Deadline (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Maggie K. Black

  A wide smile spread across Jack’s face. “Do you enjoy trying to frighten men too, Mr. Kitts? Or do you just prefer hurting women?”

  The motion was swift, violent and merciless as Duncan drove his fist into Jack’s jaw. The sucker punch snapped Jack’s neck back. Meg gripped the bottom of the railing. Prayers poured from her lips. What was wrong with Jack? Why was he baiting Duncan like this? Did the man never even stop to think before he acted? He was putting himself in danger, and for what? Duncan’s fists flew toward him again, relentlessly trying to beat Jack into the boardwalk. Jack swerved and rolled to avoid the blows but didn’t once strike back.

  She had to help him. Meg grabbed her phone. The sound of sirens filled the air. The police were already on their way. Some of the larger men in the crowd had jumped into the fray now, pulling Duncan off Jack.

  Her phone started ringing. She pressed a finger to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Oh, Meg!” It was Rachel, her voice breathless and weepy. In all the time she’d known Rachel, Meg hadn’t once known her to come even close to crying. “I’m so glad I reached you. I’m so sorry for what I said before.” Meg hadn’t known her to apologize either, for that matter.

  What could possibly have happened? “I’m here. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  A burst of sobs was her only response.

  “Hang on,” Meg said, “I’m going somewhere quieter.”

  Jack was sitting on the boardwalk with his head in his hands. Everything in her heart ached to run to him. But everything she’d seen in the last five minutes made it clear why she couldn’t. Jack had just gone out of his way to pick a fight with Duncan, when he could have just let the man go on his way. Yes, he’d been there and stepped in when she needed him, and maybe because he’d known why Benji had warned her to stay away from the groomsman. But her brother was only moments away. And once Duncan had walked away, she had been safe, and yet Jack had run right past Meg, brushing her off, as he charged headlong into danger, for no apparent reason other than presumably the urging of his own gut instinct. Once again, she’d been left on the sidelines, this time watching the man she cared about get hurt and holding her breath as a monster twice Jack’s size tried to pound him into the ground.

  This had to stop. She had to let him go. This wasn’t the kind of man she could let herself love, or entrust her life and future to.

  No matter how desperately she wanted to.

  Meg walked around to the other side of the pavilion, holding her phone to her ear. “Okay. I’m back. Are you still there?”

  “Yes.” Rachel sniffed. “Wesley left me.”

  “He did what?”

  “He got cold feet, I guess. I don’t know what happened! He seemed fine last night, but then he just disappeared. Alyssa couldn’t reach him at all this morning. Duncan said he hadn’t seen him all day. Fiona went to the hotel and they said he’d checked out. He didn’t even leave me a note.”

  Meg’s heart sank. She’d known Wesley was nervous. She’d thought talking to her brother might help. Was this her fault? Should she have tried contacting him last night after the rehearsal to see if he was okay? “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I need to talk to someone. Where are you?”

  “At the marina. Behind the pavilion.”

  “Please,” Rachel said. “I literally have no one else to talk to. Alyssa is sweet, but she doesn’t know me. Fiona can’t possibly handle something like this. I can’t tell my grandmother. Not after all the money she’s spent on this wedding.”

  It was just as well that Rachel didn’t mention wanting to confide in the best man—Duncan wouldn’t be much use to her since the police were hauling him off. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on the yacht we rented at the marina.”

  So, less than five minutes’ walk from where she stood. “Okay. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Thank you!”

  “No problem. Just hang on. I’ll see you in a second.” Meg hung up and headed for the docks. The fight between Duncan and Jack had ended, but a mess of people still stood around in front of the beach. She counted four cop cars and two paramedics. She couldn’t see Jack. She couldn’t see Benji either. She dialed his cell phone. It went through to voice mail.

  “Hey, Benji. It’s me. I’m guessing you caught some of the big fight on the beach. I don’t know what happened. Duncan was intimidating me. Jack confronted him and then practically chased him down the boardwalk. It was kind of heroic at first—until it got out of hand.” Her feet echoed along the dock. “Anyway, just wanted to let you know I was heading to meet Rachel on the yacht. I know I said I was finished with this wedding, but apparently we now have a runaway groom and a jilted bride. Rachel’s a mess and she wants someone to talk to. Come meet me there and we’ll head for food. Bye.”

  She hung up the phone and stepped up on the small gangplank.

  The deck was deserted.

  “Hello?”

  “Meg?” Rachel’s voice drifted through the open hatch. “Down here.”

  “Okay.” She climbed down the narrow flight of stairs into a surprisingly large kitchen. A boat rental like this must have cost thousands.

  An arm wrapped around her neck before she could even scream. Her hands scratched desperately at the fabric of the orange raincoat. A gloved hand locked over her mouth while a knee hit the small of her back, forcing her to the floor. Lord, save me—

  Then, mercifully, she felt the heavy blanket of unconsciousness sweep over her mind.

  TWENTY

  Jack sat on a bench and watched as the yacht disappeared like a speck on the horizon.

  There went Duncan’s getaway vehicle.

  “Well, that was either the bravest or the most foolish thing I’ve ever seen.” Benji pressed a bottle of water into his hands. “And that’s saying a lot coming from me.”

  “Trust me, it wasn’t my preferred option.” Jack pressed the cold bottle against his aching jaw. “But I don’t know what other choice there was. I had a credible source telling me that Duncan beat and threatened Eliza Penn. He might very well be responsible for her murder. You told me he was about to board a boat. The police needed time to gather evidence to charge him with murder...but an assault charge was something they could arrest him for right away. This way, the police are able to hold him for twenty-four hours and hopefully keep him in custody long enough to get enough evidence to charge him with something better, or at least use him to rattle a confession out of Kenny Smythe.” He grinned. “All I was really doing was trying to avoid getting punched, and trying not to punch him back.” Last thing he wanted was an assault charge of his own. “I was just trying to stall him long enough for the police to get here.”

  Benji sat down. His eyes ran down the beach. “You seen my sister?”

  “Yeah. She was by the pavilion just a few minutes ago. She was on the phone.”

  Benji reached into his pocket. He made a face at the screen and then called voice mail. “She left a message.” He listened a moment, then chuckled. “She thinks your actions were heroic—at first, anyway. Though she does say it got out of hand. Doesn’t know why you picked a fight with Duncan, though, does she?”

  Jack shook his head. He didn’t even want to guess how his actions must have looked from her perspective, but he’d hardly had time to explain.

  “Meg says she’s with Rachel on the yacht.” Benji’s forehead wrinkled. “And I don’t see the boat.”

  The nerves at the back of Jack’s neck snapped to attention. “I’m pretty sure I just watched that boat pull out of the marina.”

  Benji pushed a button on his phone and listened to it ring. “She’s not answering her phone. Plus, Meg’s message said that Wesley had done a runner and called off the wedding. So why would Rachel and Meg take the boat out alone?”

  Getting dumped on her
wedding day could easily leave Rachel distressed and irrational enough to drive off into a storm. But why wouldn’t Meg try and stop her?

  An ugly suspicion began to drip down the back of Jack’s spine, pooling in the bottom of his gut. If Duncan was the Raincoat Killer, he hadn’t acted alone. What if his accomplice was on the island? It would certainly explain how the killer had managed to lock them into McCarthy’s garage so easily—one person securing each exit to make sure they were shut in with no escape.

  His mind spun. All this time Meg had been convinced that Wesley couldn’t be the Raincoat Killer. But what if Duncan had pressured him or bribed him into being an accomplice? Surely there was no one with a bigger motive to make Meg suffer than Wesley. What if he’d never forgiven her and Benji for Chris’s accident?

  Jack frowned. No, that theory didn’t quite hold water. It was Rachel who’d asked Meg to meet her at the boat, and not Wesley. Was Rachel somehow trapped under Duncan’s thumb? She might not even know he’d been arrested. Was the boat Rachel’s getaway plan to escape from Duncan and her fiancé?

  Or had Wesley forced Rachel to lure Meg onto that boat? Maybe it had all been a ruse, and Wesley hadn’t cancelled the wedding after all.

  Benji dialed his sister again. This time it went straight through to voice mail. “Something’s wrong if she’s sailed out of cell-phone range. She wouldn’t leave the harbor without telling me, and no self-respecting islander would head out onto Lake Huron with a major storm brewing.”

  The sick feeling in Jack’s stomach grew. “Let’s say we wanted to find her. What are the odds of getting a police boat or six to search Lake Huron for her?”

  “Slim.” Benji’s eyes were grim. “The island doesn’t have that big a police force, and they’re unlikely to dispatch rescue boats without a really good reason to believe someone’s in immediate danger.” He stood and stared out to the horizon. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll call them, and I’ll use everything in my power to convince them to find her. But we’re talking about finding one boat, somewhere in one of the world’s largest lakes. Even if we can persuade them to send out a police boat, into a killer storm, based on not much more than a hunch, they’ll need eyes in the sky to find her.”

  The dark, gathering clouds filled Jack’s eyes. The thought of Meg in danger gripped his chest so tightly he could barely breathe. When Duncan had been arrested, Jack actually believed the Raincoat Killer’s reign of terror could finally be over.

  Now it seemed the nightmare was only beginning.

  * * *

  The room swayed gently underneath Meg’s body. She opened her eyes with a start and gasped hard as her hands leapt to her throat. But there was no one there. She was very much alone, lying on a single bunk, in a small, sparse cabin. Dark gray clouds filled the window above her. Tears flooded her eyes. Praying silently, she thanked God that she was alive. But what had happened to Rachel?

  She stood slowly and tried the cabin door. It was locked. She twisted the handle hard and threw her weight against the door, but it held solid. For a moment the urge to bang on the door with both hands and scream until she was hoarse raged inside her. But she batted it down, breathed deep and forced her pulse to settle. There was no telling what and who was on the other side of the door, and if she wanted to make it out of here in one piece she had to think. Logic, planning and order had always been her greatest allies. She wasn’t about to abandon them now.

  Okay, now what? Her eyes scanned the room. The narrow space was no larger than a closet. The small bunk was bolted to the wall, and it was bare except for a foam mattress. There was no other furniture. This was what they called a junior cabin. But from where she stood, it felt like a jail cell.

  And nobody knew she was here. The singular thought filled her mind afresh with fear. She closed her eyes tightly and counted backward from twenty, until she felt her spirit calm enough to find the words to pray. Well, Lord, you know how I always said I wanted to work on my panic attacks? It looks like I’m getting a crash course. Please don’t leave me now. Help me remember whatever happens next, it is well with my soul. Then her eyes opened as she checked her clothing. Her phone and wallet were gone. But she didn’t seem hurt and she was still fully clothed. That was something at least.

  She climbed onto the bed and looked out the window. The shoreline was disappearing in the distance. The window glass wouldn’t budge under her fingers. But just as despair threatened to slip back into her soul, a brilliant rainbow swept across the sky above her. Someone was parasailing. She gasped. Why would anyone risk their life parasailing with a storm on the horizon? The figure hung underneath the parachute, silhouetted against the sky, his towrope disappearing out of her view. Any moment now the rain would fall, forcing him back to shore. But what if she could get him a message before then?

  She pulled off her jacket, held it completely over the window and then pulled it back quickly. Up went the jacket and down again quickly, twice more. She repeated the sequence slowly, then once more quickly again. Three short, three long, three short. Three short, three long, three short. Morse code for SOS. Help. Help. Help.

  A door flew open behind her with such force she heard the wood slam against the wall. A hooded figure yanked her back. A blow knocked Meg down onto the bed. Gloved hands reached for her throat. She kicked out hard. Her own screams filled her ears. Then the blackness swept over her again.

  * * *

  Thunder crashed, followed by the gentle patter of rain falling above her. Something soft and wet brushed against her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open. A tall figure in a black wet suit was towering over her. She struggled to move, but her hands were bound tight behind her back. A scream tried to escape her throat, only to be lost in the folds of the gag tied over her mouth.

  “Meg. It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s me.” Jack pulled off his face mask. The tender warmth of his voice brushed over her skin, calming the panic inside her. “Now lie still. I’m going to free your hands.” Her body relaxed as she turned her back toward him. One strong hand held hers in place. There was a quick flick of motion behind her. Then she felt his fingers brush against her bare skin as the bonds fell away. “Now roll back,” he whispered, “and I’ll remove your gag.”

  How was he here? How had he found her? How long had she even been out? She closed her eyes and forced the clamoring in her mind to still. He was here. Jack was here and she was safe. The answers would come. Right now that was all that she needed to know.

  She let his hands guide her body while her fingers enjoyed the feeling of stretching again and her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The pane was gone from the window, leaving nothing but an empty hole through which the rain now fell, covering the room and their bodies with a thin, wet mist. The sky was dark with the unnaturally gray haze of a late-afternoon storm. A small knife flashed in Jack’s hands.

  He eased the gag back from her mouth. His fingers brushed up against her cheek as he cradled her face in his hands. “The knots on this thing are pretty vicious, so I’m going to cut it off. Okay? I’m sorry for not removing it first. But I needed to be sure you’d calmed down enough that you weren’t about to panic or scream. I don’t want anyone knowing I’m onboard until we’re ready to make a run for it.”

  Her eyes looked up into his. She nodded. There was the quick brush of something cold against her jaw. And then her mouth was free. She gasped. A cleansing breath filled her lungs. And then—

  She felt his lips on hers. Kissing her deeply. Gently. Pulling her into his arms. Surrounding her with his strength. Her hands slid around his neck, running through his wet hair. Allowing themselves just one brief moment, before he pulled back, just enough to let his voice brush against her ear. “I’m so sorry I left. I should have never left you alone.”

  “It’s okay. You’re here now.”

  “Are you hurt?” His fingers slid along her throat. “You looked bruised.” />
  She shivered as he brushed her tender skin. “I was choked. Twice. They were wearing a raincoat.” Her head fell against his shoulder. “I’m so glad you found me. How did you know where I was?”

  “Benji told me you were on the yacht, but by the time I realized you could be in danger, the boat had already left the harbor. I didn’t know how I was going to find you, until your brother suggested we get eyes in the sky.”

  “That was you on the parasail?”

  He nodded. “Benji was driving the speedboat. He knows the shore and the shoals. He’s hidden in an inlet not far from here.”

  She could guess which boat it was too. It was tiny, fast and sent chills of fear through her heart whenever Benji drove it. And Jack had talked him into going out on it, around the shoals, with a storm coming. “That was a pretty gutsy move.” Not to mention courageous. “How long have I been gone?”

  “Over an hour. I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner, but your life is too valuable, to both of us, to risk by dashing off impulsively. It took some time to figure out what we were going to do, and how to do it safely.” His fingers brushed along her bare arms and down along her tingling palms. Rain flicked at her face through the open window. Was this the same man she’d seen run unthinkingly down the boardwalk after a huge, angry beast of a man?

  “Why did you chase Duncan down the beach?”

  “It was the only option I had to make sure he didn’t escape justice by slipping on a boat. This boat, in fact. I found a connection between Duncan and the Raincoat Killer’s second victim. Eliza Penn. They were in an abusive relationship and he threatened her life. But the police didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him, and he was about to leave the island.”

  Suddenly it all made sense. “So you stepped in and did what it took to make sure the police took him into custody before he could hurt anyone else.”

  “Pretty much. Plus, now they can hold him awhile for assaulting me. Hopefully long enough to get Kenny to crack and tell the police Duncan was the one who hired him. It all makes sense. Or at least it did until someone kidnapped you.” He pulled her closer. “When I realized the Raincoat Killer might have hired Kenny Smythe to wear the coat for him, it hit me that Duncan might have gotten someone else to kill Eliza for him while he was in the Arctic. I don’t know how—or even if—the first victim, Krista Hooper, fits into all this. But Duncan definitely has the right height and build for the suspect in the third murder, Shelly Day, and we know he was back from the Arctic by then. I know you don’t want to believe that Wesley could be involved, but I think we should at least face the possibility that Rachel lied to you about Wesley leaving and that he forced her to lure you onto the boat.”