by Dawne Knobbe
Nate watched a smile lightly curve her lips. “You have his working phone?”
“That’s the good news.”
“Nate, you’re a genius!”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s halfway up a tree on the other side of the island.”
Kat had seemed like her old self for a moment, but as she shifted forward he saw her wince. She squeezed her eyes tight. Blood oozed from under the bandage.
“I’m so cold,” she said as she rocked.
“I’m gonna go out there, Kat.” He glanced at the darkening water lapping near the mouth of the cave. “The sun’s almost down. I’ll get the phone and grab a sleeping bag from camp if I can.”
A tear escaped. “What if you don’t come back? What if Jimmy shoots you too?”
“I’ll be back. I swear.” He knew he at least had to try.
She continued rocking. “When I went under the water, it was weird. For the first time I wasn’t in control. I couldn’t just pull to the surface. I really did know what my mom felt. I’ve spent so much time trying to feel what it would be like to die, and then I almost did. And suddenly, damn it, I wanted to live. For the first time, I fought to live. It was probably like you in the storm.”
“You did fight, Kat. You’re not your mom, and you’re alive.”
“So far,” she said, “but if Jimmy kills you, I’ll be back to wishing I was dead.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Kat tried to smile. “You would.”
“I have to go out there. We need to get you help, Kat. I’m not gonna sit here and watch you shiver to death.” He tried to make a joke, but it came off flat.
“Nate, he’s got a gun.”
“He might be long gone.”
“Might.”
Nate moved toward the opening. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He slipped forward into the cold dark water praying it was true.
22
Nate surfaced and scanned the island. The sun was dropping below the horizon, and large shadows haunted the landscape. Feeling safer in the water, he swam parallel to the beach. If he was going to get caught, he wanted to be as far from the cave as possible. But he couldn’t get caught. Kat would never get off the island without him.
Seal-like, Nate dipped underwater, popping up farther down the shoreline. When he reached the huge sandstone slabs that formed the furthest point of the bay, Nate crawled along the ledge and out to the point.
Sharp barnacles dug into his knees, leaving painful impressions in his skin, but he crawled on. When he felt that he was far enough out to see the bay, he poked his head up. Damn, the sailboat was still anchored, waves lapping at its white hull. Why hadn’t they left? Was Jimmy so crazy he wouldn’t leave until he’d killed them both?
In the growing darkness, Nate could just make out the jagged outline of the fir tree on the other side of the bay. Patience, he thought. I’ve gotta be patient. He crouched, shivering, trying to blend into the rocks, waiting for the last fingers of light to disappear.
“Hey, Jimmy!” one of the girls hollered from the beach, making Nate jump, but this was a bonus. If he could figure out where they all were, he could plan his route to the tree.
Jimmy’s voice echoed across the bay from the sailboat. “Where are the little fuckers?”
“Don’t know,” she hollered back. “Can’t find ’em anywhere.”
“Keep looking!”
“Jimmy, it’s getting dark. We can’t see a thing. Stef figures they had another boat and are long gone.”
“We bent the damned prop on a rock. I gotta change it before we can go anywhere, so you might as well keep looking.”
The girl didn’t answer, but Nate heard her feet crunch over the coarse sand as she moved up the trail. He figured she was heading back to the camp, where she’d probably left her friend standing guard.
Across the bay Nate could barely distinguish water and shore. A lantern glowed at the back of the boat, where he could just make out Jimmy hunkered over something. The clang of tools against metal and the occasional swear word reverberated across the water.
It was dark enough to make his move. The shortest and, he hoped, safest path to the tree was through the water—only problem, he’d have to swim past the boat.
Nate scurried over the point like a half-drowned rat and waded into the water. The ocean had looked so dark, but as he moved through it, disturbing the surface, phosphorescent plankton glowed around him. He swam toward the bow of the boat, trying to minimize the glow he seemed to create as he moved.
He had swum in the bay every day since he’d landed on the islet and had never thought twice about it, but now the depths seemed perilously unknown, and his imagination twitched at the idea of sharks and eels lurking below. He clenched his teeth, which somehow stopped him from breaking into a loud and panicky stroke.
He rounded the bow of the boat, thankful that, by the sound of it, Jimmy was still at the stern, absorbed in his fix-it job.
What made a man like Jimmy? Nate wondered. He was a callous asshole who cared for nobody. Edgy about swimming the final hundred yards with his back to Jimmy and the boat, Nate turned on his side, his senses wired to catch any threat, any slight motion from behind or below. He was almost to shore when he saw the beam of a flashlight moving through the trees practically in front of him. Large boulders rose up forming the shoreline, and he pressed himself into a crevice. Some sea creature scurried off the rock and over his shoulder. He covered his own mouth to stop the yelp that rose in his throat. The light bobbed, moving closer, and he heard Jimmy’s girls talking softly.
“Let’s tell him we’re done. I’m not looking anymore.”
“I’m sick of Jimmy. Who cares if he leaves us here?”
“Yeah, we’ve got all that camping gear. Someone will find us.”
“This whole thing’s freaking me. I can’t believe he shot that girl.”
“Hey, Jimmy.” Nate recognized Tanya’s voice when she raised it. “We’re done. We’ve searched the whole damned island, and they aren’t on it.”
“What, you think they swam away?” Jimmy hollered back.
“Nah,” Tanya said. “Looks like someone dragged a boat down the beach on the far side, though. Bet they’re halfway to San Juan by now, and you know what that’ll mean.”
It was his luck that the girls apparently were shrewder sober, and Nate hoped their ruse would work.
There was no immediate response from the boat except for the snap of the engine cord and a loud grunt; then the motor hummed. Jimmy let out a whoop and cut the engine. “All right, ladies, we’re back in business.” Backed by lantern light, he stood with his hands on his hips, facing the shore.
Nate held his breath. If the girls shone their flashlight any lower, Jimmy would see him plastered against the rocks.
“What are you waiting for? Get your asses out here!”
The girls whooped in response, thoughts of ditching Jimmy evidently gone, and the flashlight beam bobbed away from Nate, down the shoreline, toward the beached dinghy
Nate still didn’t dare move. He was afraid his narrow escape was too good to be true. He listened as the girls pushed their rowboat into the water and paddled out to Charmer.
He waited while they went aboard and Jimmy secured the dinghy and fired up the engine again. At last the sailboat swung around. Just as he relaxed, a spotlight on the bow caught Nate in its beam. Then the beam was past him, and the boat headed out of the harbor, light dancing innocently along the waves in front of the vessel.
One of the girls stood at the rail staring in his direction. It was the one who had made up the story about a boat being dragged down the beach. Nate held his breath. She’d seen him, for sure, but she didn’t move. Maybe there’d been a little humanity left in her partied-out brain, or maybe he was giving her too much credit and she just wanted to get the hell out of there.
Nate dragged himself out of the water. His
legs were cramping and his fingers numb. He rubbed at his arms and legs to restore circulation. He stumbled and fell, pulled himself up, stumbled again.
At the base of the tree at last, Nate scouted the easiest way up, wondering if his legs and arms would hold him. He thought of Kat, who’d been alone far too long. He willed himself up the tree, his strength of mind making up for the weakness of his body. The phone still lay in its plastic bag right where he had left it, cradled between two boughs. He tucked it into his shorts pocket and climbed down. He hurried back to camp, where he grabbed a flashlight, a sleeping bag, and his small first-aid kit. He didn’t turn on the phone until he was headed back toward the cave.
He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the phone blinked to life in his hand. There was power and a strong signal. He punched 9-1-1. A recorded message asked if he needed police, ambulance, or fire trucks.
“Coast Guard,” he said in frustration, pressing 0. “I need the San Juan Island Coast Guard.”
A live operator picked up.
“I’m on an islet just off San Juan Island. My friend’s been shot by drug smugglers.” Nate didn’t know what else to say.
“Is this a crank call?” the operator asked.
“No! We need the Coast Guard. We need a doctor!”
“Try to calm down,” the voice said. “I’ll patch you through.”
When the Coast Guard officer picked up the phone, Nate couldn’t give him a cell phone number or an exact location, but when he said Kat had been shot, the man took him seriously.
“Charlie’s granddaughter? We’ve been looking for her. Are you on that islet where she goes to collect shells?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is she shot?”
“Shoulder.”
“How bad is it? How long ago did it happen?”
“I don’t know, sir. I think I stopped the bleeding when I bandaged it up, but she’s in a cave. I’m on my way back to her.”
“All right, son. We’re on our way. How’s the battery power on your phone?” he asked.
“About half charged.”
Nate had reached the beach near the cave. “I have to go now,” he said. “I have to help Kat.”
“Before you hang up, son,” the officer said, “what’s your name?”
“Nate Johnson.”
The officer hesitated. “I think there’ll be some people happy to know you’re okay too. Call us back in ten minutes,” the officer said. “Look for our lights to the east.”
Nate hit the disconnect button and put down the phone on a beached log. Then he waded into the water. The tide was ebbing, which meant the cave entrance was further above the waterline. He’d been gone a lot longer than he had wished. What if Kat were dead? What if she were shot worse than it had looked? At the thought of what he might find, Nate’s legs turned to rubber, and he almost dropped the sleeping bag in the water. Climbing through the cave opening, he shone the flashlight down on the floor where Kat lay curled. She didn’t look dead; she was shaking too hard.
“Kat, I’m back. Kat?” he said, falling to his knees beside her.
She didn’t move but whispered, “What took you so long?”
“Nothing much,” he said. “I had to swim across the bay, hide in a crevice, scale a tree, and convince the 9-1-1 operator that I wasn’t making a crank call.”
“Is that all?” she asked, and he was grateful to hear the slightest smile in her voice.
He shone the light on her shoulder. The wound had bled through the bandage and crusted around it—a good sign, he hoped. He gently pulled the sleeping bag over her shivering shoulders. “They’re on their way. I think the Coast Guard guy knows you.”
“Gramps pretty much knows them all.”
“He seemed to know who I am too.”
“Guess your game of hide-and-seek’s over,” she said. “All because of a girl.”
“Guess I’ve learned, You can run, but you can’t hide.”
“Is that the moral of your story?”
“How about, It’s time to pay the piper? Or Face the music? Or . . .”
“Nate, stop trying to make me laugh; it hurts.”
Nate brushed the hair back from her eyes. “I just want you to be okay,” he said, frowning.
“I will be,” she said. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”
“I have to go out and phone the Coast Guard”
“I want out of here too.” Kat tried to sit up.
Nate hunkered down beside her. “You look really pale. Why don’t you sit tight, and I’ll bring the rescue crew to you?”
She took his arm. “This place is making me claustrophobic. If you help me, I can make it.”
Nate steadied her. “I don’t know, Kat; you’re pretty shaky.”
“I’ll be fine!” she said sharply.
He put his arm under her good shoulder and half dragged, half carried her to the beach. He helped her sit against a log and returned to the cave for the sleeping bag before turning on the phone.
“They should be here,” he said, “but maybe they’ll head for the bay on the other side first.”
As he pushed the Send button, Nate heard the droning of an engine. A bolt of fear ran through him. What if Jimmy and not the Coast Guard were circling the island? “That’s got to be them,” he said out loud and fumbled to dial.
This time Nate’s call was put through to the Coast Guard ship without delay, and he heard the familiar voice of the officer above the drone of an engine.
“We can hear you,” Nate said. “We’re on the back side of the islet, opposite the big bay.”
“Roger,” the voice answered across the static-filled line.
A moment later a boat came into view, searchlights scanning the beach. Not a sailboat. Nate let out his breath as he held up his flashlight. The Coast Guard’s light zeroed in on him.
In no time there were four uniformed men on the beach, two tending to Kat and two questioning Nate.
“How long ago did they take off?” asked the youngest officer, an intense look on his face.
“Must be about half an hour,” Nate answered.
“Which way did they go?”
Nate collapsed onto a log. “Don’t know.”
“How could you not see where they went?”
“I was more concerned about my friend,” he mumbled. Suddenly, Nate’s throat went dry. He felt like someone had stuck a hose down it and sucked all the air and energy out of him.
“Lay off him, John,” the older officer said as he wrapped a blanket around Nate’s shoulders. “You look pretty beat up too, son. Let’s get you onto the boat and into some dry clothes.”
“Sorry,” the younger officer said. “I just hate it when those guys slip through our fingers. It’s not likely we’ll catch up with them now. Too many places to hide in these islands.”
A slow grin formed on Nate’s face and he tried to clear his throat. “I might be able to help you after all,” he croaked. He pulled his hand out from under the blanket and held up the phone. “Bet you could find a lot of useful phone numbers on this.”
The officers gave him a puzzled look.
“It’s one of the dealers phones,” he said. “I swiped it.”
The older officer took the phone from Nate’s hand and carefully zipped it into the pocket of his jacket. He was grinning. “Son, you may be a runaway, but I think you’re gonna qualify as a hero in our office.”
Kat and Nate were put into the men’s inflatable dinghy and taken out to the Coast Guard ship.
Medics were immediately able to treat Kat’s shoulder. She bit her lip as they prodded gently at the gash and then sterilized it with some kind of wipes before bandaging it properly. It had to hurt like hell, Nate thought. He’d never known a girl to be so brave.
“She’s going to be fine,” the medic said. “The bullet doesn’t appear to be lodged in there, but it’s a nasty gash. We’ll head to the harbor near the hospital.”
Kat lay back
on the padded bench, and Nate gently took her hand as the ship pushed forward. Their island faded into the darkness.
The radio crackled and the captain picked it up. “Roger,” Nate heard him say into the handset. “Shoals off Stuart Island? A sailboat, stranded?”
Nate’s ears perked up. “What’s going on?”
The captain hung up the mike. “Happens all the time. People run their boats around these islands as if they’re driving on freeways. Don’t check their charts. Motor right up onto shallow rocks, even when they’re well marked.”
“Think it could be the smugglers?”
“Could be. Timing would be about right. If it is, they won’t be going anywhere. Tide was real high tonight. It’ll be noon before they can move off the rocks.” He winked. “Guess you could say they hit rock bottom.”
As the Coast Guard boat motored toward San Juan, Nate saw the dark outline of an island in the distance. Galiano? David, Joey, and Beagle would still be trying to get by. A terrible thought struck Nate. David was bitter. He felt let down by everyone. Could David turn into someone like Jimmy?
23
“Kat?” Nate whispered, standing at the foot of her hospital bed. Sunlight streamed through the window and across the pillow, seeming to set her red hair on fire. It was noon. He had slept for almost twelve hours, like a man knocked over the head with a club.
Showered and clean for the first time in more than a month, Nate felt awkward in the oversized jeans and flannel shirt Kat’s grandfather had loaned him.
Kat’s eyes fluttered open, then lit up. “It’s about time,” she said. “I thought I was gonna have to host my dad and your parents alone, the three of them sitting on the end of my bed waiting for you.”
“I hope they don’t get here too quickly.”
“Ferry was due at 11:30. You nervous?”
“Yup. You?”
“Why? Dad’s not bringing his chickweed.”
“You don’t have your armor on.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Run to the store for me, will you? I need a box of black hair dye, black nail polish, black eyeliner . . . ”