by Laura Gordon
“I will be behind you on the trail and I’ll be watching you on the beach. Do not cry out for help. I was raised in these hills and I know them as well as I know my own face. Do not turn around to look for me. You will not see me. But be assured, Miss Elliot, that I will see you, and be assured that my knife will find you wherever you go.”
He edged out of the cave with the stealth of an animal, and for one astonishing moment, Tess wondered if this was all just a horrible nightmare, and the silver-eyed monster had been conjured up from her own imagination.
But the rope that held her was real, as was the thin trickle of blood that seeped down her neck. “My hands—” she blurted, “they’re still tied. Please, won’t you at least...”
But it was too late; he was gone.
* * *
AT FIRST she was too terrified and hysterical to move. She could still feel the cold steel at her throat, still hear the silver-eyed man’s warning as it reverberated through her mind like an echo.
What if, even now, he was waiting for her just outside the cave?
He’d said he would be watching. He’d said he would find her, that his knife would find her no matter where she went.
Inside the cave, the temperature had to be in the upper nineties and yet Tess had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering. How long she crouched there, frozen by fear, paralyzed by the unbelievable events that had just occurred, she couldn’t guess. But slowly and without fanfare, she felt her inner strength coming back to her, the strength that had seen her down the side of mountains that would have made a mountain goat dizzy and that had helped her go on living when there hadn’t been anyone left to live for.
“Let’s go, Tess,” a ragged whisper she barely recognized as her own ordered. So he scared the hell out of you? All right. Haven’t you been afraid before and survived? He’s gone now and you’ve got two good legs to walk out of here on. So get up. Get out. Get going.
Tess inched her way to the cave opening and peered out. True to his word, her captor was nowhere to be seen.
From this lofty vantage point she could see a narrow strip of beach and a concrete pier that ran almost a hundred feet out into the bay. She would use the pier as a marker tonight, she told herself, clinging to the hope that she would live long enough to make the rendezvous and free Selena.
Tess stared down at the water. The steep cliffs that ringed the bay cast the deep water in shadows, making it appear alternately black and green as it moved with the tide. Beyond lay a sunlit sea of sparkling white and sky blue, a startling contrast, making the dark, shadowy waters of the inlet seem all the more ominous.
Tess stared out at the isolated cove, and wondered how the bay would look in the moonlight. She would find out soon enough, she told herself as she focused her attention on freeing her hands.
The unrelenting heat and the ropes that restricted circulation were causing her wrists to swell and ache. Stumbling out of the cave, Tess’s eyes scanned the ground and the sides of the cave entrance for something with which to sever the ropes at her wrists.
The rough edge of a jutting boulder captured her attention and she backed up to it and began working the cords across the jagged edge. Wriggling and twisting her hands, she helped the process along, and by the time her bonds finally fell away, her hands were not only tingling from the lack of blood supply, but scraped and raw, as well.
With her hands free, Tess felt better, more able to negotiate the rocky path of the steep incline. Although the soles and sides of her feet were tender and swollen, she moved quickly, the eerie sensation of silver eyes boring into her back, propelling her along the trail.
Tess spun around, her heart in her throat, to see nothing more threatening than a startled bird taking flight. Although she couldn’t see him, Tess knew the man with the silver eyes and the long knife was out there, watching.
* * *
REED THREW the rusty wrench into the sand and swore, glanced at his watch for the hundredth time and released an exasperated sigh. “To hell with it,” he grumbled. She wasn’t coming back and the longer he kidded himself, the longer it would take him to find the silver-eyed messenger, track down Selena Elliot and get the hell off this godforsaken island.
As he swung his leg over the bike and stomped the starter to life, he repressed the urge to ride down the beach in search of Tess.
But why prolong the torture for both of them? he asked himself. She was better off without him; hadn’t he always known that? And now, evidently she knew it, as well.
* * *
WHEN TESS finally reached the beach, the cool and wet sand felt soothing to her battered feet. She stooped to bathe the crusted blood from her neck, and the salt water stung the spot beneath her chin that had been nicked by the silver-eyed man’s knife.
She looked around to see that the hills had fallen gradually away behind her and she recognized the familiar stretch of beach leading to the bungalow. In the distance she saw the roof of the little beach house and she quickened her pace, shoving aside the ache in her heart that reminded her that he wouldn’t be there when she arrived.
In the distance, Tess saw a half a dozen boats drifting aimlessly on the shimmering sea. The impulse to call out to the fishermen and divers who manned those vessels was strong. But what could they do? What could anyone do? Her only bargaining tool, Selena’s notebook, was gone, and for all she knew, Selena could already be dead. Her breath came in gasps past a searing lump in her throat. Despite all the horrible realities that faced her, the fact remained that tonight at midnight she’d be standing on the shore at Jack’s Bay, still hoping for a miracle.
* * *
ONCE SHE WAS INSIDE the beach house again, the emptiness felt even more oppressive than it had this morning. In the bathroom, Tess assessed the damage to her aching body. A lump the size of a small egg had swelled at the back of her head, but the cut under her chin wasn’t deep and it was no longer bleeding.
While dabbing at the back of her head with a cold, wet washcloth, she discovered a bottle of aspirin and a box of bandages in the medicine cabinet. After swallowing three pills with a handful of water, she locked the front door, closed the windows and stripped off all her clothes.
The smell of the cave and the horrible man who’d abducted her seemed to cling to every pore, making her feel filthy and violated. In the shower, the cool water revived her as she lathered and rinsed for a full five minutes.
When she’d dried she regretted having to put her dirty clothes back on, but the bag with all her belongings was long gone, discarded, she supposed, by the so-called messenger. After she’d dressed, she pasted a Band-Aid under her chin and half a dozen smaller ones on her feet, gingerly slipped on her canvas sneakers and headed for the Jeep.
Outside, the sun was high and the air was hot and muggy. Out of habit, Tess glanced down at her wrist to realize for the first time that her watch had been lost in the scuffle with her abductor. Tess clutched the keys to the Jeep in her hand as she hurried along the deserted beach toward the dead end where the vehicle was parked. That the keys hadn’t been lost during her ordeal was nothing short of a miracle.
When Tess’s eager eyes caught sight of the Jeep parked in the distance, a single thought possessed her mind: she had to find Reed McKenna, and find him fast.
* * *
SHE BARELY suppressed a scream when she saw that the Jeep’s tires had been slashed. A picture of a long, thin boning knife formed in her mind and she knew instantly who had done the cutting. The thought that he might be watching her even now raised goose bumps on her flesh and, despite the tender condition of her feet, she began to run toward the main road.
She’d walked and run almost a mile when a man and a woman in a dusty foreign car picked her up on the road and drove her the rest of the way to Bodden Town, dropping her at the gas station at the edge of the village.
Three men who looked as though they might be natives of the island lounged beneath a canopy and sipped Cokes from sweating bottles. Wh
en one of them smiled at her, Tess realized she’d been staring, thinking how wonderful a cold soda would taste right now. But that kind of creature comfort would have to wait, she told herself. Right now, all she could allow herself to think about was finding Reed.
She acknowledged the trio sitting in the shade with what she hoped was a confident nod, before starting off toward the center of town. A sprinkling of gift shops and dive shops were mixed among the inevitable bars and open-air cafés.
For what seemed like hours, Tess walked in and out of curio shops, her eyes darting and nervous as she scanned the faces of the tourists and natives she encountered on the sidewalk. The man with the silver eyes had said he had many friends, many relatives and that warning came back to haunt Tess with her every move.
At the end of the street, Tess’s heart was heavy as she crossed and started back up the other side. She’d hoped by now in a town this small to have literally tripped over Reed.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a grass hut that rented snorkeling gear and catamarans and she walked toward it. The ubiquitous reggae music drifted out of a massive boom box sitting on the end of the open-air bar next door.
When she reached the rental shack and spotted a black motorcycle parked between the two businesses, her heart lurched and she crossed the sandy lot quickly, straining to get a better look at the small group of five or six people gathered around the dive shop. Disappointed not to see Reed among them, Tess turned her attention on the bar.
Beneath the large thatched roof the temperature was at least ten degrees cooler and a breeze off the water played between the tables. The bar was crowded with scantily clad tourists and weathered beachcombers sipping rum punch and nibbling shrimp from large wooden bowls.
A strikingly beautiful young woman with skin the color of burnished gold and black hair hanging past her waist threaded her way effortlessly through the crowd and among the tables, taking orders. Tess noticed by the way the waitress dealt with the male customers that the young woman was a born flirt. If a man as strikingly sexy as Reed McKenna had been here today, this beautiful young woman would remember.
Tess hung back, waiting for the girl to return to the bar and place her orders. As soon as she did, Tess moved up beside her. As she described Reed to the waitress, the young woman smiled. “Ah, yes,” she said, nodding. Her black hair shimmered and swayed like a silken veil. “I do remember the man you described. Such a good-looking American. Yes, he was here earlier.”
The girl reached for her tray and Tess followed her. “He didn’t mention where he was going, did he?” Tess didn’t really expect that he had, so when the young woman nodded and said, “Yes, he asked for directions to Orman’s Boat Rentals,” Tess found herself speechless.
Half a mile south of the bar, true to the young waitress’s directions, the sandy knoll gave way to a narrow strip of beach. Tethered along the length of a wooden dock were boats of all descriptions. At the edge of the beach, beneath a cluster of palms, stood the plywood shack the waitress had described. The shack was deserted, but behind the ramshackle structure a tall, thin, gray-haired man was shoving a boat filled with noisy teenagers away from the dock.
The man turned around and spotted Tess as the outboard engine roared to life and the boat sped out into the turquoise sea. Hurrying down the wooden sidewalk that led to the dock, Tess met the proprietor halfway.
As they walked back to the makeshift office, she asked about Reed, describing him in detail.
“Yeah, he’s been here. Didn’t rent nothin’, though. Asked a lot of questions and then went about his business.”
Tess’s spirits plummeted.
“You need a boat, miss? You won’t find better rates on the island,” he promised.
She shook her head, feeling almost too disappointed to speak. “I wonder, could you tell me how long ago my friend was here? It’s very important that I find him.”
The old man, clad only in a pair of baggy black shorts with skin as leathery and tanned as the sandals he wore, rubbed his head and thought. “Well, I don’t exactly know. But I think I can figure it out.”
She followed him as he walked up the wooden steps to the rental shack and watched him flip open a notebook lying on the counter. “He was here just after I rented that pontoon rig...let’s see...yeah, seems like I was just getting them folks wrapped up when he came by. Now let’s see, what time was that? Seems like it was three, but it coulda been closer to three-thirty...”
As his clawlike finger skimmed the entries in the book, Tess stopped hearing his muttering, her attention completely distracted by the old man’s logbook, with its tight rows of numbers and dates.
The idea formed quickly and she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her sooner. If she could somehow duplicate Selena’s journal, she wouldn’t have to face her cousins’ abductors empty-handed. She’d be taking a desperate risk, but what choice did she have?
If the men holding Selena were merely hired thugs, as Reed had suggested, they wouldn’t know one set of figures from another. It was worth a try, she decided. If nothing else, at least it would buy precious time. And right now, with the shadows of the giant palms already beginning to lengthen, time was a precious commodity.
If she’d found Reed, or if she’d had any money of her own, she would never have contemplated stealing Orman’s logbook. As it was, the only question left now was how to take it without getting caught.
The answer came almost immediately in the form of a vanload of tourists. Orman was overjoyed at the sight of them pulling up to his shack. “Excuse me,” he said as he left the shack to greet them, “but these folks reserved a fishing rig for this evening and I need to help them get aboard.”
Two more cars pulled up behind the van and Tess knew it was now or never. With one eye on Orman and the other on the logbook, she picked it up, slid it under her blouse and started walking quickly back in the direction of the bar.
And when the hand clamped over her shoulder, she thought her heart would stop.
Chapter Fourteen
“Excuse me, but does Mr. Orman know you’re borrowing his logbook?” The large hand planted authoritatively on her shoulder belonged to a tall, sandy-haired American with startling blue eyes and a firm, no-nonsense mouth.
“Well, I—I... You see, that is...” Tess stammered as her mind raced to find a plausible excuse.
“Please come with me, Miss Elliot.”
If she’d been shocked by his sudden appearance, she was even more shocked by the fact that he knew her name. Instinctively she drew back.
“Who are you?” she demanded, clutching the logbook protectively to her chest.
He stared at her, his face passive, but at the same time he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her with him toward a small foreign car parked behind the van. “I wouldn’t cause a scene if I were you,” he warned in a low voice. “The Bodden Town jail is a nasty place for someone as lovely as you to have to spend the night.”
Tess dug in her heels, but he continued to pull her forward with enough muscle to convince her that he wouldn’t let her go without a full-fledged fight.
“Come on, Tess,” he urged her. “I’m here to help.”
She looked up at him and a vague recognition dawned. “I know you—that is, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
He smiled. “You’re very observant.”
“Where?”
“At the hotel. I was staying at West Palm when you were. In fact, I was only there because you were, or more correctly, because that’s where your cousin was staying.”
“Selena!” she blurted, struggling to break free of his grip. “You have Selena!”
“No,” he said firmly. “But I wish I did. Now get in the car, Tess. And I’ll tell you how your government is prepared to help you.”
Tess couldn’t have been more surprised if the man sitting next to her in the rental car had said he was King Neptune, just arrived from Atlantis. As it was, her mouth fell open and she moved
like a sleepwalker as he opened the car door and ushered her inside.
As her mind reeled with a thousand questions, he produced a small leather case. With a flick of his wrist it opened to reveal a silver badge and an official picture, identifying him as Nicholas Talbot, special agent, United States Government.
* * *
REED’S HUNCHES had paid off. At the open-air market in town he’d found lots of friendly locals who’d directed him to the home of the young man they referred to as “Paolo.” Whether it was his first name or his last, Reed couldn’t be sure, and at the moment didn’t care. But that Paolo was widely known and widely disrespected had been clear.
“That would be him,” an elderly woman had said, nodding her gray head as she arranged colorful straw hats in her shop. “He’s a curse on his mother,” she’d declared. “He’s in jail more than he’s at that rat’s nest he calls home. And while his father is out fishing, he’s in Georgetown gambling away the family’s money.”
Another local had confirmed the old woman’s opinion of Paolo, remarking that as far as he knew, the best place to find Paolo was either in jail or just getting out. But the information that Reed found most interesting was the fact that Paolo had been seen lately driving a secondhand limousine.
After calling West Palm to check in with Gertie and Jake, Reed headed out to confront Paolo. Armed with a pocketful of Cayman money and the impression that Paolo would do anything for a fast buck, Reed rode the motorcycle to the outskirts of town where the dusty side road headed north.
Paolo’s shack, if Reed had found the right one, was a grass hut with trash piled outside the front door almost to the thatched roof.
“Charming,” he muttered to himself as he got off the bike and stood staring at the squalor.
A rusted out ‘55 Chevy, missing a hood and an engine, sat like a hulking steel corpse on blocks in the front yard. Approaching the house cautiously, Reed gambled that the absence of a roadworthy vehicle meant Paolo was not at home.
On the south side of the house a pathetic greyhound was tethered to a post by a heavy rope. A filthy bowl, black with flies and dry as dust, was just beyond his reach. The dog was obviously too weak to bark and merely lifted his head and watched with pitiful eyes as Reed approached the hut.