by Annie Seaton
Paulie nodded as he stood and jumped out of the dinghy, dragging it across the dark water. The base of the boat scraped on broken coral and he pulled it quickly to the left to avoid more sharp coral heads in front of them. Gracie fell back against the seat, unable to balance against the sudden movement, much to Mick’s amusement. Pain jarred through her head as her cheek hit the wooden seat.
Anger filled her as she struggled to sit up, and she glared at him when he jumped out of the boat to help Paulie pull it away from the rocks. When the front of the boat was on the sand, Mick held his hand out to her and she ignored it.
“Get out of the fucking boat,” he snarled.
“How?” She inclined her head to her hands tied behind her back. He grabbed one arm and held her as she swung her legs over the side into the shallow water as the small waves pushed past the boat. Her canvas shoes filled with water and rubbed as she walked up to the beach. The midmorning sun was hot and the top of her head burned as it was exposed to the strong sunlight—her cap was in her bag, still on the Midas.
Ahead, a dense wall of bush was broken only by a sheer rock cliff on the northern end, and after securing the dinghy in the sand with a small V-shaped anchor, the two men led her toward the trees. Flicking her glance from left to right, Gracie’s heart sank. There was nowhere to go, even if she could get away from them. From the direction they had traveled and the unusual-shaped mountain, she suspected they were on Crocodile Island. She lifted her head—the high peak of Crocodile Island overlooked the bay. It was one of the few large islands in the Whitsundays that had not been developed as a resort, but she was sure there were houses on the western side of the island. Depending on where they locked her up in this cabin, if that was the worst of their intent—cold fear crawled through her stomach—she had to get out.
Thoughts of escape filled her mind as they dragged her up the sloping beach. It was surreal—if she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was going for a pleasant stroll along the beach on a sunny morning. The soft swish of the small waves breaking on the coral sand, the sharp cries of the ospreys wheeling in the sky above the beach and the soughing of the wind through the hoop pines on the mountain calmed her. But the firm grip on her arms dispelled the fantasy. As they stepped into the dim light under the dense canopy of trees edging the beach, a thumping sound quickly filled the air around them.
Mick and Paulie looked at each other and let go of her as they ran back onto the beach.
Without even looking after them, Gracie ran. She pushed through the thick, dense undergrowth, focusing on keeping her balance because she couldn’t use her hands to support herself. The sound of the helicopter faded and a cry came from the beach as they realized she had run. Desperately looking around, she noticed a small incline slightly to her left and ran toward it. Her wet shoes slipped on the bulging tree roots, and she stumbled, just regaining her balance before she pitched headfirst onto the uneven ground. The hill would hide her until they came looking but that was small comfort. Her breath hitched as she climbed, perspiration ran down her face and loose branches scratched her face and legs. Taking the final step to the top of the incline, Gracie gasped as a deep, sloping drop on the other side yawned below her. For a moment, she stood quietly, looking down to the gulley where a small creek wound its way to the ocean. A shout from behind spurred her on and she dropped into a crouch, tucked her head into her chest, and rolled down the hill. Over and over, she half rolled, half slid and sharp rocks and sticks bruised her body until her right leg jarred against the rough edge of a fallen hoop pine and she came to a sudden stop. Lying there, trying to catch her breath, Gracie looked down and was dismayed by the large gash on her ankle where the branch had hit. Blood ran down her leg and was soaking into her white shoe. She swallowed and fought the wave of faintness that pricked at her eyes.
This was not the time to be squeamish. Worrying about her leg would have to wait; she’d got this far and there was no way she was stopping now. Rolling over on to her front, she strained her head back until her neck ached and looked up to the top of the rise—there was no sign of the men yet, but she could hear them pushing through the trees on the other side of the hill. Desperately looking around for somewhere to hide, the hollowed out hoop pine that had gashed her leg caught her attention. Shuffling around it, she noticed a small hole crisscrossed with cobwebs and dead leaves. Trying not to think of spiders and snakes or other creatures living in the log, she dropped onto her stomach and pushed herself until she was completely in the log.
Closing her eyes, she lay perfectly still and waited.
“Where the bloody hell did she go?” Mick’s voice came from above.
“I don’t know but I can tell you this, Cabal won’t be happy if she gets away. He was fit to kill you after you let her get off the boat yesterday after she’d seen the haul.”
“Don’t fuckin’ blame me. It was you that left it in the crew room while you took a leak.”
“You go look around the creek. She might be hiding in the bush. I’ll go back around to the boat in case she doubles back. That’s all we need with that cop chopper in the air.”
Mick’s voice was closer. “She won’t get far. She’s tied up.”
“Just find her. I’ll be back at the boat.”
Then all was still—no birdsong, no wind in the trees. Even the sound of the waves was muffled by the hill. Until the sound of Mick crashing through the undergrowth on the side of the hill reached her. After a few moments, his voice came from below her.
“I’m going to find you, and when I do it won’t be pleasant for you. But I’ll enjoy it.” He laughed and her blood chilled.
He was close by and Gracie fought the whimper rising in her chest. Her chin shook uncontrollably as fear skittered through her. She clenched her jaw and bit her bottom lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, but that was better than letting any sound escape.
She lay there completely still with her eyes squeezed shut—not drawing a breath until the sound of him sliding down the hill receded. Gracie cleared her mind and focused on her breathing. Something crawled across her face but she kept her eyes shut and didn’t make a sound.
“Gotcha.”
Mick’s triumphant cry turned her stomach to water.
Chapter Twenty-one
Jake stared ahead. The Midas was still several miles ahead on the horizon, heading northeast toward the mountainous silhouette of Crocodile Island. Jake groaned with frustration when he passed the north side of Hayman Island. The ebb tide was moving to the north against the brisk southeast wind, and he had to slow down a couple of times as the waves stood up in front of the boat.
Last thing he needed was swamping the boat, so he cut the throttle back again. The police helicopter had returned to the mainland, and a red-and-white Customs and Border helicopter had done a sweep over him and headed north up the coast a few minutes ago.
The radio crackled to life and Jake picked it up.
“Jake, it’s Ben. Change to Channel 84. It’s a private channel.”
He quickly turned the dial. “Roger, Ben?”
“We’re keeping it low key until the pickup goes ahead and then all hell will break loose.” Ben’s voice was low, and Jake dipped his head behind the windshield to block the sound of the wind and the waves.
“They’re just turning into the bay at Crocodile Island. Stay on the other side of the island, away from the Midas. Okay?” Ben instructed.
“Can’t promise, mate, but thanks for the info. Over and out.”
Jake threw the handset under the console and hit full throttle turning the boat farther north toward Crocodile Island. He clenched his jaw as he worried about what was happening to Gracie. She’d let his warnings and his concern slide over her. He’d opened up to her, let her into that dark, closed place and she’d still ignored his warning. He should have been made her listen to him.
Her innocence had assured her she was invincible, and now she’d been kidnapped and was on a boat headin
g for God-knew-what. Sickness crawled in his gut. He had an idea of what these guys were capable of.
Crocodile Island loomed ahead in the distance, the tall peak standing out against the blue sky. The blustery squall had passed and the waves were smaller as he steered the boat toward the island. It took ten minutes at full throttle before he spotted the Midas, which was just turning into the bay toward the wharf on the western side of Crocodile Island.
He eased the throttle back and steered toward the reef protruding from the southern side of the point. There were already three smaller fishing boats anchored closer to the island. No point drawing attention to himself—yet. Running in with all guns blazing wouldn’t do Gracie any favors. He had a good view of the Midas from this vantage point and he could watch and see who came off the boat when it moored. If Gracie was on there, he’d get as close as he could and climb on board. The Midas stopped at the end of the wharf and Jake stared at the sleek hull of the white cruiser. He’d looked at it so often over the past few weeks, every curve and every porthole were imprinted on his mind. But now it was overlaid with the sight of Gracie’s terrified face pressed against the window as the Midas had left the marina.
As he watched, a man stepped off the back of the boat and hurried along the wharf.
“Shit.” Jake reached for the binoculars under the console. He stared for a moment and lowered them and muttered to himself. “That’s Gracie’s sister.”
The woman known to him as Regan was running along the wharf toward the boat. Rodrigo Cabal stepped off the boat, and they met halfway along the wharf. He scooped her into his arms into a close embrace.
Confusion filled Jake’s thoughts as he tried to process what was happening in front of him. What the hell was happening and where was Gracie? Was she about to step off the boat too? There is no way Cabal would hurt Gracie, if that was his relationship with her sister.
As he watched, Cabal and Regan walked along the wharf and up the steps toward a large house overlooking the bay. Despite a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest, Jake shook his head.
What the hell was going on?
“Jake, pick up. Over.” Ben’s voice came over the radio.
“Ben. Over.”
“Where are you?”
“Off the point at Crocodile Island. I can see the Midas. Cabal’s off and Gracie’s sister met him. No sign of Gracie yet.”
“What is she to you, mate?” Ben’s voice was measured.
“Important enough.” Jake put his hand up to his face. That bloody pulse in his cheek was jumping, and he closed his eyes and focused on the beating of his heart. “Tell me what’s happened.”
“They took her off the Midas. The helicopter crew spotted her being put into a rubber dinghy with two of the guys.” Ben’s voice was low.
“So where did they take her?” Jake’s gut churned as he wondered which two guys had taken Gracie. “Where?”
“I’m sorry, mate. She’s disappeared. The dinghy’s heading out to the drop zone just past Crocodile Island and now there are only two in the boat.” There was a pause for a moment before Ben continued. “The two guys.”
Jake stared ahead.
Totally bloody useless. A fucked-up career and now I’ve lost Gracie.
“Why?” He kept his voice steady. “Why did they go after her? All she wanted was to find her sister.”
“Did she see anything when she was on the boat?” Ben asked.
“Not that she said.” Jake gave a hard laugh. “Although we were less than honest with each other most of the time.”
“I’m going after the dinghy.” Jake turned to fire up the ignition. “Which way’s the drop zone.”
“Christ, mate. Wake up. You’re not going to put this whole operation at risk and besides she’s not with them. You’ll have to wait here until the drop is over and then you can meet the police cruiser at Crocodile Island.”
“Why?”
“More manpower when they take them into custody I suppose. It might save my skin.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told the commander you were out here. He knows and respects you, mate, but you’re not in the force anymore, so you’ll have to keep a low profile.”
Jake looked up at the sound of another chopper in the air heading east toward the outer reef.
“Right, we’re off. Drop’s over.” The satisfaction in Ben’s voice came over the radio. “Just wait there, Jake. We’ll be boarding the Midas soon.”
Jake threw the radio down in disgust. No bloody way was he waiting here. Gracie was off the Midas and he’d do as Ben said and not go near it, but he was going ashore and he would do whatever it took to find her, even if he had to confront Cabal and her bloody crooked sister.
Chapter Twenty-two
Gracie waited for Mick to grab her leg and pull her out of the log, but all she heard was a splash from the creek at the bottom of the gully. He hadn’t found her, and she relaxed, focusing on her breathing once more, trying to ignore her aching cheek. He was just trying to bluff her out.
Minutes passed and it remained quiet. But there was no way she was going to move. Pins and needles shot up her arms and her leg cramped but she lay on her side ignoring the discomfort of her hands pressed behind her back into the rough wood. The bruise on her cheek ached like a bad toothache, and her ankle throbbed but she couldn’t feel any blood running down her leg, although with the pins and needles in her foot, she could be bleeding to death for all she knew.
Time passed and she lay still, as the tears silently rolled down her cheeks.
If she made it out of here, she was moving to the city as far away from Regan and anything tropical, as she could. A pang of regret shot through her for what might have been with Jake.
She’d thought he was involved with the Midas and the drugs, but he had done his utmost to help her and now look at the jam she’d got herself in to. Such an innocent, like he’d tried to tell her. If she got out of this alive, Regan would be lucky if she ever spoke to her again.
The faint putting of an outboard motor reached her and gradually disappeared but she lay there without moving. They might be trying to trick her out of hiding. She opened her eyes and squinted. A shaft of sunlight shone through a gap in the log behind her head. The only thing she could see was a silver spider sitting in the center of a yellow web close to her face. That must have been what brushed against her face before. She relaxed as she looked around. This log obviously wasn’t harboring any other creatures—the full sunlight shining through the gap was too bright for any bugs or animals seeking a dark place.
Time passed slowly, and Gracie decided to move. There’d been no sound after the outboard motor had died away, and she rolled over onto her stomach and slid out, inch by painful inch as the blood began to circulate through her stiff limbs. Heart pounding, she waited for Mick’s laugh as she came out of the log but all was quiet. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, she rolled over onto her back and looked up through the lacy canopy of leaves to the blue sky. The sun was high and filtering through the treetops into the moist, sheltered gully. She sat up and took stock of her surroundings. Dappled sunlight played on the lacy ferns along the creek that burbled down the hill. The stark, white bark of the poplar gums and white mahogany trees reflected the light. Mick must have been near and her stomach roiled at the thought of how close he had come to finding her.
Gracie pushed herself up to her knees and then rolled back into a squat, straining at the tape binding her hands behind her back. Looking around nervously, expecting to see her captors appear at every slight rustle, she searched for a sharp branch to cut through the tape but there was nothing at the right height. Gradually she forced her legs to take her weight and stood, waiting for the pounding of her heart to settle. Her muscles pricked with pain as the blood circulated through her legs.
There was no sign of her captors, and she finally breathed a sigh of relief. It looked as though they’d given up, and now she had to move quickly in case they came back. W
alking carefully on the leaf litter that covered the side of the hill, she reached the creek and dropped to her knees and put her face in the cool water. The clear water flowing over the pure-white sandy bottom was fresh and not salty, and she drank deeply before turning her throbbing cheek into the water.
Once she was refreshed, Gracie stood up. She was getting better at pushing up from her knees via a squat. She climbed up the other side of the hill, determined to get to the other side of the island despite the difficulty of walking with her hands taped behind her back. The muscles in her legs burned as she pushed her feet into the soft, sandy soil, trying to keep her balance. If this was Crocodile Island and she was pretty sure it was, she knew there were houses on the western side. It was an exclusive development that was advertised as millionaire’s row. There would be someone there who could help her. If only she could get rid of the tape on her hands, it would be so much easier to walk.
At the top of the hill, there was a trail to the west, and she rested for a moment before walking in the opposite direction from the bay where the dinghy had been moored. Using the sun as a guide, she kept to the shadows on the side of the trail. At the end of the first bend, there was a side track leading down to a cabin and Gracie drew back into the shelter of the rainforest and waited, listening, before creeping along to the edge of the small rough building.
There was a padlock on the door and it was secured but a sharp piece of metal protruded from the latch at waist height. She turned and pushed the tape binding her hands into the metal and rubbed it up and down, flinching as it tore her skin when she pressed too hard. It was only a matter of seconds before the tape tore and her hands were free. She stood for a moment, bending her arms and flexing her fingers as the blood rushed painfully into her swollen fingers.
She set off down the trail that wound around the base of the mountain, determination in every footstep.
…
Jake eased the boat around the point, watching for sharp coral heads as he cut the motor. The bottom scraped on the coral shingle, and he anchored it securely in the sand. Ben wouldn’t be impressed if he lost his boat when the tide flooded back in. He reached into the console and picked up a small fishing knife. It was the closest thing he had to a weapon. Before he went looking for Gracie, he was going to confront Cabal and her sister and find out where to search. It was a huge island and he wasn’t going to waste any time. It was almost dark and it would soon be impossible to search.
