Gary saw the killing as necessary. It was never something he enjoyed or even desired, but the protection of the boy had to come first, even at the expense of other lives. Some must die so one could live. And besides, anyone who stood in the way of his calling, who interfered with his duty, brought potential harm to the anointed one, and that must be dealt with. That was a sin punishable by death.
He crossed the kitchen, careful not to step on any broken glass and track it through the house, and stopped at the table. He lifted Condon’s body by the head and sat it upright in the chair. The head lolled to one side and the jaw dropped down. Blank eyes stared at the counter.
Gary touched the forehead lightly. “May the God of grace show mercy on you. May He forgive your sins and heal your broken spirit. May your soul not be tormented in hellfire forever and ever.”
Even sinners deserved to be prayed for.
He then released his hold on the old man’s head. The body slumped in the chair and toppled to the floor. Gary let it lie there while he went to the cop’s body near the sink. He rolled the body over and again touched the forehead lightly. “May God have mercy on your soul and not collect the debt you owe Him. May He forgive your trespasses and grant you access to heaven.”
Gary then got up and exited the house. He’d come back later and clean the place. First he had something else he needed to deal with. He hated the idea of it but it was necessary, for the boy’s sake, for the mission, his duty. For the anointed one.
The nearest houses to Condon’s were half a mile down shore, in the town of Pine Harbor—except for one, a single-story home set not fifty yards away. The occupant had to be dealt with. It was all too possible he’d seen or heard something—the Taurus, Condon’s odd late-night visitors, the gunshot, the trio’s run along the shore-line—that would raise suspicion and later identify Gary and put the cops on his trail. There could be no witnesses, no interference of any kind. And besides, if the boy and his sister returned with the intruding stranger to find Condon gone, the first place they’d go would be the neighbor’s home seeking aid. This would be a fine opportunity to instill upon them the gravity of the situation, the weight of Gary’s dedication to retrieving and protecting William.
The neighboring home had weathered-shingle siding, a high-pitched roof, and a wide, sprawling patio. Leading from the patio to the house was a pair of sliding glass doors, and on the other side of the glass was a tiny white dog barking at him. Its yelps were not audible at this distance, but by the way it hopped about and ran back and forth the length of the doors, it was obvious that it was barking up a storm.
Gary hated dogs.
Chapter 14
OVER THE COURSE of the mile-long trip from the Pine Harbor pier to Booker Island, Marny had the boat at every bit of thirty knots.
And he knew that despite Mr. Condon’s objection to using his lobster boat for anything but relaxing, his friend would have been proud.
Every summer in Maine the lobster boat races took center stage. Towns like Boothbay Harbor, Rockland, and Pine Harbor all participated, and lobstermen from up and down the coast showed up to put their vessels on display. The top speeds the boats obtained was right around thirty knots—about thirty-five miles per hour, to landlubbers.
And though George Condon often said his vessel was the fastest in the water, he never entered a race. He used his boat solely for relaxation, for getting away from the stresses of the world that took place on land, for letting the rhythm of the ocean lull away all anxiety and worry, and for catching the occasional lobster— not for creating more stress by engaging in competition. He said it with every bit of sincerity he could muster, but the twinkle in his eye said otherwise. Marny had always gotten the impression that once Mr. Condon was finished with the garage, there would be some races in his retirement.
As the boat bounced over the crests and troughs of the Penobscot Bay, sprays of salt water shot out from either side, creating a dramatic wake. Regardless of what the temperature had been like during the day, the air was cool and damp on the water. Esther and William sat in the rear, huddled close together. Occasionally Marny glanced back at them, but his focus was on the black horizon ahead, watching for the first glimpse of the island. He’d kept the lights off on the boat, opting to hide in the darkness so Gary would have no idea which way they headed. Now, though, being in the middle of the bay with only the moonlight to guide them and the thought of the depths below teeming with sea creatures of all kinds, he was having second thoughts and almost flipped on the floodlights. He drew in a long breath, wiped his palms on his pants, and calmed himself. Hitting the lights would be a fatal mistake. For now, the darkness was their ally.
Booker Island was named after William F. Booker, the first owner. He was a newspaperman who owned the Portland Press Herald and was a philanthropist extraordinaire. He purchased the island in 1967 to ensure it would never be inhabited but remain in its natural state. But Booker had no immediate family, and when he died, the island was put up for auction. The bidding came down to Mr. Condon’s neighbor, Edward Tuttle, and a New York City entrepreneur who wanted to put a bed-and-breakfast and tennis courts on it. Mr. Tuttle won the bid by paying nearly five million for the hundred-acre island, more than a million more than what it was worth. He then bought the lighthouse and pier from the town of Pine Harbor for another million.
No one ever knew where he got that kind of money. Some supposed he inherited it from wealthy distant family in Augusta, others speculated he accumulated it over years of gambling or horse racing or some other unseemly method. Mr. Tuttle never defended himself and never told.
As the island came into view, Marny slowed the boat to ten knots and steered it to the right. He’d been there once before with Mr. Condon and remembered where the dock was. The island humped out of the water like a silver-embossed, spiny turtle shell. Around the edges the pebbled beach quickly gave way to exposed granite, and from there clumps of wild strawberries, lupine, buttercup, and hawkweed. The center of the island was forested by a large army of spruce, protecting the land from intruders intent on disturbing the natural habitat and upsetting the balance of the wild.
Marny and his new friends wanted to do neither; they only wanted to find solace for the night.
As the boat rounded the right side of the island, Marny throttled back even more and aligned it with the dock. A hand gently touched his arm. William stood there, looking up at him.
“What is this place, Marnin?”
Marny pulled back on the throttle so it was almost at an idle. “Booker Island. We’ll be safe here for the night.”
William placed his hand over Marny’s on the throttle stick. “Thank you for helping us.”
“You’re welcome, William. I couldn’t just let Gary take you back, could I?” The boat pulled up alongside the dock, and Marny cut the engine.
William paused. “Yes, you could have. But you didn’t.”
He was right. Marny could have just walked away from the note; he could have escaped that evil house on his own; he could have left them with Mr. Condon and split. He could have, but as William said, he didn’t. From the moment Marny first saw Esther in the backseat of that car, something about her drew him in, an irresistible force. There was nothing sensual about it. She was attractive, yes, in a wholesome kind of way, but that’s not what seized him. It was her eyes.
The boat nudged the dock and knocked William off-balance. He stumbled and caught himself on the wall of the cabin.
Marny reached out and steadied him. “You okay?”
“Yes, Marnin. I’m fine. Thank you.”
Marny went to the rear of the boat and stepped up onto the dock. There he fastened the rope to the cleat.
“We’ll stay here for the night?” Esther stood with feet wide, trying to maintain her balance on the undulating vessel.
“Yeah.” Marny offered his hand and helped her onto the dock. “We’ll go around to the east side and make a fire. That way we can watch the coast. Mr. Condon h
as blankets somewhere on the boat.” William took his hand, and Marny helped him onto the dock as well. “Let me get some stuff and we’ll head over.”
“It’s so dark,” Esther said.
“Yeah, out here on the water you don’t get the light pollution from the coast. The darkness is real.”
“Can he get us?”
“No way. He doesn’t even know we’re here. Probably doesn’t even know this island is here. Unless he’s psychic or has some wicked night vision, we’re safe. He’s not psychic, is he?”
“No. Not that I know of.” She was quiet for a moment, head tilted back, watching the stars play their games in the night sky. “But what if he does figure out where we are?”
“Then he’d have to swim a mile in fifty-degree water … or fly. Any other way and we’ll hear him coming long before he reaches the island. But he can’t know we’re here.”
William looked at Marny, and there was sadness in the boy’s eyes. “He’ll come,” William said. “He won’t stop until gets what he wants.”
“And what’s that?”
“Me, Marnin.”
Chapter 15
MARNY WAS TEN the first time he saw Karl Gunnison hit his mother.
He was sure the jerk struck her before then, plenty of times probably, but Marny was never around and she’d done a good job of hiding the bruises, both physically and emotionally. She was in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes and Karl was in his Barcalounger in the living room watching Monday night football. Marny remembered the game too. Broncos and Redskins. Karl hated John Elway, and Elway was tearing up the ’Skins. The jerk was in a bad mood. Marny sat on the sofa, half interested in the game, while Karl called Elway every name in the book and then some Marny was sure he’d made up. Then he got started on the Redskins. Regardless of what Janie said about swearing in the house, Karl gave Marny a lesson in the finer uses of English vulgarities on a daily basis.
Halftime arrived, and Karl got up to go to the bathroom. When he returned, he dropped back into his chair, belched loudly, and hollered for Janie to get him another beer. Only she didn’t hear him over the water running.
He hollered again, but still the water ran and Janie hummed, oblivious to the storm brewing in the living room. Marny tried to defend his mother, but Karl told him to shut his mouth and mind his own business.
Finally the jerk let loose with a conglomeration of expletives Marny had never heard used in the same sentence, got up with much drama, and stomped into the kitchen. His face was red and the veins in his neck stood out like vines crawling up a tree trunk.
Marny followed, his heart beating so hard he could feel it in his earlobes. Something bad was going to happen.
Karl walked right up to Janie, who was so focused on the dishes and so lost in the tune in her head that she never even saw him coming. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and pushed her face into the soapy dishwater. Marny was sure she’d drown right there in front of him in the kitchen sink. But Karl didn’t hold her under long, just long enough that when he let her up she was spitting and sputtering and gasping for air.
Then he smacked her right on the cheek. She spun around and dropped to her knees, never making a sound. Soapy water puddled around her on the linoleum.
Marny hollered, “Leave my mom alone!” He made a move to help her, but Karl’s look drove him back. The jerk didn’t even look human. Didn’t look animal either. It was something else Marny saw, something evil. Marny backed out of the kitchen and stood in the doorway while his mom tried to compose herself.
Karl stood over her, hands on his hips, and shook his head. “Look at ya,” he said.
Marny could hear the smile in his voice.
“On your knees like a dog. Next time I tell ya t’fetch somethin’ ya better do it.”
Marny hated Karl Gunnison. He was the only person Marny ever wanted his curse to catch up to. And finally it did. In the worst possible way.
The Maine sky at night has to be one of the most beautiful spectacles nature has to offer. In the absence of any kind of light pollution, stars a million deep dot the sky like crushed diamonds on black velvet. The constellations are all there, doing their cosmic waltz, as are galaxies and planets. The universe seems both near and flat, like one could extend a hand and dot the stars with a fingertip, and boundless, a vast endless expanse of lights and bodies suspended in an infinite sea of blackness.
The threesome stood at the edge of the forest, looking out at where the sky met the sea, and Marny couldn’t tell where one ended and the other started. William drew near and stood close enough so his shoulder rested against Marny’s side. Esther stood on his other side.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Her voice was low, almost a whisper, as if to speak any louder would somehow disturb the pattern of stars and throw the universe out of sync.
“I’m sorry I got you into all this,” Marny said. For some reason he thought if he’d just let well enough alone, Esther and William would have somehow worked things out with Gary on their own. His involvement had only brought them trouble …
She turned her face toward him and put a hand on his arm. “We were already in it. You saved us. Our hero. Thank you.”
“I need to get you two to safety and then bow out, be on my way.” He had no idea what he was going to do. With Mr. Condon gone he no longer had a job or a friend.
Head tilted back, still looking at the stars, William said, “You can do more than you think you can, Marnin.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marny said.
William was quiet, still, watching the stars twinkle and glisten.
“Ever hear of the Midas touch?” Marny said. “Everything turns to gold? I have the opposite. I’ve been trouble for anyone who’s ever known me. What I touch turns to mold.”
Esther tilted her face toward the sky. “Did you ever read the Bible?”
The Bible? “Sure. As a kid.” From as early as Marny could remember his mom had taken him to church every Sunday—until she married Karl. Her new husband forbade her to go to church, so she sneaked into Marny’s room at night and read him the Bible. He wondered where Esther was going with this.
“Do you remember the parts with all the names? So and so begat him and he begat this guy and so forth.”
“Yeah. The boring stuff.”
“Right. Pages and pages of names and genealogies and ancestries. Pages of people.”
“Pages of boring.”
She paused, but he could tell she wasn’t finished.
“Look at them.” She still watched the stars. “Look how many, how majestic. Do you know what the Bible says about the stars?”
“God made them?”
“It says, ‘He made the stars also.’ That’s it. Pages and pages of people’s names and families. Pages most skip right over. And one sentence about the stars. Like it was an afterthought. Kinda tells you what’s more important to God, doesn’t it?”
She turned to Marny again. He kept his eyes on the night sky and the endless field of stars. He knew where she was going with all this now, and it made him uncomfortable.
“He loves you, you know. More than all those stars. He loves you. And you’re important to Him. You just need to believe in Him … and in yourself. He does.”
“He does what?”
“Believe in you. He knows the size of your heart. He knows there’s a hero in you, someone willing to give his own life for others.”
“Until now others have lost their lives because of me.”
Esther’s hand found Marny’s, and she held it tight. At that moment he wished the mainland would sink into the ocean, and Gary along with it. He wished the sun would never rise again and the stars would never burn out. He wanted to spend the rest of his life here on this island with Esther, just like this.
“God’s love can reach you wherever you are,” Esther said. “He loves you more than all those stars.”
A lump formed in Marny’s throat. That was the same thing his mothe
r told him every night, that God loved him more than the stars. That he was God’s star. Marny released Esther’s hand and stepped back from the two of them. It couldn’t last forever. The mainland was still there, and the sun would rise in the morning. And Gary would be waiting for them, along with Marny’s curse.
“I’m gonna build us a fire.” Marny turned toward the forest. “Getting chilly out here.”
Chapter 16
DEEPER INTO THE forest the darkness thickened and loomed like a black fog, discouraging anyone from entering.
While Esther spread the blankets on the ground and built a fire pit with stones, William and Marny gathered sticks along the tree line. The forest was where the things of the night lurked, and Marny was just fine staying on the rocks along the island’s edge.
William came to him, arms full of yard-long sticks. “Ready to build the fire, Marnin.”
Marny was surprised at how much the boy could carry despite his withered arm. “Okay, let me just grab a few more larger sticks and we’ll be ready.”
He grabbed a ten-foot, partially rotted branch and dragged it behind him to where Esther was preparing the site.
When they arrived, she stood and smiled. With the moonlight at her back and gleaming off the edges of her hair she looked like a messenger sent from heaven, halo and all. Mr. Condon kept three wool blankets on the boat, and she had all three spread on the grass surrounding a small ring of stones. “Will this do?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Are we going to camp out here, Marnin?” William asked.
“Looks like it. You okay sleeping under the stars?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Great. How about you stack the sticks in the ring there, and we’ll get this fire going.” It struck Marny then that they had no matches.
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