Chapter Eleven

 

Tori sauntered through the open door of Pugh’s Marina and took in the wonderful normalcy of happy people renting boats and talking about the weather. Here, the icky layer of mobster didn’t clog her pores. She grabbed a frosty root beer from the cooler. There was nothing like the cleansing feeling of too much sugar. She stood at the counter, waited her turn, and then recognized Benjamin Pugh whose hair had gone from brown to gray. If he’d read headlines recently, would he rent a sailboat to an ex-con?

In an instant her knees knocked. She wasn’t that girl anymore who coasted through life with minor ups and downs.

The couple in front of her commented they’d rented the last sailboat. They filled out a form and left with a helper.

“Hello, miss. We’re out of inventory.” The fiftyish man leaned over the counter. “Oh, my. Tori Rourke?” Somehow the warm sound of his voice made it harder to talk.

“Hello, Ben.” Her voice quavered. “I-I go by Tori Morningstar now.” She studied the deep lines bracketing his eyes.

“I understand why you’re telling me this.” Something changed in him with his softer voice. “You want nothing to do with the mob.” Ben hesitated, his face grave. “It’s a damn miracle you’re alive and out.”

“Going to jail was a detour.” Prison had made her even more obstinate and determined.

“You got your life back. Fucking incredible.” Ben talked for a full minute about the many times Tori and Vivienne had rented sailboats from him. “You two sailed to Catalina. Twenty-six miles there and back. Is Vivienne still missing?” His empathetic tone cut through her, but she held back tears.

She nodded. Today was about making a wrong thing right. She had to get to that island.

“Why not buy a sailboat?” he asked. “We have a used Cal25 similar to what you and Vivienne used to sail.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Built in 1983,” he said. “Cal Mark II, twenty-five-foot sailing cruiser. Fiberglass. Has a gas outboard. Listed for five thousand dollars.”

“Not bad.” Tori just caught a break for the circuitous route. No straight lines for her. Like her recent twisty achievements, she’d sail out to McGinn’s island. On land, she’d search for Vivienne. If she stumbled upon McGinn, she’d lure him away. She’d send Vivienne motoring on her way back to the marina with the gas outboard.

“The slip and insurance are prepaid for the rest of the year.” Ben waved to a customer behind her.

Tori took the cue to mean their conversation was over. “Put it on my credit card, Ben.” She slid it across the counter.

“We need help over here.” Ben called over the rumble of voices. He finished the transaction and handed her a packet with the title. When his helper walked up, Ben said, “William, show this skipper to her sailboat. Slip 24.”

“Come on.” William nodded his head toward the door. “I’ll help you rig up.”

“Great.” Excited to see the boat, she postponed hauling down her supplies. Following him out on the pier, she eased her way between Coppertone-scented bodies. On both sides of the pier, sapphire-blue water splashed against posts. She breathed refreshing salty air.

“Here we are, slip 24. Sunny and 75. That’s the name of your boat.” He awaited her response.

She closed her eyes and then opened them. “Spectacular!” Her heart swelled with the pride of ownership. She admired the nonskid deck painted in seafoam green. “Looks well maintained.”

“It was. This boat wasn’t raced hard and put away wet.” William explained the most recent owner took a job in New York City. “She left her phone number. Call her with any questions. She left instructions for the head.”

“The marine toilet? Can’t hurt to review the particulars.” Tori jumped onto the deck and hopped from there down to the teakwood flooring. She knew she’d never regret buying a boat named for perfect weather.

“The electrical system operates on a seventy-amp battery,” he said. “The kitchen sink has a hand pump. A fresh water tank holds fifteen gallons. Winches are well-oiled.” William made his way past her. “The mainsail is on the boom, ready to hoist. I’ll grab the jib in the cabin.” He opened the polished mahogany door, stepped down, and disappeared.

“I’m grabbing some boxes,” she called after him.

A half hour later, with supplies stowed, Tori sported the boater hat and sunglasses left by the former owner. The drawer in the stern contained a battery plugin for her cell. She attached her cellphone to it and then tested a switch for running lights. Port-red and starboard-green glowed in the bow. Stern lights and a light on the top of the mast powered up, but they were not needed now, and she switched them off. She pulled on a lifejacket and noted the direction of the wind.

“You’re leeward of the dock.” William’s job was to show her the ropes, but she already knew them.

In the cockpit, she raised the jib and let it luff. “I understand, William. Walk me out, please.”

With one hand on the bowline, William eased the boat backward with his foot. When out of the slip, he pulled it to the end of the dock. “Ready?”

“Almost.” She hoisted the sails halfway, took a break, and put her back into it. When the sails were up, she said, “Okay. Cast off.”

Underway solo, she trimmed the sails making use of winches and cleats. Ten minutes out she encountered heavy boat traffic near the Harborlight Yacht Club. She had to give right of way to racing sailboats and lost time during this harrowing effort.

After about seven endless miles, she hit open water and passed the working THUMS islands and the first non-producing island. The vacant platform was about the size of a football field, and seals had taken it over. She read a warning sign, “Kayakers, beware.” Just because a seal looked docile basking in the sun, a bull charged faster on flippers than a person could run.

Coming up on the second island, two buildings stood out. The silhouette of a tall building undoubtedly contained old industrial equipment. Lights glowed from a building with a sloping roof. Living quarters? She sailed closer to this numbingly ordinary aluminum-sided split-level house that connected to a water tank. Solar panels on a desalination unit turned salt water into drinking water. Somewhere a rain collection well with a sprinkler system existed for natural plants.

Above her, squawking seagulls floated on air currents and found an updraft behind her boat. With keen vision, they circled while waiting for a school of fish to swim on the surface. Gulls dove into the water and burst upward with fish in their beaks.

She watched faint light play on the waves before lifting her gaze to the island. Where the heck was McGinn? Surely the sociopath needed a crew. Had she jumped to conclusions? Could her hunch have been wrong?

If she weren’t expecting to feel the powerfully bad karma the brutal murderer carried around, she’d enjoy the sunset. Clouds on the horizon parted. Against a purple sky, an orange sun sank with the lingering sense of doom she’d anticipated.

She squinted to see points on the compass, mounted beside the cabin door. On a return to the marina, she’d head opposite, east-southeast. If not her, Vivienne.

She swung the rudder to tack once more and hugged the darkening shoreline, following this routine to shield her arrival. She sailed past a gigantic fake rock spouting a waterfall, but it wasn’t high enough to hide the mast.

When she reached the tall plastic building, she picked up the anchor with both hands and tossed it onto the rocky shore. The anchor caught, and she dropped the sails. The leeward wind pushed the sailboat away from the shore which kept the hull from bumping. Sitting in the cockpit, she hesitated for a moment, rotating connecting pieces through her mind.

She cringed, almost feeling McGinn’s evil impact. He’d done so much damage. Thinking about it made her hurt deep inside. His threats had overwhelmed her parents. He’d framed her for murder, and she’d spent a decade in prison. If she ran into him, she feared she’d crumble to the ground. Her heart would stop and forget to restart, but this wasn’t a time for weakness. Wildly, she pictured McGinn. Such hollow terrible eyes. Rage lashed within her. Keep fighting, go on instinct.

Lights came across the ocean, but she couldn’t make out the source of the golden glow. Coming nearer, a boat’s spotlights raked along the shoreline. Afraid to be seen, she huddled in the cockpit before the two-story vessel changed course and approached the opposite side of the island. Was Daniel McMahon bringing Alfonse Powers for laptop payment?

Tori leaned over the edge and looked into the cool dark water. Something familiar threw her back in time. Vivienne was there, her vision reflected in the water. A rock plunked on the surface, and the face disappeared in rings of widening concentric circles. Tori looked up. “Vivienne.”

“He calls me Vee.” She balanced on the rocks and looked down at Tori, eyes afraid. Ashen hair hung past her shoulders. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tori.” She pulled off her wig. “Don’t you remember me? I’ve come for you, Vivienne.”

“Tori, Tori,” Vivienne murmured. “Please understand. He gets rough. He shows love in a crazy way. I always wanted to marry a mobster. Didn’t you?”

“No.” Tori stared at her bruised legs. “Your dad did not hurt your mom. McGinn hurts you.”

“He’s got a new girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?”

“Misty. She can’t take it like I do. He hurts her, but I’m jealous. I just…” Vivienne didn’t finish her sentence and looked in all directions.

It surprised Tori that she knew what her cousin was thinking. Vivienne was weighing the odds. Should she stay with an abuser she loved, or find safety? “You’re going, Viv. Step into the boat. You’ll find some of our Beanie Babies in the cabin.”

“Big whoop.” Vivienne blew off a connection they’d shared.

“I guess we treasure different things.”

“Vee!” a harsh voice bellowed from the interior. “Don’t even try.” A minute passed. “Vee?” He didn’t know where to look.

Tori focused on her cousin’s eyes. Eyes full of yearning but also fear. “Vivienne, he’s coming. Get in.” She held her breath, waiting for her to answer.

Vivienne stepped aboard. “What now?”

“We change clothes.” Tori peeled hers off and tossed them to her. “You’ll head to Long Beach. Watch the compass. East southeast.”

Vivienne opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a squeak. She coughed.

In an instant, they were in each other’s clothes. Tori wore Vivienne’s shift and pulled on the wig. “When I push you off, don’t turn the running lights on for a half hour.”

“He’ll come after you.” Her rapid-fire words sounded as if they were forced into a space too small.

“That’s the idea.”

Vivienne’s gaze flicked upward over Tori’s shoulder, afraid he’d appear any second.

“I’ve got this. See you tomorrow.” She started the outboard, and it sputtered to life. “Take hold of the handle. As soon as I’m off the boat, put her in gear and steer. East southeast to Pugh’s Marina. There’s food in the cabin.” Tori grabbed her backpack, slung it over her shoulder. “Pugh’s. Remember?”

After a drawn-out second, Vivienne said, “I think so. Painted salmon pink and aqua?”

Tori nodded. “It’s dark now. Look for the neon aqua sign, Pugh’s. Slip 24 is ours. You’ll find a cellphone in the stern drawer.” Tori drew a steadying breath, jumped to the rocky shore and into a Steven King scenario without her phone. “Anchors away.” She lowered the anchor into the cockpit, drew back her foot and shoved the bow.

With sails down and a sliver of moon, Sunny and 75 blended with white caps as she chugged away. The seaworthy Cal25 had a heavy keel. The cast lead ballast of two thousand pounds would keep her upright in the rough water.

The shuffle of footsteps drew nearer. McGinn might catch a view of the mast. Fear for Vivienne ignited her brain, and she went on automatic. She shot around the plastic building and knocked over a potted palm tree.

Something ignited Tori's brain, and she went on automatic. She shot around the plastic building, knocked over a potted palm tree, and yelled, “Over here, asshole. When did you get feisty?” He squeezed the trigger of a gun. The shot rang out and hit high in a tree. He’d aimed over her head. Was this a hunting game he wanted to draw out?

She dropped to the ground, lay still, not realizing she’d been holding her breath until she released it all at once.

That was when McGinn grabbed her arm. “Oh, Vee.”

Tori flipped over, kicked him in the balls.

“Bitch.” He doubled over.

Adrenaline shot through her veins. She bolted but heard menacing voices from behind, from both sides. Her heart ratcheted up a few notches. She thrashed through palm trees and pounded the artificial turf.

McGinn laughed. His crew laughed, too. Snorts and cackles came from both sides. Panic pushed her to sprint harder on her leaden feet. They’re going to catch me. Despair whispered in her ear, and she shoved it aside. She could get away, couldn’t she? A sob threatened to choke her.

They stopped and changed directions. Were they herding her?

“I’ll catch you. Guaranteed.” McGinn’s voice louder, he trailed closer, his feet pounding over the hard platform.

Above her ragged breathing, she heard him closing in. She hurt, never so exhausted as this. Every move was agony, but she couldn’t stop running. She looked back over her shoulder, desperate to put distance between them and her. Desperate to find cover in the house or jump into the ocean.

Ahead of the others, McGinn’s shadowy presence moved with ease. “Vee. Watch out ahead,” he taunted.

She tripped on a pipe, braced herself by grabbing it, and crouched on the ground. Her backpack plummeted to her side.

Footfalls drummed from the left. A boot hit the ground, tripped over her backpack, and careened overhead. Her wig snagged along with him.

A perverse part of her thought it was a wonderful day for a mobster to decay in a rain well. An image of her brother’s light-the-world smile flashed in front of her eyes.

The guy exhaled sharply, splashed, and then slammed on the bottom of the nearly waterless well.

She huddled behind pipes and watched in horror as McGinn reached the well, just ten feet away.

“Tootle-oo, Vee.” Was the wig floating on the water? The tip of his boots extended over the edge. “That’s my ride. After I entertain guests, Misty and I will cruise to Mexico. Without you.”

The sick, perverted fuck disappeared from view without a care in the world.

She rolled over, taking a moment to stare at the new moon flanked by stars. This wasn’t the spot where it would all end. Voices came from the two-story yacht. She pushed herself up, and knew where she was headed. She was drawn to the house by some protective force to help Misty. Some would call it masochistic. Others might say it had to do with closure. She thought it was a rescue mission. A quickening began in her middle and expanded outward, heating her limbs and hardening her resolve.

What the hell kind of name was Misty? If she were a prostitute, she’d go for famous names like Madame du Barry or Julia Roberts.

* * *

Grady glanced at his watch. Six o’clock. When Tori showed up, she was going to pay for every single hour he worried.

“You’ve checked your watch, what, ten times?” Maeve wasn’t a private investigator dipping her toes in the ocean and looked at him blankly.

“If you say so,” he said, but winced with escalating angst. “Maybe Tori will sail out, find nothing, and sail back. Plans change.”

“Not hers,” Maeve assured him. “Here’s the scoop. Tori texted me when she sailed from Pugh’s Marina. That was early afternoon. She passed the Grissom Island four hours later.”

“She must be closing in on her destination.” He dug his nails into his palms. “I phoned. She didn’t pick up.” He dropped his head, ran a hand through his hair.

“Wind is at twenty knots. Sails luff. Fittings rattle. That’s noisy. Plus, she’s single-handling a sailboat.” She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Guhleman’s team has her coordinates on a monitor.”

“He explained that to me, too.” He massaged a shoulder with a hand. “For me, time is at a standstill.”

“Time plays on us in different ways. A year passes by quicker the older I get.” Maeve sipped apple cider.

“You’re right. Shane thinks a day is an eternity. He can’t wait for trick or treating.” Grady gathered up utensils and placed them with dirty dishes in the sink. He squirted lemon-scented soap into the basin. “Aim for the kidneys, twist the blade in the wound.”

Maeve laughed. “Make it gory and painful.”

The kitchen screen door opened. Shane held it open for Sherlock. “Abdul and Petals can come with us.”

“That’s terrific.” Grady glanced at his watch. “It’s after six and dark enough.”

“Candy is dandy. Liquor is quicker. Can I mix you up something?”

“Before I head out?” He chuckled just before the doorbell rang.

“Sounds like trick or treaters.” Maeve headed to answer it. “Susanne. What will it be, carob or chocolate?”

“You’re so funny, Maeve. Please meet Dan.” Susanne waved at Grady who strolled behind his PI.

Not expecting them, Grady cleared his throat. “Hey, you two. Coming out with us? Shane would love that.”

Susanne gritted her teeth as if she were facing a firing squad. “Oh, love to, but…”

“Hi, Mommy.” Shane hugged his mother’s legs and waved up at Dan.

“Hey there, sport,” Dan said.

Susanne stepped forward. “We were caught in traffic. Sat for hours. It’s jam-packed near our condo. Couldn’t make it through. There’s a regatta going on.”

“Susanne wants to freshen up.” Dan smiled as if she’d told him something nice. Maybe she had before they arrived. “Tell them, sweetheart.”

“We’re on our way to Vegas to get married. Bellagio has their all-inclusive forever package. May I use your bathroom?” Susanne held a hanger with a white gown in a plastic case. “The cast and crew from Bikini Babes will be the guests. We’ll have the biggest celebration they’ve seen yet.”

“It will last through the weekend,” Dan said. “Filmed, of course, with lots of food and entertainment.”

“Congratulations and best wishes,” Grady said. “The bathroom is straight back.”

“You live here?” Susanne took in the surroundings. For a moment, her face stiffened as if she’d seen poisonous spiders crawling up the walls. Then it relaxed, and her eyes narrowed like those of an officer assessing battle plans. “This wedding is my strategy for moving from costume designer to starlet.”

“It was bound to happen. She’s got the body for it.” Dan drank in her beauty as thirstily as a dog lapped water.

“What is that delicious smell?” Susanne made her way to the kitchen and within a minute returned with a square of cornbread in the palm of her hand. She ate it, lifting a dainty hand. “I guess everyone here has eaten.” She bent to kiss Shane on the cheek before heading for the bathroom.

“Let’s change, Dad,” Shane blurted out.

“Our red and gold armor awaits us.” Grady held Shane’s hand to slow him down on their way to his bedroom to change. After a few transforming minutes, Grady pulled his son in front of him as they faced a full-length mirror. “Don’t we look amazing?”

“Yeah, but Iron Man in the movie could fly,” Shane said.

“His armor had propulsion jets in the boots. We’ll pretend we can fly.”

“I’m flying.” Shane shot his arms out and glided down the hallway.

As they passed the bathroom, the sweet aroma of vanilla soap wafted through the door. Had Susanne discovered the gift he’d bought for Tori?

Tori. She’d inhaled his vanilla aftershave, had made him laugh. You smell like a cookie. No one made him laugh like her.

Coming into the kitchen, Dan spun from the stove with a sheepish grin. “Warmed up the chili.” He spooned the last bite from the pan. “Sorry.”

“No worries. Good food is good medicine.” To Grady’s relief, Abdul and his puppy, Petals, flooded the room.

“Sherlock looks like he’s ready.” Abdul giggled at the wrinkle-faced dog with a leash in his mouth.

Sherlock’s dog tags jingled when he saw Shane, and he shook his body as if he were throwing off water.

“Good dog,” Shane said, mimicking Tori, and then added, “Sherlock could win a contest for loose skin.”

“Not to mention long floppy ears.”

“Look at him. He’s doing a body shake.” Shane giggled. “He shakes to calm down.”

“Who told you that?”

“Tori.”

Grady’s heart lurched and then hammered like it was stuck. Stuck on her. Tori wreaked havoc with his heart, and he longed to drag her into his arms and hold her tight.

“Phone Guhleman,” Maeve said. “You’ll feel better.”

“Fine.” He pulled out his cell, scrolled through names, and dialed Guhleman.

“Hey, Grady,” the FBI agent said. “Calling for Tori’s location?” It took almost five minutes. “The monitor shows her a mile off the Long Beach coast. She’ll arrive at Pugh’s Marina in an hour or so.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Me? Just took off in a helicopter,” the agent yelled against a racket of chop-chopping. “Shame on me. Forgot to tell you. We flipped Alfonse Powers.”

“No way. He’s cooperating?”

“Couldn’t share this. Always the risk of tip-off,” Guhleman shouted. “Wish you’d been in on it. We’re following Daniel McMahon’s yacht. He’s traveling with Gordon the Greaser, Alfonse Powers, and suitcases of our FBI money. I just…” Grady didn’t finish his sentence. The call disconnected.

Maeve looked him directly in the eye. “I heard. Tori must be okay. With or without Vivienne, she’s okay. Are you?”

“Nope.” Concern for her made a lump form in his throat. A thousand regrets hit him. He should be with her now.

Maeve smiled. “You guys go trick or treating. Everybody ready?”

Shane smiled, his eyes focused on Grady’s like he didn’t trust himself to let them wander for fear they wouldn’t go. Trick or treating was a big deal for him. He tugged his arm, his enthusiasm contagious.

Grady ran a finger along Shane’s Iron Man helmet. “I’ll try to act my age.” He winked at Maeve and grabbed bags. “See you in a couple hours.”

Shane, Abdul, and the dogs jumped up and dashed to the front door.