Ghost Walk

by Laurel Pace

  She heard the metal cylinder roll against the wall. Stretching across Ken's body, Dani grasped the flashlight. Her wet fingers fumbled with the switch. When the beam spread across the corridor, she felt another surge of sickness rising from the pit of her stomach.

  Blood oozed from a gash across the back of his head. A network of red rivulets trickled over his bruised face and down bis neck. Dani knelt over him, placing her face close to his. When she felt an uneven wisp of breath graze her cheek, she began to cry in relief.

  "Ken, can you hear me? What happened to you?"

  He didn't answer, but the fact that he was alive helped Dani regain her bearings. She sat back on her heels and tried to think clearly. The injury to his head had been deliberate. Whoever had attacked him was hiding somewhere on the yacht. At that thought, the dark shadows at both ends of the corridor seemed to close in on her, filling her mouth and her nostrils, blocking the air she needed to live.

  Dani forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. She knew someone else was on board. Unlike Ken, it would be harder to take her by surprise. She stood a fighting chance-especially if she could find a weapon. She had seen a couple of oars near the hatch. She would be better able to defend herself with one of them than with her bare hands. Swinging the flashlight beam from one side to the other as if it were a laser, Dani staggered to her feet and cautiously moved toward the hatch.

  At the top of the steps, she pushed against the door. It refused to budge. Dani braced her shoulder against the obstinate wooden barrier and heaved with all her strength. The door remained securely shut. Banking on the faintest hope, Dani dashed to the other end of the corridor. As she had feared, that portal, too, was secured from the outside. The knowledge that they were locked belowdecks took on a more terrifying aspect when the yacht's engine began to rumble and churn.

  A low moan from Ken sent Dani racing back to the spot where he lay. She caressed his face with her palm, wiping the blood from his ashen cheek. He squinted; then his eyes strained to open. When he tried to move, she caught him by the shoulders.

  "Take it easy! Don't try to get up yet."

  He sagged against her involuntarily, and Dani cradled his battered head against her chest. There was no way of knowing how badly Ken was hurt, but at least she could now be sure that his attacker was aboard, piloting the yacht.

  "Dan—Dani." Ken's tongue sounded thick and dry. A haze seemed to cover his eyes, blanketing him in a twilight of half-consciousness.

  "I'm here." She pressed her cheek against his blood-matted hair, hating herself for feeling so helpless, wishing she could find a gun or a knife or the sheer, raw strength to even the odds with their captor.

  The yacht's engine abruptly cut. Gently lowering Ken to the floor, Dani stood up. She strained, trying to follow the muffled sounds on the deck above. Yes, those were footsteps, the quick tread of someone nervous and in a hurry. Dani crept to the hatch and listened hard. Suddenly, she drew back as a pungent smell began to seep into the corridor. Gasoline! Dani heard the motorboat's engine chug, then rev to a frenetic whine. As the motor's drone faded, an explosive whoosh filled the air. A sickening terror filled Dani as she listened to the sinister crackle of encroaching flames.

  The yacht was on fire! Dani froze, paralyzed with fear. For a split second, she could only stare dumbly at the locked hatch. A rush of adrenaline jolted her senses, sent her hurtling back down the corridor. Ken was making a groggy attempt to stand. She looped one of his arms over her shoulders, steadying him against the wall.

  "Some bastard knocked me in the head. Are you all right?" he managed to get out.

  "Yeah, but both hatch doors are locked."

  Ken frowned in confusion. "Something smells funny. Is that smoke?"

  Dani tightened her hold on his torso. "The yacht is on fire, but I think the blaze is still confined to the stern. We need to get out of here, though." Before it reaches that gas tank, she dared add only to herself.

  "Let's try to find something to batter through the hatch." Ken still sounded shaky, but it was heartening to hear his tough, practical logic surfacing again.

  "One of the chairs in here isn't secured too well." Dani was already standing in the cabin door.

  Ken was weakened by the bludgeoning he had suffered, but together, he and Dani were able to twist the captain's chair free of two of its three remaining bolts. The last bolt, however, stubbornly refused to give.

  In the flashlight's dim glow, the cold sweat shone on Ken's waxen face. He looked as if the exertion had pushed him beyond his limit and Dani knew he might lose consciousness again at any moment. In a last desperate effort, she yanked the chair, pitting her entire weight against the bolt. The chair jerked free. Dani fell back with it, crashing heavily against the floor.

  Scrambling to her feet, she dragged the chair into the corridor with Ken weaving after her. They positioned themselves on either side of the forward hatch, braced their backs against the wall and heaved the chair against the door in unison. After the first blow, a deep crack slashed the paneling. Another, and the wood splintered.

  Dani could see that Ken was still on his feet only by the sheer force of will, but by some miracle, he mustered the strength for another blow. The paneling gave way, emitting an acrid cloud of smoke through the gaping hole. Ken struggled out of his jacket. He pressed a handkerchief against his nose, handed the jacket to Dani and motioned for her to cover her lower face.

  Together, they stumbled onto the deck. Even from this end of the boat, they could feel the heat of the advancing blaze. Dani raced to the rail and confirmed what she had feared: whoever had set the yacht on fire had cut the dinghy loose. They were stranded. "I'm going to find some life jackets," she told Ken.

  As she turned way from the rail, Ken's clammy hands caught her shoulders. "It's too late for that. They're down at the other end. We're going to have to jump and take our chances without them."

  Ken started to strip off his shirt in preparation for the dive when the entire boat shuddered from a deafening roar. A column of yellow flame soared from the stern, searing the night sky. Without bothering to doff her outer clothes, Dani grabbed Ken's arm and plunged over the rail.

  The cold, salty water swallowed them up. For a long, agonizing moment Dani was surrounded by a smothering darkness that filled every pore. She felt Ken's grasp weaken, and she fought to hold on to his arm. As she broke the water's surface, one thought filled her mind: she must not let go of him. He was trying to tread water, trying to hang on to consciousness, but with every wave that surged over them, he faltered.

  "Don't try to swim. Just float," Dani gasped through the salty froth slapping her face. She was relieved when he didn't resist. Encircling his upper body in the lifesaving cross-chest carry, she began to kick, stroking with one arm while the other pulled him with her.

  Another explosion ripped through the damp air, followed by a succession of violent blasts. Treading water, Dani watched the massive fireball burst through the yacht's cabin, severing the vessel in two. The yacht was a floating torch now, its aureole of fierce light spreading over the water. Narrowing her eyes against the inferno, Dani turned in the water, trying to protect Ken's lolling head from the cresting waves while she scanned the horizon for any sign of land. The specks of light looked as distant as the stars overhead.

  "Dani?"

  Her arm instinctively clung to him as his limbs moved in a feeble attempt to fight the waves. "It's gone, Ken. The yacht blew up, but we're safe." It was the sort of pathetically brave platitude you would offer an anxious child, but the words seemed to calm him.

  "We're going to make it, baby. Damned if we aren't," he murmured. She felt his arms begin to stroke the water, sculling steadily in rhythm with her.

  Perhaps he was simply too spent to consider the worst at this point. Fear and exhaustion had battered her own resources, leaving her prey to a mounting despair. You must not give up—you can't give up. Dani scoured the empty horizon for a glimmer of hope. At least the sea wasn
't too rough this evening. She was a strong swimmer, and they could both float awhile as long as Ken remained conscious. Someone was sure to spot the burning yacht sooner or later. Sculling with Ken's sagging head rested against her shoulder, Dani repeated these assurances to herself until she lacked the strength even to think.

  Her senses had grown so numb, she could not at first be sure if she had heard the steady throb of a motor or had just imagined it. Then she spotted the lights strung along the shrimper's rigging. A boat was approaching them!

  "Hallo! Over here! Help!" Dani pumped with her legs in an effort to thrust herself above the waves.

  Ken joined her cry, one hand waving desperately.

  As the boat drew near, the sudden fear that its crew had not seen them gripped Dani. What if the boat passed them by? Or ran over them? Or snagged them in its nets? She released Ken, flailing with both arms in a frantic effort to attract attention.

  "Ho, over yonder!" A sturdy masculine voice carried over the sea's incessant murmur.

  Salt stung Dam's lips as sea foam and tears of relief mingled to dribble down her cheeks. In the light of the still-burning yacht, she watched a small boat put out from the shrimper.

  "Steady, lady! There's a good girl. Easy there, Orlin. Looks like this fella's hurt pretty bad." The men's drawling voices sounded soothing, capable.

  Dani felt warm, strong hands seize her cold-deadened body and hoist it into the boat. She huddled with Ken, cradling his head. His fingers laced through hers, and he closed his eyes, breathing in exhausted gulps.

  "Looks like you folks had some bad luck." The younger of the two men glanced from Dani to the guttering yacht.

  Dani nodded, hoping they would be spared a battery of questions, at least for the moment. Mercifully, the two fishermen seemed far more concerned with Ken's question- able condition than the circumstances that had caused it As soon as they had lifted the two castaways onto the shrimping boat, they took them into the cabin and swaddled them in scratchy wool army blankets.

  "Need to get this fella to a doctor, Orlin." From her nest on the low bunk, Dani could hear the older man conferring with his cohort. "We best set in for shore. Ain't nothin' much to catch tonight anyhow."

  Ken had been listening to the conversation, too. "I don't think my injury is all that serious," he began as the younger of the two men returned to their corner of the cabin.

  "Won't know for sure till a doctor's seen it," the man told him philosophically."My name's Orlin Poole." His thumb gestured toward the deck, indicating the man who was now piloting the boat toward land."That's my daddy, Ned Poole byname."

  Ken and Dani introduced themselves and shook Orlin's big, calloused hand.

  "We'll never be able to thank you and your father," Dani told him. "I don't know how long we could have held out."

  The tall, powerfully built man shrugged like a little boy fending off an embarrassing compliment. "We saw the fire burnin' a couple miles off. If we hadn't spotted you, someone else sure 'nough would have. You just rest now." He backed toward the door, angling his big frame into the narrow opening. "You might ought to get out of that wet jacket, Miss Blake," he suggested delicately before disappearing onto the deck.

  Dani took Orlin's advice, peeling off her ruined blazer and rolling it into a soggy navy blue bundle. As she wrapped the blanket around her again, she settled it over Ken as well.

  "Who do you suppose was on that yacht with us?" Ken said under his breath, shifting closer to her beneath his blanket.

  Dani let her head rest against his. The reminder that their would-be murderer was still at large tempered the unmitigated relief of being rescued. "I don't know. How did this happen anyway?" Her fingers lightly stroked his tawny hair, avoiding the angry red seam running through it.

  "Someone slipped up behind me after I had gone belowdecks at the stern. I never even saw him. If I'd only been more alert..."

  "Neither of us expected to find anyone on the boat," Dani consoled him. She hugged his shoulders, liking the feel of him safe and warm within her embrace. She was pleased when his eyes closed and his body relaxed against hers.

  Dani realized that she, too, must have drifted off to sleep, for the next thing she knew, Orlin was standing over her, tapping her shoulder apologetically.

  "We've docked at Daddy's place. He's gonna take you all to the hospital."

  Dani and Ken let Orlin guide them above deck and onto a weather-beaten gray dock. Ken's gait looked fairly steady, an encouraging sign. All the same, Dani was glad when Ned Poole hustled them into the cab of his pickup truck and set off for the hospital without delay.

  The elder Poole was a sixtyish version of his son, with the same ruddy, pitted face and thick reddish blond hair, albeit liberally streaked with silver. Orlin had apparently inherited his taciturn nature from his father, as well, for Ned spoke scarcely a word as he steered the pickup over the rough back roads and then sped along the interstate highway to Charleston. If he had any curiosity about the conflagration aboard the yacht, he gave it second priority to the well-being of his passengers.

  In the emergency room, Ned hung back, watchful but discreet, while Dani and Ken talked with the nurse behind the glass barrier. After Ken had been whisked out of sight, Dani headed for the phone she had seen near the entrance. She had only a vague idea of how much time had elapsed since the mishap occurred, but with every passing hour, their assailant's trail grew colder. She dialed 911 and gave the police clerk a report of their harrowing ordeal. After the clerk promised to dispatch an officer to the hospital to talk with them personally, Dani returned to the waiting area. She found Ned sitting anxiously on the edge of his seat, billed cap clasped between his large hands.

  "They're gonna look after you, too, I hope." The fisherman eyed the white-uniformed personnel with suspicion.

  Dani was quick to reassure him. "They're afraid Ken may have a concussion or may even still be in shock. I'm not injured, but the nurse said they wanted to check me over just to be sure."

  "You're gonna catch a real bad cold." The big man shook his head in fatherly concern.

  Dani gave him a grateful smile. "Don't worry. If a cold is the worst I have to show for this mess, I won't complain."

  "What happened to ya'll out there, anyway?"

  Ned had been so reserved so far, Dani was startled by the directness of his question. She started to say "the yacht caught on fire," but then, that would be obvious to any fool, and certainly to a sharp-eyed man of Ned's experience. Still, gossip traveled fast and indiscriminately in rural communities. A harmless comment from the fisherman could conceivably reach the wrong ears—even those of their attacker. For now, it was best to let the well-meaning Ned believe they had been the victims of an accident. "The gas tank exploded," Dani told him. While she was weighing her next comment, Ned caught her by surprise once more.

  "You some kin to Mr. Whyte?"

  "Y-you mean Richardson Whyte?" Dani stammered.

  The shock of fading red-blond hair dipped in affirmation. "That was his boat, wasn't it?" He read her incredulous expression without missing a beat. "I'd know that boat anywhere. Should know the old Bandeira Branca, I'd say. You see, after he hauled it out to Trumbull, why, any time anything needed fixin', a little dry rot or what not, Mr. Whyte'd call me in to do it. That boy, Theo, was of a different mind. Got himself all kinds of experts to polish up the yacht once he had his hands on it. But Richardson, he and I thought highly of each other."

  "I had no idea you knew Richardson. He was my friend, too. He and my father sailed together a long time ago."

  Now it was Ned Poole's turn to look surprised. "You're Dan Blake's girl? Lord, when you said your name was Blake, I had no idea you were talkin' about that Blake. Your daddy was a legend around these parts," he added almost reverently.

  Proud as she was to hear that her father was so fondly remembered, Dani did not want to squander the chance to talk about Richardson with someone who knew him and the yacht well. "Did Richardson ever talk about his
sailing days with you?"

  "Only if you pressed him. Mostly, we just fished and generally took it easy without too much talkin'. He liked to come down to Trumbull to find some peace and quiet. To tell you the truth, Miss Blake, I got the feelin' that Richardson was a real sad man. I know a lot of folks might of thought he had it made, bein' as how he was so rich and all, but I do believe money and power didn't mean all that much to him. In fact, he once told me only one thing in the world mattered a whit to him."

  Dani regarded Poole's weathered face curiously. "What was that?"

  The fisherman's pale blue eyes looked directly at her. "Why, his child. His only child."

  Chapter Eight

  "I've never slept in a hospital since the first week of my life, and I'm not about to break a thirty-two-year record tonight." Ken managed to look capable of carrying out his threat in spite of the white bandage crisscrossing his head and the puffy bruise crowding his left eye. His lips quivered, betraying his emotion as he smiled at Dani. "You must be exhausted. How are you doing?"

  "I should be asking you that question." Dani pushed up from the green vinyl chair in which she had stationed herself in the emergency-room waiting area for the past two hours. Despite her fatigue, she had passed the time restively, alternatively worrying over Ken's condition and chafing for the opportunity to tell him about Ned Poole's shocking revelation. "The worst they could say for me was 'suffering from exposure,' which means I'll have a case of the sniffles, I suppose. When the police were here, I overheard the nurse tell them you had a mild concussion." She regarded the incongruous bandage doubtfully.

  "And, fortunately, that's all there is to tell." He settled a weary arm over Dani's shoulders. His grip tightened for a long moment, as if to satisfy himself that she was actually standing there, flesh and blood, and not merely a figment of bis imagination. "What say we get out of here before they change their minds and decide to find something else wrong with us."