32

Large thunderhead clouds filled the sky. The winds buffeted the sail and kicked up small waves that clawed at the Hobie Cat as it skimmed across the water. Finney had his hand on the tiller, the full sail tilting the boat. They leaned back over the port side of the boat to provide counterbalance, the spray from the rough surf soaking them both.

“You really love this, don’t you?” Victoria called out.

Finney had his eye on the rolling waves, catching them at just the right angle. “Believe it or not, it helps me relax,” he said. “Even when the water’s rough.”

Victoria leaned back even farther, holding on tight and allowing the wind to rush across her face. She shook some hair out of her eyes and glanced back toward the shore, where Hadji was still doing yoga.

“Is that stuff working for you?” Victoria asked.

“What?”

“Yoga. You know, connecting with your inner self and all.”

“I don’t do yoga,” Finney responded. “For me, it’s just exercise.”

Kline regarded Finney, her blue eyes full of skepticism. “Running is exercise. What you do with the Swami—that’s yoga.”

Finney considered this for a moment. He wanted to argue the point but knew that he wasn’t going to influence the other contestants by sounding defensive. He had joined the Swami to strengthen a relationship and share the essential elements of the Christian faith. He hadn’t worried too much about how it might be perceived by the other contestants—or a national television audience for that matter.

“Maybe you can get a little exercise tomorrow by joining Kareem on his prayer mat,” Victoria teased.

“Okay,” Finney said. “You win. I’m a closet sun worshiper. It’s why I’m in such a bad mood today.” As if to emphasize the point, the hull slapped down on the backside of a wave, soaking them both with ocean spray.

“I didn’t say there’s anything wrong with it,” Victoria said, but Finney had already made up his mind about discontinuing the exercises. Why run the risk that viewers and other contestants might think he was combining Christianity with Hadji’s pantheistic religion?

He trimmed the sail so that it caught less wind, reducing their speed. He and Victoria both leaned forward as she shook her hair out of her face.

“This has been fun,” she said.

Finney took advantage of the relative calm to ask her about the cross-examination room.

“I survived it,” she said. Her eyes gave nothing away. “How about you?”

Finney told her about the speedy-trial cases and the death of the store clerk in Ohio. “I don’t want it to go public,” he said, “but I’m not going to let them blackmail me with it.”

“You didn’t know about that already?” she asked.

“Not about the Ohio case. Not until Javitts told me.”

As they sailed, the sky darkened further, and Finney turned downwind. They ducked as the sail swung overhead, and then they slid to the other side of the boat. They sailed without talking now, comfortable enough so that they didn’t have to fill the air with words.

They were more than halfway to shore, cutting swiftly through the waves, when Victoria broke the silence. “My agent called McCormack yesterday, but McCormack didn’t let me talk with him. Instead, McCormack told Preston that they needed to talk again as soon as the show was over about some television opportunities but that he really couldn’t talk during the show. McCormack said he had second thoughts about me talking to Randolph while I’m on the island, since it violates the rules for the show.”

“When did McCormack tell you this?”

“I went to his place again last night,” Victoria said. She was staring at the shore, beautiful in silhouette, her full lips mesmerizing as she spoke. Finney kept one eye on the hull cutting through the water and the other on his crew.

“Toward the end of the night, McCormack moved close enough to make me uncomfortable and then told me under his breath to follow him out to the patio,” Victoria said.

She brushed some stray strands of hair behind an ear. “I was uneasy but figured I was probably safer outside than inside. We were standing side by side on his patio, facing the ocean, and he mumbled a few more things. ‘Grab my hand for a minute,’ he said. ‘And then we’re going to hug. It doesn’t mean anything, but I don’t want to risk being overheard.’”

Victoria paused as she recalled the moment, breathing in the moist ocean air. “To be honest, it sounded pretty stupid, but he seemed so serious. He reached out and took my hand and then turned and gave me a hug. He whispered that he didn’t think his condo was wired, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Then he said something that really freaked me out: ‘Don’t make the cut for the final two. I don’t want anything to happen to you.’

“I asked him what he meant, but he just said I needed to trust him and that there was a lot going on that the contestants didn’t know about. Then he said to act normal and said it might help if we kissed, just in case anybody was watching.”

She turned to Finney with a wry smile. “I told him that was the worst pickup line I’d ever heard but I appreciated the tip.”

“He was serious?” Finney asked. He guided the boat down the crest of a wave as they closed in on the shore.

“About the kiss?”

“About not making the final two.”

“I guess so. He said he didn’t want anything to happen to me.”

“Do you believe him, or is this just a reality show twist?”

“I’m not sure what to believe. I debated whether I should even tell you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Finney said. He ran the Hobie up on the sand and glanced over his shoulder. The dark clouds seemed closer, spreading across the sky like a curtain. “Looks like we made it just in time.”

When Finney returned to his condo and logged on to Westlaw, he breathed a sigh of relief at the two new searches that showed up in his research trail. Translating the capital letters using the atbash cipher, Finney decoded the message: OK.

Nikki and Wellington are in the game!

With renewed focus, he began a few new Westlaw searches of his own.