break.

  Mrs. Houser’s children were not as generous as their mother had been and were fighting to cut off all outgoing monies from their mother’s estate, including those promised to Fractals. Not wanting to fight with children whose mother had just died, Logan was combing the Internet for other funding sources.

  She’d located several good possibilities online, but when she got through on the phone, they inevitably regretted to inform her that “due to the economic downturn, those grant funds are no longer available. We will of course keep your contact information should things change in the near future . . . blah, blah, blah.” Fractals wouldn’t have a future if they didn’t get some cash now.

  Where were all the wealthy one percenters when you needed them? Why weren’t they funding programs like Fractals? They could fund a thousand music/math programs and not feel it! It was so frustrating.

  Logan pulled her mind back from worrying about Amy and Fractals long enough to focus on Bonnie. Why had she gotten silent? And why was she avoiding eye contact?

  And then it hit her. Of course . . .

  Haley. Here she was, going on about how good Amy was, what a model daughter, when she knew Bonnie and Mike had been having a tough time with their always-in-trouble fifteen-year-old, Haley. Logan sat back down on the couch, put her phone on the coffee table, turned sideways, and tucked one leg under her.

  “Hey . . . I’m sorry—I forgot,” she said. “Talk to me.”

  Something unraveled in Bonnie, and tears poured down her cheeks in quiet streams.

  “Haley got arrested. Mike had to bail her out of jail.”

  “Jeez, I had no idea it had gotten that bad,” Logan said. “What did she get arrested for?”

  “Drinking and driving—she got a DUI,” Bonnie said dully. Then, her voice level rising with anxiety, she added, “DUIs don’t just go away. Even if she gets off with community service because it’s her first time, it will go on her record, and she just doesn’t seem to underst
and how bad this is, how close she is to ruining her life! Let alone the fact that she could get hurt—or even worse—hurt or even kill someone else! She seemed more upset at getting caught than understanding what she’d done.”

  Logan had a zillion questions, but stayed quiet. They’d been friends for so long she knew she just needed to listen, not jump in or give advice. Bonnie just needed to talk it out.

  “She goes to court next week. We’ve hired her an attorney, but she’s going to pay back every cent of that money.”

  “Sounds fair to me,” Logan said.

  “She has some money from her summer job. She was saving up for a car, but now . . .”

  Finally, when Bonnie let it all out, Logan got up, got her a box of tissues, and gave her a fierce hug before sitting back down.

  Bonnie fell back into one of the big pillows. A determined look came over her face.

  “We’re not going to bail her out again,” she said, “she knows that. Tough love and all that. I know it’s the right thing to do, but it’s so hard . . . The consequences are so much bigger now. I just hope she gets it together before something really bad happens.” Bonnie scrunched her shoulders up to her ears, then let them drop. “Huh!” She exhaled, then looked at Logan and smiled. That was Bonnie for you. Feel it, deal with it, then move on.

  Logan wished she could do that. Emotions had always come easily to Bonnie. Logan was just beginning to figure all that out. She was getting there but couldn’t even express her true feelings for Ben to herself, yet—let alone to Ben.

  She wanted to say something reassuring or promise everything was going to be all right, but honesty was the best thing she could come up with. She didn’t lie to friends or children, so she told her the truth.

  “You and Mike are great parents. You’ve given Haley a solid foundation. You’re doing all the right things. You’re giving her the chance to grow up. It’s going to be up to Haley. If it’s any consolation, I think she’s a great kid.”