by Jack Stroke
As much as she longed to say that, Amber couldn’t stand to see how Joan would react. Or Megan. They would never look at her the same way again.
Better for them to assume the worst and never know for sure, rather than admit to the truth.
“Two men came to the cottage yesterday. Looking for you.”
“Two men?” Amber asked. “What two men?”
“What do I know? Two men. One tall, one short. The short one was so short I thought he was a child at first, from a distance.”
That twigged something in Amber’s mind. She’d seen a child recently. Out of place. Where?
“They weren’t very nice, these two. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover I guess, except these two had pretty ugly covers.”
The family from the rowboat Amber saw on her late-night run? Maybe that had been a small man and not a child. It had been dark.
“How do you know they were looking for me?”
“They had a photo of you.”
Amber pulled the print out from her pocket. She unfolded it and slid it across the table. There was a smear of blood on the corner which she put her hand over, hoping Joan wouldn’t notice.
“This photo?”
Joan grabbed the paper and held it close to her face.
“Yes, I think. Where did you get this? Why is there blood on it? They wanted to know if you had been staying at the cabins or if I had seen you around.”
“What did you tell them?”
“To go pay you a visit in cabin six, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I said I had never seen you, and we didn’t have any guests.”
Amber nodded, taking back the picture and refolding it, her mind piecing things together. So she had been spotted on the boat, and now the men from the boat were after her. Mother’s drug smugglers presumably. Why else would anybody care enough to kill her just for trespassing on a boat?
“What happened to you, Amber? When did you become an island?”
“An island?”
“You were such an open, happy little girl. When did you become so closed off and insular?”
It was a good question, and not one Amber was sure she had an answer to.
“I’m sorry, Joan. I don’t mean to be the way I am. I’m trying though. And if I manage to change or feel I can open up fully, I promise you will be the first person I come to.”
“Okay,” Joan said, smiling sadly.
They settled into their food. On the outside Amber remained quiet and calm. Inside her mind worked like crazy. Analysing all this information. There was trouble on the way.
Lev and his associates were bad news. Amber could feel it.
45
On their way back through Paradise Cove, they passed the park and the scout hall. Like the other day, the door was wide open.
Amber pulled over and told Joan she would see her back at the cabins later.
“Where are you going?”
“I think Vaughan is playing basketball in there.” She indicated to the scout hall.
This at least brought a smile to the old lady’s tired face, believing Amber to be stopping to chat to a potential love interest. Amber though, had other things on her mind.
She wandered in. Sure enough, Vaughan was practising his shooting. From what Amber could see, he needed the practice.
“Hey,” she said. “Not working today?”
“Not working any day,” Vaughan replied. The majority of shots he took missed entirely. A few hit the ring and bounced away. Amber watched him, that unsettled feeling about Vaughan refusing to let up.
“I have to ask you something.”
“Shoot,” Vaughan said, shooting and missing once more.
“You know the boat out near Hidden Beach?”
“Hidden Beach?”
“The Point. The other side of The Point.”
“The boat you didn’t go on the other day when you were swimming in your clothes?”
“Yes, that one.”
“What about it?”
“You warned me about getting my photo taken on it. Why?”
“What’s it worth to you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Kidding.”
Vaughan shuffled to retrieve his ball, in no hurry.
“Do you know Grubby? He works in the bait shop.”
“No, never met him.”
“Oh, you’d like him. Good guy, Grubby. Anyway, he was saying he knew a guy who installed the security on the boat. Reckons they’ve got some pretty high-tech stuff on board.”
Yeah, no kidding. Motion detector triggered cameras.
“Why?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
He shot again. The ball rolled to Amber. She picked it up.
“You play? How about a little one-on-one?” Vaughan asked.
“What’s the security on the boat for?”
“That’s the point. The guy didn’t know. Why install such high-tech stuff on an ordinary boat like that? The guy had installed similar equipment before but on multi-million dollar high-end yachts, which that one is definitely not.”
Amber nodded, tossing back the ball. Clearly whoever owned the boat was trying to protect something on board.
“Do you know who the boat belongs to?”
“Nope. But I might be able to find out for you, if you want.” He shot again and missed. “It will cost you though.”
“Cost me?”
“I could find out everything I can about the boat for you… if you go on a date with me.”
Amber cut him to shreds with her eyes. “No chance.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
“Suit yourself, kid. I could find out some pretty interesting stuff about that boat though.”
“Even if you did, it wouldn’t be worth it.”
“Ouch. Why would one date with me be so terrible?”
“I don’t know. I’m lucky though. It’s not something I will ever have to find out.”
Amber strode outside, leaving Vaughan to his game.
46
Amber found Lion waiting on her doorstep, wanting to come in. She lay beside him on the bed, patting him and arranging her thoughts into some sort of logical order.
She had been spotted on the boat and her picture taken. Her instincts had been right. There had been something on the boat. Something that needed protecting by high-tech security.
Aware Amber could not have simply disappeared, two of the men she had seen earlier had canvassed the area. Paradise Cove being as small as it is, they sensibly extended their search out to include Port Simmons, which was where Amber had been spotted and followed by Lev. The man in the SUV.
So Mother wasn’t involved. There is no such thing as coincidence. The boat was almost certainly involved in the drug smuggling Mother was talking about. Hidden Beach was a perfect spot for smugglers to offload drugs. Even in the quiet of Paradise Cove someone could easily notice them, but Hidden Beach? In off-season? Perfect.
The thing was, what should Amber do with the information? Realistically she still wanted her new life. She wasn’t sure where she was, but she certainly wasn’t ready to return to Mother, even if Mother didn’t want her dead after all. But if she didn’t, what did Mother want?
As the sun faded slowly from the sky, Amber knew what she had to do. Action that was not quite her old life and not quite her new. Something in the middle.
On foot, she headed for the petrol station just out of town and purchased a jerry can which she filled with fuel. Heading back to her cabin, she stopped by the recycle bin outside of the owner’s cottage and retrieved two large beer bottles. In her cabin, she took an old tea towel from the kitchen and tore it into long strips. She had everything else she required in her regular kit, including her waterproof bag and lighter. Part of her essentials collection.
The sun set slowly over Hidden Beach. The reflection of the pink sky danced on top of the gently moving water. And fifty yards out or so the sailboat sat p
atiently, unaware of its impending doom.
This was a good solution. Not quite old Amber, not quite new Amber. Something in between, to close off her life as an assassin and begin her new life as a regular person. Could she be an ordinary person? She was going to try. There was no clear picture of how this new life might look as yet. Adventures were like that. You couldn’t simply plan them, you had to live them.
No one crossed Amber’s path as she waited on Hidden Beach. She half expected to spot Vaughan, given he seemed to pop up at the most unlikely times and places. She didn’t.
When the sun disappeared and dusk kicked in, Amber made her move. She swam out to the sailboat with her waterproof bag slung over her shoulder. About five yards out from the sailboat, she stopped. It was difficult to float and complete the tasks she needed to do. Difficult but not impossible, which meant like many challenging tasks, it required patience and persistence.
Being careful not to get the vital components wet, she took the beer bottles full of petrol from her bag. She removed their lids, sticking the torn tea towel three-quarters of the way down their necks. The petrol fumes were strong. Would somebody be able to smell them from the boat? Hard to say. The boat remained still.
Taking out her waterproof lighter, Amber attempted to light the tea towel strip. Except the lighter wouldn’t catch. Was she out of gas? How could she have been tripped up by something so rudimentary? Resisting the urge to panic or get upset, she evened out her breath, concentrating on making sure her inhales and exhales matched in length. Despite the stink of petrol, it focused her thoughts.
She shook the lighter and tried again. No luck. What would this mean? Swimming back to the shore. Walking to the petrol station hoping they sold lighter fluid. Making her way back. It could still be done tonight. Annoying? Sure. Unexpected? Certainly. But not the end of the world either. Not by any means. Fortunately this wasn’t a task which required a precise timeline.
She gave the lighter a shake and tried one last time. It caught, providing her with the weakest of flames. Amber quickly shoved the tea towel up against it, hoping not to extinguish the fragile thing. After an agonising few moments, success. The tea towel caught.
Despite wanting to be rid of the flaming projectile as swiftly as possible, she used it to ignite the fuse for the second bottle. Amber then hurled both bottles onto the deck of the boat, one after the other.
The bottles exploded with a loud bang, followed by a whoosh. As the flames took hold, Amber casually reassembled her possessions, sealing her lighter back in the waterproof bag. Turning, Amber swam to shore, the heat from the flames already at her back.
She followed her own footprints up the sand and settled in the same spot, watching the sailboat burn. It was quite a beautiful sight, especially once the sail caught fire, the flames dancing against the increasingly dark sky. The fire like a goodbye to her old life. She would message Mother and tell her she had taken care of the heroin boat. Her final job. But that was it. Now she was out. Done. No more.
In front of her, the sailboat continued to burn.
47
Waking the next morning, Amber felt reborn. Ready to face any fresh challenge that came her way. After watching the ocean for a while from the porch in front of her cabin, she put on her exercise gear and made her way up to the Paradise by the Bay reception.
“Hello?”
No one about. Amber went to leave when an impulse struck. She moved into the office behind reception. It was a mess of books and papers and other business stuff. Taking a quick look around, Amber found some financial records, all on paper. Old school. Clearly Megan and Joan had never updated to digital bookkeeping. It didn’t take much flicking through the books to reveal Paradise by the Bay wasn’t in great shape financially. Amber recognised Joan’s messy scrawl but couldn’t see Megan’s handwriting anywhere throughout the books.
A loud bang made Amber’s heart skip a beat. Someone was in reception.
She slammed the book shut and hurried out. How could she explain herself? Edging through the door, she spotted two yellow eyes staring accusingly at her.
“Oh, it’s just you, Lion. You gave me a fright. I thought you were a person.”
Lion meowed.
“Our secret. Don’t tell anyone I was here, okay?”
She left reception and headed to the owner’s cottage.
“Hello…”
No sign of Megan or Joan anywhere. The cottage door was unlocked. She made her way to Ben’s door and knocked. With no answer, she tried again.
“What you want, Mum?” came the annoyed teen’s reply. “Leave me alone.”
“It’s not Mum, it’s Amber.”
This took a few moments for Ben to process. “What do you want?”
“I thought you might want to go for a run.”
Another pause. “It’s Saturday.”
“I know. That’s how I knew you wouldn’t be in school.”
He let out something between a sigh and a yelp.
“Come on. Get dressed.”
“Do I have to?”
Did he have to? Of course not. He could just say no and roll over and go back to sleep. What could she do about it? Having never had to deal with teenagers since she was one herself, Amber wasn’t sure what to say. She took a chance.
“Yes. You have to. Come on.”
Ben let out that groaning noise again. Five minutes later, he met her outside where she was limbering up. He’d managed to get shorts and shoes and a shirt on, but didn’t look as though he had been able to wake up at all.
“Good work,” Amber said. “How far do you want to go?”
“I don’t want to go at all,” he grumbled.
“Come on. You’ll feel great after.”
Watching him lock up the owner’s cabin, she surmised he must have found his keys.
48
Ben and Amber set off on their run, heading south along the seemingly endless beach. At first, Amber thought Ben might sulk the entire way and refuse to talk. He softened though as they went, slowly becoming chatty. Forcing herself out of her comfort zone, Amber peppered him with as many questions as she could think of, about his life and school and girls. She was careful to talk about the girls generally, rather than anything specific about the brunette she had seen Ben with the night he had been drinking.
“Why are you doing this?” Ben asked eventually, voice heavy from running.
“I want to be a good godmother.”
“Really? You came here by accident. Mum told me it was a complete mistake. Joan reckons it was destiny, except from what I’ve seen, you have just looked like you’ve wanted to run away again the whole time.”
“I’ve made some mistakes. I can’t really do anything about those, except say that I am sorry and try and do better from now on.”
“What’s that mean?” You’re, like… staying around?”
Amber’s response caught in her throat. It was well and good to decide these things in her head. Quite a different matter to actually admit them out loud.
“Yes, I’m staying around.”
“I have to stop,” Ben said, slowing to a walk.
Stop? They had barely gone two miles. Maybe that was okay for a start.
“I just assumed you would run away, like everyone else in my life.”
“Your Mum hasn’t run away. Joan hasn’t run away.”
Ben grunted. “You knew my father, didn’t you? Isn’t that what happened? You two hated each other, and you said to Mum, it’s him or me?”
A warning sounded in Amber’s head. Yes, she knew Ellis. He wasn’t someone she allowed herself to think about though. Ever. Those days were buried, as they should be. She resisted the powerful urge to defend herself or her actions.
“I didn’t know Ellis well…”
“He can’t be much of a man, to run off and never contact me.”
Amber let the comment lie.
“Do you know what I used to think you were?” Ben said with a shy smile. “A spy
or a secret agent or something.”
Amber forced a laugh. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I was just a kid. I thought that’s, like, what you had told me, when we met that time when I was five. I was so sure. And that one day you would come back, and we would be secret agents together.”
“Okay.”
Amber watched her shoes forcing small imprints in the white sand.
“I still believed it, up until I was twelve or something, waiting for you to come back.”
“What happened?”
“Mum told me I was just being silly, and I was just imagining it or something and that I needed to face it. You weren’t a spy, and you were never coming back. She was pretty mad about it.”
“I came back, eventually.” Amber wanted to say something better, the sort of thing you might see in a movie. Something to make the boy feel good and cement their bond forever. Maybe even earn a hug. Nothing came to mind. Eventually she said: “I’m sorry I didn’t come back earlier. I’m sorry I missed so much of your life.”
“Joan’s right,” Ben said. “You apologise too much.”
They were approaching home.
“Do you want to sprint the last little bit?” she asked.
“No.”
Amber did anyway, telling herself she wasn’t running away again, even if at that moment she was literally running away from Ben.
49
After pushing herself to go full pace for a while, Amber stopped, seeing a familiar face out in the ocean.
Vaughan looked better than expected emerging from the water with no shirt on. Aside from his delicious forearms, he was surprisingly wiry. A nice shape all over rather than too muscular. His board shorts hung around his bony hips.
“Should I be worried?” he asked, approaching Amber.
“You don’t seem like the type who worries too much.”
“It’s always a worry when someone seems to be following you. Especially a pretty woman.”