Trust with Your Life

by ML Gamble

  Before Molly could ask anything more about Brooker, a piercing noise clamored from the direction of her purse. The pager. God, she had forgotten all about having it. With the cellular in for repair, she had been relying on the pager to keep up with her crew. She should have grabbed Rafe’s phone, she realized.

  Someone was probably beeping her from work, she figured. Wondering where the hell she and Rafe were, if they hadn’t heard the news. Before Molly could grab her bag, Alec moaned. There was no other way to describe the sound, unless it would be to call it a wail. The intensity of the pain in his voice paralyzed Molly for a second, then she ran to him.

  She stood helplessly as Alec clutched his neck and fell to his knees, whacking his arm on the counter as the handcuff caught on a drawer knob. He began to have what looked like convulsions, his eyes closed tight. “No...no-o-o-o!”

  For a second, she was too stunned to move. Finally Molly went to him, searching for an explanation for his fit. Just then, the pager went off again, and he yelled a second time, collapsing onto the floor as he broke into a sweat.

  Though Molly didn’t understand how, it seemed his pain had something to do with the pager, so she grabbed it and turned the ringer off. She leaned down and felt for Alec’s pulse. It was racing. He was white and clammy, and she feared he might have suffered a heart attack. She placed a pillow under his head, then pulled a throw blanket over his legs.

  After about five minutes, his body lost its rigidity, and his eyes opened. They were bleary and unfocused. All the good humor and playfulness of a few minutes before had left his face. He swallowed, then grabbed her arm tightly. “Molly. You didn’t run out while the getting was good.”

  It was true. It had occurred to her to flee, but she was so full of worry over his condition, the thought had flown out of her mind. “No, I didn’t.” She flipped some blond hair off his forehead. “What happened just now, Alec? Do you know?”

  He closed his eyes for a second, then a long shudder shook his body. When he looked at Molly, his gaze was not there on the boat, but someplace else. A place full of terror and pain. “The guy with the hood. He had some electrical gadget hooked to me. And he used some sounds.” His voice sounded hollow and echoed in the air. “I thought I had dreamed that part.”

  The rotten, no-good, ruthless creep, Molly muttered to herself. They had tortured the man. Despite her prior anger at Alec, the emotion she felt now was rage that one human being could willingly inflict so much pain on another.

  “Hang on, Alec. We’ve got to get you to a doctor. You must have been hypnotized or brainwashed or something to respond to that sound. A doctor will be able to figure it out.”

  “I bet I am, love. Just like Pavlov’s pooch. But not completely. I’m starting to remember things. Things I’m not supposed to.”

  “Things? About—” She didn’t want to say “about who you’re supposed to kill?” but she knew that was it.

  He blinked and let go of Molly’s hand, gingerly using his long fingers to poke at the bandage on his neck. “Something’s really nicking into me, Molly. Under the tape. Can you see what it is?”

  She pulled his shirt open and, as carefully as she could, pulled up the adhesive. It took all her stiff-upper-lip training not to cry out at what she saw. On his neck were welts, like those on the back of a sailor who’d had a hundred lashes from a wet whip. But that wasn’t the worst. He had two black needlelike objects embedded right into his flesh, covered with clear surgical tape.

  Alec knew from her expression she had found something awful. “What is it?”

  “They’ve got needles in you, Alec. Tiny ones, like an acupuncturist would use. Maybe that’s part of the treatment.” Molly met his eyes. “We’ve got to get these things out.”

  “Take them out.”

  “Me? I won’t. I can’t. I could hurt you more.”

  “You have to, Molly. If some other electric thing goes off, I’m liable to go berserk.”

  “I can’t, Alec.” She stood and measured the doorway with her eyes, trying to imagine how she could possibly manage to drag him up on deck. “We’ve got to go to the hospital. I’ll drive. So what if the police show up? Those guys last night were surely the only bad cops. We’re miles away from them. This is too dangerous to fool with.”

  He squeezed her hand tightly. “I’m not leaving here, Molly. Besides, if you can’t get these things out, no one can. Give it a try, kid. I trust you.”

  “With your life?” she whispered.

  He smiled despite his pain. “If you don’t help me, who knows what might happen.” He swallowed with effort. “I still don’t remember who I’m to kill, love. But I remember when. Tuesday. Tuesday, September 7.”

  “That’s less than a week away.”

  “It’s the day I was summoned to be available to testify.”

  It was also the day she was scheduled to appear. “Who are you supposed to hurt, Alec? Try to remember who it is. That’s the key to this whole, insane thing.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed, and the vulnerable sound made her shudder. “I can’t remember, love. I think it’s someone I know. But I just can’t remember who.”

  “Do you think you’ll do it?” Molly couldn’t help but ask.

  “I don’t know,” Alec replied in a whisper. It was the thing he feared most, he realized. That he might kill someone, that he was capable of it. “I almost killed a man in a bar fight in New Zealand ten years ago. There had been a storm and my crew was cooped up for sixteen days. They had done too much drinking to pass the time. My head winchman was hit in the face with a bottle. Nearly lost an eye. The man who hit him came after me when I broke it up.”

  Molly’s eyes were huge as they sat huddled together in the gently rocking yacht. “But that was different, Alec. I read once that hypnotic suggestion can’t make a person do anything they aren’t already capable of doing. Doesn’t that story show you that you’re not that kind of man?”

  “I don’t know,” he repeated.

  Molly had to admit she didn’t know, either.

  Chapter Seven

  Leaving Alec to rest on the floor, Molly searched around for the tool kit he said was stowed outside. The wind was picking up and the sky was a vivid, cloudless and perfect blue. Shimmering reflections glared off the water, making her scrunch her eyes to slits, and she became aware of a slight headache pounding at the back of her skull.

  She found the tools and went back down to work on the handcuff. Alec watched and didn’t talk; he just lay still with his other hand on his forehead. The screwdrivers wouldn’t trip the lock mechanism, but her third try with an ice pick and hammer did the trick.

  “Goodonyer, Molly!” Alec grinned weakly, rubbing the thick indentation on his wrist.

  “You’re welcome, if that was a thank-you.”

  “It was, love.” He reached up and touched her chin.

  She liked the feel of his hand on her, she realized then. Even when they had been adversaries, she had sensed an underlying gentleness, the full force of which she was experiencing now. As he touched her, his expression became tender, as if her face were a delicate piece of china.

  “You’d better call Alicia,” she said, suddenly eager to get back to business.

  Alec blinked and dropped his hand. “You’re right.” He turned and hit a button on the couch arm beside him. Out popped a cordless phone. Pulling up the antenna, Alec nodded at the food on the counter. “Do you feel like running up to the marina store for tucker? That ham doesn’t look too edible.”

  At this mention of food, Molly’s stomach growled out loud and they shared a laugh. “Tucker, huh. Sure, I’ll go for tucker anytime.” Molly stood up. “Are there any women’s clothes on board, d’you think? Jeans, maybe?”

  “Should be. I heard tell Brooker fancied himself quite the ladies’ man. Check in the rear stateroom. Lockers are under the kip.”

  “Kip?”

  “The bunks.”

  “Great. I’m going to borrow some.”


  He nodded, then spoke into the phone. “G’day, love. Is Dr. Chen around?”

  Molly paused, wondering why that name sounded familiar. It was a common enough Chinese name, she realized. Deciding it wasn’t important, she went down the narrow passageway past one stateroom, though that word didn’t really describe the closetlike sleeping area it was comprised of. The rear compartment had bunk beds, and she got on her knees and pulled open one of the two drawers under it.

  It was crammed full of clothes, mostly shorts and T-shirts, caps and white sweaters of all sizes. She found some bleached jeans that looked as if they’d fit her and hurried into them and an emerald green shirt. Everything smelled faintly musty but was clean and very expensive.

  There were some shoes in the other drawer, but Molly drew the line at other people’s foot germs thanks to an overzealous seventh-grade gym teacher. She decided to slip her pumps back on for the trip to the store and added tennis shoes to her mental shopping list.

  She was getting a little claustrophobic inside the boat and wanted to get back out into the sunshine so she could plan what to do. It was clear now that Alec had to see a doctor, or at least a psychologist of some kind. Molly was counting on his friend, Alicia, to help convince him that they had to go to the cops. Even if they were both arrested, once the facts were known about what happened at her house today, they would be set free.

  Right? Molly mulled over that conclusion, not as sure as she had been that it was correct. Especially if what Alec said was true about Brooker’s people getting to one of the cops...or even worse, being one of the cops.

  At any rate, she decided the best thing to do now was lie low and see what showed up in the media, if anything did. It was sad, but all too true, that news about two men found murdered wouldn’t necessarily end up on the front pages.

  “Very fetching, Miss Molly.”

  She whirled around and met Alec’s stare. He looked a lot better, and he was standing. The toll the attack had taken showed in his paleness despite his tan and in the slight twitching under his right eye.

  “Thanks. Did you reach Dr. Chen?”

  “She’s on her way. I gave her the address of the motel I stayed at in February. It’s a few blocks from here. If she makes it there okay, meaning without anyone following her, she’ll call us and I’ll give her the directions to the boat.”

  “Then what?”

  A strange look passed over Alec’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when are you calling the cops? At some point you have to explain that you’re being framed by several creeps who are chasing us around with guns.” Molly felt clammy and weak all of a sudden, and hot. “I really have to get some air, Alec. Can we finish this outside?”

  He didn’t move, and his softened expression disappeared. It was replaced with an intense look, of the type she had experienced the previous night. “I told you I can’t trust the coppers. You’re not going to turn me in, are you?”

  Molly had no intention of doing that, but suddenly she questioned if she had too easily chosen not to. She looked away and noted for the first time the tiny design on the pocket of the borrowed shirt. It consisted of a simple circle with three Chinese symbols inside. “No. I hadn’t planned on doing that.”

  Molly felt his breath on her hair and looked up to meet his blue-eyed stare. “Like I said a while ago, I’m on your side, Alec.”

  His smile returned. “I have a lot to thank you for, Molly. Sorry I sounded so gruff. Come on up and get some air. You’re looking as green as your shirt.”

  She followed him out, aggravated that she kept having to rebutton the top button of the borrowed jeans. She would go to buy food, but might not be able to eat it and keep these pants on. Outside, Molly slipped on her pumps and a blue-visored sun hat while Alec turned on the boat’s generator.

  They both stopped and watched as two coast-guard helicopters flew low over the marina but relaxed as they headed out to sea.

  “I think it would be wise, as soon as Alicia leaves, to head out to Catalina Island. Brooker has a lodge there. It’ll give us a day or two to see what hits the paper.”

  “And to get you deprogrammed. Hopefully, Alicia can give you a shot or some pills. Or something,” Molly added lamely, at a loss over how one went about counteracting brainwashing.

  “Yeah. If that’s possible.”

  His voice was expressionless, but Molly felt a certain charged tension between them. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the fact that she had just agreed to be alone with Alec for the next couple of days. “Okay. Any special dietary requests?”

  “Tea. Loose breakfast leaves, if they have any. And dark beer. That yellow water you Yanks drink is impossible.”

  Alec helped her onto the dock, then reached into his jeans and handed over twenty dollars. “I don’t have any more on me, love. The rest of it is in traveler’s checks in my coat, which I didn’t think to take when the car turned over. I asked Alicia for a small loan, and she’ll have the cash when she gets here.”

  “That’s okay.” Molly smiled. “You can pay me back when this thing’s over.”

  “I’ll have a big tab by then, girl.”

  His face now wore an intense, intimate look, like the one he’d given her earlier, and Molly couldn’t help reaching out to squeeze his arm. That embarrassed them both, and she quickly turned and headed up the dock.

  When she got to the gate, Molly was surprised to look back and find he was still watching her. She waved and Alec responded, his arm sweeping in a caressing motion it seemed she could feel across the breezy air between them. A shiver ran down her spine.

  He cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted, “I’ll unlock the gate when you get back. Just ring the bell.”

  “Okay,” she yelled, then started off. The shops were only a five-minute walk. She passed quickly by the pay phone and reached for the door of the tiny Galley Grub food market but stopped and stared back at the phone. Her mind was whirring through the facts of what she had been through the past eight hours. She once again tried to analyze the rightness of her decision to throw in with Alec Steele.

  Molly walked to the phone and impulsively dropped a quarter in. She punched in her office number and waited while the smell of diesel oil wafted around her on the wind, making her stomach tighten and complain from hunger. Above her, gulls screamed from their perches near the outside eating areas, advance scouts for their hordes of feathered friends waiting on the masts of boats surrounding the buildings.

  “Answer the phone, dammit,” Molly muttered.

  Her clerk at the office, Sara Gillem, picked up. “Mission. This is Sara.”

  “Sara, just listen and don’t talk. This is Molly.”

  “My God,” Sara gasped, despite her orders. “Are you okay?” the woman whispered.

  “Yes. Now listen, a terrible, terrible thing has happened to Rafe.” Molly, despite herself, began to cry. “He was shot, Sara. I don’t know what the news or the police are going to be saying about this, but I want you to call Rafe’s daughter and tell her for me that I’m so sorry. He died a gentleman, coming to my aid.”

  Sara was softly crying on the other end. “We just heard a little about it. The police are here now,” she whispered. “What should I do?”

  “Don’t tell them I called unless they ask you directly, Sara. Go to the ladies’ room and calm down. I’ll call you later. I think I’m going to need your help running down some information. You going to be okay?”

  “Yes.” The clerk, her assistant for five years, sounded in control of her voice once again. “Thank you for calling. I’ve got to run now. I’ll talk with you later.”

  The line went dead. Slowly, Molly hung up, taking a moment to wipe away her tears before she left the phone.

  Lieutenant Cortez must have beaten a path to the Mission Verde installation office trying to find her, Molly realized. For a moment, she again considered calling him and exiting this whole scene, but the memory of Alec Steele’s farewell
wave stomped out common sense.

  Molly walked into the market and looked around. The shelves groaned with exotic munchies priced three times higher than normal. She grabbed an assortment of canned items, as well as a variety of perishables and an armful of breakfast fixings. She even grabbed an 8.00 bottle of wine that was marked at a special buy at 14.99. For Alec she added four bottles of German beer.

  A young girl in a pink T-shirt rang up the items, eyeing Molly as she counted out 63.68 in cash.

  “The Empress is setting sail today?”

  “Excuse me?” Molly said, caught off guard.

  “The Geisha Empress. You’re crewing on her, aren’t you?” she asked, pointing to the insignia on the borrowed shirt.

  “Yes.” Molly started thinking fast. “We’re taking her down to Redondo Beach tomorrow for repairs.” If the police, or anyone else, showed up looking for them, the least she could do was give out a few false leads.

  “So you’re having a little party tonight, right?”

  “Right. Thanks for your help.” Molly picked up the bag and left the store. She felt a blister forming on her heel, which reminded her about the tennis shoes. Molly detoured across the plaza, heading toward the shops opposite the market.

  At Trader Ric’s, which she decided should be renamed Pirate Ric’s, she paid 38.00 for pink sneakers and 12.50 more for two toothbrushes, a tube of toothpaste, deodorant, one pair of underpants and three pairs of cotton socks. She was all set to be away from home for a few days, though she was completely out of cash.

  Molly was hurrying up the boardwalk toward the boats when she spotted a man scanning the crowd. He was leaning against a white Mercedes, his dark-skinned arms folded across his light-colored shirt. Though he was dressed for it and sported tinted sunglasses, his body stance told her he wasn’t on a carefree outing to the beach.

  As Molly approached, he lowered his arms and rubbed a spot on his thigh, and she felt herself nearly panic. The outline of a gun was clear through the thin chino of his baggy shorts. She glanced up again to meet his eyes, but he’d turned his head in the opposite direction. It was then she noticed the design on his shirt. A tiny, smiling Oriental face was painted on the pocket just above the heart.