I broke into a jog, running back across the island. The ground was still damp from the storm, but I was fit and sure-footed and made good time. By the time I reached the house, a thin film of sweat covered my forehead and ran down my spine, but I didn’t care what I looked like.
“Loretta?”
She was better now, and up and about, though I could see she’d lost weight and still wasn’t quite one hundred percent. I’d told her to take it easy, but she’d said she’d had enough of lying around in bed.
“Loretta!” I called again. I wanted to get on with this. If I went back to the spot where I’d seen the boat, only to find it gone again, I’d be kicking myself.
Her dark head popped around the kitchen door. “Yes, sir?”
“I’ve seen the boat on the south side of the island. I need to swim out to it and bring it back to shore.”
A frown deepened the lines across her brow. “The boat? Where’s the boat?”
I suddenly realized I had never told Loretta about Jolie’s escape attempt, and I didn’t want her to know either. The older woman would chastise me and use it as a way of backing up her insistence that Jolie made me weak, and I could do without a lecture right now.
“It came loose of the dock during the storm. I assumed it was lost out to sea.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t mention it to me.”
“You had your own stuff going on.” I hardened my tone. “And remember you’re my employee, Loretta. I can tell you whatever I want to. You’re not my business partner.”
Her lips thinned, sending spider’s legs of lines threading out from her mouth.
I didn’t want to upset her—she knew too much—but I also needed her to know her place. I was the one who’d been planning for this ever since Patrick Dorman was arrested for my mother’s murder, and while I appreciated that she had an emotional tie in this thing, I was the one who’d spent ten years working toward it, and who’d stumped up all the financial side of things.
I was also the one who’d be killing Patrick Dorman.
She glanced down at the floor. “Sorry, sir.”
My housekeeper was strong-willed, and I knew that would have been hard for her to do. “Don’t worry about it, Loretta. I’m going to take the keys to the boat with me and swim out to it. I’m only telling you in case I get into trouble. I don’t want our prisoner to be left unattended.”
“Do you think that’s safe? Swimming out, I mean?”
“I’ll take a buoyancy aid. I’ve swum much farther in the past. I’ll be fine.”
Her lips tightened again, and her nostrils flared. “If you say so, sir.”
“If something does happen to me, I want you to make sure Jolie is released. No one can lock me up for her abduction if I’m already dead.”
“They can lock me up for aiding and abetting,” she pointed out.
“Jolie won’t say anything. I told her that your daughter was one of the women her father killed.”
Her expression hardened. “Why did you do that?”
“She needed to know. If I’m going to get her to cooperate with my plans back on the mainland, she needed to be able to understand the reasons behind your hatred for her.”
“And yours. You hated her, too. Far more than I ever did. You told me what she’d done, and I agreed to help you.”
I nodded. “I know that. I’m just trying to explain that Jolie will forgive you for your part in this. You won’t need to worry about her. She can lay all the blame on me if I’m dead.”
“She was always the enemy, Hayden. Why does it feel as though you’re starting to take her side?”
“Because I have to. It’s better this way. She hates her father as much as we do.”
“I highly doubt that,” she snapped.
“You’d be surprised.”
Loretta shook her head. “Don’t trust her, sir.”
I didn’t know why I was defending Jolie all the time. Loretta had already picked up that there was something between us, and she didn’t even know the half of it. I was starting to regret getting Loretta involved. But I’d needed her in case something happened to me, and I still needed her.
I swallowed my irritation. “I hear you, Loretta. I’m doing what I have to, not what I want to. Now please, just watch over her while I’m gone. I hope to not be much more than a couple of hours.”
She was holding her true thoughts back from me, but I was grateful for that.
“I’m worried about you, sir. She’s not good for you.”
There was genuine concern in her voice, but I didn’t want to hear it.
Instead, I turned from her and went up to my bedroom to where I kept the keys for the boat locked away in the safe. My swim shorts had a pocket with a zipper at the waistband for keeping valuables which I’d put the keys in. One of the flotation aids I’d used to swim back from the boat during the storm was the kind lifeguards use that strap to a wrist. I’d left them all on the beach near the jetty, thrown to the sand as I’d stalked back up the beach in search of Jolie. I hoped it would still be there and not washed back into the ocean, but I wouldn’t know until I went down and checked.
I changed my jeans for my shorts and kept my t-shirt on. It was a far more relaxed look than I normally went for, but I was doing the exact opposite of relaxing. I unzipped the pocket in the shorts and put the keys for the boat inside before zipping them back up again. They’d be safe in there. The last thing I needed was for them to fall out while I was swimming and sink to the ocean floor. If I reached the boat only to find myself without the keys, I’d be no further ahead than when Jolie had set me adrift.
I headed back downstairs again. I half expected Loretta to try to stop me, but she was nowhere to be seen. I hoped I’d gotten through to her. I didn’t like someone second guessing me, and it definitely wasn’t her place.
Moving at a brisk walk, I left the house via the pool and navigated my way through the forest of palms. I followed the same route Jolie had taken when she’d tried to escape the other night, and though it was the middle of the day now, memories bombarded me. I had been frightened that night—an emotion I wasn’t familiar with—but it hadn’t been fear for myself. Instead, I’d been frightened that she’d get herself hurt or killed, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was an impotent kind of fear, a helplessness, and I didn’t like feeling helpless.
I pushed my way through the trees and bushes, heading down toward the cove with the jetty. Though I was under time pressure, worried the boat would drift farther away and I wouldn’t be able to either see it, or it would be too far away for me to realistically swim to, I didn’t want to run. The swim was going to take a lot out of me, and I didn’t want to use up what energy I had by running across the island.
The glint of white sand and the blue of the ocean peeped through the tree trunks. I thought I’d have become immune to the beauty of this place, but still my heart lifted at the sight. I hated to think that after all this was over I may never see this place again. Instead, the blue skies and sound of waves crashing on shore would be replaced with gray walls and the slamming of cell doors. That was okay. I’d made my peace with it. I’d had a good run while it had lasted, and being jailed for the murder of Patrick Dorman was something I could live with. Knowing he still existed in this world, even if it was behind bars, was not. I wanted to see him die and for him to know the reason for his death. I wanted to say my mother’s name and watch his eyes widen in fear and understanding, right before I killed him.
I stepped onto the sand and looked around. I hadn’t paid much attention as to where I’d thrown down the buoyancy aids the other night, but I remembered hitting the shore after my draining swim and crawling partway up the beach, my limbs shaking with exertion, coughing up water and half blind from the salt in my eyes. I hadn’t given any thought to taking them off at first—I’d only wanted to put distance between myself and the ocean, not wanting another wave to crash over me and drag me out to sea. Only when I’d made it
part way up the beach did I realize the lifejacket and buoyancy aid that had probably saved my life were now slowing me down, and I’d torn them from my body as I’d kept going, and thrown them onto the sand. There was a good chance I hadn’t gotten past the highwater mark at that point, and they’d been swept back out to sea by the tide. If that was the case, then I’d have to make the swim without them.
I kept looking. Numerous objects had been washed up by the storm and were now tangled together on the highwater line—fishing nets, several mismatching flipflops, empty plastic bottles, and soda cans made up only a fraction of the detritus. I pressed my lips together, trying to push down my emotional reaction to the mess. It was all over the news about how plastic was ruining our oceans, but it was a whole other thing to see it for myself. In amongst the mess, I spotted something orange and hurried over to it. Tangled among fishing nets and torn plastic bags was the buoyancy aid. I bent and picked it up. It even still had the strap attached which allowed me to fasten it to my wrist.
This was all I needed. I’d swim faster without the vest, and it wasn’t as though the conditions were the same as the previous night.
Tucking the buoyancy aid under my arm, I kept going. I needed to make my way over to the other side of the island where I’d first spotted the boat, check it was still there, and then head down to the cove where I’d be able to swim out from. The areas around the cliffs were dangerous, and I couldn’t risk trying to get into the sea from there. Though the ocean appeared calm from here, all it would take was one rogue wave to throw me onto the rocks, and I could be seriously injured. Once again, I was more worried about what would happen to Jolie if something happened to me than for my own safety.
It felt as though I’d been hiking forever, but finally I reached the spot where I’d seen the boat out to sea earlier that day. I’d been worried it would have drifted farther out, but from what I could tell, it seemed to be in about the same place.
I stripped off my t-shirt and dropped it to the sand, and then toed off my sneakers. The hot sun hit my bare skin, and though I was hot from my hike across the island, I appreciated the heat for the moment. It may take me an hour or more to reach the boat, and by that point, the cold of the ocean would have leached right down to my bones. Pressing my palm against the pocket in my waistband, I felt the bulge of the keys for the boat, reassuring myself they were still there. I checked the zipper one last time, making sure it was fully closed, and then wrapped the Velcro strap of the buoyancy aid around my wrist. I’d drag it along behind me as I swam, and though it would slow me down slightly, it was there in case of emergencies.
I stalked down into the shallows. The cold water hit my shins, and I tried not to flinch at the temperature. I was hot, so I was feeling the difference more acutely. I just needed to submerge my whole body, and I’d soon acclimatize. Pushing through the breaking waves, I strode into the ocean. As soon as I was deep enough, I dove forward, submerging myself beneath the waves. I burst back up, shaking the water from my hair and face. The coldness, after the heat of trekking across the island, was refreshing for the moment, but I knew it wouldn’t stay that way.
Striking out for the boat, I swam front-crawl. It was the stroke I was strongest in, and fastest. I put my head down and just swam, only allowing myself the briefest of pauses to make sure I was going in the right direction and hadn’t been pushed off track by the current.
I’d never been afraid of swimming in the ocean. A lot of people didn’t like the idea of what might be lurking beneath them, but it wasn’t something I gave much thought to. The dangers lurking above the ocean were far more important to worry about. There were sharks in this area, but I didn’t have any cuts that would draw them toward me out of the millions of other creatures in the ocean, so I figured chances were they’d leave me alone.
After twenty minutes of swimming, I was starting to tire. I could normally swim for twice the time in the pool, but ocean swimming was very different. I had the current and waves to battle, plus I was pulling the buoyancy aid along behind me. I stopped for a moment, treading water, and then pulled the buoyancy aid into my body and used it to float. I glanced back toward shore and then over to the boat. I was definitely closer now—about halfway—and I was able to tell from this distance that the boat didn’t appear to be listing or have anything noticeably wrong with it. I assumed it would have taken on water, if only from the waves and rainwater, but some of that may have evaporated from the sun.
The sun continued to beat down on my head, reflecting in the water. The skin on my face felt tight—a combination of the sun and salt—and I wished I’d thought to apply extra sunblock before setting off. I was thirsty, too, and realized I hadn’t thought to bring water with me. There was some in the refrigerator on the boat. All I had to do was reach it.
That was easier said than done. As I’d expected, the cold ocean was seeping through to my bones, especially now I’d stopped moving. Resting might have been necessary, but it was also detrimental to me physically because of the chill. It felt strange to have the top of my head burning while my torso and limbs were surrounded in cold.
I had to keep going.
I set my sights on the boat bobbing in the water ahead and released the buoyancy aid again. I was slower now, my limbs heavy with the cold and fatigue. I didn’t have any choice but to keep going, however. I was now closer to the boat than I was to the shore, so it wasn’t as though I could turn around and head back again. I had to see this through. It was taking me longer to swim the same distance, and each time I lifted my head to see how much farther I had to go, the lack of progress was frustrating. I didn’t want to check but worried that if I didn’t, I’d end up swimming off course and causing myself more problems by needing to correct my mistake. My calves twanged with cramps threatening, but I ignored the pain. I gritted my teeth and just focused on reaching the boat. Once I was there and managed to get on board, then I could rest. I worried that if I stopped now, I wouldn’t get going again.
All sense of swimming style and finesse went out of my head as I struggled only to keep moving. I alternated front-crawl with flipping onto my back and doing backstroke, finding the change in muscles used helpful.
The boat was suddenly right in front of me. I didn’t know if I’d zoned out and covered more of a distance than I’d realized, or if the ocean had been kind and the current had pulled the boat toward me. Either way, the smooth white side of the vessel rose up beside me.
The waves lifted me up and then dipped again. They seemed higher now, beside the boat, than when I’d been in the open ocean. The danger was the same here as I’d considered back on the island with the cliff faces. If I was slammed against the side of the boat and hit my head, I could easily drown. Even the buoyancy aid wouldn’t save me. I needed to time this well and allow the wave to lift me to the highest point, before jumping for the back of the boat.
I wished I had more strength left, but I just had to work with what I had. I swam around to the back of the boat where there was no railing and a lower platform to allow people to climb on board. It was still higher than the ocean, however, and I’d need to use my last remaining strength to jump from the water and haul myself on board.
I bobbed in the waves, using the buoyancy aid to stay afloat, assessing the situation. Jumping from water when you had nothing to push off from wasn’t going to be easy.
Getting as close to the back of the boat as I dared, I centered my remaining strength, took a breath, and focused. I lunged upward, slammed into the side of the boat, and crashed back into the water.
“Fuck!” I yelled, though no one could hear me.
I had to try again.
I waited until the wave sank into a trough and then came up the other side, lifting me higher again. Just as it reached its highest point, I sprang upward, reaching for the edge of the deck. My fingertips caught the edge, but I wasn’t strong enough to hold on and fell back down, slamming my shoulder against the side of the boat as I went. Pain blasted th
rough me as I hit the water, submerging momentarily before bursting back to the surface
“Son of a bitch!” I swore again and in a fit of rage slapped my palms down on the surface of the sea. Losing my temper would do no good, but it was insanely frustrating to be this close and not be able to get on board. There was a ladder that could be lowered, which was how I’d normally enter the boat from the ocean, but of course I needed someone on board to lower it.
Trying to contain my anger and conserve my energy, I used the flotation device to bob in the water and think. If only I had something I could use as a step to give myself that extra boost. I didn’t need much—just an extra couple of inches so I got a good handhold on the deck. But there wasn’t much availability of steps out here in the middle of the ocean.
I suddenly realized what I had hooked under my arms. It was far from stable, and I wasn’t sure it would work, but it was definitely worth a try.
Holding the floatation device in both hands, I pushed it under the water. It tried to push back up on me, but I was strong and determined. Waves lifted and fell, and I waited for the right moment and then pulled up my knee and planted my right foot on top of the device. I didn’t have long, already wobbly and unstable, but as the wave crested, I released the floatation device and used my footing on the top of it as a springboard. I slammed against the side of the boat with more force this time, but miraculously, my fingers found the edge of the deck, and I held on. With a growl of determination, I used my last ounce of strength to haul myself up.
I slithered onto the deck like a fish that had been pulled in from a net and collapsed on my back, breathing hard. The sun warmed my body and I exhaled a long sigh of gratitude. There had been a moment back there where I’d started to wonder if I was going to be able to get aboard. I didn’t think I’d have been able to swim back to shore, so not making it on board might have killed me.
Gathering my strength, I allowed my heartrate to return to normal and for my limbs to warm up, and then I twisted onto all fours and clambered back to my feet. First of all, I needed water, and then I was going to drive the boat back to the island, and make sure this time I didn’t give Jolie the chance to trick me again.
Broken Minds Page 6