Latham's Landing

by Tara Fox Hall

  “Maybe we can just pick them up tonight and go home,” Bowman said in relief.

  “Nope,” Lease said darkly. “That point is rimmed with rocks. My brother said we have to go to the back of the island, where there’s supposed to be a granite dock. It’s going to be a slow ride the closer we get.” He turned on a searchlight, which cast some illumination in the spreading inky blackness, even as it obscured the fire with its larger luminescence. “You may even need to get out and swim to shore.”

  “But you could tie up to the dock and wait,” Bowman said, uneasy at the thought of jumping into black cold water. “We could go get the kids and come back to you.”

  “No,” Lease said softly. “I’m not staying there.”

  “You’re as much a coward as your brother,” Drake accused.

  “Shut up,” Bowman said harshly, glancing quick at Lease. But the explosion he expected from Lease didn’t come. The guy simply stared ahead, his eyes locked on Latham’s Landing.

  “Look, there’s a light!” Barb said hopefully, pointing into the darkness.

  Caroline looked, the small light rekindling her optimism. “Is it a boat, or someone on shore?”

  “I think it’s moving.”

  Caroline stood, trying for a better vantage point. But it looked like the boat was heading past the island, towards the back. “Maybe its fishermen headed back home from further down the lake.”

  “I think the lake ends over there,” Barb said, shaking her head once. “The guy who lent me the boat said that there was nothing down there since the flood. That’s where the bed and breakfast was.”

  “Then who are they?” Caroline said, uneasy.

  “Maybe it’s the police,” Barb said, standing up. “They had to see our fire. It’s like a beacon.”

  A cold feeling settled on Caroline. She looked around in the gathering darkness. “The cops wouldn’t come out in this, not for us.” She looked up at the house looming above them, and the cold feeling suddenly grew stronger.

  Last night there had been snow and ice, and still, something had come to growl at them. It had left for some reason. It would likely come again tonight. And there was no snow now to impede its progress...no ice to slip on. Would it leave so easily tonight?

  “Hurry,” Caroline said, grabbing Barb’s arm. “Grab any wood you can for the fire, and bring it in close.” She stood up and began grabbing every piece of driftwood she could find, piling it near the fire.

  “Why?” Barb said, even as she began working to gather driftwood.

  “Because whomever that is in the boat might not be friendly,” Caroline called, piling more wood in her arms. “And I’m already running low on incense.”

  Helter grabbed the last of Barb’s gear, including her two cameras. Slinging them around his neck, he picked up the heavy cooler, then looked at the boat with longing.

  Take it and go now. If you leave them here, the island will let you go. If you stay, you’re going to die destroying it. Because no matter what you do tonight, that boat is not going to be there in the morning…unless it’s sunk in the shallows.

  Helter shook off his despair, dropped Barb’s gear in a pile, then carefully pulled the boat up on shore to the side of the dock, tying it with his rope to a dock piling. Watchful, he headed back toward the fire on the shore, eager for its light and heat while also hating its brightness.

  We need it for protection. But it’s also a bull’s-eye pinpointing where we are.

  Helter snorted. Like the island didn’t know where we all were from the moment we arrived, he thought sardonically. Fire or no fire, faith or no faith, something would come tonight. They would have to sleep in shifts, to make sure that someone was awake all the time. That meant him and Caroline. Barb was no use, not in her hysterical condition. But at least Cooper would bark to warn them.

  The sudden whup-whup-whup of helicopter blades directly above him made Helter stop and look up. The helicopter’s searchlight shone down at him.

  Without thinking, Helter drew Caroline’s gun and fired. The bullet struck one of the landing legs, ricocheting off with a spark. The copter banked abruptly, then came around again, this time landing carefully on the granite pad Helter had seen earlier.

  Someone was here. And whoever it was might be even more dangerous than the ghosts and monsters.

  Helter waddled as fast as he could with the heavy cooler toward the fire.

  “What the hell?” Bowman said, scanning the darkness. “That sounds like a helicopter.”

  “I can’t see anything,” Drake said, turning quickly. “Lease, turn off the motor.”

  Lease cut the motor, then they listened. The sound of a helicopter was directly overhead.

  Drake made to stand up, flashlight in hand. “It’s right above us—”

  There was a sharp flash, the sound of a gunshot, and a grunt of pain. The boat rocked left, then there was a splash. The helicopter flew off, its noise disappearing as suddenly as it had come.

  “Drake?” Bowman said.

  “Grab him!” Lease yelled. “The idiot fell in.”

  Bowman turned on his own flashlight. Lease had both of Drake’s arms and was trying to pull him back in the boat. Bowman grabbed one arm, then together they pulled Drake back in.

  “Damn it,” Bowman said, collapsing back onto the seat. “He almost went it.”

  Lease didn’t answer.

  “Lease?” Bowman said, picking up his dropped flashlight. It illuminated Lease, his silencer-equipped gun pointed at Bowman.

  Lease fired, the bullet clipping Bowman at his temple. A piece of skull blew out, and Bowman collapsed into the bottom of the boat, twitching. Blood oozed steadily from his gaping head wound, dripping onto Drake’s body

  “If you’d left well enough alone,” Lease muttered.

  They were going to put two and two together. He’d had to do it, promotion or no promotion in the offering. Damn that Chung Lai.

  He dialed his cell. It rang once, then was picked up.

  “Lease.”

  “You okay, Mac? I heard a gunshot.”

  “I’m okay,” Mac answered. “That guy on the island took a shot at me. Can you believe it? I’m gonna get him for that.”

  “Tomorrow,” Lease urged. “Come down and help me tie up to the dock.”

  “You’re going to have to go slow and look,” Mac said with disinterest. “There’s an intact dock on the opposite side, but someone’s blown the one on your side to pieces. Saw it as I landed.”

  He made it sound like this just happened. Who might have done it…that boyfriend of Stone’s kid, who had taken a shot at the copter? Or someone else Mac had invited to the isle for fun and games? “What about the dock at the back? My brother mentioned one made of granite.”

  “That’s not there anymore,” Mac said easily, as if he were complimenting Lease on his shoes. But his choice of words rattled Lease.

  Mac hadn’t said the dock was destroyed. He’d said it wasn’t there…like it had suddenly up and disappeared.

  Every extra sense Lease had as a cop was telling him to leave now. Who cared if Mac had promised a great time, or if he owed that Asian bitch Chung Lai who had tried to expose him some payback? There was something very wrong here. “What do I do if I can’t find the dock on the other side?” Lease said.

  “Anchor the boat just offshore and wait until morning.”

  “What about a storm? My brother said they come up fast.”

  Mac laughed. “They do. Too fast for you to get away, so there’s no point worrying about—”

  Lease’s unease swiftly became anger. “You’re not helping my situation, Mac. If you really want me here, give me some instructions on how to get off this fucking boat and onto the damned island. I’ve got cargo here I need to dump before it starts stinking.”

  Mac’s tone when he answered was contrite. “Look, go around to the other dock, just go slow. Tie up there and leave the boat. Come up when you’re here. I’ll be in the main house.”

>   “Anything I should watch for?”

  “No,” Mac chuckled. “Everyone already knows you’re here. So don’t be surprised if you get some unexpected help.”

  He hung up, laughing ominously. Lease narrowed his eyes, then began piloting the boat again. Now he had to go ashore, if just to find out who else knew about his involvement with the brothel.

  He moved around the back of the island, going slowly in the darkness, his searchlight steady.

  His light illuminated red granite, flecks sparking wetly in the light. Waves crashed against large rocks, flinging surf upwards toward a stone balcony high above. Carefully, Lease moved further out, worried about scuttling the craft.

  A ship’s foghorn sounded once, then again. Lease stopped the motor, letting it idle, his searchlight looking in the dark for the source.

  There was a creak of wood, and a snap of sailcloth. Then a ragged small galley slipped into view, its hull slimy with mildew and rot. Someone was at the wheel, holding it steady, its ragged clothes flapping in the breeze. Others stood on the dock, ready with rope and gaffs.

  Lease moved out of the way, staring as the ship slipped by noiselessly. The sails were tattered, the second mast broken off at the top and missing. A smell of death permeated the air, the foulness making Lease cough.

  As one, the humanoid shapes turned to look at him, as the craft slipped by. Their eyes glowed an eerie bright green in the gloom

  Lease’s eyes widened, as he took a jerky intake of breath. That was a crew of skeletons, green with slime. Yet they moved just like live men.

  The foghorn sounded again, this time fainter. And the ship slowed, heading for the rocks. Lease motored away as fast as he dared, afraid to look back.

  There was a flash of light, a momentary brightness from far out in the water. Lease turned to see a burning ball of light there, first white, then turning bloody red. As he watched, it darkened again to black, disappearing but leaving spots on his retinas.

  He blinked, turning back to the rocks. But the ghost ship had disappeared.

  Spooked, he revved the boat engine, looking frantically for the dock Mac had mentioned as he hurriedly skirted the shore.

  “There’s no one here,” Mac lied into his radio. “But I did see a light on the lake, heading inland. They may be trying to get back to the mainland by boat.”

  “Is it still out there? Do you see a light on the water?”

  There was no way for Mac to see from his vantage point inside the stationary helicopter, parked on the granite pad. Even if there was, he’d already given more than enough info to sound like the good guy. “Sorry, I’m over the island already, and I’m not going back tonight. Even though I can fly at night, it doesn’t mean I like doing it. Emergencies only, my man.”

  “Sure,” came the reply. “Thanks for the update. I’ll let them know in the morning. I’m heading out myself now. I just wanted to wait for your info before leaving.”

  “Have a good night,” Mac said amicably. He shut off the radio. “I’m going to.”

  After turning off the chopper’s radio, Mac transported both girls out of the helicopter and into the main house. After sitting them in opposite corners, he grabbed his two bags, then went into the main house.

  God, he just loved this part.

  “There is a helicopter here,” Helter said, throwing down Barb’s stuff and taking deep breaths of air, the pungent smell of incense bracing. “It just landed on the granite pad by the back of the main house.”

  “I saw that,” Barb said slowly. “Someone was building another larger house behind this one.”

  “There is only supposed to be one main house here,” Caroline said stridently.

  “There was,” Helter said eerily. “But now someone is building again here.”

  “Latham’s ghost?” Barb supplied.

  “I’m not sure,” Helter said, looking at Caroline. “But we both saw the snowmobile, Caroline. You came on that here less than twenty-four hours ago and now it’s sunk in the mud with rusty boat tracks over it and a whole boathouse complete with cobwebs. Something did that.”

  “Why?” Caroline managed.

  “To confuse you,” Helter said, unwilling to utter he suspected that the island had tried to lure him into shooting her. He gestured to the darkness. “Most of this island is not like the records say it was. It’s like someone came in and rearranged things.”

  “No one can rearrange a house—” Barb started.

  “Really?” Helter said with emphasis. “Did either of you notice a belltower behind the main house earlier today?”

  Caroline and Barb looked up with horror. Far above the main house, in the setting sun, a belltower now stood. As they stared, the peal of a large bell rang out. One by one, lights appeared in the main house looming above them.

  “Should we douse the fire?” Caroline whispered.

  “No,” Helter said grudgingly. “We need to keep it going and sit with our backs to one another. We won’t be able to see all four directions, but three is better than nothing. I just hope to God nothing comes over that wall behind us.” He tossed another log on the fire. “Get ready for a hell of a long night.”

  “Thanks,” Mac said in appreciation, toasting the newly formed belltower with his glass of Jack Daniels.

  It was always amazing to watch it form. The first time, just hearing the bell had scared the shit out of him

  Mac had run outside the main house, where he’d brought the first live girl, and seen a belltower more than a hundred feet high in the place of his helicopter and the granite pad. Frantic, he’d flung open the door at its base, and gone inside. There was his helicopter, safe and sound on the square granite rock. But there was no way it was getting airborne from inside those solid brick walls. And they were solid. The belltower was not an illusion, it was really there.

  Mac had been livid. He’d killed the girl quickly, only worried about getting her buried somewhere so that when he called for help the rescuers wouldn’t find her remains. He’d hurried to the house’s basement, hoping for an earthen floor. Instead, at the base of the cellar stairs, there was a pool of dark stagnant water that stretched over most of the basement floor. As he watched, trying to determine the best place to drop the body in, the water rippled slightly.

  Startled, Mac had let out a loud curse and tried to back up. His foot slipped on the slimy stairs, and he went down hard on his ass and back. The girl’s body slipped out of his hands, splashing into the water.

  Mac cursed again and reached for the body, trying to hold onto the stairs and grab an arm or leg. But the body had already moved away, floating steadily toward the far wall. Mac grabbed a penlight from his pocket, shining it into the darkness.

  There had been no far wall as he’d first assumed, only a long corridor of shadows and water. The body floated steadily toward it as he watched, turning slightly in the eddies. Then, the body seemed to get hung up on something, as it stopped moving.

  A greenish white hand had come up from the brackish water, taking hold of an arm. Then the body continued out of sight.

  Mac had run for the stairs, taking them two at a time, his only thought to get to the shore. He’d swim home if he had to. But as he emerged from the main house, he saw his chopper gleaming there in the sun on the granite pad. He stared at it a while, then went to his overnight bag to gather it up to leave. Near the bag was a small pile of cash.

  Mac knew it hadn’t been there when he’d put down the bags. He was fairly sure it hadn’t been there when he’d run past with the girl’s body. But it was there now.

  The pile contained a couple twenties, a five, a ten, and seventy-three ones. There was also a handful of change, mostly quarters. And there was one gold coin which was some kind of rare two dollar American Indian he’d never seen before. All of it was wet, the cash sodden, some of the coins grimy with silt. Like they had been found washed up on the shore, or in a drowned man’s pocket.

  Mac had gathered up the cash, grabbed his bags, and
taken off for home. He’d done a lot of thinking that next week. Then the following weekend he’d come back with another live girl.

  Again, as soon as he landed and went inside, the belltower had formed around his helicopter. But this time he didn’t kill the girl. This had been his first real hunt, with the finale on the staircase. Again, there had been a small pile of cash when he’d returned to his bags, mostly ones and quarters. But there had also been an expensive watch, a gold charm bracelet, and a pair of diamond earrings. Looking at that pile, Mac thought he understood.

  Passage home from the island was assured with a dead body. But a live one paid extra. And since Mac would have done his part for free, it was a hell of an arrangement, especially with the added protection of custom-built camouflage for his copter.

  Mac put down his empty glass, then stood up from his easy chair. It was time to get moving. He walked down the stairs, admiring the paintings hanging from the walls of men like himself, who weren’t afraid of their destiny.

  Furnishings had appeared in the main house about his fifth visit. A master bedroom suite, a living room with overstuffed easy chair, an old-fashioned icebox complete with a chunk of ice. Driftwood was also always ready in the fireplace for a fire, with an extra pile on the porch outside. When he needed it, the electric worked, and so did the water closet.

  Yes, it was good to have friends.

  Lease motored to a stop more than an hour later before a small dock. A boat was there also tied up to the dock, bobbing on the waves.

  “Throw me the rope.”

  Lease strained to see in the darkness. There was now a shape on the dock, almost like a child, but squatter. “Mac?”

  “Throw it,” the hoarse voice said again.

  That wasn’t Mac, the figure was too small. But there was something unsettling about it appearing there out of nowhere. Lease’s flashlight was in his pocket, at his fingertips. But he didn’t reach for it.