Now her whole hand could move slightly. Darby felt her toes wiggle. Progress was slow, but she was definitely regaining motor function. She tried to lift her arm. Not yet, but perhaps soon ...
The sail bag opened with an abrupt tug and Darby tried to blink. Through blurry eyes she saw Laura peering down at her, her normally relaxed features brittle with rage.
Laura glanced quickly to either side, her hair blowing in the breeze that was quickly becoming a gale. She gave a dismissive glance toward Darby. This is my chance, thought Darby. With all the strength she could muster, Darby lifted her arm toward Laura, praying that the stun gun's effects would disappear. Instead, she watched in horror as Laura smiled and lifted a black rectangle, no bigger than an iPod. She thrust it toward Darby, who heard a crack of electricity, then collapsed once more like a deflated balloon.
FIFTEEN
INCAPACITATED FOR THE SECOND time, Darby Farr slumped in the sail bag, her eyes level with the bag's upper edge. She heard movement around her and the low moan of the wind, but could not summon the energy to care. A strong gust rocked the boat violently; her stomach clenched. At least part of me feels something, she thought.
A few moments later she heard the voice of Laura.
"I was hoping we could go for a little sail, but the weather doesn't seem to be cooperating. I think you would have liked that, Darby. Just you and me, a nice little sail..."
The boat lurched and Laura hit the side of the boat. The wind was so stiff that Darby knew whitecaps must be forming on the waves. She had never been on the water in conditions like this before, but was certain that a small craft like What's in a Name could not survive. And yet she was powerless to do anything.
Laura leaned over the sail bag, keeping one hand on the tiller. She gave an odd little smile. "Who knows whether you even remember how to sail, right?" She studied Darby for a moment.
"You seem anxious about this tropical storm. Are you concerned about the seaworthiness of my vessel?" She threw back her head and laughed. "Look, you really don't need to worry about your safety. You're not coming back alive anyway! So just relax and, as they say, enjoy the ride."
Darby watched as Laura tried to steer the boat through a particularly large swell. Water rushed up onto the deck and she heard Laura swear.
Darby wondered how far out they were going, wondered whether she would be stunned again before being dumped overboard. Either way, I'll drown, she thought. She felt warmth between her legs and realized she had lost control of her bladder.
The heavy clouds above seemed to open up and the spitting rain became a downpour. In minutes Darby saw that Laura was drenched, her navy blue and white T-shirt clinging to her body. Laura seemed to notice the worsening weather for the first time and the look on her face darkened. Darby remained huddled in the bag, praying for time and a miracle.
She told herself that the effects of the stun gun would lessen if she were not shocked again. She remembered reading that victims remained immobile for less than fifteen minutes. If only she could recover the use of her arms, at least, she could fend off an attack by Laura Gefferelli ...
Laura pushed her wet bangs out of her eyes. "You figured it out at the hospital, didn't you?"
Darby tried moving a finger. Nothing.
"I thought that you'd make some kind of connection if you saw that ridiculous remembrance wall. They don't waste any time getting names up there. But I had to be sure, so I phoned Neonatology. Tiffany was only too happy to tell me about your little conversation."
The rain was beating on the deck of What's in a Name, but Laura seemed oblivious to the several inches already gathered.
"She told you about the charges, right? Wrongful death! Can you imagine? In an infant-a preemie no bigger than my fistwith severe intraventricular hemorrhage."
She looked out at the gray sea, the wind whipping her short blonde hair into little frosted spikes. "That's bleeding in the cavities of the brain. Believe me, it was a blessing to lose that baby. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
Her calm, lecture-like style of speaking chilled Darby to the core. Laura is insane, she thought. Please let me escape ...
A moment later she was peering down at Darby's face, the rain running in little rivulets off her cheeks. In the same flat voice she asked, "You do understand that I'm the one on that wall, don't you?"
Darby's mind raced with this bit of information. So this was Linda, the neonatal nurse, who was her captor?
"Laura died on the table, waiting for Phipps, just like a few of his other patients. He didn't have one ounce of consideration or compassion, that man. Never even tried to keep appointments, or speak to families, or start a surgery on time." She spat out the words with a violence oddly in harmony with the weather. "That's just not good medicine."
Darby listened, praying Laura-or Linda-would keep talking and forget that the effects of the stun gun were bound to wear off.
"I chose to forgive it all, though, because Laura was so injured that he wouldn't have made a difference, even if he had shown up on time. I mean, she was basically a lost cause. When she didn't survive, I decided to use her life to get a fresh start. She had a new job on this island that she was excited about. I asked myself: How hard can it be to play pastor? I switched our driver's licenses and said I was Laura. I read a few books, did research online, and in no time I became the beloved associate minister" Linda Gefferelli grinned, clearly proud of her deception. Moments later her smile was a snarl.
"The day I saw him here on the island, I was-stunned. That's a good word to be using right now, isn't it? The bastard actually came to one of my church services. Of course, I never knew he had a history here. I saw him and I froze. I said to myself, `Don't worry, he'll never remember you. You were just an insignificant nurse.' But that son of a bitch, he knew it was me.
"Oh, not right away of course. He gave me an odd look-that was my first clue-and asked where I was from. I made up some lie and thought I was safe. But he came back to my office that afternoon and said I had the same name as someone he knew in Boston. `She had a sister,' he said ...
"Again I lied, but this time I knew it was pointless. Phipps was too smart, too persistent. He was going to destroy everything I'd created on Hurricane Harbor, all the good work I was doing for everyone on the island. He'd take it all away-my position, my projects, my new life-and I would be left with nothing."
The sailboat was pitching helplessly in the storm, the exhausted motor droning uselessly like a fly caught in a fan. Darby sensed that she hadn't much time before Linda tired of talking. She tried clenching a fist, concentrating as hard as she could. She felt her fingers touch her palm and nearly cried out in relief. Instead, she remained as motionless as she could.
"Now this is my plan," Linda Gefferelli announced, raising her voice against the howling wind. "I will dump you into the water and watch as you sink, then turn the boat around and head for shore. I'll need to get you out of that sail bag in case they find your body, but let's face it, sometimes people are never found. You know that better than anyone, don't you, Darby?" She gave a smile that was a sickening blend of sympathy and hatred. "I don't think I'll be stunning you again, not with this weather. I wouldn't want to shock myself and kill us both, now would I?" She scanned the horizon, most likely to assure herself that there were no other boats in sight, but visibility was so poor she could not have seen ten feet away. "I'll have to dispose of the stun gun, I guess, although I've become somewhat attached to it." She warmed to the topic of her weapon. "They sell these things online, you know. Three hundred and fifty dollars for 900,000 volts, and I didn't even have to pay for shipping." A wave crashed against the bow again and Darby was sure they'd be swamped. Linda, oblivious, talked on.
"They call these guns `non-lethal' but Soames, I swear to God, actually died right then and there. His health was compromised, probably because of all the drugs he consumed. Lifestyle choices can really weaken someone considerably.
"And Emerson Phipps-you'd thin
k that he would have put up more of a fight! Then again, I did come out of nowhere. I stunned him; he dropped to his knees, I zapped him again, then I smashed in his skull."
Darby stayed as still as she could, trying to form a plan while she listened to Linda Gefferelli's rants. She wondered whether there was anything she could grasp and use as a weapon, but dared not move her eyes to see. The only thing she could do, she reasoned, was surprise the woman with an unexpected surge of movement. She had a chance to overpower her, as long as Linda did not realize how much time had elapsed since she'd last stunned her victim.
Linda took one of the sailboat's sheets and stretched it around the tiller and from cleat to cleat so that the tiller stayed on course.
"Automatic pilot." Turning toward Darby, she asked, "Ready for a swim?"
Darby's heart sank. Had she regained enough movement to even put up a fight? She willed herself to stay still as the grim-faced woman approached. Another crack of thunder boomed as Linda yanked down the sail bag's sides. Darby remained motionless, biding her time.
"Ugh," Linda said, noticing the puddle of liquid at the bottom of the bag, "what did you-"
Just then Darby pushed her coiled legs at her captor, using all the strength she could muster and praying it would be enough. The force of the kick caught Linda Gefferelli totally off guard and she slammed backward against the tiller. Darby tried to get up, not sure of her next move, but knowing she had to stand up and fight. Her tottering efforts were met with a powerful punch that caught her in the lower lip, leaving her head buzzing with pain.
She tasted blood and saw Linda about to hit her again. She ducked but Linda's fist managed to connect anyway, propelling Darby down the ladder into the cabin.
"I should have dumped you overboard when you were in the stupid sailbag," Linda fumed. "Now you're going to bleed on my boat cushions." She jumped down the stairs and lunged at Darby, her face a wild mix of fury and hatred. Darby fell back against a berth with Linda on top of her. The crazed woman grabbed at her throat and began squeezing. Tighter and tighter until Darby, still weak from the electrical shocks, felt darkness closing in.
Her father's voice filled her weakening brain. "Clenched fist," he commanded. "Clenched fist, Darby!"
Although it seemed every ounce of energy had ebbed from her body, Darby drew strength from the words echoing in her head. Forming the fist as she had practiced so long ago, she aimed for a pressure point and thrust out at her attacker. At the same time, she drew both her knees up and into Linda's groin area with as much force as she could muster. Knowing she would die if she did not escape momentarily, she put every last ounce of energy she possessed-plus a hidden strength she never knew existed-into her movements, praying they would work.
Linda gave a grunt as the offensive blows struck, and, for a fleeting second, loosened her hold on Darby's windpipe, letting some much-needed oxygen into Darby's depleted lungs. Darby gasped, and then slammed her knees into Linda's midsection. The other woman let out a yelp of pain as Darby continued with her offense. Linda was now up against the companionway, slumped in pain, but Darby was taking no chances. She grabbed a loose jib sheet and, despite the other woman's flailing arms, tied Linda's hands and feet, using knots she'd learned back in her days as a young sailor. She pushed Linda onto the deck of the boat, hearing a solid whack as Linda's skull hit the deck. Oops, she thought grimly. I hope I haven't killed her...
But the injured Linda Gefferelli was of no concern to Darby now. She climbed the ladder and nearly cried out in anguish at the scene before her.
While she had been below deck fighting off Linda, the storm had reached its violent worst. Foaming waves crashed relentlessly over the sides of the small sailboat, threatening to swamp it with each blow. The tiller, now a jagged mess of splintered wood, was jerking uselessly back and forth in savage rhythm. Worse though, was what lay directly in the small craft's path: the hulking mass of rocks known as the Graves. Rising up from the surging ocean like a mound of rocky icicles, the Graves were to blame for countless maritime tragedies and deaths. Within minutes, Darby was sure What's in a Name would be among the wrecked vessels destroyed by these rocks, with she and Linda two of its casualties.
Darby knew that she had to act fast. What's in a Name's tiny motor had died, and perhaps it was useless against the storm anyway. Nevertheless, Darby recognized instantly that it was her only hope. Quickly she pulled the start cord. No sound came from the motor. She tried again. Nothing. She saw the choke button and pressed it a few times, remembering the small crafts she had driven at the Yacht Club as a child. This time the engine made a soft sputter. Again Darby pressed the choke and pulled the cord. Finally, the engine caught and came to life.
Almost mechanically Darby pushed the motor into forward and gunned it. The burst of speed nearly tossed her off the stern of the boat. But she was gratified to see that despite the surging waves and raging wind, she had moved, if only inches. The rocks were only two feet away, close enough that Darby could see a cluster of mussels clinging to the rocks and see the sheen left on their shells after each wave. She swallowed her fear and prayed for the wind to subside, if only for an instant.
It was as if her prayer had been heard and granted. The wind suddenly slowed, and even the rain seemed to slacken. Was the deathly calm the eye of the storm, or the lull before even more violence began?
The little motor revved in a dangerously high whine but Darby resisted the urge to slow it until she was several more feet from the Graves. As soon as she felt she was not in danger of crashing on the rocks, she slowed the motor and surveyed the horizon. She did not know when the storm would intensify, but she was convinced the damaged boat could not weather it. The shore looked hopelessly far away, and Darby knew that swimming in the still frigid water was not an option.
A grunt from her captive brought her back to her immediate surroundings. Linda Gefferelli was alive, although she seemed to be in a state between consciousnesses. Darby resisted the impulse to check her knots. They'll hold, she convinced herself. Although she had worked in a hurry, her captive appeared to be secure and taut.
Linda Gefferelli moaned, but Darby forced her brain to think of solutions to the predicament of being in a tiny weakened boat in the middle of a storm. She knew Linda did not have a radio to call the coast guard or other help. Her own cell phone was somewhere in the rental car, dead and useless.
Darby pictured the chart of these waters in her mind as she had seen it so many times. She remembered the Graves marked as a clear danger to mariners, remembered the distance from the Graves to the coastline, and racked her brain for other details. There was a bell buoy marking another rocky spot, and behind it, a small island called Sheepscot.
Quickly Darby searched the tossing waves. If her memory was correct, Sheepscot should be in line with the Graves. It was a twoacre or so patch of rocky land, home to spruce trees, bayberry bushes, and an old cabin no bigger than Aunt Jane's tiny cottage. The structure was miniscule, but it represented shelter.
The wind was starting to pick up again and Darby felt her heartbeat quicken. The motor was still struggling valiantly to keep the boat moving, but as the storm once again gathered strength, she knew its efforts would be useless. Darby thought fast. There were binoculars below deck: she remembered seeing them on a small shelf. Quickly she scampered down the ladder. While she was there she looked for a life jacket, finding one in a compartment under a cushion. With the weather turning more and more ominous, personal flotation was a wise idea.
She shoved her arms inside the armholes and buckled the clasps. If I did fall in, the temperature of the water would induce hypothermia and kill me anyway, she thought. She pushed the fact from her brain. She had no time for negative thoughts. This was one of those times when her father would have told her to "keep it positive."
The memory of her father describing a particularly grueling sailing race entered her mind. "It was the closest race I'd ever been in," he'd said. "The other guy was a German named An
ton Vasser, and he was an incredible sailor. He had me pretty much the whole way, and I was working like a dog to catch up. The other boats were so far behind that it was truly only he and I in the race." Darby remembered him pausing as he recalled that day years before. "Suddenly I tried a new tack and it worked, and I started gaining on him. I was nearly neck and neck when the thought came to me, `You can't beat this guy. Give it up and settle for second' I was so tired that I didn't have the strength to fight back the negativity. It seeped into me like water in a leaky dinghy. Before I knew it, Vasser was too far for me to ever catch and he had won the race." Her father had turned a sober face to her and concluded. "Don't let negativity ever take control, Little Loon. If I had pushed that thought out of my mind, I believe I would have won that race."
Darby climbed back up the ladder. Linda Gefferelli had not moved, and she seemed to have stopped making noises. Darby did not let herself be concerned for the woman's safety. She had to find a way to pilot the damaged sailboat to Sheepscot Island, and quickly.
The sky was darkening with an alarming rapidity and the wind was beginning to howl. Waves smashed against the side of the boat, submerging the struggling motor with each thrust. It was only a matter of time and the motor would be totally useless.
Darby put the binoculars up to her eyes and searched for signs of the island. She recognized the Graves, as foreboding as they had been only minutes before. She peered desperately through the glasses, and spotted the pointed tops of some pines.
Sheepscot! Quickly Darby calculated her course. She would need to steer close to the Graves once more, but if she was successful in avoiding them, she would be able to come close to the tiny island. There, she could swim from the boat if need be.
The wind was moaning like a living thing now, coming from the other direction, and Darby struggled to keep her footing. A large wave crashed overhead, filling the cockpit of the boat with water. Darby hadn't noticed how much seawater had collected. She noticed with alarm that the bow of the boat was leaning precipitously to port. She's starting to sink ...
A House to Die For (A Darby Farr Mystery) Page 24