by Pamela Fryer
“Is it this Sonja girl?” Geoffrey demanded as he settled into a seat across from Colin.
He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know how it could be. Her car was still in the driveway when I drove past her house before five this morning.”
Coast Guard services finally greeted him on the line.
“This is an emergency,” Geoffrey told them. “We have a small craft lost in a whiteout outside Newport Bay with a possible hostage situation on board.” Jesus, it sounded like a low-budget TV movie.
“The nearest cutter is assisting a trawler run aground a few miles north,” the operator responded.
He already knew air rescue couldn’t do a thing in this fog. “This is an emergency. A woman’s life is at stake.”
“We’ve got men in the water, sir. They’ll be en route as soon as they can.”
* * *
“Cut the motor.” Chelsie switched the knife to her left hand and flexed the fingers of her right.
“You’ll never get away with this. You’ll be caught, and you’ll go to jail.” Emily’s teeth chattered with cold and fear. She didn’t turn the motor off, hoping to distract her. The longer it ran, the more chances someone would hear it and find them. “They won’t let you keep your baby in jail, Chelsie.”
“Shut up! You stupid bitch, I’m sick of your superior attitude. You don’t know anything.”
“You still have the chance to change that, if you stop now.”
Chelsie’s expression remained stony. Emily’s efforts weren’t working.
“Nobody suspects me now, and nobody ever will. It’s Sonja they’ll lock up.”
Emily closed her eyes. It was true; she’d told Geoffrey so many times it was a red-haired woman she suspected. She would die and poor Sonja would go to jail. And Colin would fall into Chelsie’s trap. She would snare him, and he’d live out the rest of his life with a killer.
Regret crushed like a lead weight on her shoulders, but one thought soared above all the others: she would never see sweet Geoffrey again. Never tell him she loved him. Never get the chance to tell him she would have loved to marry him, make a little cousin for Jocelyn with him. Never look at his smiling face again, never receive his magical kisses again.
Her death would be too much for him. He couldn’t endure the tragic loss of a second love and survive as the wonderful, kind man he was. She couldn’t bear for him to be hurt this way.
This couldn’t be happening!
“What are you going to do, bring Penny Lane back in by yourself? Someone will see you.”
Chelsie shook her head. “I’m taking the dinghy.”
“Your fingerprints are all over this boat. They’ll check everything. Geoffrey will make them. He’s too smart to fall for your manufactured evidence.”
Chelsie’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.”
The sneer on her face cast Emily back to that stormy afternoon when clouds as thick and black as industrial smoke had blocked out the sun. Maraschino tossed so violently she’d had to grab the fife rail to stay on her feet. In her distress, she’d forgotten to anchor to the jack line. She turned around to secure herself.
Chelsie stood at the main mast, staring at her with narrowed eyes and bared teeth. Her lips moved, the words snatched away by the howling wind. But Emily could see what had been said.
Goodbye, bitch.
She opened her hand and Emily saw the main sheet slip through. A flash of white came at her from the right, no time to block it.
“You let the boom swing free.” Emily gulped back the hurt that was almost as intense as her fear. How could her friend betray her like this? “You knocked me overboard.”
A sarcastic smile equally hateful replaced Chelsie’s vicious sneer. “Congratulations. But a little too late to tell anyone.”
“All for Colin?”
Chelsie flipped the knife in her hand so she was fisting the handle and punched Emily hard in the mouth.
She fell backward, across the low cabin roof and onto the narrow length of deck. Brilliant shards of ice splintered in her injured arm. One leg thrust out under the lifeline and she nearly went over.
The engine went silent. She looked up as Chelsie pulled the keys from the ignition and threw them into the water.
“You bitch!” she screamed through the sudden quiet. “You never appreciated him like you should have. You don’t understand what it feels like to love him!”
Emily scrambled to her feet and backed away. Chelsie followed, the knife thrust out in front. Her eyes blazed with insane anger. “And you sure as hell don’t know what it feels like to love someone who doesn’t love you back.”
The boat was small. Emily couldn’t avoid her for long. “You think killing me will make him love you?” Her voice shook so badly she could hardly form coherent words.
“He’ll never learn to love me with you around, even if I do have his baby,” Chelsie spat back. “If you’re dead and Sonja’s in jail for killing you, he’ll fall right into my arms.” She laughed. “It’s nothing personal, I just hate you.”
“He’ll never love you,” Emily shouted back.
“Shut up!” Chelsie demanded. “Get in the water. I need to get back before this fog burns off.”
“Chelsie, don’t do this. You can stop this before you make the biggest mistake of your life!”
“Shut the hell up!” She jabbed with the knife. Emily continued backing away, around the bow and down the port side.
“I can swim back to shore. If you don’t stop this now, I’ll tell the authorities exactly what happened!”
Oh Geoffrey, if only I hadn’t left you this morning! She longed to be in the safety of his arms, nestled comfortably in his warm embrace, buried under soft blankets. Instead, a cold, watery death waited.
She remembered the night when Geoffrey accepted his award and she’d first realized she’d fallen in love with him. She had suspected, even without her memory, that she had never loved another man the way she loved him.
She’d been right. Emily bit back a sob as she realized she would never see him again.
“Which way is shore, Emily? Swimming with that cast will be pretty tough. And this time, you’re not wearing a lifejacket.”
Somewhere in the fog, a speedboat approached. Chelsie glanced over her shoulder. It was the split second Emily needed. She wrenched open the cabin compartment and removed the flare gun. She looped the index finger of her left hand through the ring of the safety pin and wrenched the gun away with her right.
“Don’t come any closer!”
Chelsie’s eyes went wide as Emily pointed the flare gun at her.
The speedboat’s roar faded to a dull hum. Emily’s heart sank.
“You won’t shoot me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Emily tried to sound resolute, but her voice still quavered. The truth was she would never be able to pull the trigger.
Voices carried through the fog—it was Geoffrey and Colin, and they were shouting for her!
“Over here!” she screamed.
Chelsie belted out an inhuman shriek. She threw the knife aside and lunged for Emily. Chelsie grabbed her wrist and forced it up as the flare gun went off. Chelsie crashed into her with the full weight of her body, and Emily’s second shout for help was cut short as the breath was kicked from her lungs.
Ocean and sky twisted in a blur as they went overboard.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cold water closed over her head and the thunder of bubbles rushing to the surface was deafening. The frigid water instantly brought her senses alive.
I will get through this. Geoffrey is coming for me!
She kicked toward the surface, fighting against the sling still attached to her shoulder.
Out of nowhere, Chelsie came upon her, forcing her back down. Emily’s lungs burned with the need for air. Chelsie had been a competitive swimmer in high school. Restrained by the body sling, Emily was as good as drowned.
She fought to th
e surface for a too-quick breath before Chelsie reared over her again, forcing her under. The crazed girl surged out of the water like a dolphin, heaving all her weight onto Emily’s shoulders.
Panicked, Emily kicked, desperate for one more gulp of air. She managed to come above the surface in time to glimpse Chelsie’s fury-filled face surging forward again. In the blurry distance, Penny Lane seemed miles away.
She tried to scream as she came above the surface again, but ended up with a mouthful of salty water that tumbled down her throat like a rock. Dark spots swam before her eyes as she choked underwater. Chelsie’s kicking legs were closing fast.
Chelsie kicked above her and threw her weight onto Emily’s shoulders again. Coherence slipped away and Emily wasn’t sure which way was up.
Suddenly the Velcro tore free and her arm came free of the sling, but her vision was growing darker as her brain starved for oxygen. There was a pattern, she realized dimly. For every surge out of the water Chelsie managed, she then sank back under before she could kick back up again.
Emily kicked away, trying to get out from under the bigger girl. If Chelsie managed to get her balance above Emily’s shoulders, there would be no escaping her.
She surged away, waiting through what seemed an eternity without air as Chelsie sank back under.
With the last of her strength, Emily kicked above the surface, drank in a beautiful mouthful of life-giving air, and fought against the pain to lift her arm above her head.
She slammed her cast against Chelsie’s skull just as the girl came through the surface. There was a gurgled gulp and Chelsie disappeared back under. Emily brought her feet up and kicked out with the last remaining ounce of strength she possessed. Both feet hit something soft, and suddenly she was free, back paddling through the water. She drew in three, four, and five deep breaths. Air had never tasted so wonderful.
Penny Lane was far away and disappearing quickly in the mist. Emily’s arm hurt like the devil, but she knew if she didn’t make it back to the boat, she was as good as dead.
* * *
Geoffrey’s heart sank when he saw the empty deck of the drifting sailboat. The yellow key fob bobbed in the water nearby. Trenton angled the Seahawk around to the portside so they could board easily.
“Emily!”
The deck remained empty, no answering call from the boat.
Splashing called his attention. “Trent, there!”
Emily was in the water, dogpaddling awkwardly. She was struggling toward Penny Lane and didn’t appear to see them.
Trent adjusted course and headed for her, reversing throttle perfectly to bring the Seahawk to a quick stop beside her, and then cut the motor.
“Colin!” She choked over a mouthful of water as she reached up.
Colin. Would it have hurt less if she’d simply punched him in the balls?
He and Colin leaned over the side and each took an arm. Emily cried out as Geoffrey pulled on her injured arm. A chunk of her cast came away in his hand. He released her and quickly grabbed the belt loop on her jeans. Soaking wet, she weighed nearly twice as much.
They hauled her on board and she collapsed on her knees. Colin maneuvered himself between them and gathered her into his arms.
“Jesus, Emily, I thought I’d lost you again.”
Geoffrey backed away, feeling like an odd third wheel. It seemed the background would always be his place in life.
She burst into tears. “It was Chelsie! She’s in the water.”
Colin froze. “Chelsie?”
“Someone’s in the water?” Trenton leaned over. He and Geoffrey scanned the glossy surface. It rippled gently, thick and silver like liquid mercury. The mournful wail of a seagull was the only sound in the deathly still morning.
Colin guided her to the Seahawk’s rear seats and urged her to sit down. She was shivering, hugging her broken arm against her body. Geoffrey took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, and Colin pulled it closed around her.
“Geoffrey...I’m sorry.” She looked up at him with shiny eyes, and his heart cracked in two.
“Don’t apologize, Emily.”
Colin dropped to his knees in front of her. “It’s all right, Emily. You’re safe now. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“You’ve got to call Sonja.” Emily’s voice, though soft, cut through the still morning. “Where’s your phone?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Call Sonja now!” Emily burst into a fit of coughing. “Tell her not to drink the milk in her refrigerator. Chelsie’s poisoned it.”
When Colin brought his phone out, she snatched it from him and dialed. Trenton started the Seahawk’s motor and throttled forward. They circled slowly, but there was no sign of anyone in the water.
“Bring us alongside Penny Lane,” Geoffrey told him. “Maybe she got back on board.”
“No!” Emily stopped dialing. “She’s dangerous. She forced me onto the boat with a knife and I think she dropped it on deck before we fell into the water.”
She brought the phone against her ear. “Sonja, it’s Emily. Sonja? Are you there? Yes, I’m all right. No, Sonja, shhh.”
Geoffrey leaned back against the front seat beside Trenton. He felt so uncomfortable, he considered diving into the water himself. He could hear the voice buzzing through the phone. Sonja was sobbing.
“It’s all right, everything is okay. Shhh, listen to me, Sonja. Don’t drink the milk in your refrigerator. I’ll explain later. Yes, go pour it out now, while we’re on the phone, okay? No, honey, I’m fine. I’ll be home soon. I love you, too. It’s all over. It doesn’t matter, just forget about all that. We’ll be like we were before. Everything is going to be the way it was again.”
That was all Geoffrey needed to know. She’d made her choice. She flipped the phone shut and stared up at Colin with wide eyes. Geoffrey turned around. She was in shock, and her true feelings were on her sleeve.
He had no doubt she truly cared for him and her decision had been difficult. But now, having faced another life-threatening event, whatever barrier in her mind that had prevented her from remembering her past—and deciding her future—had been broken.
“It was Chelsie,” she said, rocking back and forth on the seat. “I remember now. She pulled the main sheet loose so the boom hit me and knocked me overboard. I saw her let it free.” She covered her face with her good hand and cried. Colin sat on the edge of her seat and pulled her under his arm.
Geoffrey wanted to ask why this woman had tried to kill Emily, and he had a feeling Colin knew exactly why, but it was no longer his place to involve himself in Emily’s life.
He turned around and helped Trenton scan the water. He didn’t care to watch the other man tenderly embrace Emily. The soft sounds of her crying pulled at his heart, reminding him of what he’d lost.
A Coast Guard cutter slipped out of the fog and rumbled up beside them. “Did you call in an emergency?”
“There’s a girl lost in the water,” Trenton shouted across to the cutter. “Or she may be on board the sloop.”
The harbor patrol drifted closer.
“She has a knife,” Emily told them. “She was going to kill me.”
The officers angled the cutter around so they could board Penny Lane. Two of them moved stealthily across her deck, guns drawn, and went below. They emerged a few moments later. “No one here,” one of them called back.
Emily’s features crumbled. “She’s still in the water.”
“Take me over to Penny Lane,” Geoffrey told Trenton. “I’ll bring her in.” He had to get off this boat, and stop watching the two of them like the sorry loser of a reality TV show. Most Pathetic Guy. Least Likely to Get the Girl.
“You want someone to help you bring her in?” one of the officers who’d boarded Penny Lane asked him. Geoffrey shook his head. He needed to be alone right now. He started up Penny’s motor and cast a last look over his shoulder.
Emily had been wrapped in a silver survival blank
et. She stood in the back of the cutter, still in Colin’s ever protective embrace, speaking to the Coast Guard officers.
Rays of sunshine slipped through the evaporating fog, mocking him with its warmth and cheeriness. He didn’t look back again, only forward to his bleak future, as he motored Penny Lane toward Newport Harbor.
It was over. Her attacker, like her past, was no longer a mystery. Emily had remembered what happened that night on her fiancé’s ship. She’d told her friend Sonja things would be back the way they were.
She was going home.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“How’s my favorite patient doing?”
Dr. Carlson hung his clipboard by the door and gave her a giant smile. Emily thought back to the first day she’d met him when he’d called her the very same thing, even though she’d never seen him before in her life.
“Well, Dr. Carlson, I’ve just had my first shower in three weeks. I’m peachy.” She laughed at the same time hot tears stung. Her emotions were racing high, though she wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad. Her laugh was dangerously close to turning into a gale of sobbing. Emily drew in a deep breath to force it away.
The Coast Guard had questioned them for what seemed like hours, yet in all that time, there had been no sign of Chelsie. Finally, they’d taken Emily and Colin back to the marina where an ambulance waited to carry her to the hospital. Her arm hurt terribly, and her cast was falling apart. She’d hit Chelsie hard enough to shatter it. Since they were going to replace it anyway, Emily had begged for a hot shower first.
It had felt like heaven.
“Your arm is fine. The bones are knitting nicely. You’ll only have to wear a cast for another three weeks. Now, how about a different color this time? I have passionate pink or gruesome green.”
Both were traffic-reflecting neon, but Emily thought something bright would be good this time. She chose pink.
Colin walked in, strode over and kissed her on the cheek. “How’s she doing, doc?”
“She’ll be fine, but then I knew that when we met three weeks ago.” Dr. Carlson winked and patted her on the knee. He stood and kicked his rolling stool away. “Nurse Thompson will be in to help in a moment.” He made a hasty exit, as though he knew Emily wanted to be alone with Colin.