"Ursula Chambers?"
"Possibly."
"Where's the boat now?" Kate asked. "What about the rest of the crew?"
"Good questions. We'd better find out. Sergeant Winters?"
She started. "Yes, Lieutenant Coburn?"
"Stay with Thurlow. Let us know the instant he regains consciousness and can answer questions," he ordered. He held the curtain aside and looked at Kate. "We'd better get back to the command center. We can check things out faster from there."
The moment they entered the command center, Kate sensed the tension in the air. It took only eight minutes to confirm that the Penelope, the fishing boat Thurlow had been using, was not in its berth at the harbor. The two recruits who had completed the crew had no idea of its whereabouts.
With each piece of news, a buzz began to grow. There was an edge to people's movements and a hint of sharpness in their voices. It had been eleven days since the hunt for Ursula Chambers had begun. The wait had worn on everyone's nerves. Even if this proved to be a false alarm, at least something was finally happening.
"Thurlow and the Penelope were assigned to the grid in Sector C," Kate said after checking her master list. "Whoever has the boat now would be able to hear everything that's said over the open frequency on the radio. Sergeant Chelios?"
The policeman at the communications console looked up quickly. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Instruct the personnel in Sector C to switch to their alternate frequency immediately."
"Right away, ma'am."
"Then get the description of the Penelope out to everyone on patrol," Sam ordered. "Contact the naval vessels offshore and alert them to the situation. In the meantime, we have to carry on with the regular search and maintain cover until we can confirm whether or not Chambers is on that fishing boat."
"Yes, sir."
Kate frowned at the list on her clipboard. "Without Thurlow's boat, we'll be short one vessel in his area of the search grid. We need to plug the gap."
"We should have every available vessel on the water, anyway," Sam said. "The more pairs of eyes we have looking, the better our chances. I'm taking out the sloop."
Kate looked up quickly. "The weather is unsettled. The sailing conditions could become difficult."
"It's the same weather the rest of the fleet is facing. And the sloop has a full keel. She can handle rough seas."
"Yes, I know, but—"
"I wouldn't ask my men to do anything I wasn't willing to do myself." He paused. "And I'm not asking anything of you, Lieutenant Mulvaney."
"What do you mean?"
"I can manage the boat solo."
He didn't want her with him, she realized. Until now he'd taken full advantage of their mission to make sure they spent as much time as possible together. His persistence had annoyed her and upset her, but it had been better than this... distance.
"We're still partners, Lieutenant Coburn," she said recklessly, tossing her clipboard aside. "I'm coming with you."
* * *
Sam strained to hold the wheel steady as he squinted at the western horizon. Over the course of the last few hours, the weather had deteriorated more quickly than he'd anticipated. Heavy, steel-bellied clouds hung low over the water while their tops reached to block the sun. The sea was a shifting carpet of gray, pushed into restless swells by the strengthening wind. Spray shot from the bow as the sloop sliced through the waves.
Kate emerged from the cabin, fastening the toggles on the yellow slicker she'd donned. She held another one out to Sam. "I found these in the locker under the bunk. It looks as if we might need them."
He mumbled his thanks and shrugged on the raincoat. He wouldn't mistake her gesture for concern or caring. She had given him the raincoat so he would be able to continue the mission. That's what she would claim if he asked her, anyway.
It had been a frustrating day. Even though he and Kate were completely alone, neither one of them had broached any subject that wasn't related to the mission. Yet the things that were left unsaid crackled in the air between them.
He had trusted her. He had believed that they had honesty between them. Even though he tried to tell himself it was all in the past, he couldn't seem to suppress his resentment. He was only human. She had decided to keep the existence of his child a secret from him. She had decided he was unworthy. How was he supposed to shrug that off?
"Did you get through to the command center on the radio?" he asked.
"Yes. There's a major system approaching Montebello from the west. This weather is just the leading edge."
Sam wiped a film of spray from his face. "The fleet has a standing order to return to port if conditions deteriorate to the point of becoming dangerous. It's the call of each acting captain. Anything else?"
"Yes. Sergeant Winters reported from the hospital. Thurlow regained consciousness."
"How is he? Does he remember what happened?"
"Apparently he's got a major headache, but he should recover. He's hazy about the details of the attack. There were two people, a man and a woman. He surprised them as they were coming on board the Penelope."
"So they were after the boat."
"That's how it appears. I think they took his money and dumped him away from the pier to throw the police off track."
"Did he give a description?"
"The man was bearded, the woman was a tall brunette."
"Brunette?"
"Chambers could have dyed her hair. The rest of the physical description matches."
"Did he identify the photograph?"
"It was too dark for him to make out features, and it all happened quickly, but I think it was Chambers," Kate said. "Thurlow was taken off guard because it was the woman who hit him. She used an oar."
Sam adjusted his weight to compensate for the pitch of the deck as the boat rode another swell. Ursula Chambers had cracked the skull of the king's nephew with a marble statue. She had killed her own sister. A woman like that wouldn't hesitate to smash an oar into the head of a groggy, unarmed man.
"If it was Chambers," Sam said, "then it means she not only has a boat but she has an ally."
"That's not good news."
"No. But this weather could be too much for that boat to handle unless the crew knew what they were doing."
"Possibly." Kate studied the clouds, her hair whipping around her face in the strengthening wind. "What do we know about Chambers's sailing experience?"
"Nothing. She and her sister grew up on a ranch in Colorado, but Ursula lived on the east coast for several years. She could be anything from an amateur to an expert. If she's hooked up with someone who knows these waters, they wouldn't be scared off by this weather."
"Then why hasn't anyone spotted them yet?"
"They might be staying close to shore, waiting for the weather to improve."
"Or maybe they've already slipped past us and reached Tamir."
"I have faith in our people," Sam said immediately. "If Chambers and the Penelope had made a run for it, she would have been caught."
"Not necessarily." She retrieved the life jacket she'd discarded in order to put on the slicker. "Not if one of our crews got distracted."
"Still ready to assume the worst about everyone, I see."
"Sam, this isn't about us."
He gritted his teeth. "Right. It's about our duty. That's all that matters to you. It's the only reason we're together. How could I forget?"
A thread of lightning flashed on the horizon. Kate let the life jacket dangle from her hand as she turned to face him. "All right, Sam. This has gone on long enough. I can understand that you're still upset about what I told you this morning, so if you've got something more to say to me, just say it."
Something more to say? Where should he start? There were so many conflicting emotions inside him he wasn't even close to sorting them out. "I think it's the other way around, Kate."
"What do you mean?"
"You have more to say. You haven't told me everything."
"You can call me an insensitive jerk if you want, but I know there has to be more to what happened than you've told me. Losing a baby is tragic, but it isn't that uncommon. Many women go through the heartache of a miscarriage but they eventually put it behind them. You haven't."
"Yes, I have. It's just the circumstances that stirred it all up."
"No, it's more. You claim you didn't tell me because it was wrong to get married for the sake of a child, and you didn't want us to end up miserable like your parents."
"That's right."
"So how much of your decision was because of me, and how much was because of you?"
The rigging creaked as the head sail snapped and billowed in the wind. Kate watched him, her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You said I wasn't ready to settle down, and at the time that might have been true. But neither were you, Kate."
"No, you're wrong. I was willing to raise the baby—"
"To sacrifice your career for the baby. That's what you said. To turn your life upside-down. To give up your dreams."
"Yes, that's right."
"Are you sure? I wasn't there, so I was an easy target to focus your blame on. You've spent five years convincing yourself you made the choice because I wasn't suitable husband or father material, but if that's true, why does it still haunt you?"
She started to turn away.
"Don't you think it's time to stop running, Kate?" He raised his voice over the noise of the wind. "Isn't it about time you were honest?"
She caught the railing, her knuckles white. She wouldn't meet his gaze.
Sam braced his weight against the wheel so he could keep it steady. "I told you I've seen men who came back from combat with nightmares. Do you know what most of those nightmares were about? They were about failure. They were about guilt. What do you feel guilty about, Kate?"
Lightning cracked between the clouds, flickering over her stark expression. Sam told himself to stop, but they'd come this far, why not get it all out in the open? "Do you blame yourself for losing the baby?"
"Of course, I blame myself," she shouted. "I should have tried harder to get to the hospital. I shouldn't have walked so far alone, I should have gotten more rest, I should have been more careful."
"Would that really have made a difference?"
"The doctor said it wouldn't have, but—"
"You weren't to blame. I know you. You would have done everything humanly possible to save that child."
"And I did."
"But you still feel guilty."
"Yes!"
"Do you feel guilty because you think things might have gone differently if you'd given me a chance?"
"It was the right choice. The only choice. You weren't—"
"Is that what you feel guilty about, Kate? Or do you have nightmares because you're terrified that somewhere deep down inside you were relieved you lost the baby?"
Thunder crashed. There was a sudden lull in the wind. Sam's statement hung in the air between them like the sound of a slap.
He had gone too far. His anger had deflated the instant he'd uttered the words. He wanted to take them back. He wanted to beg her to forgive him for the cruel accusation. "Kate..."
"You bastard." She released her grip on the railing and curled her hands into fists. "You bast—"
Her curse ended on a shriek as the boat pitched nose first into a wave. Kate lost her footing on the slick deck and disappeared over the side.
Chapter 12
Kate didn't know which way was up. Everything was gray. The water pressed in on her from all sides, making her weightless and disoriented. She had to clamp her jaw shut against the compulsion to inhale as her lungs screamed for air.
It had happened so fast. She hadn't had a chance to take a breath before she'd gone overboard. All her attention had been focused on Sam... and on what he'd said.
Relieved. Relieved.
It was horrible. It was unthinkable. She'd wanted that child. She'd felt him move. She'd yearned to hold him in her arms....
But she'd also yearned for freedom and a career that would take her far away from the snare of a family and a soulless house in the suburbs.
She wriggled out of the heavy slicker and kicked, propelling herself toward what she thought was the surface. The gray mass around her remained the same. Her heart contracted as it vainly tried to pump oxygen to her muscles. She changed direction and kicked again but she couldn't escape the water or her thoughts.
Sam had to be wrong. She couldn't have been relieved. She couldn't have been thankful that she wouldn't have to turn her life upside-down or give up her dreams. The guilt she ran from was because of her choice, that's all.
If she'd told Sam about her pregnancy, she knew he would have taken care of her. That's the way he was. He would have swooped in like a knight on a white charger. He would have made sure that she had no need to exert herself. She would have been coddled and protected, and she might not have been too late. Sam might have gotten her to the hospital sooner. She might have been a mother now.
That's where the guilt came from. That's what she ran from.
But there was nowhere to run now.
Spots flickered in front of her. Her toes and fingertips tingled with a creeping numbness. Her chest spasmed with the need to inhale. She was drowning.
She was terrified.
You're terrified that somewhere deep down inside you were relieved....
No!
You were relieved....
No, it was Sam's fault. If he hadn't been so adamant about having his freedom, if he hadn't craved adventure, if he'd loved her, then her choice would have been different. She would have told him about the pregnancy, and the baby might have lived. It was because of Sam, not her.
Relieved you lost the baby...
The thought wouldn't go away. It taunted just out of reach like the bursts of light on the edge of her vision.
For one cowardly moment she wondered what would happen if she stopped struggling and let herself drift. It would be so much simpler if she let the water take her. That would be the ultimate escape, wouldn't it? Then she'd never have to face the truth.
Since she'd walked out of the hospital she'd only been half-alive, anyway. Sam was right. She didn't smile, she didn't play. She'd buried her passion so that she wasn't the woman she'd been before. She'd been punishing herself.
When would it be enough?
She could die here. Then the struggle would be over.
But if she lived, she would never be the same. Sam had seen to that. She would have to face the rest of the truth. She would really have to live.
Light flickered again. She fought to turn her head toward it and felt a rumble of thunder envelope her body.
Thunder. Light. The realization of what she was seeing finally blossomed in her oxygen-starved brain. It was lightning. With the last dregs of her strength, she propelled herself toward it.
"Kate!" Sam's voice was hoarse from shouting. His throat stung from the spray he'd swallowed. He shouted again. "Kate, where are you!"
The sloop shuddered as it took a wave broadside. Sam checked his heading, then wiped the water drops from the lenses of the binoculars and raised them to his eyes.
He was surrounded by a writhing mass of gray swells and white foam. With each second that crept by, the sky grew darker. The storm was about to break. Sam could feel it in the stiffening wind and the charged air. Once the rain started, the visibility would be reduced to nil. He'd have no hope of spotting Kate.
The panic that had been hovering since he'd seen Kate go overboard was tough to control. But he knew he had to. He needed to keep a clear head. With the iron discipline that he'd learned on countless missions where one wrong move could mean disaster, he struggled to focus his thoughts.
It had happened so quickly
. One instant she had been there, cursing him, the next she was gone. He'd lunged for the rail, but she'd been nowhere in sight. The forward momentum of the boat had already left the place where she'd gone into the water far behind, beyond reach. Every instinct inside him had urged him to jump overboard and swim after her, but without the boat, without notifying anyone where they were, neither of them would have had much chance of survival.
Kate was an expert swimmer and an intelligent woman. She would know he would be back for her, wouldn't she?
He'd used up precious minutes to swing the boat around and reverse course. That was seventeen minutes ago. He should have spotted her by now, but the waves had remained empty. He'd furled the mainsail and started the auxiliary motor to better control his position, but still each sweep of his binoculars found nothing, each shout was unanswered.
And as seventeen minutes became twenty and then twenty-five and the daylight faded, Sam felt the hovering panic inch its way to despair.
"Kate! Answer me!"
Nothing, only a roll of thunder.
"Go ahead and call me a bastard," he shouted. "You're right. I am a bastard."
The motor chugged. The boat shuddered through another wave.
"Kate, I'm sorry!"
The wind snatched the words away.
He wished it could have taken away those other words, the last ones he'd spoken to her.
Remorse was a cold lump in his stomach. She hadn't deserved his anger. When had everything become so complicated? Things used to be so simple, as simple as a relationship could be between a man and a woman.
At least, that's what he'd always told himself.
Yet had their relationship ever been that simple? Was Kate the only one who had been running all these years? Sam knew he could have tried harder to contact her after she had returned his letters. Had he been using their promise as an excuse to cover up his fear? Was that why he had lashed out at her?
He had to find her. Even if she never forgave him, even if she hated him for the rest of her life, it wouldn't matter, as long as she was alive.
No, that wasn't right. It did matter. He didn't want her to hate him. He wanted another chance. He'd already thrown one chance away because he hadn't had the courage to recognize it. If he found her—
Under the King's Command Page 15