No, alerting him to her presence wouldn’t be smart. She should at least take a peek to see if he’d brought any luggage on board. That would give a strong indication he didn’t plan to return home. She’d do a quick search and get off the boat before Darryl noticed her.
Her heart thumping, she hopped onto the swim platform and entered the salon through an unlocked sliding glass door. To her left, she spied an L-shaped beige sofa cleverly designed with an extra berth beneath. Another seating arrangement sat opposite, facing glossy wood cabinetry that framed a large flat-screen TV with a high-tech sound system.
Marla stared in blatant admiration. She couldn’t imagine a life of leisure where you cruised the waterways, enjoying the view along with these luxurious amenities.
Ahead toward the left was a galley with a full range of gleaming appliances and granite countertops. Just beyond was a spiral staircase leading downward that beckoned to her. Her scalp prickled as she padded over and crept down the carpeted steps. She’d just need a minute to glance at Darryl’s belongings, and then she could vamoose out of there.
A quick exploration showed her a master suite plus two guest cabins all decorated in the same brown-and-beige color scheme. Inside the master stateroom, bulging suitcases occupied a double-sized berth edged by two built-in nightstands. A chest of drawers with a TV on top, built-in cabinets, and a desk below a window completed the furnishings.
Overhead, the low ceiling had a hatch like a skylight in the middle. A person could easily reach it by standing on the bed.
A rumbling vibration underfoot jarred her just as she noticed a partially open metal case. Curious to see what this one held, she went over and opened it. Stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills were lined up inside. Whoa, what was this? She had enough presence of mind to take photos with her cell phone. Then she did the same for the other suitcases filled with clothing. Darryl must have packed hastily. None of them were locked.
At any rate, this confirmed her notion that Darryl planned to run for the islands and not come back. She sent the pictures to Dalton and stuck her phone in a pocket before backing out toward the door.
“Where did you come from?” Darryl snapped.
Marla whipped around. His form filled the doorway, his eyes gleaming with menace. He held a gun in his hand.
Her stomach lurched. Was that the same weapon that had shot Louise to death and later done in poor Ryan?
“Actually, I’m waiting for my husband,” she said in a smooth tone that belied the panic squeezing her chest. “Dalton knows I’m here, and he’s on his way along with backup. You’d be smart to cooperate.”
“I could say the same to you. We’re about to get underway. I didn’t count on a stowaway, but I can deal with you once we’re out to sea.”
“Like you dealt with Louise and Ryan?” she said to force a confession. “You’re the one who killed them, aren’t you? Did they get wise to your fraud scheme?”
Damn, she should have left her phone turned on. Could she reach it in her pocket? Not yet; Darryl’s gaze was pinned too closely on her.
His lips curled in a snarl. “I had a good thing going. Florida is rife with boats that become prey to storms or modern-day pirates. It’s unfortunate when owners lose their vessels, but they’re insured.”
“Through your company, I assume. How much kickback do you get on these claims? I’m guessing you help those boats along to their watery graves. Do you have a special place where you scuttle them?”
“You don’t need to know the details.” He gestured with the gun for her to move farther inside the cabin. His gaze moved to her bag. Would he take her purse or ask for her cell phone?
“Did you run Ken off the road that night?” she asked quickly to distract him. “You must have figured out his role as informant for the fraud division. Am I correct?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. Sit tight, Marla. I hope you don’t get seasick.” With a sinister chuckle, he slammed the door shut. Clunking noises sounded from outside in the corridor, and then his footsteps stomped away.
She tried the door, but he must have jammed it from the other side. Shortly thereafter, the vibration increased as they moved away from the dock.
She’d better text Dalton again before she lost service. She sent him the name of the vessel, their destination, and how she’d gotten trapped. She’d face his wrath later, if there was a later.
The message went through, or at least she hoped it did. She tucked the phone inside her purse without waiting for a response.
At the window, she noted their progress with a growing sense of alarm. Her attempt to open the window failed. Probably the glass was too strong to break.
She had to escape before they hit the open sea lanes. Her gaze rose to the hatch overhead. Could she open it by herself?
She crawled onto the bed and stood on top of a stuffed suitcase. Her fingers touched the latch. Rust must have stiffened it as the thing barely moved. After several tries, she managed to shove it into the unlocked position.
With a grunt, she pushed on the heavy circle of glass. It banged open with a crash.
She winced, hoping Darryl was in another part of the boat and hadn’t heard. Or maybe he’d think she was pounding on the stateroom door in an attempt to free herself.
Balancing precariously, she carefully straightened her spine. It wasn’t easy with the boat rocking. They were going slow, probably to clear the buoys before reaching open water. This would be her last chance for freedom.
She grasped the rim and hefted herself up, straining her arm muscles. Adrenaline gave her an added boost. She hauled herself out the hatch and collapsed onto a wooden deck.
Uh-oh. The channel ahead led out to sea. She didn’t have much time.
It took an effort to stand as the boat’s movements increased. She steadied herself over by the railing. Now what? Should she jump overboard?
She peered at the seething depths. Another boat might come along if this was a trafficked lane, but could she tread water for any amount of time? Her arms might be strong from her work as a hairdresser, but did she really have the stamina to stay afloat while getting slapped in the face by waves and buffeted by the current?
Then again, did it matter? This being January, the water was bound to be cold. She might die of hypothermia before anyone reached her.
Hopefully that meant the sharks had gone elsewhere. Usually, they swam close to shore in Fort Lauderdale. If she had a choice, jumping into the water wouldn’t be her first option. That meant she’d have to choose the alternative of disabling her captor.
She glanced at the flying bridge, and her heart skipped a beat. Darryl wasn’t there.
Had he noticed her escape? Her throat tight, she scanned the deck for a handy weapon. An axe mounted on the wall for fire control caught her eye. That would have to do.
She’d just detached the tool from its mounting when a growl sounded from behind.
“How did you get free? Never mind, we’ll do this now. You’re shark meat.”
Marla gripped the axe handle, lifted it, and swung the blunt end into Darryl’s skull.
His eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped to the deck.
Feeling relieved but not yet secure, Marla realized she needed to tie him up before she could call for help. With the boat speeding toward the open channel, she widened her stance to steady her feet. Presumably, Darryl had put the vessel on autopilot, if there was such a thing for boats.
There, that coil of rope would do. She used the axe to hack off a couple of sections and then trussed Darryl at his wrists and ankles before lashing him to a pole. Her limbs trembled from exertion. Ignoring her discomfort, she headed to the command deck.
With the boat swaying even more, she had to grip the hand rail to climb the ladder. Her stomach responded to each pitch and roll as she got higher. The wind blew hair into her face, making it difficult to see ahead. She squinted, nearly blinded by the sun’s glare.
Once under the covered area, sh
e donned the sunglasses she kept in her purse, still strapped across her shoulder. She tried to make a cell phone call, but got the no service signal.
A wave of dizziness hit her unexpectedly. She sank into the chair behind a big steering wheel and put a hand to her mouth. Come on, Marla, don’t get sick. You have to think.
She examined the array of instruments. There must be a radio among all this tech. But even if she recognized a microphone or communications unit, she wouldn’t understand how to operate it. Living in Florida, why hadn’t she ever taken a boating course?
Her ears picked up the sound of a siren. She peered over the side to see a Coast Guard vessel bearing down on her. Dalton must have notified them.
Oh, thank God. She waved her arms in joyful relief. She’d never been happier to see the authorities chasing after her.
Chapter Nineteen
“That was a brilliant move to call the Coast Guard,” Marla told Dalton for the umpteenth time on Tuesday as they reviewed the case. She sat with her husband in a Cuban restaurant near Hollywood Boulevard. They’d dropped Brianna off at acting class and were enjoying a leisurely dinner together. Luke was home with Ma babysitting. Her mother had said she’d “missed the little tyke” and wanted to see him, so this gave her the opportunity.
“The outcome would have been a lot different if I hadn’t,” Dalton replied with a scowl. “You should never have gone aboard that vessel alone.”
“I was only going to peek inside to see how much luggage Darryl had brought. I didn’t mean to get trapped there.”
Dalton grasped her hand from across the table, a fake candle flickering between them. “You gave me a fright. I almost lost you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to get caught. But if Darryl had gotten away—”
“He didn’t.” Her husband’s expression mellowed. “And you’re okay, so we’re good. However, a basic boating course might be a smart idea for both of us.”
Relieved he didn’t dwell on her mistakes, Marla withdrew her hand and lifted her wine glass. “Here’s to solving your case,” she said to distract him. They clinked glasses. “Darryl wrapped everything up nicely when he confessed to killing Louise and Ryan.”
Dalton’s gaze clouded. “Yeah, a little too nicely. A couple of things still don’t add up.”
“How so? He was running the insurance fraud scheme. Ken got suspicious when a client complained. He wasn’t sure which agent from his office was involved, so when Louise suggested he should spy on his colleagues and play informant, Ken agreed. Darryl found out, grabbed Louise and took her to the warehouse. He called Ken using a burner phone and had Louise plead for help. Then he killed her.”
“That would explain why Ken tore out of his house on New Year’s Eve. He thought he could save Louise. It was a work-related call in a way, so that much was true. Darryl laid in wait for Ken, recognizing his car on the road and forcing him into the ditch. He hadn’t counted on Tally coming along.” Dalton took a sip of Cabernet, swirling it in his mouth before swallowing.
“Tally probably knew about Ken’s involvement by that time and worried for his safety,” Marla added. “Then poor Ryan got wind of the operation. Darryl took care of him in the same heartless manner. The man is a monster. I hope he gets put away for a long time.”
Dalton’s gaze narrowed. “His troubles began when his wife left him. I’ve met guys like him before. He hides a lot of anger behind a curtain of charm. His resentment stems from his own inadequacies that he projects onto everyone else.”
“Lots of people have issues. They don’t go around murdering their friends.”
“Ken’s work evaluation said Darryl wasn’t worthy of promotion because he’s not a team player. He acts competitive and petty, hiding it under a smooth veneer.”
“I’d tend to agree. Did you interview his ex-wife to learn more about him?”
“The wife said he viewed porn sites on the computer and liked to visit strip lounges. These perversions are why she left him. She said he’s especially spiteful to anyone who is more successful.”
“So that’s why he started the scam? To thumb his nose at everybody else?”
“It’s one reason. Plus, he meant to save enough money to buy his dream yacht.”
“So what bothers you?” Marla bit into her shrimp sautéed with onions and bell peppers, her appetite gone but eating for strength and energy.
“I don’t know. Something seems off. I’m not able to put my finger on it.”
“Let it go for now, hon. Darryl has confessed to the murders, and you can confirm it once you link him to the scenes via DNA evidence and residue from his shoes.”
“And his weapon, now that we have the firearm,” Dalton added.
She pondered their conversation on the way home after they’d picked up Brianna. But Marla didn’t care to revisit the topic or disturb the peace she felt with Darryl behind bars. His arrest wouldn’t bring Ken back to life, but it took away the threat to Tally whenever she awakened.
Marla glanced at Dalton’s stern profile. She wanted nothing more than to put this tragedy behind them and move on. Now that the bad guy was behind bars, she’d put all her efforts into caring for Luke and advocating for Tally.
*****
On Wednesday morning, Luke woke with a fever. Aware of her crowded work schedule, Marla called Mrs. Phelps to babysit. Neither her mother nor Dalton’s mom would get there in time, and she didn’t want to bother them.
“Thanks so much for coming at short notice,” Marla said, greeting the older woman at the door and ushering her inside. “I’ve alerted the day care center that Luke would be absent today. I’ll show you his meds. Call me if his temperature doesn’t come down in an hour or two. I’ve already given him a dose this morning.”
“What time do you expect to be home?” The sitter’s blue eyes regarded Marla with a kindly expression.
A jolt of familiarity slid along her spine. Short on time, she shook the feeling aside. “I’d like to get through my morning clients. I’ll check with you later, but let me know if Luke gets worse.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take good care of him.”
Marla gave a heavy sigh. “I wish I could stay home, but I’ve too many customers.”
“Go on to work. We’ll be fine, and you’ll be back before you know it.” Mrs. Phelps chuckled. “Time flies when you’re not looking, dearie.”
Marla frowned, the hairs on her nape prickling with unease. What was throwing her comfort level off-kilter today?
She collected her purse and left the house, her cares fleeing as work consumed her. She finished her early appointments, wishing time would move faster.
It was past lunch when her cell phone rang. Dalton’s name showed on the caller ID. At least it wasn’t the sitter saying Luke’s temperature had spiked.
“I received a preliminary report on the hair sample you took from Liam Kelton,” Dalton said. “There’s a ninety-eight percent chance that he and Luke are related.”
“What? How?”
His deep voice responded. “Wasn’t it your theory that he and Lilly had a child?”
“Yes, and this could be the reason why Tally’s parents ended up getting a divorce. Rubin learned another man had sired his daughter. I’ll bet Tally went to Sunny Grove to confront Liam. He’d have urged her to keep quiet, since a scandal could ruin his reputation. He wouldn’t want to lose his chance of becoming the state’s next CFO.”
“I’ll have to do more research on this.” Dalton rang off, leaving Marla standing with the cell phone to her ear.
She tucked the device back into her pants pocket, envisioning her visit to Liam’s lakeside mansion. Wait a minute. Hadn’t he used the same phrase as Mrs. Phelps?
Time flies when you’re not looking. He’d said it while gazing at the photo of his younger sister. The woman had looked familiar to Marla. Her blood chilled as she realized why. Surely there couldn’t be a connection between the politician and her babysitter?
She rushed to the computer at the front desk. “Robyn, move aside. I have to check something.”
Accessing a popular real estate site, she looked up Mrs. Phelps’s house number that she’d programmed into her address book. The babysitter claimed she’d moved into Tally’s neighborhood four years ago. She had started babysitting after her husband died. So how come the lady was always available when Marla called?
Her throat constricted. Oh, no. The address where Mrs. Phelps lived had sold within the past year. This sale would have been shortly after Tally’s trip to Sunny Grove. And Mrs. Phelps hadn’t bought the house with her husband. The buyer was listed as Liam Kelton.
With a dawning sense of horror, Marla stared at Robyn. “I think I know who’s behind everything. I have to go home. Reschedule my clients for me, will you?”
She rushed back to her station, grabbed her purse, and dashed out the door without any further explanations. Her heart racing, she drove home like a wild woman, passing through yellow lights and barely pausing at stop signs. Her brakes squealed as she stopped the car in her driveway.
Mrs. Phelps’s vehicle was gone.
Her stomach lurching, she entered through the front door and called the babysitter’s name. No response. A horrible pit of despair opened inside her.
She sprinted down the hall to Luke’s nursery. His crib lay empty, the sheet rumpled.
A quick search through the rest of the house revealed a haunting emptiness. With trembling fingers, she lifted a mobile phone unit and dialed the babysitter’s given numbers. Nobody answered. She sent a text from her cell, praying she was mistaken, and there would be a logical reason for the woman’s absence.
Could Mrs. Phelps have taken Luke to the doctor? A call to the pediatrician’s office confirmed her fears that they weren’t there.
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