Chapter Nineteen

Splintered wood flew through the kitchen as screams outmatched the howling wind. The familiar rushing filled Adaleigh’s ears, but the need to help others managed to push the panic away.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked, coming out of her crouch by the ice box.

She took account of the room. The branch—really a small tree—had smashed through the window, knocking aside the table and crushing the chairs. Its branches reached toward the ceiling and filled the area where the table used to be. Rain poured through the open spaces, scattering leaves and debris.

“Sam’s hurt.” Kyle’s voice sounded muffled. Adaleigh peered around the branches. He held Samantha close as she clutched her leg. A shard of glass stuck eight inches out of her calf. Samantha’s breathing came quickly, and tears spilled over her cheeks.

“Leigh, dear, help me up. I’ll call for the ambulance,” Mrs. Martins said from by the stove. “Or Dr. Thompson.”

Adaleigh jumped to her feet and helped Mrs. Martins to hers. Other than a few scratches and torn clothes, the older woman seemed okay. Adaleigh stepped carefully as she shifted to crouch beside Samantha.

“I have a little first aid training.” Nevertheless, Adaleigh cringed at the wound. The piece looked well-embedded. She didn’t dare remove it since it seemed to be stopping any blood from oozing out.

“The phone is dead.” Mrs. Martins waved at the box on the wall, then grabbed the keys hanging beside it. “We’re taking her to the clinic ourselves. Or the hospital if Dr. Thompson is not there, which I doubt he will be. Kyle, carry her to the car.”

Adaleigh glanced at the angry clouds. The risk of traveling in this weather was nothing to take lightly, but not as great as the danger Samantha faced if she didn’t get the glass spear removed.

“We’ll make it.” Mrs. Martins seemed to read her mind. Fear lurked in the back of her eyes, but determination overrode it. “Adaleigh, you find David and Patrick and tell them where we’ve gone. Make sure they’re safe.”

Adaleigh wanted to argue, but knew that not only would Mrs. Martins not hear of it, someone needed to tell her grandsons what happened. “How will I get a hold of you?”

“Call the clinic if you find a working telephone. If we aren’t there, we’re at the hospital in Hawk’s River.”

In a matter of minutes, Adaleigh stood in the doorway as Mrs. Martins drove away. She was alone. Alone in a strange town, in a house that was not her own, with a storm pouring rain through a broken window and, filling the room, a tree she couldn’t move on her own. Her usual self-sufficiency bowed to her wish that David was here. Even more, she wished she knew whether he was safe.

As she stepped back into the house, emptiness closed in like a wet wool blanket. The storm wailed outside, and wind rushed through the broken window. The pounding rain sounded hollow, reminding her just how alone she was.

Thunder propelled her from her frozen state. Adaleigh left a note for Patrick in case he came back before she found a way to find him, grabbed a slicker from the coat stand, and stepped into the rain. A gust nearly knocked her over as she reached the sidewalk. This was not the smartest action, but she needed to find out if David was okay and she wouldn’t disappoint Mrs. Martins. Maybe Buck could help her, too.

Adaleigh half ran toward the boardwalk. If people were looking for the Tuna Mann, a crowd might have gathered near Captain Mann’s shop. Maybe David would already be there by the time she arrived. If she arrived.

The clouds swirled like an ugly cauldron of stew, black and angry. Lightning streaked across the sky, showing the enormous height of the thunderclouds.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing out here?” shouted a male voice behind her.

Adaleigh yipped, her heart taking a leap. “Buck Wilson, you scared me!”

He hadn’t changed from his sopping suit. “I repeat, what are you doing out here? It’s too dangerous.” He caught up to her. “I stopped at the Martins’s house. Where is—”

“You have news?” She searched his eyes, hoping, fearing.

“They found the Tuna Mann.“ Buck pulled her arm to keep them moving. He grabbed the same place as the bruise Joe inflicted, and Adaleigh cringed. She dislodged his hand from her arm. “Is the crew safe?”

He studied her for a moment. “I don’t know yet.”

Panic made her walk faster. “What were they doing out there? Why did they wait so long to come in? Do you know why they couldn’t radio?”

Buck kept pace. “Did you leave the house to find out?”

“Mrs. Martins took Samantha to the hospital and sent me to find her grandsons. Her phone is down, so here I am.”

They reached the boardwalk as the rain lessened. Adaleigh swiped wet hair out of her face. The wind grew still, as if the world held its breath. Fear crackled through the air. Even the seagulls hid. Their shoes pounded on the wooden planks of the empty boardwalk. Then, in the distance, a distinct rumble began. The sound sent skitters of ice straight into her heart.

“We need to go faster. The Wharfside has a cellar out back.” Buck grabbed her arm again, right on the bruise.

“Youch!” Adaleigh clenched her teeth. She couldn’t spare patience for pain right now.

“I barely touched you.” Buck looked at her as though she was losing her mind. Maybe she was. “Do you not see what’s coming?” He pointed to the sky.

She didn’t need to be reminded. Not with David possibly out on the open water and Mrs. Martins, Samantha, and Kyle likely still on the road to the hospital. The rumble grew louder. Closer.

Then she heard her name. She searched the boardwalk. There, hurrying toward them, herded by a group of grizzled men. David waved.

Tears of relief jumped to her eyes. David jogged ahead and pulled her into a crushing hug. He tried to speak, then gave up and hugged her tighter.

“We need to get to the shelter,” Buck shouted as the rumble grew into a roar.

David released her, and Adaleigh got a glance over his shoulder. Her gaze landed on the one person who seemed more phantom than real. Feeling drained out of her like water through a cloth. Whooshing, like water through a dam, filled her ears. Her surroundings swirled like the clouds.

Ashley? How was she was here? In this storm?

Adaleigh blinked, but her sister was real. They locked eyes just a pool’s length away and Adaleigh knew her sister had arrived to finish what she’d attempted the night of their parents’ funeral.

Adaleigh backed away from David. Her eyes glazed, her skin white.

“Adaleigh?” David reached for her. His relief at being on dry land, at holding her in his arms, washed away.

“Into the Wharfside!” Buck shouted into the wind.

But Adaleigh was already in motion. Without sparing a word, she spun on her heel and ran.

“Adaleigh, stop!” David called after her, but she disappeared around a corner. Adrenaline coursed through his tired limbs. What had spooked her? She zig-zagged her way to … where? Didn’t she hear the tornado’s barreling wind? Not that it would change his actions.

He dashed after her, footsteps following him. He didn’t look back to see whose. Adaleigh ran north on Main Street, past the shops that lined the street. The air took on a greenish hue, as if a filter had been lowered over David’s eyes to strain out the light. Above, the swirling clouds dipped menacingly. He needed to reach her, stop her, before those clouds turned into a second tornado. His own fear spurred him faster. With a lurch, he grabbed her. Adaleigh whirled around, eyes wide and terrified.

“I did not just survive on that boat to watch this storm kill you.” David clutched her shoulders, his fear driving his words. “What is going on?”

“Adaleigh, are you okay?” Buck pulled up next to him, breathless.

Adaleigh? David glared at Buck. Buck squared his shoulders. Then, quiet at first, the wind rolled into a sound that seemed to fill his whole body. They needed to find shelter before the second tornado ripped them apart.

“We need to go back to The Wharfside,” David tugged Adaleigh’s arm.

“No. Conglomerate headquarters is closer,” Buck said.

David clamped down on the ungracious words that wanted to slip out.

Buck glared. “We were the ones who found your soaking—”

“If you hadn’t pushed Mann,” David shot back, “maybe we wouldn’t have been out there in the first place.”

“We go to the headquarters.” Adaleigh’s quiet words stole David’s anger.

“Follow me.” Buck jogged to the one-story building directly across from Mrs. Whittlebush’s seamstress shop.

The roar grew around them, as if a train had jumped its tracks and headed straight for Crow’s Nest. David took Adaleigh’s hand as Buck held the door for them. She glanced over her shoulder before blinking at the dim room, clutching David’s hand tighter than he gripped hers. David wished he could comfort her, help her face whatever scared her, but they needed to take shelter first.

“This way.” Buck took the lead. “We’ll go to the old wine cellar. This used to be a booming saloon before Prohibition.”

“Fitting,” David mumbled.

“Saving your hide twice in one day should count for something,” Buck snapped.

“Can we not argue while trying to escape a tornado?” Adaleigh’s voice betrayed her panic level. She needed them calm, not bickering. David clamped his mouth shut.

Buck hauled open a large wooden door at the back of the room. David followed Adaleigh down the steps as the fury of the storm hit Crow’s Nest but stopped abruptly when she reached the bottom. Sean Green swung to face them, a gun pointed directly at Adaleigh’s chest.

Adaleigh froze. David pulled up right behind her. Buck swore ever so quietly at her side.

“What are you doing here?” Sean demanded. He moved the gun between her and two other men standing at the back of the low cellar—Mark Hitchens and Joe Spelding.

“He’s crazy.” Mr. Hitchens frantically waved his arms from his place in the far corner of the room.

“He’s crazy?“ Mr. Spelding glared at Hitchens. “You’re the one he followed here.”

“I wanted to know why the Conglomerate is asking questions about me.” Mr. Hitchens turned his anger toward Adaleigh. “You! You’re behind all of this.”

Sean swung his gun back toward her. “You killed Amy?”

Adaleigh’s heart pounded in her ears, deafening the roar coming from outside. She stared at the muzzle of the gun, the edges of her vision darkening so that it was all she could see.

“Breathe out,” David whispered in her ear. Calm spread from his voice. She obeyed and was able to suck in a lot more air in the next breath.

“I told you she was responsible.” Mr. Hitchens stalked toward her.

“Stop moving!” Sean shook the gun at him. Hitchens hesitated.

David shifted beside her. “Someone needs to go get help.”

“We can’t leave in this storm,” Buck said, barely audible over the roar of the wind outside.

“Figure something out.” Anger laced David’s words. “You’re the head of the Conglomerate.”

“Oh, just go. Both of you,” Adaleigh hissed at them. Boys. She rolled her eyes. Irritation usurping her fear, she stepped into the basement, facing Sean and his gun.

“We have a misunderstanding,” she said to him. “Can we put the gun away so we can talk it out?”

“I want to know who killed Amy.” Pain aged Sean’s face.

Adaleigh held up her hands in a calming gesture. “But using a gun to get a confession isn’t going to help.”

Thunder shook the building around them.

“She’s been sticking her nose—” Mr. Hitchens stepped forward again.

“Shut up!” Sean swung the gun back at Hitchens, effectively stopping him. He turned the gun back to Adaleigh. “Talk.”

“You don’t believe Mr. Martins killed Amy.” Adaleigh had psychology and rhetoric on her side, the best defense to disarm Sean without causing anyone injury. As long as her own panic stayed at bay. She pushed thoughts of her sister away.

“The old drunk?” Sean gave a humorless laugh. “What would she be doing with him?”

“He’s the one the police think—”

“What do they know?” Sean spat, then pointed the gun at Spelding. “That man was the last to see her alive. I saw them.”

“She told me she broke up with you.” Spelding waved his arms.

“Liar!” Sean cocked the hammer.

“Sean. We need to talk about this.” Adaleigh tried to step forward but stopped when Sean turned the gun on her.

Adaleigh bit her lip. Fought the panic that threatened to rise. Breathe out, Adaleigh, repeated David’s voice in her head. This would not end well unless someone could get through to Sean. The outside roar grew louder. Or maybe that was the roaring in her ears. Regardless, she needed to end this.

“You loved Amy.” Adaleigh met Sean’s wild and unfocused eyes.

“She was perfect.” Sean leaned on his back foot, and she caught the slight dip in the weapon.

She held his gaze. “Gorgeous. Fun. Popular.”

“And the most beautiful …” He choked.

The building above creaked against the power of the wind.

“No one thought she was good enough for you,” Adaleigh continued.

“But she was!”

“I know.” She stepped closer. “You gave her your whole heart.”

“And someone took her away from me.” The anguish came out of Sean’s very soul.

Adaleigh could feel nothing but pity for the boy. He hadn’t deserved Amy.

Then, like an ember bursting into flame, anger filled his eyes. He turned his gun toward Spelding and Hitchens. “Which one of you killed her?”

“Sean …” Adaleigh began, but he shoved her toward them. She stumbled on her heels, nearly falling onto her backside. When she looked back at Sean, the familiar panic gripped her chest. She’d seen that same look in Ashley’s eyes before the knife nearly killed her. Adaleigh had failed, and now there was no doubt Sean would kill the person he believed caused him so much pain.

That’s when Adaleigh noticed David had left his half-concealed spot on the stairs and inched along the front wall to come behind Sean. She tried not to watch him, to tip off Sean, but she was losing her own battle. The storm seemed to press down on them. It filled the basement with a tumultuous roar that felt as if the walls closed in. Before her was a gun in the hands of a wild-eyed boy who reminded her of Ashley, and behind her were the two men who had physically attacked her, leaving her bruised and threatened.

“If one of you doesn’t tell me …” The screech of Sean’s voice sounded like a fork scratched on a plate, but it effectively snapped her attention back to the present. “I’ll start shooting.”

A beat. A frozen moment where all was still except the storm. Then everyone spoke at once.

“He did!” Hitchens pointed at Spelding.

“I didn’t do it!” Spelding shouted.

David went for the gun.

“Put him down!”

“Pin the kid!”

“Stop!” Sean screamed and fired the gun at the ceiling.

David stepped back, hands raised.

An arm wrapped around Adaleigh’s middle, but before she could react, a knife was pressed to her throat.

“Spelding, what are you doing?” Terror thrummed through David’s body.

“Since you can’t get the job done, I’m getting us out of here.” Spelding adjusted the knife so it pressed up against the bottom of Adaleigh’s jawbone. “Kid, drop the gun or I’ll kill her.”

Desperation clouded David’s brain.

“You two battle this out,” Hitchens mumbled as he edged toward the door.

“Stop it!” Sean pointed the gun at Hitchens. “I want to know who killed Amy before anyone leaves here.”

“Can’t we talk about all this like civilized humans?” David glared at all three of them.

“Just shoot Hitchens and get this over with, then,” Spelding said, tightening his grip around Adaleigh’s waist.

With her hands free, could she push him away? Only if she could get a good enough angle on the knife. David caught her eye and slowly shook his head. He didn’t want her fighting Spelding if it risked her more. He glanced at Sean, then the gun. Adaleigh furrowed her eyebrows.

Hands low, David gave her a sit still sign and backed himself behind Sean. He planned a second attempt at disarming Sean, which should end Spelding’s threat on Adaleigh. He cocked his head. Did she agree? Adaleigh closed her eyes—hopefully, her way of agreeing with him.

“You didn’t kill her?” Adaleigh directed the question over her shoulder at Spelding.

David held in a groan. What was she doing? He wanted her to wait.

“Why would I?” Spelding growled. “But don’t think just because I’m not her killer, I won’t use you to get out of here. You’re just a girl.”

Heaven help us. That was the wrong thing to say to someone like Adaleigh. He could have predicted her stomp on Spelding’s right instep. The man howled, his knife leaving her neck. Adaleigh leapt away as David and Hitchens both lunged at Sean. The gun skittered out of Sean’s hands. Spelding and Hitchens dove for it.

A deafening roar drowned out their yells. Then, as if a giant used his bare hands to rip apart the building above, it came crashing down, beams snapping overhead.

David managed to slide Sean out of the way of a falling cabinet. Adaleigh ducked as debris fell around her. Hitchens covered his head as plaster showered him in white dust, using words that burned even a fisherman’s ears, then stuffed the gun into his belt. Spelding took the moment to dash toward the stairs, only to have them collapse under him as the upper floor gave way.

Beams crashed through the ceiling, aimed for Adaleigh. David fought to get his feet under him in time to push her out of their way. Debris slowed him. Just out of his reach, a board hit her shoulder, knocking her to the ground. Another landed on her leg, trapping her ankle between two other boards.

“We’ll get you out.” David was at her side in a moment. He grabbed the two-by-four that pinned her leg. “Spelding, Hitchens, help me lift this.”

“Just leave her!” Hitchens yelled over the din. He clambered up the debris, but Spelding yanked him off. Hitchens shoved the gun into his back. “Out of my way, idiot!”

Sean growled like an injured bear and tackled Hitchens, the gun flying out of Hitchens’s hands. “Did you kill her? Did you? Did you?” he screamed.

“Get off me.” Hitchens punched Sean in the jaw, sending him flying.

Spelding was piling debris to use as steps. Hitchens found the gun, aimed it at Spelding. “Move again and die.” A soullessness filled Hitchens’s eyes. David shivered. He would not hesitate to kill.

“Think about what you’re doing.” Spelding raised his hands.

“You killed Amy?” Sean asked, rising slowly, as if drunk.

David didn’t dare move. Wouldn’t draw the attention of these crazed men to where the boards had pinned Adaleigh, rendering her helpless to their whims.

“She deserved it.” Hitchens took Spelding’s knife and plunged it into Sean’s side. “And so do you.”

The air fled out of David’s lungs as if the knife had gone into his own side. Adaleigh curled into a ball. David pressed her shoulder and swallowed down the emotion clogging his chest. “Hang in there,” he whispered. “We’re getting out of here.”

The roar of wind settled to a gusty blow. Rain dripped through the broken building. The room filled with distant thunder. The tornado had passed.

Hitchens tapped the barrel of his gun on his palm.

“Just shoot us and be done with it.” Spelding spit the words.

“This cannot trace back to me,” Hitchens muttered.

Adaleigh stirred.

“Shhh.” David tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“We need a plan,” she whispered. “Before he shoots us right here.”

“Don’t draw attention. I have to get these boards off you first.”

“Martins,” Hitchens shouted. “We’re taking your boat.”

David cringed. “But—”

“You’re not getting us on a boat,” Spelding said.

“Oh, I will.” A malicious gleam flashed in Hitchens’s eyes. “Martins will make sure you get to the boat, or I’ll kill his girl.”

Cold ran through Adaleigh. Her life in the hands of these men? Perhaps if they could get Spelding on their side, they’d have a chance to get away before reaching the boat. Spelding must have realized that, too, because he agreed to help lift the beam that pinned Adaleigh. Pain shot up her leg, but she forced herself to hobble.

While David and Spelding freed Adaleigh, Hitchens climbed up the debris. From his vantage point, he instructed her to climb out first. Once she reached the top, Hitchens gripped her arm, keeping her close, and then demanded David climb next. Lastly, Spelding. Adaleigh hated to leave Sean alone in the basement. But if he was still alive—a big if—he needed treatment soon, and he was more likely to get it if he wasn’t headed for a death trap on deep waters. She glanced around for Buck, but saw no sign of him. Just when had he disappeared? Could he have gone for help? With no way of knowing, they desperately needed a plan.

They stumbled into the deserted street. Wind blew her hair into her face. Adaleigh brushed it aside. Destruction lay all around. No longer a charming row of buildings, Main Street had been reduced to a flattened mess of boards. A streak of lightning flashed in the sky. The storm wasn’t over yet, and being stranded on a boat in the middle of a lake with a thunderstorm overhead was not the way Adaleigh wanted to die.

David stuck close to Spelding. Thankfully, the scoundrel was taking Hitchens’s threat seriously. Perhaps together they could figure a way out of this. Or she could try to disarm Hitchens herself. But Hitchens’s strength was something she could not beat, especially with a bum leg.

Just as Hitchens shoved her down a narrow street between two flattened buildings, Spelding pulled ahead of David and broke into a run. Was this their plan?

“Better stop him.” Hitchens pressed the gun against her ribs.

David hesitated, looked to her, and Adaleigh shook her head. She couldn’t get out of the line of fire if she could barely walk. Jaw clenched, David dashed after Spelding, taking him down before they reached the boardwalk. Spelding threw a punch, but David dodged it and flipped him over, knee in the back.

“I’m not risking her life,” David hissed into Spelding’s ear, loud enough for her to hear. A strange flush warmed her even as guilt and gratefulness warred in her heart.

“Next time, she dies.” Hitchens growled. “Let’s move.”

David hauled Spelding to his feet. They emerged onto the boardwalk, and Adaleigh searched for people, any people. They had to find a way to keep from getting on the Tuna Mann. The storm had left the streets deserted. Had there been any curiosity-seekers, the wind howled too loudly to call for help.

“Do we have to do this?” She stopped in the middle of the boardwalk, leg throbbing.

“Keep moving.” Hitchens gave her a push, and had he not gripped her arm so tightly, she would have landed on the rough boards.

Her head kept telling her to find a way out, but pain clouded her thinking.

“She’s right,” Spelding growled. “Just finish the job already.”

“Let’s everyone calm down.” David grabbed Spelding’s shoulder, eyes pleading with Adaleigh to hang in there.

“Just shut up and keep moving.” Hitchens propelled her forward.

Adaleigh stumbled. God has gotten you out of tough situations before. He can do it again. But will He?