Chapter Nine
JORDAN PUSHED THE accelerator to the floor, racing to Ruth’s side as fast as she could. She’d been frantic since the call, dialing 911 while driving at dangerous speeds. Jordan was close to New Rollins, having left work before scheduled in an attempt to surprise Ruth and get an early start on their weekend.
“911 emergency, can you hold?”
“What? No, I can’t hold or I wouldn’t have called 911,” Jordan shot back in frustration. Unfortunately, the question had been rhetorical and the operator had already disappeared.
Jordan growled, but continued to press the phone to her ear. In less than a minute, the operator was back. Jordan quickly outlined the situation. She was already nearing the ferry landing and promised to meet the marina police at the dock. Jordan would have to show the police exactly where to find her cabin.
Two officers were already standing by when Jordan reached the pier. One man stood at the helm while another cast off the mooring lines. Jordan didn’t wait for an invitation. She barely remembered to lock her car before sprinting across the lot and jumping into the boat.
The officer who had untied the ropes spoke first. “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re on our way to a call.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m the one who called it in.” He frowned but Jordan preempted any attempts to throw her off the ship. “I’m assuming you are responding to an attack on Ghost Island?”
“Yes, but—”
“You need me. The call came from my cabin and you’ll waste time looking for it when I can lead you straight there.”
He exchanged a glance with his partner, but received only a shrug in reply. “Fine, but stay out of the way. Let’s go, Roberts.”
Officer Roberts pushed the throttle forward and Jordan had to grab on to a rope cleat to keep from falling over the side. Wind whistled down her shirt, causing a cascade of goose bumps. She gritted her teeth against the chill, but kept her eyes on the horizon. Officer Roberts quickly cut across the distance to Jessup Bay and kept going. They were going so fast that the boat seemed to skip across the water. Jordan’s worry made it difficult to draw breath as she scanned frantically across the horizon.
Approximately halfway to the island, Jordan heard a frantic call for help come across the police radio. She recognized Ruth’s terrified voice. Jordan inhaled sharply, realizing that Ruth had been forced to leave the island.
“That’s her. How far away are we?”
The officer Jordan had argued with shook his head at the question before he answered the call. “This is Officer Pete Lawrence with the marina patrol unit. We are approximately four minutes away. What is your status?”
“My status is that someone is trying to kill me.”
“Do you recognize your attacker?”
“Yes, it’s Henry Silas. He’s my driver.”
The sound of splintering wood that came across the connection interrupted any reply Lawrence might have made. Jordan thought they should be right on top of the Marlin. She looked all around, straining for any signs of the boat. In the premature darkness created by the storm, she expected to see the running lights.
“There,” the pilot yelled, pointing toward his left.
Jordan checked the direction Officer Roberts indicated, but didn’t see anything at first. Finally, she spotted the dim lights through the rain. The storm had started to taper off, but Jordan was drenched. Her hair hung limply in front of her eyes. She pushed the saturated locks aside.
“That has to be them. No one else would be desperate enough to be out in this weather.”
RUTH HEARD THE crash caused by Henry breaking through the hatch. Apparently, he had found something to use as a battering ram. She turned toward the sound just in time to see the bolt break off. A second blow and the door flew open completely. Henry pushed the panel back on battered hinges and stepped calmly onto the deck. He held a scuba tank by the neck.
“Time’s up.” He tossed the tank aside, ignoring it as it careened across the slippery planks.
Henry stalked into the cabin with her, storm water coursing down his frame and soaking into the carpeting. Murderous intent reflected in his steely eyes and Ruth backed away. She slid around a bolted down table in an attempt to evade him. Now that she knew the police were so close, Ruth only had to stay alive for a few more minutes. Unfortunately, she didn’t think that was going to be as easy as it sounded.
“You don’t really think that’s going to work, do you?”
“You don’t really think I’m just going to give in, do you?”
Ruth didn’t wait for a response. As soon as Henry came partway around the table, she bolted aft. Henry reached out with one long arm and Ruth felt his fingertips snag in her blouse. The grab was enough to pull her sideways and allowed Henry to secure his hold. Ruth struggled against him, beating at Henry’s chest as he pushed her to the floor.
She felt Henry’s feet on either side of her hips as his large hands wrapped around her throat. Ruth tried desperately to draw breath, but he only squeezed harder. Ruth could hear the thundering of blood in her ears and nothing else. In seconds, darkness quickly closed in. She tried to pry his fingers loose to no avail. Suddenly, unaccountably, Henry released her.
Ruth heard his muffled curse. He grabbed her collar with one hand and dragged her toward the hold. She felt like a child in his grip, unable to resist and easily towed along. When he pulled her down the steps, Ruth landed uncomfortably on each riser. She felt the bruises forming and hoped she’d be alive later to complain about the pain. In the meantime, she found it difficult enough to take a breath. Her throat ached and Ruth coughed and gagged though she continued to try to resist. Her vision swam and then cleared as air returned to her starved lungs.
Henry pushed Ruth into the corner of the hold and squatted on top of her with one knee. He placed a meaty palm across her mouth to keep her quiet before he reached toward something she couldn’t see. When he pulled his other hand into view, Ruth saw that he held the fishing gaff. The gaff was used for hooking large fish and hauling them aboard ship. Ruth expected Henry to use the tool on her.
“You’re girlfriend is here. Stay nice and quiet or I’ll gut her like a fish.”
Ruth didn’t doubt his threat for a second. She was mystified how Jordan had reached her so quickly, but wasn’t about to put her in danger. Ruth met his eyes and thought she saw regret. It wasn’t the first time since the whole ordeal began that she had witnessed such an expression. She had seen his indecision when he came at her in Jordan’s kitchen. Clearly, Henry regretted his actions, but apparently not enough to stop.
“By the way, I didn’t hurt your friend. That was someone else. For what it’s worth, I just wanted you to know that.”
Henry removed his hand from Ruth’s mouth. Before she could cry out and attempt to speak, he punched her on the left temple. Ruth’s vision darkened again and she slumped to the floor. She didn’t lose consciousness. The blow was just enough to scramble her thoughts. Snatches of images resembling a movie on a reel danced across her eyes. The images were incoherent and jumbled together, not really making sense.
Ruth saw Henry running toward the steps leading topside. She heard him yell, but didn’t understand the words. Two or three people appeared at the top of the landing. Their shapes danced together, merging and separating. She flinched at the sharp, loud bark of a handgun, heard Henry grunt in pain and watched him reel backward.
As her sight cleared, Ruth realized the hold was now overly populated. Two police officers struggled with Henry, rolling him onto his stomach. Handcuffs snapped in place around his wrists. Ruth still felt sluggish from the blow to the head. She couldn’t seem to look at anything but the spreading pool of blood under her former driver’s body. Then gentle arms surrounded her and Ruth looked up into Jordan’s worried gaze.
“How badly is he hurt?” The words sounded clear in her head, but Ruth hardly understood her own mumbled question.
“Not bad enough,” a police officer responded
.
He grabbed Henry around a biceps and assisted him to his feet. Ruth didn’t think the officer was very gentle, but then again, she didn’t really care. Whether he was sorry for his actions or not, Henry had tried to kill her.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” Jordan said.
“He tried to kill me.” Ruth’s head swam and her eyes kept trying to close. Her thoughts were confused. Had she already told Jordan about Henry’s perfidy?
“It’s all right. He won’t ever harm anyone else. Let’s get you out of here.”
Ruth was treated to a ride on the police patrol boat while Jordan insisted on keeping an eye on the Marlin from the vessel’s bridge. She had attached a tow rope to the police vessel and stayed aboard to ensure no additional problems. Jordan had told Ruth she’d get her boat fixed once they arrived at the marina. Officer Lawrence remained with Jordan to keep an eye on Henry. With Ruth injured, the officers chose not to secure him on the same vessel. They handed him off to a waiting sheriff’s unit as soon as they reached port. Ruth saw him briefly before the police loaded him into the cruiser. A blood-soaked rag bound Henry’s arm, but otherwise he appeared uninjured.
Chapter Ten
FIGURES STUTTERED THROUGH her mind. Karl on the mountaintop, peering down at her from above. The smile disappearing from his lips as an unseen force hauled him from sight. She clung helplessly to her tether, the knowledge of Karl’s fate warring with the inability to act. When her would-be executioner began sawing through the line, Ruth had reacted out of an instinct born of desperation.
Ruth fought the dream, realizing even unconscious that she was locked in sleep. She struggled upright, fighting restraints created from hospital tubing. Awake before her eyes opened, Ruth gasped and searched out the shadows for a hidden assailant. She was alone. Although intimately accustomed to medical facilities since the day of terror on the cliff, the room was unfamiliar. For a moment the discontinuity threatened to ratchet her fear up another notch.
When the events of the past few days flooded back, Ruth relaxed against the pillow. The sweat induced from the nightmare began to cool, leaving a clammy feel in its wake. Ruth closed her eyes and concentrated on the beeps and whirs created by the hospital equipment. She felt a little abandoned and tried very hard not to hold Jordan at fault. This wasn’t Jordan’s hospital and she didn’t have run of the facility like she did in Los Angeles. Because the incident with Henry occurred near Jessup Bay, emergency services had carted Ruth to a local medical center. From the quiet, Ruth surmised she had awakened either very late or very early in the morning. Visiting hours were long over and Jordan couldn’t use the family member excuse.
She thought about the dreams as her breathing assumed a more natural cadence. Ruth had thought about that day hundreds of times during the last few months. She had strained to recall anything law enforcement could use, but she had never dreamt about it before. Perhaps the fact that Henry tried to kill her caused her subconscious to rehash those frightful details. She could still feel the texture of the nylon rope against her fingertips as she gazed upward. Ruth heard again the thud created as Karl’s body hit the ground. She caught sight of a slight figure dressed in desert camo holding some sort of club aloft.
Her eyes snapped open and Ruth rose onto her elbows. She hadn’t previously remembered anything about their attacker. Furiously, she tried to recall more but her mind refused to yield the coveted information. All Ruth had was an impression of a slender figure and a flash of camouflage clothing. She couldn’t even discern the killer’s gender. Despite the limitations of the memory, Ruth realized two things. She’d always assumed the killer was a man, but she didn’t really know for sure. Henry had spoken the truth when he said he didn’t hurt Karl. The image in Ruth’s mind was much too small to have been him. Also, the responsible party had prior knowledge of the climbing trip. They had dressed to blend into the terrain and lain in wait at Karl’s planned destination.
Ruth wasn’t sure what all of this meant for her longevity. Henry had tried to finish the job yesterday, yet she couldn’t understand why. She most assuredly was not a threat to anyone because she hadn’t seen anything concrete. Why try to kill her now? Why after all this time?
Dawn broke while she considered current events and the birds started singing. The storm had passed and she saw clear skies outside the windowpanes. Her head throbbed a little from where Henry struck her. She reached up to rub her temple when she remembered the stitches. She sighed and closed her eyes. Ruth had just begun to doze off again when something thumped against the door. A nurse pushed through a second later with a trolley. No matter the quality of care offered or the setting, institutional food always smelled the same. Breakfast. Ruth wrinkled her nose but sat up as straight as she could in the partially reclined mattress.
“Don’t look so enthusiastic.” Ruth didn’t know the older woman, but she sounded friendly as she teased.
“It’s nothing personal. I’m just not a fan of hospital food.”
“This is the part where I’m supposed to remind you that it’s good for you.”
“I’m sensing a but,” Ruth stretched her back, trying not to tangle her I.V. tube in the process.
“But, I completely understand. Unfortunately, the powers that be kind of frown on biscuits and gravy.”
“Would that be your breakfast of choice?”
“Absolutely. Anyway, you need to try and eat something.”
The door unexpectedly opened again and Jordan walked in. She smiled and Ruth felt like the room had brightened a little more. Ever the physician, Jordan added to the nurse’s admonition. “Yes, you need to eat and get your strength back. Oh, is that Jell-O?”
“It’s all yours.”
Ruth happily handed over the strawberry Jell-O and a plastic spoon. The nurse frowned but didn’t say anything. She left a few seconds later and Jordan plopped down in the bedside chair. Ruth complied with doctor’s orders and picked at her rubbery eggs for a few seconds. She was so excited to have Jordan there and felt a little guilty about her earlier thoughts.
“You do know that you actually have to eat it, right?”
“It smells gross.”
Jordan chuckled and quickly covered her mouth with her hand to keep from spitting Jell-O across the room. “I promise to buy you a steak later.”
“Does that mean I can go home soon?”
“Trust you to cut to the chase. I know you don’t like being in the hospital, believe me, I know. However, you have a concussion and until the doctor here gives you the all-clear, you’re stuck.”
“Not necessarily,” Ruth argued. “I can always get dressed and leave.”
“Against medical advice, sure. You’re not going to do that, are you?”
“No,” Ruth grumbled, stuffing another bite of eggs into her mouth.
“Good.”
Jordan unexpectedly moved closer. Ruth figured out what she was doing and stared back as Jordan checked her pupils. She flinched slightly when Jordan touched her temple, but the brief check-up was already over.
“You’re pupils are even. I think the doctor will probably release you this afternoon.”
“That long?”
“Twenty-four hours, my dear. You know the rules.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like them.”
“Are you finished pushing your food around?”
The question caught Ruth off guard. She still had a headache from the concussion and it took her a moment to respond. When she nodded, Jordan left the chair and moved toward her. Jordan dropped her empty cup and spoon on the tray and slid the hinged table aside. She settled close on the mattress and Ruth shivered as the heat of their thighs pressed together. Jordan leaned down and Ruth’s eyes started to close in anticipation of a kiss. The slight squeak of the door swinging open interrupted the moment. A pair of strangers walked in like they had every right to go wherever they wished.
A tall, curvaceous woman with short blond hair led the way. She wore a tailored pant
suit and sensible black loafers. The man following her also wore a suit, complete with tie and a dark blue peacoat. The word “Fed” screamed in Ruth’s head.
“Sorry to barge in,” the woman began. Something in her tone belied the platitude. “Ruth Gallagher?”
“Yes, can I help you?”
The woman flashed a gold badge held inside a black leather wallet. Her movements were practiced, so quick that Ruth barely caught a glimpse of the metal shield. “I’m U.S. Marshal Emma Blake. This is my partner, Marshal Lyle Moore. Do you have a moment?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Ruth’s remark went unnoticed as Jordan stood. “What’s this about?”
Marshal Blake raised an eyebrow at the sharp inquiry. “And you are?” Ruth could have sworn she heard a slight southern drawl.
“Doctor Jordan Pierce.”
“Judging from your proximity and the lack of a white coat,” Marshal Moore said, “I’d guess you’re not the treating physician.”
“That’s right.”
Blake cut to the chase. “We’ll need you to wait outside while we take a statement from Ms. Gallagher. That wasn’t a request,” she added when it seemed Jordan would balk.
Jordan spared Ruth a backward glance and left the room. Ruth didn’t miss the way she ground her teeth together, but she did comply. A slightly panicked sensation took up residence in her chest at being left alone with the strangers. She wished Jordan had resisted more.
“I’ll repeat Jordan’s question. What’s this about? Since when do U.S. Marshals become involved in an attempted murder?”
Marshal Blake took charge of the conversation while her partner seemed content to stand guard by the door. “When it’s not a single incident. I believe you were involved with an actual murder a few months ago and now this happens. Besides, we have broad law enforcement responsibilities. In this case, we get involved in an attempted murder when the suspect has ties to organized crime and dies under mysterious circumstances.”
Illusive Witness Page 11