“I respect your position, I really do. I know you’re worried sick about your niece, but you can’t ride with us. You may be a judge, but you’re still a civilian, and our policy is no civilians on board during a criminal investigation.” Then Captain Vincent, game warden, waved curtly at the judge and maneuvered the Virginia Game and Inland Fisheries boat slowly out of the harbor and into angry water.
Helpless, Charlie Anderson—judge, former cop, former district attorney, and now worried uncle—stood in the rain and watched the boat’s bright search lights barely pinprick into the night. Spears of lightning punched the turbulent water. “They won’t let us go, fellows,” he said to the wet dogs whining beside him.”
Sergeant Johnson tapped Charlie on his shoulder. “We can wait in that building over there, judge!” he hollered over the wind. “There’s a phone inside. Lieutenant Conner will call if they find anything. No point in makin’ yourself sick.”
The game warden’s boat was no longer visible. Charlie knew a search during such weather was near futile, but he said nothing. He wanted to be on that boat. He felt useless, like he was deserting his niece, letting his brother’s killer escape. He took one last look at the lake, then he, Little Guy and King followed Johnson inside the building.
“We’ve gotta turn back!” yelled Captain Vincent. “Visibility is near zero. And it’s too rough.”
“Judge Anderson will throw a fit!” shouted Lieutenant Conner. “We can’t give up now!”
“It won’t do his niece or us any good if we sink. Use your head, man.” Vincent pulled his rain hat firmly over his head and his slicker tighter around his neck, but rivulets of water still trickled inside his gear. The captain then barked to his crew, “Head to port. Pronto.” He patted Conner on the back. “We’ll start again at first light tomorrow. We’ll find her.”
Aurora treaded water and tried not to swallow. Where was Sam? She saw him jump off the boat. Something bobbed up and down nearby. Was it Sam? A flash of lightning showed her a life jacket. She swam to the vest and fought against the rough water as she buckled it on.
“Sam, where are you?” she shouted into the blackness.
“Aurora, help me!” yelled Luke. “Sam’s hurt!”
That was Luke, and he’s close. But what did he say? Did he say something about Sam? She dog-paddled toward Luke’s voice.
“Say something so I can find you!” she shrieked.
“Over here.”
Lightning flashed, and Aurora spotted Luke fighting to stay afloat a few yards away. He wasn’t alone; Sam was with him. But Sam wasn’t moving.
“Sam!” she screamed.
“I think he took a bullet after he jumped off the boat. Can’t tell how badly he’s hurt, but he’s alive.” Luke coughed as a swell of water slapped him in the face.
Yanking off her life jacket, Aurora and Luke strapped Sam into it. She knew Luke must be exhausted, even more than she. After all, he’d been fighting to keep both Sam and himself afloat.
“Grab hold of the vest, Luke. Maybe it’ll keep you both up.”
She thanked her good fortune when the next lightning bolt showed her two more life jackets bouncing around in the rough water. “Don’t know how they got here, but thank you, Lord.” Tiring rapidly, she struggled toward them.
Aurora put on one of the jackets, then fought her way back to Luke and handed him the other jacket. The three of them bobbed in the raging water for a few minutes. Then Luke tapped her shoulder.
“I’ll swim for shore and bring help!” he hollered.
“We should stay together, help each other.”
“We could all drown if we stay here,” he answered. “Or freeze to death.”
While not freezing, the April water at around 50° could still kill. The cold rain didn’t help. Hypothermia could set in. Aurora worried about Sam. He couldn’t swim or tread water, so his body generated very little heat. “You’re right,” she said. Luke swam away. Hoping to keep Sam’s circulation going, she massaged his arms and legs.
“My poor, darling Sam. You’re hurt again. And all because you drove up from Augusta to surprise me. Some surprise.” In the darkness, she hadn’t located his gunshot wound. She hoped the frigid water would slow any bleeding.
Uncle Charlie would start searching for her at noon tomorrow—if he got her message on the answering machine, that is. Aurora regretted telling him to wait; she and Sam could be dead by then.
“Luke’s right. There’s nothing to gain by just bobbing around in the lake. Besides, I’d like to put more distance between us and Harold Johns.” Aurora hooked one arm through Sam’s life vest and side-stroked after Luke.
Aurora had just about reached her limit of endurance when her outstretched hand struck something hard. Have I finally reached land? Dog-tired, she lowered her legs and scraped against a rocky bottom.
When she found a bank level enough to navigate, Aurora half-lifted, half-dragged Sam onto shore.
Aurora wept. She was too tired to move. Stop it, Aurora. Crying won’t help Sam. She hugged him close and felt his breath on her cheek. In the darkness, she couldn’t see Sam’s wounds, but she could use her hands to feel all over his body for injuries. She stroked his head. Above his right temple, she felt something sticky. Was it blood? She couldn’t feel a wound big enough to account for his present condition. There must be something else. She felt for other wounds.
Aurora unfastened the jacket and felt Sam’s chest and abdomen. Nothing. Carefully rolling him onto his right side, she inched her hands under the jacket and along Sam’s left side. Bingo! At his waistline she felt something warm and sticky. Aurora knew it was blood. How much blood has he lost? What can I do? Well, I’ll just have to do the best I can. Taking off her windbreaker, she rolled it up and put it against the wound. Then she pulled the life jacket as tight as she could get it. She hoped this would staunch the bleeding.
She stood and yelled, “Luke!” No answer. “Anybody! Hello?” Aurora looked up toward the sky and realized the storm was over. She wondered when the pounding rain had ceased. I don’t know and I don’t care. Only Sam matters. Hoping to see house lights, Aurora stared into the darkness. She saw nothing. Where are we?
Aurora felt around for rocks and other debris near Sam. When satisfied she had removed the larger obstacles, she dragged him to the cleaned area. She considered making a bed of pine boughs for him, but decided that would be almost impossible in the dark. She removed her life jacket, slipped it under Sam’s head, then stretched out on the cold, wet ground and snuggled up to her husband to warm his body.
When daylight came, she would know better how badly he was hurt. Tears welled in her eyes when she heard him utter a barely audible “I love you, Susie-Q.”
“I love you too, darling. Rest now.”