by L. G. Davis
“Tell me again that you don’t love me.” He has slowed down now. “If you really don’t, there’s only one solution. We have to part ways...forever.”
Till death do us part. The words ring in my mind like alarm bells.
“You’re not a murderer, Clayton. You don’t want to kill me.”
“You’re right. I’m not going to kill you.” He polishes the glinting blade of the knife with his shirt. “But I want my kidney back, so we are no longer one.”
I grab the railing tighter and push myself so hard into it that my back hurts.
The only way out of this dangerous situation is to jump. His eyes tell me that he will do it. He will slice me open to remove his kidney.
“You can’t do it. You can’t—”
“Why not? It’s my kidney. It was my gift to the woman I love. But if that woman isn’t you, I want it back.”
“But then I’ll die. Is that what you want?”
He shakes his head. “You know that’s not what I want. But you give me no choice.”
“Okay.” I raise up my hands in defeat, my heart pulsing in my throat. “Maybe I can learn to love you.”
“I really want to believe you, but your eyes tell me that you’re lying? Just like you lied to me all those years ago.” He sucks in air through his teeth. “You spent time with me. You laughed with me. You hugged me. You made me believe we belonged together. But it was all lies. And now you’re lying again. How do you think that makes me feel?”
I move along the railing, trying to delay the inevitable.
“You can’t get away, Delia. Don’t even try.”
“I have to.” Without giving myself a chance to think about what I’m doing, I climb over the railing and jump.
My fear of Clayton trumps my fear of the water. I’d rather die from drowning than bleeding out on the deck of the boat after having a kidney removed.
I gasp when my body hits the surface of the water.
As I sink into the ocean, I watch him leaning over the railing, his eyes wide with shock. He didn’t think I would really do it.
He’s shouting something, but I can’t hear the words. I try to swim, but the wedding dress is pulling me under and hindering my arm movements. There’s nothing on the edge of the boat to hold on to.
I open my mouth to scream, but water floods in, plugging my throat, choking me. After flailing around for a while, my muscles give up and I start to sink deeper.
Under the dark water, I hold my breath until I can’t anymore. I gasp for air and more salty water gushes into my mouth and nostrils. I’m screaming, but no one can hear me. The screams are only inside my head.
The more I fight, the heavier my body becomes. The journey to the bottom is long and painful.
Finally, I lose the fight against the thick liquid and give up.
As I’m drifting away from life, I feel someone touch me. An arm wraps around my waist. I don’t know what happens after that because suddenly, everything goes black.
MY EYES FLY OPEN AT the same time as my mouth. Water spills from my lips and splatters everywhere. I cough the rest out.
My body goes even colder when Clayton’s face comes into focus. His expression is that of worry as he brushes my damp hair from my face.
“Thank God,” he says, kissing my forehead. “Thank God I saved your life again. I kissed you back to life.”
I’m too much in shock to speak. I don’t even fight him as he slides his hands underneath me and carries me into a cabin, lowering me onto a bed, covering me with a warm blanket.
A silver statue on the nightstand is the first thing I see when I roll to my side. I stare at it until I catch my breath.
He’s still speaking to me, but I can’t hear him over the alarm bells ringing too loud inside my head.
I may be out of the water, but I’m still in danger.
Clayton may have saved me from drowning, but he won’t keep me in his life.
I gather up the little strength I have and as soon as he tries to turn me to my back so I can face him, my hand grabs the surprisingly heavy statue and I slam it against the side of his face. With a loud groan, he falls over the side of the bed.
After the trauma it just went through, my body is hesitant to get moving, but my will to escape is stronger than ever before. It’s now or never. Weakness is not an option at this point.
I kick off the blanket and get to my feet. He doesn’t move as I dig inside his pocket for the bundle of keys.
In a daze and still coughing hard, I unbutton the sopping wet wedding dress and step out of it. I no longer want it to slow me down. On my way out the cabin, I grab a bathrobe from a hook behind the door.
This time I run without looking back. When I find the staircase leading to the entrance of the boat, I climb it two steps at a time.
I only come to a screeching halt when at the side of the entrance, I come across a teenage boy with dark, matted hair and frightened eyes. It takes a few seconds for me to notice that his hands are handcuffed together.
I consider leaving him behind and focusing on saving myself. But he’s somebody’s child. And it looks like Clayton must have kidnapped him. After experiencing the pain of losing a child, how could I possibly turn my back on him?
“Help me,” he says, his voice breaking.
Without giving it much thought, I know what I have to do. I offer him my hand. “Come with me. Let’s get out of here.”
He doesn’t need to tell me that he’s in danger. I can see it in his eyes.
He shakes his head, locks of his hair flopping into his eyes. His whole body is trembling.
I’m confused. He’s clearly terrified. Why would he want to stay?
“Come on, let’s go. I attacked the man who owns this boat, but he could wake up any moment.” I don’t even know where I want to take the boy. What I know for sure is that we both need to get to safety.
“He... my father,” the boy murmurs through cracked lips.
I stiffen. “Your father? Who?” I cough out remnants of salty water. My lungs are still burning. “Clay...Clayton is your father?”
The boy shakes his head. “He killed my father.”
“Oh, my God.” In a flash, I remember the man I saw lying in a bed in one of the cabins. I thought he was sleeping, maybe even too drunk to hear me knocking.
Shock twists inside me. Knowing that he might actually be dead chills me to the bone.
Clayton is a murderer?
“Let’s get out of here,” I beg the boy. I can’t leave him on the boat. He could end up like his father. “Let’s go to the police. We’ll tell them to come for your...your father.”
“I can’t leave him behind.”
“But he’s no longer—” I stop myself from saying the words that would confirm his father’s death. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go.” I’m terrified for my own life.
If the boy won’t come with me, I can’t force him. The only thing I can do is get to the police as fast as I can and tell them to come and get him.
But as I step through the door, I hear a shuffle behind me. The boy is following me. He trusts me to save him. I pray to God I won’t fail him.
Chapter 31
The boy’s name is Noel. We’ve made it off the boat, but he’s moving too slowly along a sandy, winding path away from where it’s docked. We’ve only been on the run for ten minutes and Noel is slowing down with each step, perhaps more from grief than exhaustion.
“I can’t.” His knees hit the ground with a thud, and I taste the dust as it floats upward from the impact. “I promised not to leave him alone. I promised.” I suddenly notice that he has a British accent.
It makes sense now why he was still on the boat after his father died, why he didn’t try to escape even though he knew that Clayton was dangerous. He wanted to keep his promise to his father.
My mind begs me to leave him behind because he’s slowing me down, but I’ll never be able to forgive myself if something happened to him.
“You can’t go back.” I use my last strength to get him to his feet again. “The man back there is dangerous. We need to go to the police.”
I don’t think it’s necessary to remind Noel of that. He saw Clayton’s dark side firsthand. The image of the dead man in the cabin will haunt me forever, and so will a lot of memories that were formed since the day I invited Clayton back into my life.
When Noel starts sobbing, I pull him closer, doing my best to hold him together even though I’m also in pieces.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. I don’t know how Noel and his father ended up crossing paths with Clayton, but I can’t help feeling responsible for what happened to them. For all I know, Clayton’s obsession with me was the weapon that killed Noel’s father.
I almost stumble when I throw a quick glance over my shoulder into the darkness to see if Clayton is after us. Apart from the waves crashing on a nearby shore and the distant sound of a dog barking, everything is eerily quiet.
When we branch into a street lined with two-story houses, sweat is trickling down my temples while exhaustion and fear eat away at my stomach lining like acid.
There’s no way we’ll make it to the police station. It’s at least another twenty minutes—by car—from where we are, and my mother’s house is even farther.
“Noel, we need to ask someone for help, okay?”
Instead of responding, he leans into me, his weight almost tipping me over. I guide him toward one of the houses on the left side of the street.
The metal gate squeaks on its hinges when we push it open and stumble onto the property, shuffling to the front door.
I put a finger on the doorbell button while scanning the surroundings for Clayton. I hope the owner of the house won’t turn us away.
I don’t have a watch, but it has to be close to midnight.
The sleepy woman who opens the door has salt and pepper hair hanging in ropes down her shoulders. Thick glasses make her tired eyes look huge. I recognize her immediately.
In spite of the many lines around her mouth and eyes, Fay Junkins hasn’t changed since the last time I saw her. She still doesn’t seem to like combing her hair, and from the sounds coming from behind her, she still loves cats. Back then, she had at least ten of them and participated in local cat shows. When she was not training her cats, she worked at the local library, where I was a regular.
“I know who you are,” she says, her eyes squinting behind the glasses. “Aren’t you the girl who used to read all those historical fiction novels a few years back? I haven’t seen you in years. Why are you knocking on my door at this hour?” Fay scans me from head to toe. “Did you just step out of the shower?”
My hair is still damp from falling into the ocean, and the bathrobe completes the look.
“No, I was in the sea.” I tug at a lock of my hair. Parting my lips, I get ready to explain why I’m standing on her doorstep in the middle of the night, but words fail me. Where do I even start? “I—we’re so sorry to wake you, but we need your help.”
“We?” She unpeels her gaze from me and looks at Noel as if seeing him for the first time. “Who’s the boy?” Her gaze drops to Noel’s handcuffed hands and she steps back into the house. “I don’t help criminals.”
“We’re not criminals, Fay. But a dangerous criminal is after us. If you don’t let us in, he will kill us.” Tears warm my eyes. “This boy’s father was murdered. He needs your help. I need your help.”
Calling Clayton a criminal breaks my heart. He was my friend and he saved my life. But there’s no denying that if he finds me, he will not hesitate to take it. He’s a murderer.
“Please, Fay. We have nowhere else to go.”
“I don’t want trouble in my house,” Fay says, attempting to shut the door. I place my hand on the slab of wood to prevent her from closing it.
“We just need to use your phone...to call the police. Then we’ll get out of your house, I promise.”
She peers past my shoulder. “If what you say is true, where’s the person you’re talking about? I don’t see anyone.”
“I hit him on the head and got away, but if he gets up, he will come for us.” I’m not about to underestimate Clayton.
“All right,” she says. “But you’ll only call the police and leave.”
I sigh with relief. “Yes, thank you so much.”
She opens the door wider to let us in and we’re met by at least a dozen pairs of cat eyes staring at us. I keep my eyes on them as I accept the cordless phone from Fay.
Noel remains by the closed door, and Fay watches him like a hawk as she strokes the ears of one of her cats.
When the dispatcher answers the call, I relay to him the events of the evening and tell him where we are after Fay hesitantly gives me her address.
“The police said we should wait here,” I tell her after ending the call. “They’re on their way.”
To my surprise, Fay doesn’t argue. It could be because she heard what I told the police. Maybe she believes us now.
At the back of my mind, I’m terrified of the police. What if I’m wrong and they really are after me?
When all is said and done, Clayton terrifies me more. And if he has my daughter, the police will have the power to search the boat for her. If I have to sleep inside a prison cell, so be it.
OFFICER PIERSON, A short fifty-something-year-old man, finds us on Fay’s couch, nursing mugs of hot chocolate. Aside from finally inviting us to sit, Fay hasn’t spoken to us. She handed us the hot chocolate without even asking if we wanted any.
The cats around us make me feel strangely safe.
Noel squirms under the officer’s suspicious stare.
I quickly jump to the boy’s defense before Officer Pierson jumps to conclusions. “He’s not a criminal.” Before I can launch into an explanation of what happened to him, Noel steps in to tell his own story.
“The crazy man got on our boat and killed my father.”
“Your boat?” Officer Pierson strokes his black beard. He’s as confused as I am. Clayton made me believe the boat belonged to him. It would never have occurred to me that he killed the owner.
“Yes, he appeared out of nowhere and shot my dad. Then he handcuffed me.”
“Where’s your father now?” The officer asks, his eye on the notebook in his hand. He’s jotting down every piece of information.
“He’s still on the boat. Please go and get him.” Noel is crying again. “I promised to never leave him.”
“We will,” the officer says, his face pale. As a small-town policeman, he’s probably not used to real violence.
Before we can continue explaining everything else that happened, he asks Fay for some tools and releases Noel from his handcuffs. He has already called the station for backup.
When he questions me, I tell him about my missing baby, and that I called Clayton because I needed his help with finding my daughter.
I leave out the details that would connect me to Tina’s death. I don’t mention the note that Clayton found the night she died.
When I’m done, the officer runs a hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat. Next to him, Fay looks about to pass out.
“And you believe this man is still on the boat?”
I nod and tighten my hands around my mug. “His name is Clayton, Clayton Hartnett.”
“Hartnett? Well, I’ll be damned.” The officer taps his lips with a finger. “I know him. I haven’t seen him in a while though. He was on and off the streets, and he was involved in minor crimes.”
“He’s a murderer,” I cut in. “Please go to the boat and arrest him. Search to see if he’s hiding my baby there.”
“My backup will be here any moment and we’ll head over there. I suggest you two stay here. Is that all right with you, Fay?”
Fay nods. Even though she’s clearly shaken, when the police leave, she springs into action, bringing us endless mugs of hot chocolate and muffins. Noel and I don’t touch the food.
Th
e boy has started to talk, his voice very quiet as if he’s talking to himself. He stares into space as he continues to tell his story.
He confirms that he’s British. He and his father were only tourists passing through town during their tour of the US. They never thought they would come across a madman who would take one life and leave the other changed forever.
When he’s done talking, a cat jumps onto his lap and he cuddles it for comfort.
The officers return an hour later with my handbag and bad news.
“Hartnett was not there,” Officer Pierson says. “We also didn’t find a baby. Aside from the crib, there was no sign that there ever was one on the boat.”
“And my father?” Noel asks.
The officer hesitates before answering. “We found his body. You will have to identify him to be sure.”
Even though Noel already knew his father was dead, he still breaks down. I hold him while he grieves.
“There’s something else,” Officer Pierson continues. “There was another body on the boat.”
Chapter 32
Before the night is over, we’re questioned again repeatedly at the police station. I repeat what I already said to Officer Pierson at Fay’s house.
Not once did the police mention Tina’s name. I had never been a suspect.
Shortly after the sun lights up the sky, I’m told I’m free to go. Officer Pierson offers to drive me to my house. I’m grateful for the additional protection.
During the drive he tries to make small talk, but I stare out the window, too drained from the night’s events and wondering where my baby is. I won’t stop searching for her.
My eyes are blurred by tears as we drive past familiar places. The library where Fay works, the Dragon Café I worked at in the summers. The cemetery where my mother is buried.