by Peg Herring
Bud reacted to “old coot” and “out of the picture.” Seamus felt his anger, but his voice was even as he asked, “What exactly do you need?”
Callie’s pleased tone easily crossed miles of lake water. “I need twenty thousand right away, Babe. I mean, as soon as you’ve dealt with this Brodie thing. Maybe Monday?”
Her phrasing, her repeated fake endearments, and her confidence turned Bud cold. This woman, as close to him in blood as a person can be, was using that relationship in the most calculating way possible. Her reference to “this Brodie thing” was offhand and dismissive. Brodie’s life was in danger, and Callie’s concern was that it delayed her acquisition of a share of the Dunbar fortune, a share she had given up along with her only child two decades ago.
Bud massaged the back of his neck with his free hand, trying to ease the knots. “I’ll call Collin right away and tell him to arrange it. He won’t get the message till morning, but he’ll contact you. Is this the number he should call?”
There was a pause, as if she hadn’t expected it to be quite that easy. “Well, yes.”
“Good. Here’s the deal. Collin will send you twenty thousand. Then he’ll set up with a monthly stipend.”
“Babe, that’s so—”
“Wait until you hear the rest. The stipend will be enough to keep you in a modest apartment with reasonable expenses. It only lasts until you remarry. In return, you’ll agree to never contact me again.”
“Buddy—”
“That’s what you have to do to get a share of my money, Callie. You have to give me up, like you did all those years ago.”
“But I’m your mother!”
“That’s something I’ll always have to deal with. But I don’t have to deal with you.”
He almost hung up, because there was no response for some time. When Callie finally spoke, her voice was different. “I’ll take fifty, in a lump sum.” The odd streak of honesty showed up again. “That will catch me up, and then I’ll marry Nick. He’s a bore, but he’s got more than a ‘modest’ apartment with ‘reasonable’ expenses.” Her voice was bitter as she emphasized the words she objected to.
“That’s our deal, then. I hope it works out well for you, Callie,” Bud said. “I really do.”
After that call, Seamus did not think Bud would ever go to sleep. He lay back on the bench seat and watched the stars for some time, his mind a twisted skein of tension. However, the rhythmic movement, the drone of the engine, and exhaustion from last twenty-four hours combined at last to lull him into slumber, much to Seamus’ relief. It was after ten, and he hoped Brodie might also be asleep by now. He needed to know what was happening on that sailboat.
“Millie!” he called out softly.
“Seamus? Where are you?”
The answer was terse. “Boat.”
“A boat? I thought you hated boats.”
“Like poison. Sometimes a guy doesn’t get a choice.”
“You got Bud to come after us?”
“Not quite the way I planned it. Bud and Scarlet and I are behind you in Dunbar’s powerboat. They plan to travel all night and catch Leland before he reaches the straits. Coast Guard is out looking for you, along with the sheriff’s department and some boaters from the race.”
“That’s good, but we have to be careful. I’m worried about Cher—” her voice faded for a moment, and then he heard, “could be violent.”
“Share? Share what?”
“Cher! C-H-E—. She’s Leland’s—friend.”
He tried to piece together what he was hearing. “You never said there was a fourth person.”
“Well, it’s a little—icult to keep every—straight.”
There was a pause that went on a little too long, and Seamus said, “Mildred? Are you there?”
Her voice came faintly. “Yes.—Leland—awake, and—conversa—is upset—him.”
“Leland? You’re with Leland?”
Mildred’s voice crackled and faded, and all he got of her response was, “—thrown out.” After that was silence. Seamus wanted badly to call to her again but concluded that an answer was unlikely. With a wakeful host, there could be all sorts of bad results. They did not want Leland in a frantic state in which he might do something unpredictable.
Mildred had said “thrown out.” He guessed she had “encouraged” Brodie to the point that the girl rejected her. It could be done. Free will meant no one could be forced to serve as a host. They simply didn’t know they were hosts most of the time. Aware of Mildred’s voice in her head, Brodie might have asserted her will and expelled the interloper.
If the situation had not been otherwise desperate, Seamus might have enjoyed the fact that Mildred now understood from real world experience what she had refused to accept from the advice of an expert.
Chapter Nineteen
IT WAS DARK WHEN BRODIE WOKE with a feeling that something had changed. She sensed a slowing of forward progress and realized Leland had shut down the motor. Everything went silent. A sharp pull to the right tipped her sideways in the bed. The boat had turned toward shore.
His voice came down the hatch, low-pitched and tight. “Something wrong up there, Cher. Gotta heave to and see what’s up. Brod, you stay out of sight, hon.”
Apparently satisfied when Brodie did not actively deny their relationship, Leland had taken to acting as if the two of them were of the same mind. He called her “Brod” in an apparent attempt at casual familiarity. Cher gave her a hostile stare, and as Brodie watched, took a bread knife from a drawer and held it at her side, ready.
As the boat swung to the south, Brodie peered out the porthole. There wasn’t much to see. Not only was it the middle of the night, but lights ahead of them were cloaked in mist. South of their position was a town, but its lights were mere blurs. Ahead was the Mackinac Bridge. A graceful arc of amber bulbs illuminated its highest points, but below that, a low-lying bank of fog clung to the bridge deck, leaving the massive twin towers of the bridge exposed above it as if they floated unsupported in the air.
Struck by the odd effect, Brodie almost failed to notice what Leland had referred to as something wrong. Under the bridge was a second, different line of lights, some high over the waterline, some just above it. Definitely not part of the bridge, these lights were obscured but not invisible in the fog. In several places a dozen lights clustered together, in other spots, only one or two penetrated dimly. It added up to an irregular string that stretched all the way along the bridge, thin in places and thick in others, but definitely in the way of anyone passing through.
Brodie stared, unable to figure it out. Finally she heard Leland mutter, “They’re boats.”
He was right. Boats of differing sizes and shapes had lined up along the bridge. Each one had whatever lights it possessed focused ahead: running lights, searchlights, floodlights. It was clear those on board intended to make passage under the bridge without notice impossible.
Someone knew they were coming and planned to stop Leland from getting to Canada. What would he do now?
The answer became obvious as the boat continued southward. They were heading for land.
BUD TOOK THE HELM AT MIDNIGHT, insisting that Scarlet retreat to the bench seat and rest. He traveled as fast as he dared, careful to watch the charts, the instruments, and the water ahead in order to steer clear of hazards they might encounter in the dark: floating debris, sandbars, even other boats.
With several hours’ time to himself, he thought again of Brodie, trying to concentrate on what he would do once she was safe again rather than what might happen or might have happened to her already. The long trip gave him a chance to think, really think, about things, and he realized that Brodie had grown up while he was not paying attention.
He knew she was intelligent. He could see that she was growing up to be a real beauty. And he trusted Scarlet’s judgment that she was a good person. She had seen that Gramps’ mind was failing and protected him the best way she could, taking the heat rather th
an have others find out what Gramps hadn’t wanted them to know—what he had not been able to admit, even to himself.
With Gramps’ love and Scarlet’s help, Brodie had overcome most of the early neglect of her so-called mother. He knew how it felt to be the kid with no parents, the kid whose grandfather showed up for Parents’ Night and the Little League picnic. Brodie had had it worse, though. That was obvious. Even so, the wounds her mother had inflicted were beginning to heal, if such wounds ever really healed. He should have seen their likenesses, should have been more help to her. Bud hoped he would get the chance to let Brodie know he was proud of her. Despite her odd ways and her stubborn refusal to conform, she was by far the best of the family he had left.
His phone tingled its cue that a text message had arrived. Digging it out of his pocket, Bud read a note from Reiner: Found Arnold at LR casino. Knows nothing. No sign of B on trains. Bud grimaced. He should have thought to tell them to check at Little River. Arnold’s love of the slots was well-known, and he was no doubt consoling himself on the loss of his job by hoping he’d strike it big and never have to look for another one.
As the night passed and the lights on the shore slid by, Bud returned to what lay ahead. Brodie was in danger, and thoughts of what might happen to her if he was wrong, if he was too late, if he was too rash, rattled in his head like tennis shoes in a dryer. He tried to push the worry to the back of his mind so that he could think about how to do this right, but it took constant effort. Fears leaked around the edges of the walls he erected to keep them out, and his head hurt worse than he’d ever experienced before.
MILDRED DID NOT LIKE being part of Leland Voorhies’ thoughts. The man was completely unprincipled, unable to imagine that anything he did to get what he wanted could ever be wrong.
Leland’s attitude toward Brodie seemed somewhat affectionate. He liked the idea of having a daughter, a pretty young woman with eyes like her mother’s. He hoped to win the girl to his side. Poor kid needs somebody, Leland thought more than once as he piloted the boat through the night. Now that the old man is gone, she’ll be grateful to have a real home and somebody to help her handle her money. He did not dwell on how William Dunbar had been removed from the earth, but Mildred heard enough to confirm her suspicions.
When Leland spotted the line of boats under the bridge and turned aside, Cher came on deck, her expression determined. Leland tensed for confrontation. Cher doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand that I can charm the girl now that Bud is out of the picture. He marshaled his arguments. Because of this little snag at the bridge, Cher was going to be difficult.
“We gotta talk, Lee.”
“Cher, I’ve got it covered. Help me with this, and we’ll be right back on track.”
“Yeah, right.” Her tone gave him a chill.
“Think of the money. Not just the hundred thousand we could get for the lodge. Millions.”
She waved a palm in front of him as if trying to wake him from a dream. “You’re never gonna get your hands on it. She don’t like you, no matter what you think. And that Bud guy will figure out how to charge you with international kidnapping or something. Then where will you be?”
“I’m her father, Cher. It will take some time, but she’ll come around.”
“Maybe, but if she don’t, you’d better have a plan. If they catch us before you get her on our side, she’s poison.” Cher paused. “There won’t be nothing to do except dump her.”
Mildred felt Leland’s shock at the idea.
“Look,” she went on, “with the kid aboard, we’re kidnappers. Without her, we’re a couple of dumb, lost Canucks who should have turned around when we came to the Mackinac Bridge.” She watched him for a few seconds, her dark eyes intent. “Think about it. There might not be any other choice.” With that, she retreated, leaving Leland to come to his own conclusions. Mildred heard most of them, and she did not like them one bit.
BRODIE FELT THE BOTTOM skim against the sand and felt the jolt as the boat stopped. It was still afloat, but the stern swung inward. Leland’s face appeared in the hatchway, his manner jerky and his eyes like fireflies, darting here and there without apparent purpose. He looked scarier now, as if a dial somewhere inside him had been turned too high.
He crouched as he came down the stairs, and that brought something to mind. Brodie suddenly knew that Leland was not her dad, whatever he thought.
His eyes narrowed as he glanced around the cabin. “You don’t have another phone or something, do you?” She shook her head, raising her hands to show their emptiness. “I didn’t think so, but I gotta believe that line of boats is there to stop us getting through the straits.”
Brodie’s heart gave a hopeful lurch, but she said, “Maybe it’s something to do with the race.”
“I don’t remember anything like this from when I raced with Uncle Will.”
Cher spoke. “What I said before. We gotta do it.”
“No.”
“Lee, she can’t talk to the police. She’ll tell them you forced her. That’s kidnapping.”
“I’m her father.”
“Says who?”
He straightened, offended. “I do. Jeannie and me—”
“Look at her! She don’t look nothing like you.” She turned angrily to Brodie. “When’s your birthday?”
“Um, September second.”
Cher did some figuring. “You came to Hornpayne just before Christmas that year. I’d say your beautiful Jeannie replaced you right after you left.” She pointed a finger at Brodie. “She’s some other guy’s brat, but he prob’ly didn’t have a rich uncle.”
Leland’s head twitched toward Brodie. Obviously he had not considered the possibility that Jeannie might have moved on so quickly.
“But Dunbar adopted her. He thought she was family.”
“So Jeannie pulled her own scam. Good for her.” Cher put a hand on his arm. “Lee, if they do DNA, and she ain’t your kid, you will go to prison for the rest of your life for kidnapping.”
“But if she is mine—”
“Your cousin or whatever he is will fight you in the courts for the next twenty years. You’ll be lucky to live long enough to see a penny of that money.” She glanced at Brodie, who stood white-faced as they argued. “You got, what, five years before she comes of age? And then it won’t matter, ’cause the money will be hers, and you’ll get nothing.” She ran her hand up Leland’s arm, caressing it, and her voice softened. “You had a real nice dream, Lee, but that’s all it was. Now we’re in trouble, and we cannot get caught with this kid.”
Leland stared at the floor. “What can we do?”
“We knock a hole in the boat, put it on autopilot, and send it out into the lake. We swim to Mackinaw City and find another boat somewhere. Once this antique is gone, they got no way to prove we were here.”
Leland raised his eyes to Cher’s face. “What about Brodie?”
Cher kept her eyes fixed on his. “She goes down with the boat.”
STRAINING TO SEE AS FAR AS POSSIBLE through Bud’s eyes, Seamus was so focused that the cry was doubly shocking. Loud and sudden, Mildred’s voice was like a siren going off next to his ear. “They’re going to kill her!”
Bud reacted too, wincing and bringing his free hand up to touch the bandage on his head.
“What is it?” Scarlet asked.
“Quiet! We’re almost there!” It was all Seamus dared say, for Bud reeled slightly, causing the boat to weave in response. Scarlet stepped up and took the wheel, watching him with concern as he sank down on the seat, looking sick and confused.
“I’m okay,” Bud said, but he did not offer to retake control of the boat. Scarlet turned her attention to the water ahead, probably wondering if she should worry about catching up with Brodie’s abductors or looking after her ash-colored employer.
“There!” she said excitedly. “I see the bridge, although it’s banked in fog. Bud, we made it.”
Ghostly lights showed below the fog. Above it, t
he topmost shone brightly. Bud took heart at having their goal in sight, but Seamus was much less hopeful. If Mildred’s prediction was true, stopping Leland at the bridge might be possible, but it would come too late to save Brodie.
BRODIE THOUGHT SHE MIGHT BE SICK. Leland and Cher stood toe to toe, arguing the prospect of murdering her and sending her body to the bottom of Lake Michigan. She tried to think of something to say. “Please, Dad, don’t kill me.” She could not say it.
After what seemed like an hour, Leland said, “No.”
Both Brodie and Cher knew what he meant immediately. Brodie breathed a sigh of relief. Cher growled a curse and turned away.
“I’m not giving up my daughter,” Leland gave Brodie a sick-looking grin. “Don’t worry, hon. Bud isn’t going to win this one.”
Cher opened her mouth to say something, but Leland raised a hand, palm out. “We’ll do like you said, sink this boat then go by land to the other side of the bridge and find another one.” He tried a charming smile. “That’s a good idea you had, ditching this old tub.”
She did not bother to answer. Brodie knew the woman was a threat, and Leland, crazy and crooked as he might be, was now her only protection.
Leland acted as if they were all in agreement on what would happen next. “Okay. I’ll get the boat set up for its final voyage. Brodie, you can come up on deck and help. Cher, pack up what we’ll need to get across Lake Huron.”
Brodie tried to picture what lay ahead. They were off the shore of Mackinaw City, the town at the northern tip of Lower Michigan. Toll booths for vehicles crossing the Mackinac Bridge were five miles away in the Upper Peninsula town of St. Ignace. Next to the bridge on this side sat an old fort called Michilimackinac, open for tours during the day but deserted at this time of night. Directly under the bridge was the Visitors Center, which would also be closed. Where was her chance for escape?