Dark clouds filled the skies. A thin figure in a black raincoat stood over her. Water poured down his body and pounded onto the deck. “What are you doing here?”
His hood fell back.
It was Detective Ravine.
“Detective! Please! We’re in danger. There’s a woman below with a gun. She’s trying to kill Jack—you have to save him!”
His cold, dead eyes barely glanced at her face. His hand grabbed the hair at the base of her neck and forced her to her knees. Pain filled her skull as the detective’s unrelenting grip forced her down to her knees.
Was this why Toronto’s chief of police thought Jack was crazy? Was one of his own detectives misleading the police department and helping the Raincoat Killer?
Oh, Lord, help Benji navigate safely through the waves. Help him reach the police in time. Save Jack. Save me.
“How did you get here?” Detective Ravine shouted over the roar. “Who else is here? Who were you just talking to? Where is Rachel?”
“I’m here, Dad.” Rachel’s head appeared through the hatch.
Dad? Meg glanced from the bride’s wide, wild eyes up to the wiry detective who now held her in his grasp.
Detective Ravine was Rachel’s father? The man who’d abandoned his daughter all those years ago had returned for her wedding after all.
Rachel climbed onto the deck, her motions unusually stilted, jerky, like a puppet on a string. Then Meg saw Jack coming through the hatch behind her. With one strong hand Jack grasped the back of Rachel’s neck like a truant kitten’s. The killer bride fell onto her hands and knees on the waterlogged deck. Her eyes were level with Meg’s. The two women knelt face-to-face.
Ravine looked down at his daughter. “What did you do?” he snapped. “You brought them on board? I told you to forget about her!”
His daughter’s eyes looked up into his. Tears and rain streamed down her cheeks as she tried to explain. “But she had to die. For what her brother did to Wesley. She wasn’t going to be in the pavilion anymore and I couldn’t risk her getting away. She had to see the bomb explode.”
Ravine looked away. His eyes cut to the journalist standing on the deck across from him. “What do you want?”
“I want you to free Meg,” Jack said. “Let her off this boat safely and we’ll let you and your daughter go.”
A smirk twisted at the corner of Ravine’s mouth. His eyes grew cold with a depth of darkness that threatened to paralyze Meg’s heart in her chest. “You think I’m about to barter anything for that little rat’s life?” He barked out a laugh. “Just do me a favor and try not to hurt her until the evil old bat of her grandmother explodes in a ball of flames first. Then you can do whatever you want to my little golden goose.”
Ravine crouched down, until his face was level with hers. “You see, sweetie, the moment I stumbled upon the shambled mess you made of the Krista Hooper crime scene, ran a DNA test on the blood you’d left on the carpet and discovered my long-lost baby girl was behind it, I knew my ship had finally come in. To think, my baby was back and was a foolish, ruthless killer, no less, who I could use to get exactly what I want. All I had to do was watch you and your addict friend Duncan commit your stupid little murders while I stayed in the shadows and helped you cover your tracks, while making sure I’d be in the position to inherit when you finally went too far. If only you could have seen the look on your face when I knocked on your door, to introduce myself as your long-lost papa. It was so easy to plant the idea in your head that it was time we both went after the real villain, the one who robbed us both of what we so clearly deserved, your grandmother.”
Rachel’s head shook. A sob escaped her lips. “But I’m your daughter. We’re in this together. I just found you again.”
Ravine leaned in until his face was inches away from hers. “Pathetic that you never thought to question how I threw you and your mother away to begin with.” He glanced to Jack. “Go ahead. Drown her. I really don’t care. Saves me having to do it myself. I already scared off her beloved Wesley this morning.”
Jack let go of Rachel. He leapt back as Rachel threw herself on Ravine, crashing into him with such a force it knocked them both to the floor. Ravine’s grasp fell from Meg. He raised both hands to his face in defense as his daughter furiously scratched and clawed at the man who had betrayed her. Jack pulled Meg tightly into his side, wrapping his arm around his shoulder.
Meg clung to Jack, burying her face in his chest. “How did you know that if you let her go, she’d attack him and not you?”
“Hunch.” He kissed her head. Then he pressed the pocketknife into her hand. “Now we’ve got to stop them before they kill each other. They’re not getting off that easy. They deserve to face justice for what they did.”
Ravine had Rachel down on the deck now. For all her fury, he was more than her match in size and strength. His hands tightened around her throat. Rachel screamed in anger and terror. Jack grabbed the detective around the neck and yanked him off her. Rachel leapt to her knees. But in an instant, the killer bride froze as she felt the warning prick of Meg’s blade at the back of her neck.
“Hands behind your head,” Meg said. Rachel complied.
Jack hauled Ravine to his feet, the detective struggling helplessly against his choke hold. “You made a pledge to protect the innocent and uphold justice. Not to mention the obligation any decent man would feel to care for the daughter you made. You disgust me.” Jack’s eyes met Meg’s. “I’m going to lock him in a cupboard belowdecks until the police can get here and arrest them both. Give me a two-minute head start and then bring her down. Okay?”
She nodded. “Can you hand me the end of that tow rope?” Jack frog-marched Ravine to the railing, then unhooked the rope from the life buoy and passed it to her. Meg wrapped it, one-handed, around Rachel’s wrists, pulling it tight with her teeth, while her other hand held the knife firm to Rachel’s neck. It wasn’t much of a knot, but it was enough to keep Rachel from fighting back.
“Impressive,” Jack said.
“Blame Benji. No one ties a tarp down one-handed in a storm like him.” She looked out over the storm.
“Your brother made it safely, Meg,” Jack said, as if reading her thoughts.
“I know.” She’d known it the moment she’d asked him to turn his boat around and drive through a storm toward an impending explosion. That aching, paralyzing fear for his safely had left her. Her brother could handle it, and she’d been wrong to treat him like a kid as long as she had.
“I’ll be back in one second.” Jack pushed Ravine belowdecks.
Meg sat back on her heels. One hand clenched the rope around Rachel’s hands. The other kept the knife still.
Rachel was sobbing now, but Meg couldn’t tell if the tears rolling down her cheeks were real or fake.
“I really thought he cared about me,” Rachel whimpered. “But no one does. Not my father. Not Wesley. Nobody loves me. And all I ever did was love them.”
Pity filled Meg’s heart, but when she spoke her voice had a strength that seemed to come from somewhere far deeper and stronger. “No, you didn’t. You grabbed on to them because you wanted them to love you. You want to know what real love actually is? Look at your grandmother. She loves you. I cared about you too, Rachel. Jack just saved your life, even though you hardly deserve it. And I’m going to pray you learn, someday, to accept that kind of love, God’s love, real love, and that you’ll finally learn to love someone else in return.”
Rachel snarled, “What could you possibly know about love?”
“Ready?” Jack’s appeared back through the hatch. Water streaming down the lines of his face. His cheek was scratched and a deep bruise had formed at the edge of his temple. She could only imagine how tired and sore he must be feeling. Her heart filled with emotions she could hardly put words to—warmth, affection, respect, awe.
“More than you’ll ever know,” Meg said. Enough to know she needed to let him go, let him be the wild, free, courageous, risk-taking man that he needed to be, without her and her fears holding him back. “Now get up.” She stood slowly, pulling Rachel up to her feet.
Lightning filled the sky again. Thunder rolled around them. Rachel kicked backward like a mule, catching Meg hard just below the knee. Meg fell back, dropping the knife and letting go of Rachel. Her shoes slid on the slick, water-soaked deck. The railing smacked against her calves. Her feet lost their grip. For a moment, the clouds above filled her view as she flew overboard.
Meg’s body hit the water.
TWENTY-THREE
She was tumbling underwater. Darkness filled her eyes as her body was tossed by the undertow. She couldn’t see the light on any side. There was no way to know which direction was up. The storm had churned the muddy ground, filling the water with stones and sand. Grit stung her eyes. Then she saw a figure beside her in the water and felt his strong arm around her waist, directing her toward the surface. She kicked hard. They broke through the water. She gasped as fresh rain poured over her face again.
“You okay?” Jack treaded water beside her. His arm held her fast.
“Always.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Any time.”
They swam to shore, side by side, battling the waves that threatened to send them back underwater. Their feet stumbled over the rocky shore. Finally Jack reached a young pine tree, growing out over the water’s edge. Grabbing the narrow trunk with one hand, he pulled her to it, waited until she dragged herself to shore and then climbed up after her. He dropped to the ground. She curled up beside him and bowed her head against his as they thanked God for their survival.
Then she opened her eyes. Ahead of them, the yacht danced like a cork on the water. “What happened to Rachel and her father?”
“I forced her back through the hatch and tied her hands to the doorknob. Her father is locked in the cupboard. He can’t get anywhere near her. Though to be fair, she has enough rage in her right now to do him some serious damage if she can get past his defenses, especially if he was telling the truth about scaring off her fiancé in order to claim her inheritance for himself. Last I heard they were screaming abuse at each other. Once the police arrive they’ll probably race to see who can turn the other one in first. It’s sad. They have no idea how alike they really are.” He pointed to the bright light of a police rescue boat cutting through the water toward them. “Looks like they won’t have that long to wait.”
She leaned into his side, soaking in his warmth as his arm took its place over her shoulders. “You saved the Raincoat Killer’s life. I can’t imagine how big a scoop that will be.”
He chuckled. “Technically there were three Raincoat Killers—Rachel, Detective Ravine and Duncan.” He sighed. “I just wish I’d put the clues together earlier. Maybe I could’ve prevented McCarthy’s death and stopped Stuart from being shot—”
She slid a gentle finger over his mouth. “No what-ifs. Not anymore. What did you tell me about second-guessing God?”
He smiled. He pulled her finger away from his lips, kissed it gently and then tucked her hand into his.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” Sudden tears slipped from her eyes.
He dropped her hand and cupped her face in both of his. “Whatever for?”
“I wanted you to give this up. Your job. Chasing down stories like this. To sit behind a desk and not take risks, just like I wanted Benji to stay my baby brother forever. But you were the only one who realized the truth about the Raincoat Killer, and if you hadn’t pressed your editor to run the story and followed your instincts...” Her voice trailed off.
“If I hadn’t,” he said, his voice gentle, “God would have sent someone else to do the job. If I quit the story today, some other reporter will take it up.”
She looked into his eyes. “But that’s the point. I don’t want God to send somebody else. I want Him to send you. I want you to be out there, listening to your gut, tracking down killers and helping victims feel safe and listened to, no matter where that takes you. Because that’s who you are. That’s who you need to be. I never should have asked you to give that up, not for anything, not for me.
“That’s why you have to go back to Toronto and write the story of how you unmasked the Raincoat Killers and stopped them. You need to stay on this story and cover the trials until everyone is brought to justice. For their victims, for the public, for me, as only you can do it. If that means you need to walk away from me, for however long it takes, because being with me is going to get in the way of you reporting on this story, then I want you to do it. No one else on the planet knows this story like you do. If you hand it off to some new reporter, then the true story might never get told.”
He groaned. Then his lips brushed over her hair. “But it will definitely be months.” His breath hovered over her face. “Maybe even years, of seeing each other’s name in the news, of seeing each other across crowded courtrooms, of writing about you but not being able to be with you.”
She looked down. “I know. But you have to do this, Jack. You have to finish what you started.”
Dark warmth pooled in his eyes, sending shivers cascading through her limbs, pouring into her heart. Then he raised her face to his and gently kissed her goodbye.
* * *
Late-afternoon sun beat down on Meg’s limbs. She sat on top of the picnic table, wrapped her arms around her knees and watched as a beaming groom led his beautiful bride down the boardwalk to the pavilion. They waved to Meg as they passed. She waved back. It had been a week since the explosive device Rachel had planted in the pavilion forced the town’s emergency evacuation.
Now Rachel, Duncan and the disgraced Detective Ravine were behind bars awaiting trial while the police reopened every murder investigation from the beginning. Stuart was out of the hospital and on the mend. Kenny had taken a plea bargain and would spend just six weeks in jail. And Wesley had been found, alive and well, in Ottawa. She prayed they would all get the help and healing they needed.
Meanwhile, Alyssa Burne had kindly agreed to take over all of Meg’s weddings for the next six weeks. Her town and her community would understand. Meg needed a vacation. She needed rest.
“Hey, sis!” Benji strode up the beach. A newspaper was wedged under his arm. “Have you heard about this?” He held the paper up for her to see. There was a mug shot of Rachel on the front cover, bedraggled from the rain with an orange raincoat hanging open over a tattered wedding dress. The headline read Face-to-Face with the Raincoat Killers—by Jack Brooks.
Meg shook her head. “No. And I don’t need to read it. I remember it all just fine, thank you very much.” She hadn’t spoken to Jack since she stepped onto the police rescue boat, into the welcoming hug from her brother, and heard the news that the bomb had been stopped. She’d felt Jack’s eyes on her the whole ride back, but their goodbyes had already been said. As the boat reached shore, she’d left with her brother. Jack had stayed with the police as Ravine and Rachel were arrested.
From there, Jack had gone back to Toronto to sit through police briefings and meetings with his team, gather his notes and write pages upon pages of words that would be printed and reprinted in newspapers across the world. Already, news outlets were announcing he’d received a formal apology from the Toronto police, not to mention signed a major book deal.
She knew Benji was surprised, maybe even annoyed, that Jack hadn’t called. But she wasn’t. She knew she had to let him go. Not out of fear, but out of respect for the man he was and the man he needed to be. He needed the professional distance to write the best story he could, to get that book deal and to be syndicated, without any professional complications, accusations of bias or the raised eyebrows that might come from the star reporter being involved with a victim of the killer
s’ crimes.
He couldn’t ask her to wait for him while the case wound its way through the courts. She couldn’t ask him to jeopardize the huge opportunities that lay ahead of him now with the professional risk that a romantic entanglement with her would be.
“I think you should read this.” Benji opened the paper to the third page and laid it flat on the top of the table beside her.
She tossed her head. “I really don’t need to.”
“Sis.” His voice was firm, with an unexpected authority that brought a smile to her cheeks. “Trust me. Read this.” His finger pointed to a bold box of text, nestled at the bottom of the article. “In fact, read it out loud.”
“Okay. Fine.... ‘Declaration of Personal Bias by Jack Brooks,’” she said. “‘While investigating the so-called Raincoat Killers on Manitoulin Island, I stayed in the home of one of the killers’ attempted victims, wedding organizer Meg Duff and her brother, Benjamin. I grew to like and respect them both very much and consider them friends.
“‘Now, there’s a rule in my line of work that reporters should never get too close to the subject of a story, or else they risk blurring the lines between reporter and interviewee. As many of my faithful readers know, I have been following the story of the Raincoat Killers since it first broke almost four months ago. I intend to follow this story through to the end, investigate every lead, follow every thread and hold both the accused and law enforcement to account, with integrity, honesty and the utmost of professionalism, until those responsible for the deaths and assaults attributed to the Raincoat Killers are behind bars.
“‘However, my medium is truth, and my oath as a journalist is to speak the truth, wherever I find it, no matter how inconvenient to some—including myself. The truth of the matter is that Meg Duff is the most courageous, beautiful, exquisite... ’”
The words faded as her breath caught in her throat, stealing the air from her lungs.
“Exquisite creature I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting,” said a strong, warm, familiar voice behind her. She turned. Jack was standing behind her, and her brother was already halfway down the beach.
Deadline (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 18
