“We need to change into warmer clothes. Riding in a boat in this storm at this time of night is going to be very cold.” Riley couldn’t shake the dark foreboding plaguing her. She was glad they were in the pantry away from the windows, but she couldn’t see if someone was coming.
“I’ll get some things.” Matthew seemed to size up her and Jeremiah. “Riley, come with me. And you two stay here until we return.” Matthew waited until both Jeremiah and Aleksa nodded that they would wait.
Jeremiah was trying to put on a tough-guy act, but he shivered anyway. He was trying his best to be brave and belligerent at the same time. With all her heart, Riley wanted to tell him she wasn’t going to leave him again and that they could move somewhere else and hope Hadeon wouldn’t find them. But she couldn’t. If, like Matthew suspected, his half-brother had a mole in the sheriff’s office or the FBI, there would be no place they could safely hide for long. She knew it, and deep down, so did her son.
“We’ll be right back,” Riley said.
As she followed Matthew down a hall lined with windows on one side, she tried to fathom who the mole could be in the FBI. They went to extraordinary lengths to vet their agents. It just didn’t compute. Again, she checked the perimeter. Through the rain, wind lashed the trees. She dreaded going out in these elements, but on the bright side, the weather might inhibit those hunting them. Passing a laundry room and a bedroom, Matthew pushed open the door at the end of the hall, motioning for her to go inside. Once they were both in, he flipped on the light to a large walk-in closet and paused for a moment. His eyes scanned the colorful clothes lining the small room. A dresser stood at the back.
He scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “I should have sent Lorraine’s things to Goodwill, but I thought Aleksa might want them.”
Riley understood. Lorraine had been his wife. Parting with her clothes would have been like saying goodbye to her all over again, a tough thing to do, especially when memories came rushing back. She’d only sent James’s clothes to the Salvation Army because they’d moved, but it had been hard to do. She’d kept his denim jacket, should Jeremiah want it later.
Matthew’s face flushed red as he went to the dresser and opened a drawer, not looking inside. “Her pants are in here. T-shirts are in the top drawer. Take whatever you think you’ll need. I’ll fetch something for Jeremiah. He can wear some of my clothes. He might have to roll up the pants and use a belt, but I think they’ll work. He can use the bathroom next to the pantry to change.”
He left without looking back. Riley didn’t know how she felt about wearing the clothes of a dead woman, but she had little choice in the matter. They couldn’t return to her beach house. They had miles of ocean to cross. And she needed to try to stay dry so she wouldn’t get sick. Becoming ill on top of her heart trouble would not be good.
Fortunately, her heart pain had lessened. So far, she’d been lucky. Thank heavens for nitroglycerin. It had not only stopped most of her pain but had also sharpened her focus through the shoot-out. Though afterward, her pacemaker had felt heavy in her chest, like it had after the surgery. The heaviness had eased somewhat now.
She grabbed some things and changed. All the while, she thought about who the mole could be. She’d met only a few people on the island: the sheriff and the librarian. The sheriff had been such a crotchety person, but that didn’t mean he was the mole. More likely, he suffered from indigestion, or maybe diarrhea. That had been a joke she and James had shared. Whenever anyone had become rude or grouchy for no visible reason, James would lean over and say maybe they had diarrhea. The old joke faded against the very real problem she now faced.
Someone had led her into a trap. Could that person really work within the FBI? Possibly. But she wanted to eliminate suspects who could be local. She had a great radar when it came to sniffing out bad guys. And while she’d been on her guard with the sheriff, she’d never received a “beware of this man” vibe. More of a “I’ve got to watch my step” feeling. He had said, “Trust me,” which always made her suspicious, yet she really didn’t think he could be the mole.
But the librarian, Gunny? How could a woman named Gunny, who wore glasses as thick as Coke bottles, be a threat? The thought seemed absurd.
After stuffing her wallet and badge inside her pockets and sliding her holstered weapon into place at the small of her back, she picked out more clothes so she’d have something to change into.
“You about done?” Matthew’s voice came from behind.
“Yeah. How’re the kids?”
He had changed into dry clothes and carried garments for Jeremiah, even a pair of sneakers. “Haven’t checked yet. Thought you could give these to Jeremiah while I hustle upstairs and get Aleksa’s things.”
Riley took them and thought in the course of going through this nightmare, somewhere along the way—probably once they’d saved the kids—she’d started to see Matthew for himself and not as the mirror image of his father.
They walked down the hallway, stopping at a duffel bag propped against the wall next to the front door. Matthew added her clothes to the pack. “We need to travel light. I put in an extra change for Jeremiah and me. Thought we could share a bag.”
“Makes sense. Mind if I use your landline to call Sheriff Campbell?”
Matthew rubbed his forehead like he didn’t want her to do that.
“Do you really think he could be Hadeon’s mole?” She wanted to understand his reasoning.
“Ivan made reference to my wife’s death, like he knew more about it. Sheriff Campbell assured me the company who refilled the scuba-diving tanks had been at fault, so what do you think?” He started toward the staircase.
“Did the sheriff know who your father was?” she said, before he disappeared up the stairs.
“Not that I know of.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t risk it, even though the man seemed okay. Maybe I’ve read too many thrillers and seen too many movies where a rogue cop ends up being the bad guy. I can’t afford to trust too many people. But the sheriff seemed empathetic about the accident when it happened and tried his best to shield us from the press.”
“He’s still trying to shield you. Since you resemble your father, I asked the sheriff about you. He didn’t elaborate about the accident but warned me to leave you alone,” Riley thought out loud. “He seemed very defensive even discussing you.”
“Looks more and more questionable, doesn’t it?” Matthew’s eyebrows raised.
“Does anyone else on the island know who your father was? Perhaps Gunny, the librarian?”
“Did you say ‘the librarian’?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s strange. Randolph, the curator at my gallery, said the librarian wants me to do a portrait of her.”
“Okay, she goes on the list. She could have stopped by the gallery to see if something had happened to you. And what about Randolph?”
“We’ve been friends since college. He learned years ago who my father really was. Scared him to death. And Randolph made me promise to never get in touch with him.”
“Why did he call to tell you about the librarian?” Riley’s FBI spidey-sense heightened. “From the sound of your phone conversation, you told him you were leaving.”
“Besides telling me about the woman, he also wanted to know if I needed him to wire me some money. That’s all.”
“If he did that, he must have asked where you were going, right?” Riley didn’t like this one bit.
“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him.” Matthew rubbed his chin. “You’re wrong if you’re thinking he’s the mole. He’s a good friend.” He turned and disappeared up the stairs.
Riley couldn’t count the number of times “good” friends had betrayed someone for money. But she couldn’t tell that to Matthew. He wouldn’t believe her. She’d need proof, and it would be impossible to get it since they were leaving the island. She made a mental note that when she called Tony to let him know what was going on, she’d have him look into not only Sheriff Campbell and Gunny but Randolph too.
Opening the pantry door, she found Jeremiah and Aleksa huddled together on the overturned buckets once again.
“Jeremiah, you can change in the bathroom next to the pantry.”
Her son eagerly took the clothes from her and left.
Aleksa stared at her.
“Your dad went upstairs to collect a change of clothes for you.” Spying a soft cooler on the top shelf, Riley pulled it down. “Why don’t you pack this with some food while you wait? You know, power bars, jerky, and water.”
Aleksa took the pack from her.
“I really need to call the sheriff’s office. I have his cell number but not his office. Do you have a phone book?” Riley glanced around at the shelves full of canned goods, boxes of cereal, and chips. She didn’t want to tell her that if Hadeon knew his half-brother lived on the island, there was a good chance he’d be monitoring the sheriff’s cell.
“Yeah. It’s in the desk drawer. Do you want me to show you?” Fear shadowed her face. The girl would have to go into the kitchen—where the bodies lay. She didn’t need more trauma. “No. You pack the cooler, and I’ll be right back.”
Relief washed over the girl’s face as she set to work. Riley slipped out, closing the door behind her, and tapped on the bathroom door. “Everything all right?” She knew Jeremiah could handle changing; she just needed to hear his voice again. She’d come so close to losing him.
“Yeah.”
She hurried to the kitchen. Looking out the bank of windows over the sink, she checked the perimeter. Rain came down in sheets against the panes. Wind tossed tree branches angrily about. But there was no sign of other trouble.
Avoiding the bodies, she went to the desk near the great room entryway. She searched the drawers and found the phone book in the bottom one. She plopped it on the desk and madly thumbed through the pages, looking for the sheriff’s office number. Finding it, she picked up the receiver, but before dialing, she wondered what to say. She didn’t want to speak with Campbell, especially since Matthew didn’t trust him. She’d tell whoever answered what had happened and add that because of the nature of this threat, she’d be unreachable for a few days.
Campbell could fire her, but once the dust settled and he learned who Matthew truly was and what had happened here, he might let it slide. Whether he fired her or not, she had to do everything in her power to stop Hadeon Petruso. She’d never have peace of mind until she did.
Peace of mind.
What would that be like? She thought she’d found it by moving here. And that had turned out to be oh, so wonderful. Nope, she was taking this fight to the source. She quickly dialed.
“San Juan sheriff’s office. This is Carla.”
What luck to have the same woman answer who had taken her call earlier. “Carla, this is Deputy Scott.”
“The sheriff’s on his way. Are you all right?”
“No.” Riley told her what had happened. At the end, she added, “I’m going to be out of touch for a few days as we track this down.”
“Deputy Scott, please don’t go anywhere until the sheriff gets there.”
Riley didn’t have time to argue, so she hung up.
Matthew carried in the soft-pack cooler. “Aleksa is changing. She wanted you to check out what she’d packed to see if we need anything else.” He opened the zipper top. Inside were jerky, Pop-Tarts, energy bars, fruit, and small bottles of water, as well as a first-aid kit and a couple of flashlights.
“Looks good. I’m glad she thought of the first-aid kit.” Riley went to the kitchen island, picked up the Beretta, and handed it to Matthew. “We’ve got to leave. You’ll need your gun.”
“This isn’t actually mine.” He grimaced slightly and put the weapon back. “None of these are.” Three guns lay on the counter: the one Ivan had taken from Jeremiah, Ivan’s, and the Beretta Matthew had used. “Come with me.”
Riley followed him upstairs, all the while checking out the windows for intruders. He led her to his den. Several mounted deer heads hung on the wall, and two stuffed wolves stood guard by the fireplace. “Before my wife died, I used to hunt.” Against the back wall stood a gun cabinet filled with an arsenal of rifles and handguns. “The Kel-Tec PMR30 is my gun of choice.” He pulled the five-inch-barreled weapon from the cabinet. “It’s lightweight.” He drew it out of the holster.
She noticed it had a laser sight. “You must have been concerned about protecting yourself and Aleksa.”
“I’d be lying if I denied it. I’ve tried to keep on top of what’s been going on in the outside world and particularly with my father. In fact, I knew who you were when I saw you on the ferry. I put two and two together—”
“You’re a darn good actor, though I had a feeling you knew who I was. But I thought it was all in my head.” So many times she’d counseled women that if something didn’t feel right, they should trust their instincts. And she had, but she’d also thought she was being paranoid. When would she ever learn? She couldn’t believe she’d fallen in that trap.
“Yeah. I learned to be.” He grabbed some ammo.
“So, what were you doing? Toying with me, getting me to talk about the FBI and my dead husband, and all along you knew I was the woman who killed your father?” Anger threatened to flare. She fought it off, reminding herself to listen to him before she got riled.
“I was stunned, and I had to play along until I knew for certain.” He shrugged like he hated to tell her. “Your showing up was a sign they were coming.”
“And that’s why you and Aleksa were suddenly going to Paris?”
“Yes.” He maintained eye contact with her.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were when we were alone on the ferry?” She still seemed unsatisfied by his reasoning.
“How could I? You were freaking out. I had to keep you calm, and there was no better way than to flirt with you and pretend and make nice. I could have been wrong. Besides, I was leaving the island as a precaution, not thinking I had to permanently go on the run.”
“We don’t have time to hash this out now. But believe me, we will. We’d better get going.” Riley headed for the door.
“Think we’ll need more guns?” He stuck his Kel-Tec in the small of his back beneath the waistband of his jeans. “I’ve seen Glocks like the one you have jam on occasion.”
“Only if they’re not properly taken care of and cleaned.” She couldn’t admit he was right. Her gun had frozen up on the shooting range more often than she cared to admit. “Besides, it shot just fine tonight.” She thought about her son. “Even though Jeremiah knows how to shoot, giving him that Smith & Wesson gave him a false sense of security, which nearly got us all killed. No. I think we’re good with the guns we have.”
“Do you need ammo?”
“Sure.” She could always use more. “Nothing worse than getting in a firefight and running out of bullets.” Her mind flashed back to the night she’d killed Petruso, but she stopped the memory. What had happened then wouldn’t help them now and would only waste energy.
He pulled a couple boxes of .45mm hollow-point bullets from the shelf. “These should work.” He handed the ammo to her, but when she tried to take it, he wouldn’t let go. “Riley, we’re in this together. You can count on me.”
For a second, a different emotion fluttered within her, something unexpected. Gratitude? Shaking it off, she took the boxes. “Good to know.”
He locked up the guns and followed her downstairs. While she added the ammo to their duffel, he went to the kitchen to grab the cooler.
Riley checked outside once more. The storm still raged. She opened the pantry door. Jeremiah and Aleksa held hands but immediately rose when she entered.
Aleksa slung the pack her father had brought her over her shoulder. Despite all she’d been through, she managed to give Riley a slight smile. “We’re ready.”
As he passed, Matthew handed Jeremiah the cooler. He crossed the entryway and stopped at the coat closet. “We’ve got to hurry. The tide is going out, and we don’t want the boat to get beached. We’re going to need these.” He tossed each of them a rain jacket.
Long sleeves covered Jeremiah’s hands, and the jacket hung to his knees, but it would keep him dry. As Riley pulled on what must have been Matthew’s late wife’s coat, a shudder rippled through her. She didn’t know if it was because she wore the dead woman’s clothes or because deep down, she wondered if Matthew’s wife had been murdered. But by whom? Matthew’s father? The sheriff? Or Matthew himself?
That irrational thought chilled her to her core. Her FBI training had taught her to question everyone. But after Matthew had pretty much saved her life, the notion seemed ridiculous and she didn’t want to dwell on it.
Once again, she was running for her life. This time, however, she wasn’t alone. This time, she had three other people to look after. For a moment, she thought of James. He’d always been able to comfort her either by cracking a joke or telling her she could do anything she set her mind to—and he’d believed it.
A flash of Petruso aiming his gun at James stole her breath. She’d been unable to save her husband. Would the same thing happen to her son or Matthew or Aleksa? She forced the thought from her mind and walked to the door.
* * *
Before heading to the beach, Matthew stopped in the garage and grabbed a gas can. To fight the storm’s waves, the boat would need more fuel than normal to make it to Anacortes. Through the driving rain, they trudged down to the shore. As they approached the Munson patrol boat, Matthew saw a Bayliner power cruiser anchored about fifty feet from theirs. It appeared empty. He grabbed hold of Riley and pointed to the vessel. Jeremiah and Aleksa stood frozen behind them.
The Bayliner didn’t belong to the sheriff. That meant only one thing: more of Hadeon’s men had arrived, and they were somewhere on Matthew’s property. Grateful they hadn’t run into them, his urgency to leave shifted into high gear.
He leaned over Riley. “Doesn’t look like anyone is on it. We can’t sit back and wait to make sure. We’ve got to get out of here. Now.” He motioned to the kids, and together they scurried to the beach. The tide was going out like he’d suspected, and the boat was nearly aground. To make matters worse, the darkening shadows of night were creeping in.
Matthew set the gas can on the sand. Untying the anchor line from the tree, he tossed both it and the bow line onboard, then hefted the duffel onto the deck and turned to Riley. “Quick, get in and steer.”
Riley grabbed the life vests she and Matthew had worn and left at the base of the tree and tossed them onto the boat. She grimaced, as if questioning who’d made him boss, but she did what he said and got onboard.
Matthew turned to Jeremiah and Aleksa. Rain soaked their coats and plastered their hair to their heads. “You two throw your gear onboard and help me push.”
“Get your hands up!” Riley’s no-nonsense voice drew his attention.
Matthew saw someone standing between her and the cabin. He leaped onto the deck as Riley stepped back, her gun aimed at a lean man. Dark circles framed his eyes, which were void of emotion. Slowly and deliberately, he raised his hands covered with Russian prison tattoos. By his calculating demeanor, Matthew knew the man would not hesitate to kill them all, would probably enjoy it even.
Standing beside Riley, Matthew pulled out his Kel Tec gun to show additional force. The man looked from Riley to him, and then, as if thinking Matthew was the bigger threat, he leaped at him. Riley slammed the thug in the back of his head with her elbow. He fell to the rain-soaked deck, stunned.
Holstering his gun, Matthew jumped on the guy, drawing his arms in back of him. Riley handed Matthew a rope she must have grabbed from one of the boat’s compartments. He quickly bound the man’s hands together.
“Are you all right?” Jeremiah called to them.
The man blinked, coming around. Matthew had to get him on shore and away from the boat. “We’re fine.” He shoved the man off the deck and into the water. The splash hit both Jeremiah and Aleksa. The thug scrambled to his feet, unable to use his hands.
Matthew jumped off, making another splash. “Get this ship ready to go,” he told Jeremiah and Aleksa. He didn’t wait to see if they followed his orders as he hauled the man to the beach. The best thing to do would be to kill him. Matthew glanced at the kids. They’d seen too much death. Rain drizzled down his face as he worried about what he should do. The guy jerked away, attempting to escape. Matthew pounded his fist into his face, knocking him out. He dragged the man among the foliage along the shore. Problem solved.
Aleksa and Jeremiah had planted their feet in the mud and pushed against the bow. In between pushes, they nervously glanced Matthew’s way, watching him.
Slogging back to the boat, Matthew saw Riley’s wet head appear in the cuddy cabin’s window. “There’s deeper water to the left. Push that way.”
“We’re trying.” Jeremiah continued to push.
Matthew rushed to give a hand. With a mighty shove, the boat rocked a little to the left.
“We’re nearly there.” Riley’s hand motioned out the window.
All at once, the boat lifted with an ocean swell.
“Come on.” Matthew helped Aleksa up.
Jeremiah grabbed the cooler and splashed into the water, climbing aboard, with Matthew bringing up the rear.
As Riley started the engine, Matthew remembered the gas. The tank sat on the beach.
“Crud! We might need that.” He didn’t stop to explain but jumped into the water. Wind and rain battered against him as he trudged to shore, grabbed the gas can, and plodded back through the water. He hefted the ten-gallon can to Jeremiah. The boy leaned over and grabbed hold. He paused a moment, getting a firmer grasp, and then lugged it onboard.
Aleksa reached a shaky hand out to her father, but Matthew didn’t take it. He glanced at the Bayliner. He had to do something to stop them from following. As fast as he could, he waded over to the power boat’s outboard engine. Locating the spark plugs, he yanked the wires out and threw them a distance away in the water. Next, he went to the Bayliner’s anchor line. Pulling out his pocketknife, he tried to saw through the nylon rope. Yelling came from the trail that led down to the beach. He glanced up and saw three men running toward him. He jerked his blade through the line and high-tailed it to the patrol vessel.
This time Jeremiah reached a hand out to help him aboard. The pfft, pfft, pfft of bullets hitting the boat had him leaping inside. He landed on the deck by Jeremiah, who had crouched down. Once aboard, Matthew yelled above the wind, “Let’s go!”
Riley punched the throttle, and the thirty-eight-foot Munson charged over the water.
“Where’s Aleksa?” he yelled so Jeremiah could hear him.
“Safe, below deck. I tried to store the gas can but couldn’t find a place for it.” The kid wiped rain from his face.
“I’ll secure it. You go below with my daughter.”
Matthew opened the storage compartment and tried to place the gas can inside, but it was too tall, so he found a frayed bungee cord, threaded it through the handle of a compartment and secured the gas can the best he could. Satisfied and exhausted, he plopped down in the copilot’s station across from Riley. The boat’s navigation light guided them toward the main channel, where ocean swells were four to five feet high.
“You cut it pretty close.” Riley wasn’t going as fast as when they’d first gone there.
“Can’t you crank up the speed?”
She shook her head. “Thanks to you, those guys won’t be following us. We need to go slower over the waves. Can’t drive the bow into them. We don’t want to get on top of a wave, fall off the back side, and bury the bow. Unless things get worse, slow and steady will be our course.”
She was guiding the boat at a forty-five-degree angle to the swells. The woman sounded like she knew her stuff. His thoughts turned to Aleksa. Though he knew his daughter was all right, he wanted to see her. He stepped below deck and found both Aleksa and Jeremiah sitting on a bench next to the table. Jeremiah had a protective arm around her shivering shoulders. Aleksa’s pack and the duffel bag Matthew had packed filled the bench on the other side.
The cooler with food and other essentials sat on the floor next to them. He opened it and grabbed a flashlight before setting the cooler on the table. Next, he checked a cupboard and found a blanket. Only one. He debated briefly whether to give it to both of them. Ordinarily, he’d never suggest his daughter share a blanket with a boy. But after what they’d been through, he doubted either one of them had thoughts of romance. He handed it to them. “Here. You two cuddle up and keep warm. You might eat a little bit, but then try to get some sleep.”
“Sleep?” Aleksa grabbed his hand.
He wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be all right, but he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Hang on, kitten.”
“I will. Please, Dad, be careful.” Her gaze held his, like it had after they’d been rescued from the boating accident and the paramedics had insisted on his stepping away so they could check her over.
“I will.” He started up the steps.
He heard Jeremiah say to Aleksa, “Think of the waves like you’re riding the Wild Mouse at the fair.”
Matthew cast a quick look back to Jeremiah. He gave the kid a nod as if to say, “Good try, sport. But hang on.” Then he returned above with Riley.
“How are they?” she asked, though her attention stayed focused on the rising and falling waters wickedly slapping against the bow. Radio static crackled. She had it tuned to the vessel tracking service.
“Holding up. They’re strong kids. You hear anything from the sheriff?”
“No, which is odd.” Her focus stayed on the water.
“Finding out where the big boats are?”
“Yeah. Thought I should. Not many ferries going this time of year, but you never know. And the kids don’t have a choice. They have to hold up.” Riley glanced at him briefly, and in that second, he caught a glimpse of fear and concern and even guilt, if that was possible.
“No, they don’t have a choice. Neither do we,” he muttered.
A sneaker wave slammed them, pitching the boat back toward the stern. Another wave crashed the deck. Worried about the gas can, Matthew leaped to his feet and flipped on his flashlight. The can had vanished. Crud.
“What’s the matter?” Riley hung on to the steering wheel.
“Remember the extra gas I brought?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s gone.”
The vessel came around, and the battering they were taking seemed to ease. “Well, with any luck, we might make it without needing more gas.” Riley briefly rubbed her chest, but as soon as she saw that he’d noticed, she quickly returned her hand to the wheel.
He’d seen her do that a number of times before. Something was obviously wrong, but she didn’t want to talk about it. With all she’d been through, he didn’t want to add to her stress by pressing her about her health. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”
“My father taught me on his boat.” Her forehead furrowed as she squinted out at the storm.
The night grew long with Matthew listening to the VTS. But in his mind, Riley’s voice echoed over and over with the word father.
Father.
He thought of his.
Maksimillian Petruso had never been a father. He’d been a sperm donor, and even though Matthew had seen the man only twice, Maksimillian had made Matthew and his mother’s lives a living purgatory. He couldn’t imagine how it would have been to have a man in his life who really cared about his well-being. He supposed that was why he overcompensated with Aleksa. Poor kid.
He glanced at Riley, who was fighting another ocean swell. Though he couldn’t see her big brown eyes, he did notice dark half-moons beneath them. She had to be exhausted, yet she continued to hold on to the wheel. Only a few hours ago, he’d aimed a gun at her, had even believed he might have to kill her. A shudder ricocheted down his spine. He’d come so close.
All at once, she slumped in her seat, holding her chest.
“Are you all right?” He rushed to her.
She pushed him away and shook her head like she couldn’t stand for him to touch her. Maybe he couldn’t hold her, but he could still help. “Here, switch places with me.” He took the wheel. She slid by him, grabbed hold of the passenger seat, and pulled herself onto it.
“You might try tacking.” She leaned back as if all her energy had seeped away. And then she went slack, falling to the deck, unconscious.