In Dark Water (Rarity Cove Book 3)

by Leslie Tentler

  “This property’s been in the Beaufain family for generations,” Noah said as they positioned the canoe adjacent to the dock. “Ty’s grandfather built the cabin. They bonded over bass and catfish out here when Ty was a kid. His grandfather was a physician, but he also fancied himself an outdoorsman and wanted a place away from it all.”

  “It looks like he got it,” Mercer mused as the canoe bumped against the dock’s side. Still seated, Noah braced one hand on its wood planking so that he could keep the canoe steady while Mercer stepped onto the dock. After the time on the water, her legs felt rubbery, as if she were still afloat. Noah stepped carefully out behind her, then with some effort pulled the canoe up onto the dock.

  “We’re going to need to hide this,” he said.

  Together, they dragged the canoe to the pontoon boat and placed the smaller vessel inside it, then covered it with an opaque, plastic tarp. Mercer’s body trembled with exertion. Noah looked nearly as tired as she felt. She turned to look again at the cabin. It sat on brick columns that were about five- or six-feet high, which raised it enough to protect against flooding, although the space between the cabin’s foundation and the ground had been boarded up all around. Mercer followed Noah up the wood stairs and onto the cabin’s porch where a whimsical, wooden plaque in the shape of a fish hung on the wall near the front door, its lettering spelling out Beaufain’s Folly. There were also two rocking chairs with a fishing pail between them. A net attached to a pole, presumably for scooping fish from the water, leaned against the railing.

  “I left Tyson’s keys behind, but I know where he hides a spare. Stay here.”

  Mercer waited while Noah went back down the steps, jogged across a wide, dirt path that appeared to be a makeshift driveway, then disappeared around the cabin’s side. He reappeared a minute or so later with a key. Coming back onto the porch, he inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Hot, her clothes sticking to her skin, Mercer followed him inside. The interior was small but neat, with a rustic, wood-burning fireplace and a lived-in couch with an afghan thrown across its back. A bookcase on a far wall held an expansive collection of books while a utilitarian kitchen area completed the single room.

  “There’re a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom down the hall.” Noah walked to a wall panel and flipped a switch. A trio of ceiling fans on poles that were mounted on the vaulted ceiling above them began to rotate, moving the sluggish air. “The solar panels store energy, at least enough for fans and lights. It’s warm in here but it should cool off at night.”

  “There’s a stove,” Mercer noted.

  “It’s propane-fueled. So is the water heater. There’s a freshwater spring on the property. It’s non-potable, though.”

  Whether with hot or cold water, a shower sounded like heaven. Mercer followed Noah as he went to the kitchen and opened what appeared to be a pantry door. She glimpsed several cans of food and a few other non-perishables.

  “God bless you, Ty,” Noah murmured. “Looks like he had some groceries left from when he was out here last time.” He took two bottled waters from an already opened, shrink-wrapped case that sat on the bottom shelf and handed one to Mercer. They both twisted the caps from their bottles and drank greedily. The water was tepid but in that moment, it tasted better to her than the finest bottle of wine in the St. Clair’s climate-controlled wine cellar.

  “I can’t believe you were able to find this place.” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand once she had finished her bottle.

  Noah released a tense breath. “The one advantage we have is how big this area is. The swamp’s well over a thousand acres and the lake itself is a hundred times that size, with over three hundred miles of shoreline. There’re other cabins around here, but most are unoccupied until hunting season opens later this month. We need to make sure this one looks just as unoccupied.” He indicated a kerosene lamp that hung on a hook on the wall. “The window blinds stay closed. We’ll go down to low-flame lamplight after dark. This place has overhead lighting, but lamplight is weaker and less likely to be seen.”

  The initial relief that Mercer had felt upon their finding shelter faded. These men who were after them wouldn’t give up easily. This place was too far off the grid for a telephone landline and maybe even cell coverage, not that either of them had phones. Tom, Remy, her family—anyone they could trust to help them were out of reach. Fear gnawed at her. “Is there anything we can do besides just hope they don’t find us?”

  “I’m going to set up some things outside to alert us if anyone comes onto the property.” Seriousness darkened Noah’s eyes. “As well as some things that’ll hopefully stop any intruders or at least slow them down.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  He placed his empty plastic bottle beside the sink. “Take the sign off the front door, for starters. We don’t need the name Beaufain being advertised out there. Then look around for dark blankets and towels we can layer on top of the blinds after dark. That’ll make sure no light leaks out. Look for any guns, too, although I’m pretty sure none’s here since Ty worries about break-ins and typically brings his weapons and ammo back with him. You can also take inventory in the kitchen so we’ll know exactly how much supplies we have and how long we can last out here. We can boil water and supplement our food by fishing, but we need to lay low. If Ty survived, he’ll send help to us.”

  Mercer felt an ache in her throat. “But…what if Detective Beaufain didn’t survive?”

  Noah swallowed heavily. “Then we’ll need to wait it out here for as long as we can. Hopefully, until Draper and his men give up on finding us and leave the area.”

  Worry must have been evident on her features, because he touched her face. “I’m going to get you out of this,” he promised in a low voice. They stared at one another in a charged silence until he took a step back.

  “Go ahead and have something to eat.” Noah tore a paper towel from a roll on the counter, then wet it in the sink once water began to trickle out from the faucet.

  “What about you?”

  Using the towel, he wiped carefully at the dried blood on his temple. “There’re some protein and granola bars in the pantry. I’ll take one with me. I need to get started out there.”

  “I can help outside.”

  “The fewer of us out there, the better. Stay inside.”

  She wanted to clean and bandage his cut, but he headed out. Mercer followed him to the door. As he stepped down from the porch, she went out to remove the wooden plaque and carried it back in, cradling it against her chest. It was warm in the cabin but they were lucky that the uncommon cool front from last week still lingered. The overhead fans were already helping and she suspected that Noah was right and the temperature would drop with nightfall. Slightly lifting the blind that covered the kitchen window, Mercer peeked out at the property’s rear, where she could see Noah surveying the area, no doubt planning whatever he intended to do out there. She watched as he walked to a large oak tree and squinted up into its branches, one hand on his hip just above his holstered gun. Broad-shouldered, athletically muscled, his dark hair gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the boughs. A weathered toolshed was located nearby and a tire swing hung from one of the oak’s gnarled limbs. Mercer wondered if the swing was for Detective Beaufain’s daughters—if he would even bring them out to such a remote location—or whether it had been there, unused and forgotten, for generations. Regardless, she said a silent prayer that those little girls hadn’t lost their father.

  Mercer thought of her own family. She wondered if they knew yet that she was missing, what the news might be reporting about the shooting at the diner, or whether the crashed car that she and Noah had abandoned had even been found. If it would ever be found. Mark, Carter, her mother—if they knew anything at all yet, they would be frantic with worry.

  There was also one thing that Noah hadn’t mentioned. If the police had figured out that they could be somewhere out here, they would be sending search
parties of their own. But if there was a leak within law enforcement, someone so vile that he had been complicit in today’s violence, there was a threat there, as well, and no one they could really trust.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mercer’s stomach quivered as she stared into the hip-deep, partially concealed pit that Noah had dug a few steps from the dock. He had strung netting over the hole, and sticks, their ends sharpened into points, rose up from its dirt floor. A shovel lay nearby on the ground. Carrying another armload of vegetation, Noah crouched beside the pit and spread it over the netting to conceal it the rest of the way.

  “Anyone coming from the dock in the dark is going to get a surprise.” Rising to stand beside her, he surveyed his work. Around them, the shadows had built and lengthened as daytime faded into dusk. “Neither of us needs to be out here much, since we’re risking being seen. Still, you need to remember this area and avoid it.”

  “Like the plague,” Mercer agreed, her throat dry. “But what if Detective Beaufain does send someone out to help us? Couldn’t this hurt them?”

  “Ty knows me too well. He’ll know I’ve armed this place to the teeth and he’ll make sure that anyone he sends out here knows to announce themselves before stepping onto the property.” Dirt mingled with the dried blood that marred Noah’s clothing, and he used his forearm to wipe perspiration from his forehead. “C’mon. Let me show you what else you need to know about.”

  As they walked around the clearing’s perimeter, he indicated the fishing line that he had strung taut and low to the ground. He then pointed up into an oak tree’s branches where a plastic trash bag dangled from a cord. “That’s a bag of empty soda and beer cans that Ty was planning to take in for recycling. If anyone—or anything—trips the wire here, including coming across the driveway, we’re going to know. I’ve got more of these noisemakers strung up in the trees on all sides of the property.” He looked again at Mercer, his features serious. “Treat the wire like a fence. Don’t go past it. I’ve set out some bear traps that were in the toolshed. They’re old and rusted, but they’ll get the job done.” He showed her a beaten dirt trail that ran behind the shed into the woods. “If you do have to leave here without me, take that path and stay on it. It winds around through the trees and you’ll end up on a road about a half-mile up. The path will hide you better than if you take the driveway out.”

  If you do have to leave here without me…

  Noah meant that if something happened to him. Mercer prayed that she would never have to face that situation. She looked again at the wire that ran a couple of inches off the ground. “Did you learn how to do all this in the military?”

  “I learned to avoid things like this. The Taliban and their sympathizers didn’t have our weaponry, but they were masters at improvisation. Tripwires attached to handmade explosives were common. I lost a good friend in Kandahar that way.”

  Mercer touched his arm in comfort. His amber gaze seemed to assess her. “I like how you look. Without make-up, I mean.”

  She was aware of her bare face, her hair damp and falling around her shoulders. After completing the tasks that she had been assigned, Mercer had showered in the cabin’s small bathroom. She had also inspected herself for ticks as Noah had instructed. She had been greatly relieved to find none, but when she glanced into the mirror over the sink, she had seen the scratch on her cheek and the bruising at her collarbone. The water in the shower had been warmer than she expected, and it had helped to ease some of the stiffness from her body. Afterward, she had changed into khaki shorts and a dark, scoop-neck T-shirt, women’s clothing she had found in the back of a drawer when she had been looking for things that could be used to hang over the blinds. She was also currently without undergarments, since she had washed hers along with the clothes she’d had on earlier and hung them on a towel rack in the bathroom to dry. Self-consciously, she crossed her arms over her breasts and stared down briefly at the loafers that she had managed to mostly wipe free of mud. “I hope Detective Beaufain’s wife won’t mind about the clothes. Mine were pretty damp and muddy.”

  “I’m surprised you found any. Ty told me Lanny’s only been out here once, right after he inherited it. He says it’s too far out in the boonies for her and the girls.”

  Then the tire swing hanging from the oak’s gnarled limb was as old as it looked, Mercer thought.

  “There isn’t much more I can do out here tonight.” Noah briskly rubbed his palms together to brush away dirt. “It’s about time I caught a shower and look for some clean clothes myself. I won’t be in the shower long. I need you to keep an ear out for any noise while I’m in there.”

  Mercer nodded. “I found some toothbrushes still in their packaging in a drawer in the bathroom. There’s toothpaste, too,” she said as they walked back to the cabin’s front once Noah had made sure that there was no one on the water nearby.

  They went up the porch steps and entered. Noah looked around the cabin’s darkened interior. “I see you’ve been busy.”

  Mercer had used the hammer and nails that Noah had brought in from the toolshed to tack up blankets and other bedding over the window blinds. “You had enough to do out there, so I went ahead and went to work. I nailed them just at the top, so we can pull the coverings back during the day to at least let some light in around the blinds’ edges.”

  Noah took the kerosene lamp from its hook on the wall and placed it on a table. After retrieving a box of matches from the stone hearth’s mantel, he removed the lamp’s glass chimney, lit the wick and replaced the glass. Anemic, yellow light glowed.

  “There’s one other thing I want to show you.” He bent to roll back a large, braided rag-rug covering the floor. To Mercer’s surprise, a door with a hole for a handle was located there.

  “It leads down to a crawl space. There’s a removable board down there in back of the cabin so that things can be moved in and out. The space is used for storage, but if we need it, it’s also an escape route.” Noah replaced the rug. Straightening, he indicated the lamp. “Keep this one with you.” He picked up the matchbox. “There’s another one in back. I’ll take it with me to shower.”

  “There’re a couple of cans of ready-to-heat pasta. I was thinking I could make that for dinner? I’m hungry, but you must be starving.”

  He nodded. Mercer’s heart constricted as she looked at him in the shadows.

  “I…thought I’d be saying goodbye to you this morning,” she stammered, her emotion rising. She couldn’t stop thinking about the events of the day and how they had narrowly escaped with their lives.

  “I guess fate had other plans for us. It’s going to be okay, Mercer,” Noah said quietly before turning and going down the hall.

  Head bowed, one palm braced against the shower wall’s molded plastic, Noah squeezed his eyes closed as water rained down on him. The words of comfort he had offered Mercer belied his own inner turmoil.

  He didn’t know whether Tyson was alive or dead, whether any help would be arriving. If it didn’t, Noah clung to the idea that if they could just remain out of sight long enough, Draper and his men might think they had escaped the area and would move on. At least for now, staying here was safer than being exposed and vulnerable outdoors where, if they were spotted, they would be outnumbered and outgunned.

  If he did manage to get Mercer back home, what then? Protectiveness tightened Noah’s jaw. As long as Draper was out there, she would still have a target on her back. Would she be handed over to WITSEC again? After this, how could he entrust her safety to anyone?

  Noah thought of how she had looked outside in the waning daylight, the setting sun catching the gold highlights in her hair and making her skin appear luminous. He had noticed the flush that appeared on her cheekbones when he’d told her that he liked the way she looked. Noah couldn’t imagine that a day had gone by that her husband hadn’t told her how beautiful she was. He regretted that he hadn’t made love to her—hadn’t eased her loneliness—when he’d had the chance. That
he had let protocol come between them.

  The laceration on his temple stung under the spray, but it wasn’t enough to distract him. Outside, Noah had thrown himself into the work that had to be done, but now, alone with his thoughts, he leaned his forehead against the shower wall, his breathing cramped. The gunfire and sprawled bodies outside the diner, Tyson’s bloody wound, the shattering glass and crunching metal as the car flipped over the guardrail—it all came rushing back in on him.

  It took him back to a helicopter crash and a prison built into a cavern in a mountainside.

  He fought the images away. Angered by his weakness, Noah shut off his thoughts just as he shut off the showerhead. Standing in the flickering lamplight, he took a deep, calming breath, then used his hands to wipe water from his face. He reached for a towel that hung on the rack beside Mercer’s lace-edged bra and panties.

  Noah vowed that he wouldn’t let her die out here.

  After finishing up in the bathroom, he slipped on a pair of Tyson’s jeans that he had found and brought in with him. Then he opened the door, planning to seek out a shirt in the bedroom’s bureau. But he halted upon seeing Mercer. Her eyes flicked to the scars on his bare chest and abdomen before meeting his gaze again.

  “I…just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready,” she said, then went back down the hall.

  Mercer absently twirled spaghetti noodles around the tines of her fork, discreetly watching Noah as he ate beside her. Since coming out of the shower, he had been quiet, even for him. She studied his even profile, his dark hair damp and tousled. The cut on his temple appeared angry, the skin bruised around it. Mercer had located a first-aid kit on a shelf behind the linens and, once he was done eating, she planned to try to convince him to let her at least apply some antibiotic ointment.