Jennifer rested her head on Megan’s shoulder. She was falling asleep again, probably from emotional exhaustion. Who knew what he had put her through to get her here? Gently, Megan turned her and settled her back on the bed. She took deep breaths. What was she going to do? She was out at sea. She couldn’t simply go up on the deck and start screaming for help. And what if she could somehow overpower Steve, something that looked as impossible as her flying to the moon? She didn’t know how to navigate a yacht.
She buried her face in her hands. Think, think, she told herself, and concluded the only thing she could do was humor him, play to his madness. He was just crazy enough to buy it. Perhaps she could convince him that Jennifer needed medical attention and after that, he would bring them back ashore where she could get help.
The yacht was rocking quite a bit, however, and with her nausea and dizziness already started, it made it nearly impossible to stand, much less climb back up to the deck. But somehow she had to manage it. She steadied herself by holding her hand out and pressing against the stateroom wall. Then she left it and started to climb the short stairway. Twice she thought she was close to passing out and fought herself back to consciousness, but she worked her way up on her hands and knees and reached the deck. She saw Steve sitting comfortably in his captain’s chair and also saw how alone they were out to sea. The clouds above turned it all into a world of darkness with only some lights visible here and there through the fog.
When she rose and made the turn to get to the bridge, she did see a smaller boat behind them. She couldn’t tell how close it was and again thought that if she started to scream, no one would hear her with this wind and noise, except Steve, of course—and there was no telling what he might do to her and Jennifer then.
“Steve,” she called. He seemed to be asleep. “Steve!”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. His expression frightened her even more. He looked like he didn’t know who she was or how she had gotten on his boat. He rose and looked to the side as if there were some clue in the ocean. When he looked at her again, he seemed absolutely terrified. What was going on in his wild, mad imagination now? she wondered.
“You were just waiting out here all this time, weren’t you?” he said. “Biding your time, waiting and hoping I would come by. I should have taken a different route.”
“What? Steve, what are you talking about? We need your help now. Jennifer is very sick. We need to get her to a doctor. You have to protect her, help her. You said you would,” she fired off as quickly as she could. It was what she had rehearsed as she made her way to the deck.
He stared, and then he smiled. She thought that was good. She felt some relief until he spoke.
“Very clever, Julia. You always were smart. For years you manipulated me pretty damn good, and even now you’re still trying to do it, pretending to be her.”
“No, Steve. I’m not Julia. I am Megan, Megan. Jennifer’s not well.”
The rocking of the yacht, its rise and fall, was turning her stomach into a yo-yo. She gasped, held tightly to the railing and waited, hoping he would snap out of whatever dream he was having.
When she opened her eyes, she saw him starting toward her, but his expression had not changed.
“You’re going back where you belong,” he said.
“Oh, God.”
She turned to flee but lost her footing and fell to the deck hard. It nearly took all the wind out of her. He stood looking down at her as she squirmed to get herself standing. She couldn’t get any footing and opted instead to continue to crawl. Now she merely wanted to get back down to the stateroom. Maybe she could lock him out.
He didn’t touch her. He stood over her, watching her struggle.
“Yeah,” she heard him say. “You can’t stand that I have a real family now, can you? You’d do anything to stop me, to ruin my life. You want revenge, don’t you? For once, I fooled you, I manipulated you and got you to fall into the sea. It’s too late for you, Julia. It’s over. This vengeful resurrection won’t work,” he said, and seized her ankle.
She screamed.
My God, she thought, he’ll throw me overboard, and Jennifer…My God!
She reached out to grasp the bottom of the railing near the stairway in hopes of keeping him from casting her off the yacht at least long enough for him to realize what he was doing, but her weakened hands and battered body were no match for his superior strength. Her fingers lost their grip and she felt her body being pulled and lifted.
I’m going to die, she thought.
And despite all her effort, she couldn’t keep herself from losing consciousness.
“Okay,” Sanchez said. “We found him. He’s going slowly because of the wind and the waves.”
“Get me close to him,” Scott said.
Sanchez cut his engine as they pulled up alongside Steve Wallace’s yacht.
“What now?” he asked Scott.
Yes, what now? Scott thought. He looked about desperately and spotted a pole with a large hook.
“What is this?” he asked.
“It’s a gaff. We use it to hook heavy fish.”
“I’ve got a pretty heavy fish to hook,” Scott said and took it off the rack. “Okay. Call the Coast Guard,” he said. “If something happens to me…don’t lose sight of this yacht…just call the Coast Guard…“
He navigated himself to the side of the boat. The rocking and movement made it almost impossible, but he threw the gaff over the side of the yacht and then leaped up to grasp the rail and pull himself up and over. Sanchez watched in amazement and then quickly went to his radio.
Scott got to his feet, grabbed the gaff and made his way aft. He stopped dead when he saw Steve Wallace pulling Megan by her ankle and moving toward the side of the yacht. She looked unconscious, maybe already dead. There was no time to think, to plan to build his courage. He rushed forward, taking advantage of Wallace’s turning his back to him and then he shouted, “You bastard,” and swung the gaff so that the hook caught Steve Wallace on his right side, just above his hip bone. It sank in deeply enough so that when Scott tugged the handle, Wallace fell back, releasing Megan’s ankle.
Scott rushed to Megan and knelt beside her, lifting her head to rest against him.
“Megan…Megan,” he cried.
Her eyelids fluttered and then opened.
“Scott?”
Steve Wallace reached back and struggled to pull the gaff out of his side. The pain was excruciating, especially when he ripped the hook out, tearing more of his flesh. He worked his way to his feet and looked at them in disbelief. Then he lifted the gaff like an axe and charged forward. Scott pushed Megan to the side and like a football lineman, lowered his head and lunged at Steve Wallace’s legs just as he swung the gaff. The hook caught on the side rail and Wallace fell forward hard, losing his grip on the pole.
Scott spun and leaped toward the pole, lifting it quickly as Steve Wallace began to push himself up and turn. This time Scott swung the gaff at his neck and caught him with the hook on the side, severing an artery. Blood spurted and Wallace reached up to grasp the hook, shock now settling in his face. He stumbled back against the railing. Without hesitation, Scott shot forward, seized Steve Wallace around his calves and lifted him up, pushing forward to send him over the side of the yacht.
He dropped into the sea.
As he sunk beneath the water, he turned and died, swearing that he saw Julia waiting there, floating and smiling.
Above, Scott fell to his knees and then embraced Megan.
“Jennifer,” she whispered. “Below. Go…I’ll be all right.”
He rose and hurried down, finding the stateroom and seeing her on the bed. She was sitting up, crying.
“Daddy!”
“Jen,” he cried, and embraced her, lifting her and kissing her cheeks. “Jen…Jen…”
She clung to his neck. He turned and carried her out and up to the deck where Megan waited. The three of them held each other for a long moment and t
hen he pried Jennifer’s arms away from his neck.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you two into the salon. I’ve got to stop the yacht,” he said. “The Coast Guard is coming.”
He looked over the side at Sanchez.
“You got your fish, senor,” he called. “The Coast Guard is on its way. Pull back on the throttle and stop the yacht. I’ll tie up alongside and help you.”
“Si, muchas gracias, Sanchez.”
With tears of happiness streaking down his cheeks, Scott turned to the bridge. Less than an hour later, the Coast Guard pulled alongside and boarded. Megan and Jennifer were taken off by a second Coast Guard vessel to be brought to the hospital for an evaluation. Scott remained behind, answering questions and explaining as best he could how this had occurred, while the Coast Guard navigated Steve Wallace’s yacht back to the dock in San Diego. He told them about finding Steve Wallace’s mother dead on her kitchen floor and the note that provided her the dialogue for her call to his office.
“I left the note on the table. I have no idea right now why he was trying to kill Megan,” he told them, “or even why he kidnapped our daughter.”
He described how he had also found Ed Marcus’s wallet, and who Ed Marcus had been.
“I left it back there as well. Please inform the police.”
One of the Coast Guard officers contacted the FBI, who told him they would contact the Beverly Hills police.
“An agent is being sent to meet you here,” the officer told Scott.
A third vessel had located Steve Wallace’sbody, the gaff still sunk in his neck.
“Call the FBI back and tell them to have the agent meet me at the hospital. I must see about my wife and daughter.”
As soon as the Coast Guard boat arrived at the dock, Scott was ready to rush off to the hospital. But he did thank Sanchez before he left.
“You helped me save my family,” he told him. “You deserve your bonus.”
“I need no bonus, senor. My grandmother, she would tell me helping you save su esposa and su hija was bonus enough.”
Scott thanked him again and swore he would make a trip someday to visit this grandmother. Then he raced to the hospital.
He found Megan and Jennifer in the same examination room at the hospital. Outside in the hallway, the doctor on duty told him that except for a few bruises, Megan looked to be okay.
“She’ll still need time to recuperate from the original injury, but I see no reason to keep her in the hospital. Your daughter suffered terrible emotional shock, but she’s fine otherwise. Let them rest a while and then get them home,” he said. “I’ve given your daughter something to help her sleep.”
Scott thanked him and went in to see Megan and Jennifer. While Jennifer sat on his lap with her head resting against his chest, he explained to Megan how he had come to board the yacht. She listened, but he could see she was too exhausted to really understand most of it.
He was called out to meet with the FBI and went through his story again. One of the agents spoke to Megan for a while and then they both told him they’d contact him tomorrow for further information.
Megan was still in a daze when he finally took her and Jennifer out to the rental car and started the trip back. They both slept almost all the way. He was still far too hyper to be tired, but he imagined that when he did hit the bed, he would be like someone under anesthesia.
After he pulled into the driveway of their Beverly Hills home, he picked up Jennifer and carried her, with Megan holding onto his arm. He fumbled for his key and got them inside.
“Let me get her into her bed and help you up the stairs, Megan.”
“I can manage,” she said.
He nodded and took Jennifer up. She was half asleep, but he helped her put on another pair of pajamas and got her under the blanket.
“Daddy!” she cried when he started away.
“I’ll be right here, Jen. I promise. I won’t go far.”
She nodded and lowered her head to the pillow again. Then he went out to see about Megan. She was sitting on their bed, still looking quite dazed.
“You better get some sleep, Megan.”
She looked at him and nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This is really all my fault.”
“Not all, but most of it,” she told him and he smiled.
“Need any help?”
“I’m okay.”
“All right. I promised Jennifer I’d hang around. If you don’t mind…“
“Come to bed, Scott,” she said. “For once, be where you should be when you should be there.”
“Right,” he said.
He thought about going down to call his father to tell him about it all.
“Call your father in the morning, Scott,” she said and he laughed. “Yes, you’re that obvious,” she told him.
He nodded and got himself ready for bed. It was very late, after all, and tomorrow was soon enough for everything that had to be done.
And if ever there had been any doubt before, there was none now.
There was a great deal to be done.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jennifer was up before them in the morning. Neither had heard her come in, but both felt her crawl onto the bed and set herself comfortably between them. Megan kissed her right cheek and Scott kissed her left.
“I’m hungry,” she said, and they both laughed.
“Hopefully, in her mind it was just like watching some scary television show,” Scott said, sitting up.
“Tell you what, Jen. Why don’t you come down to the kitchen with me and help me make breakfast to bring up to Mommy.
“I make a wicked cheese omelet, if you remember,” he told Megan.
“I remember, although it comes under the heading of ancient history.”
“Well then, let’s go back in time.” He clapped his hands, rose and went into the bathroom to wash up.
“Is Daddy staying here?” Jennifer asked Megan.
“He is for now,” she said. “How are you, darling?”
“Why did that man do all that to us, Mommy?”
“Believe it or not,” Megan said, “because he was lonely and wanted a family. He was in a lot of pain.”
“Loneliness hurts?”
“Yes, it does, honey, but don’t you worry,” Megan told her, embracing her and kissing her. “You won’t ever be lonely.”
As soon as Scott emerged from the bathroom, Jennifer jumped off the bed and followed him out and down the stairs to the kitchen. She seized his hand in the hallway and held it so tightly, it was as if she would never let go.
Megan closed her eyes and opened them as soon as she lay back again. She was afraid of the images that wanted to haunt her. How do I win this battle? she wondered. She recalled something Scott had told her when they were first dating.
“Whenever I fall into a depression or get sad for any reason, I follow Joseph Campbell’s advice and follow the bliss.”
“What does that mean?”
“Think of a happy moment, a happy time. It doesn’t have to be pure ecstasy, but a time when you were very happy."
She would do that now. Or at least, she would try, she thought.
Scott did make a great omelet. She didn’t think she could eat it all, plus the toast and jam and little sausages, but she did. In fact, all three of them ate a good-sized breakfast. While he was gathering the dishes to take downstairs, the door buzzer rang.
“Your father?”
“No, I haven’t called him yet,” Scott said.
“Oh?”
“More important things to do first,” he told her, and went down to see who it was.
It was Detectives Parker and Foto from the Beverly Hills police. They had another detective with them, who covered West LA, Detective Wilson. He had been investigating Steve Wallace’s mother’s death. Scott took them all into the living room.
“You should have called us as soon as you made the discovery of Wallace’s mother’s body,” Park
er told him as soon as they were all seated.
“I had more important business to attend to than a woman who was beyond any help and who looked to be party to this horror. You guys shouldn’t jump on the easiest way to solve a case,” he countered. His father would have liked that one, he thought—and then thought, forget his father. He liked it.
Parker looked as if he’d wilted.
“Your wife told the Coast Guard something about Wallace’s first wife,” Foto said.
“Yes, I did,” Megan said. She appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a robe.
“I didn’t want you disturbed, Megan,” Scott said.
“Too late for that,” she said dryly. She walked in and sat on the heavily cushioned easy chair. “He originally told me she died in a boating accident, but I believe he caused her to fall overboard and drown. Maybe he even threw her overboard, as he tried to throw me.”
“We ran his file,” Foto said. “It was a hard case to investigate. Her body was never recovered, so we couldn’t look for trauma or anything underhanded.”
“How did his mother die?”
“Forensics found tissue and blood on the side of the table. Did he push her? Was that an accident? We can’t tell,” Detective Wilson said.
“Do you know any motive for all this?” Parker asked Megan. “There never was a demand for money, correct?”
“He wasn’t interested in money,” she replied.
“Then what was he interested in?” Foto asked.
“He was looking for a new family or his first family. What I read between the lines was his wife didn’t want children.”
“He did all this to have a family?” Foto asked. “We have tons of creeps out there trying to dump theirs.”
No one laughed.
Least of all, Scott. He looked down at the floor.
“My husband saved our lives,” Megan said. “I’m sorry I implied anything that would lead you to believe he was guilty of this horrible thing. If you have any doubt…“
Guardian Angel Page 24