Chapter Twenty
David pointed to a boat. The Tuna Mann looked much larger than Detective O’Connor’s little boat. Adaleigh guessed it to be over thirty feet long, and it had a large lean-to-like structure toward the front. The nose of the boat stretched away from shore. It appeared solid, despite frantically bobbing at its lines. Around the lean-to were piles of nets and other equipment. One large fan—the motor?—dodged in and out of the water at the boat’s base.
Adaleigh’s insides squeezed. What was Hitchens thinking, putting them on a boat in this weather? Maybe they could push him overboard and this standoff would be over? She considered the options as David and Spelding got on the boat.
“Martins,” Hitchens shoved her after them. “If you don’t get us moving—”
“Adaleigh? Adaleigh Sirland?” Bent double against the wind, a thin old man approached, gratefulness filling his wrinkled face. “Adaleigh, my dear! I found you!”
Her voice caught in her throat, her mind unable to comprehend. Not only had her sister found her, but their family lawyer, old Mr. Binitari, had as well?
“What are you doing out in this storm?” Mr. Binitari glanced at the men surrounding her. David was slowly untying the ropes holding the boat to the dock, an eye on Spelding, who appeared to be calculating his way off the boat, as only Hitchens and Adaleigh stood in his way to solid ground.
“Come back to the shelter with me.” Mr. Binitari reached out an arm.
Hitchens’s gun slid to a more inconspicuous, though equally dangerous, spot at her side, and Adaleigh caught her breath to keep from wincing as he pressed it to her skin.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Adaleigh told Mr. Binitari, pretending she had no inkling as to his identity. She had to get him away from here, send him for help. “I’m on my way to meet my parents.”
Mr. Binitari blinked. Adaleigh lifted her chin decisively, ending the conversation. She could feel Mr. Binitari staring at her. She could only hope he’d figure out the only clue she could think to give. Because if he didn’t, she actually might see her parents before the day was through.
Fortunately, Mr. Binitari did not press the point. He stepped back to the boardwalk with a puzzled expression.
“Martins, let’s go!” Hitchens readjusted the gun.
David cranked the motor, and the boat churned its way toward open sea, bobbing wildly in the choppy water.
Spelding gripped the boat’s edge. “Why’d you let the old guy go?”
“I needed someone to see us.” Hitchens’s grip on Adaleigh’s arm tightened. “Then I’ll be the lone survivor of your plan to sink everyone.”
“You’re deranged!” Spelding scoffed, then caught himself as the boat nearly tipped sideways over a wave.
Hitchens slammed Adaleigh into the side of the boat. “Watch yourself!” he shouted at David.
Fear pressed in on Adaleigh. In an effort to not panic, she turned her eyes to the water. White caps sprayed water as they tumbled over themselves. Wave upon wave. The water was gray and angry and cold. The shoreline receded. A flash of lightning darted above the town. From here, she could see the whole path the tornado had leveled. Buildings crushed like matchsticks. Trees uprooted. A swath of destruction.
Death had left its destruction on this town, just as her life had been uprooted. But Crow’s Nest would rebuild. The people would come together and breathe life back into the damaged buildings. They would replant trees. They would even heal from the murder that had ripped their town apart. Could Adaleigh do the same? If she got out alive.
“I know you’re the reason Amy is dead,” Hitchens said, his breath hot on Adaleigh’s ear. Was he talking to her?
Spelding shrugged, wiping rain off his face. “Amy wanted a job, so I interviewed her on that Friday. End of story.”
“Why would Amy want a job from the Conglomerate?” Hitchens squeezed the hand that held Adaleigh locked against him.
“Aren’t you married, Hitchens?” Spelding’s tone had been marinated in sarcasm.
“Amy was my true love.”
Spelding rolled his eyes. “That’s a load of—”
“David, are you turning?” Hitchens whipped toward the front of the boat.
David came out from the lean-to. “We don’t dare go much farther, or no one will get back alive.”
“Fine. Cut the engine. This will have to do.”
David glanced at Adaleigh before he reluctantly joined them on deck. This was it. She could read in the slump of his shoulders that he didn’t have a solution. Yet. She caught his eyes. His wheels were turning, and any distraction he could come up with would give her the chance she needed to escape Hitchens’s grasp. She gave him an imperceptible nod. The gun barrel dug into her side, taking her breath away.
The boat tilted violently. Hitchens used his gun hand to grab the side of the boat, and Adaleigh whirled away, hopping on one foot as pain shot up her leg. David swung one of the handled nets from its holder on the side of the boat, over the water, and squarely into Hitchens’s back. The man stumbled forward, dragging her with him. Adaleigh used the momentum to bring up her good knee.
The gun skittered away as Hitchens moaned in pain. David and Spelding leapt after it. Adaleigh shoved Hitchens off of her and watched, wide-eyed, as David and Spelding rolled on the slippery, pitching deck, tangled in the netting. It meant she didn’t see Hitchens move until he yanked her out of their way, knife pricking her side and his other arm crushing the air from her stomach.
David delivered a punch to Spelding’s shoulder that caused the man to recoil enough for David to grab the gun. Spelding launched himself, knocking David to his knees, and with a swift move, climbed on top of David and pinned his back to the deck. Equally matched, neither man could move without giving the other an inch. They stared at each other like two wild bulls.
“Keep quiet.” Hitchens’s whisper carried toward them.
Spelding glanced over, giving David the perfect chance to land a right hook. Spelding rocked backward, holding his bleeding mouth. Before David could adjust, Hitchens planted his foot on David’s wrist, trapping the gun.
“Let go,” Hitchens hissed, Adaleigh back in his grip.
David breathed out a silent prayer and released the gun. Hitchens kicked it to the far corner before Spelding could get to it. Then Hitchens retreated with Adaleigh at knife point.
“You idiot,” Spelding spat.
“Then jump overboard,” David shot back. “I’m not leaving without her.”
Spelding glanced at the swells, which made a shot of fear cross his face, a look David had seen too many times to count. A deathly fear of water.
“Tie yourselves to the wheelhouse,” Hitchens demanded.
“Not a—” Spelding writhed like a fish in David’s hands.
“Sorry, man.” David grabbed the rope hanging on the cabin wall next to them, secured Spelding’s wrists, and lashed him to the wheelhouse.
Hitchens nodded toward the gas can secured near the wheelhouse. “Martins, spread that fuel around the deck. Come, come, this knife is sharp.” To prove the point, Hitchens pressed it into Adaleigh’s side, and she yelped.
David clenched his teeth but grabbed the spare jug of fuel, splashed it between him and them a couple times, then tossed it down. He needed to get control from Hitchens before he turned this radio-less tub into a fiery pile of wood. But how to do that without hurting Adaleigh?
“Sweetie.” Hitchens’s false endearment, directed at her, tightened every one of David’s muscles. “Reach into my pocket and grab the matches.”
His anger grew as red overcame Adaleigh’s pale cheeks. David had never considered himself a violent person, but seeing Adaleigh squirming in Hitchens’s arms made his protective instinct roar in his ears. He’d get her to safety if it killed him.
The boat rolled over a wave, but unfortunately, Hitchens kept his balance. Spelding, who had kept up a steady stream of swear words, paused and blanched as the craft tipped nearly sideways.
“Would you tie yourself down already?” Hitchens glared at David.
David hesitated, weighing his actions, and Hitchens dug his knife into Adaleigh’s side, forcing her to whimper again. David locked eyes with her and wrapped the rope around his wrists. Could she read what he wanted her to know? That he would get her out of this even if he didn’t know exactly how yet.
As distant thunder rolled, Hitchens touched a lit match to the fuel, and the deck burst into flames. The fire licked at anything it could devour. Hitchens pulled Adaleigh away. She looked through the haze to find David’s eyes, pleading with him. He would find a way off this boat, but not without her.
The fire raced along the deck. Adaleigh’s heart pounded an erratic beat. The wind kicked sparks into the air, and raindrops batted them away. Smoke rose to touch the stormy clouds above and choke her throat.
“How are you getting off this boat?” Adaleigh forced the words from her tightened lungs.
“I’ll radio for help before I abandon ship.” Hitchens kicked the life preserver by his feet. He didn’t know about the radio, which meant there was no way to escape the flames except by jumping into the rolling water. Cold, rolling water. Did she tell him?
Hitchens’s breath was hot on her. “Just waiting to see how you feel when you watch someone die, then you’ll die too.”
Nausea rolled in her stomach. “What did Amy see in you?”
“Love.”
“You’re demented. Real love is being willing to die for one another.”
“Like lover-boy is willing to do for you?”
That hit her in the stomach. David had done nothing but show her great kindness. And how had Adaleigh repaid him? By attracting Hitchens’s fury. Why did it seem she brought death to those who cared about her unconditionally? First her parents, now David. The very people who took her in when she had nothing to offer paid the steepest price. She met David’s gaze through the flames. There was still time to save him from the same fate as her parents.
The fire had now consumed half of the deck and began climbing the cabin wall. It created a divide between her and Hitchens, and David and Spelding. She had to find a way to get away from Hitchens and stop this craziness before they all died. But how could she? Every idea ended with the knife plunged into her skin. However, if that was the only way to save David …
David’s yelp brought her out of her planning. His shirt had caught fire. Adaleigh instinctively stepped forward, wanting to help, but Hitchens’s knife held her still. David sprung his wrists from the ropes and smacked at the flames, but the fire climbed down his pants. Tears blurred the scene. With one desperate glance at her, David yanked at the ropes holding Spelding to free him, and jumped overboard.
Adaleigh tried to pull away to see if David was okay, but Hitchens held her firm. Spelding stumbled to his feet.
“Had enough?” Hitchens shouted over the crackle.
“You’re a dead man.” Spelding narrowed his eyes at Hitchens. “Your leverage is gone. I don’t care if the girl dies. The boat is burning. The radio doesn’t work—”
Hitchens jerked.
"—and I’m going to kill you.”
“Then you’ll jump in the water, right?” Hitchens laughed, but it held a hint of fear Adaleigh had yet to hear from him. The radio had been his escape plan. Now what?
Spelding screamed and charged through the flames.
This was her moment. Hitchens pulled the knife away from her to offset the oncoming attack. The instant the knife left her side, Adaleigh used her good foot to stomp as hard as she could on Hitchens’s instep. Then she dropped her weight, slipping out of his grip, planted on her bad foot, pivoted before her ankle gave out, and swung her other leg as if she were kicking the last five meters of a hundred-meter breaststroke. Her aim was perfect.
Hitchens crumpled to the boat deck as Spelding crashed into them. Spelding shoved her aside and tossed Hitchens into the flames as if he were a sack of flour. He screamed. Adaleigh screamed. Spelding grabbed her shirt, startling her into forgetting her nausea. He leaned over her, his face inches from hers. “How do we save the boat?”
“I—I don’t know,” she choked out.
He let loose a string of swear words. But in the midst of them, Adaleigh heard David calling her name. David! She twisted out of Spelding’s grip, snagged the life preserver ring, clambered up the side of the boat, and dove off the end.
David met her when she came up for air. “You hurt?”
Adaleigh shook her head as she flung her arms around his neck, the ring dangling from her hand. David wrapped her in a crushing hug.
“Hey, lovebirds, how do I save the boat?” Spelding shouted from the deck.
“Toss down boards and rope. Quick,” David called, pulling her to his chest again. The flames looked like they had already engulfed the lean-to walls. The man obeyed and David gathered the materials while keeping her at his side.
“Life preservers?” Spelding yelled.
“Already have one. The other is on the wheelhouse, probably burned,” David shouted back, then turned to Adaleigh. “Where’s Hitchens?”
“Spelding …” Adaleigh’s sob turned to a splutter as a wave caught her with mouth open. Her legs tangled in the fabric of her skirt and pulled her down.
Perhaps he spoke, but rushing panic filled her ears. Breathe. She focused on the feel of David’s arms, then let her mind run through the life-saving courses she had taken in Chicago. One was particularly aimed toward women.
She looked up at David. “I need to get my skirt off.”
“What for?”
“It will help me swim, but I have another idea. And don’t worry, I wear bloomers.” She grabbed his arm to keep from getting separated by a wave, then yanked at the seam between her skirt and bodice. It wouldn’t come undone. “I need your help.” If possible, his face grew redder, but he managed to split the seam, and Adaleigh pulled her legs free.
Her icy fingers struggled to tie a knot at both open ends, but she did, and it created a balloon of air they could hang onto until they figured out the next step, which they’d have to do quickly, before hypothermia set it.
David cast her a grin of appreciation before shouting, “Spelding, we have a life preserver, but you’re going to have to jump.”
“Can we help him if he does?” Adaleigh clutched the fabric of her skirt, her freed legs treading water more easily, especially as the cold numbed the pain in her leg. “I can pull an unconscious boy from the water, but a grown man?”
“We get him to jump first. Then punch him out if he keeps thrashing.”
Adaleigh gave David a look that told him she thought he liked that idea a bit too much.
David didn’t blink as he held her eyes. “He would’ve harmed you if it meant getting out of this.”
Her heart tripped, but a wave drowned any reply she could muster.
“Is there another option?” Spelding’s voice had a hint of panic in it now.
“You can stay there until the boat burns,” David called back.
They remained barely within sight of shore, but with large waves, cool water, and no boat, it might as well be the moon. They had only a few more minutes before they’d be well on the way to going so numb, they’d drown.
“We need to turn these boards into a raft.” David worked to tie the scorched boards together. “Spelding, now get down here!”
“You think help will come?” Adaleigh asked through chattering teeth as she tried to help him finish making the raft.
“The flames make the best distress signal, but …” David’s expression told her the same thing Adaleigh feared. It might not be enough. Only time would tell, and between the cold and the waves, they might not make it that long.
Spelding leaned over the side of the boat. It was disconcerting to see a good-looking smooth-talker nearly in tears because he was scared out of his wits. Facing death reduced a person to their most primal needs. She cast a glance at David. If her theory was true, what did that say about him? His whole concern seemed focused on everyone but himself.
“You’ve got to jump, Spelding,” David shouted. “The boat’s going down.”
Spelding hesitated, but the fire was pushing him toward a decision—fiery grave or watery one. He chose, landing in the water a few feet from them. Came up thrashing.
“David, how are we going to do this?”
“Spelding!” David shouted at him, then tossed the ring. “Catch!”
The man’s terrified eyes appeared just before a wave covered his head.
“Grab the ring.” David reeled in the ring, tossed it again. Spelding just bobbed, his arms outstretched. David pulled the ring back. “He’s drowning.”
Adaleigh grabbed David’s arm. “Let me do this.”
“No.”
She held his arm to make him face her. They rode a high wave. “You’re stronger, so you can pull him off of me if this doesn’t work.” What she had learned about drowning is that when someone is trying to rescue themselves, they climb up anything they can get their hands around, their rescuer included. It was one of the most dangerous moments in a water rescue, which was why it was usually best not to touch a conscious drowning victim. She steeled herself from thinking about the ramifications if Spelding got too close.
David studied her, working his jaw, until he finally squeezed her hand and let her go. Adaleigh stuck her arm in the ring and swam toward Spelding. He barely moved, his mouth less and less above the water.
“Grab the ring, Mr. Spelding.” Adaleigh tried to mix command with calm. She wasn’t sure she succeeded, seeing that her own heart continued to pound in her ears.
Terrified eyes looked back at her.
“It’s okay.” She coughed out water. Her injured leg gave out just as a wave went over her head. “Spelding, you’ve got to try again.”
She pushed the ring right up to his hand. No response. She shot a look at David, who towed the raft behind him, and he returned a solemn nod. She circled around behind Spelding, then wrapped an arm around his neck and lifted, helping his head stay above the next swell. On the downward side, he sputtered and flailed.
Adaleigh let go and swam away. Her injured leg kept her from escaping fast enough. Spelding lunged, clawing his way out of the water. Adaleigh grabbed a breath just before she sank below a wave. She kicked toward the surface, but a vise grip clutched her bad ankle. She cried out, using the last of the air in her lungs.
She tried to pull away, panic making her forget about holding her breath. Pain sliced from her ankle up to her back. Her lungs burned. Hands only pushed her deeper into the darkness.