by Sandy Steen
About an hour later, Stuart stuck his head in the office door. “Closing time.”
Houston pushed his chair back. “All right.”
“You staying for a while?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I’ll set the alarm as I leave.”
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“Not me, you won’t. Tomorrow is Sunday.”
“Oh , yeah.” He had been so wrapped up in Abby, he had actually lost track of the days. “I forgot. See you Monday.”
“See ya.”
He stared at the empty doorway, wondering how he would keep track of the days now that Abby was gone. And the nights. Long nights. Lonely nights.
Just then, he heard Stuart talking to someone. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
“That you, Gil?”
“Uh, no, sir.” A young native boy peeked around the door. “The guy going out the door said it was all right for me to come on up.”
“Can I help you?”
“Mr. Leland?”
“No. Houston Sinclair, his partner.”
“Oh, okay. I’ve got a delivery. Front Street Travel Agency.”
“Sure.” Houston motioned the boy in, stood, and reached for his billfold for a tip. Lone Star had worked out a mutually profitable relationship with the travel agency, and it wasn’t unusual to receive several deliveries each day concerning tourists who wanted to book their dive before they ever left home.
“I’ll take it. Thanks.”
“No problem, Mr. Sinclair.”
Houston gave him a couple of dollars, then escorted him downstairs, decoded the alarm, and let him out. He reset the alarm then went back upstairs. He was about to toss the envelope onto the desk when he noticed it felt heavier than the usual one or two pieces of paper containing arrival dates and confirmation numbers. There was something extra in the envelope, and he decided to open it. Inside was the customary paperwork.
And an airline ticket to Fiji in Gil’s name.
Why would Gil be going to Fiji? he wondered, laying the ticket on the desk. He hadn’t mentioned anything about it when they’d talked earlier that same afternoon. And why Fiji? He didn’t ever remember Gil expressing an interest in visiting the island. Curious.
He heard the alarm being decoded. “Gil?” he called out. No response. “Gil, is that you?”
There was another lengthy pause before Gil said, “Yeah. It’s me.” A few seconds later he walked into the office. “What are you doing here?”
“Killing time, mostly. When did you decide to go to Fiji?”
“What?”
Houston picked up the ticket. “This came a little while ago.”
Gil stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Just thought we could pick up some business. I talked to a guy the other day about some junkets.”
“We’ve never done junkets before.”
“Lots of money, I hear. We could make a killing. Besides, I could use a few days off. You can handle the shop. Stuart and Lonnie can handle whatever’s been booked, so, I figured, why not? Do a little business, spend a little down time with some Fiji ladies. Sounds like heaven to me.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I usually do.”
Houston started to stuff the ticket back into the envelope, then stopped. He stared at the ticket, then shook his head, not wanting to believe what he saw.
“I don’t understand.” He looked into his friend’s eyes. “This is a one-way ticket.”
Chapter 14
“Just give me the damn ticket, Houston, and forget it.”
“Forget what?”
Gil held out his hand. “The ticket, please.”
Houston handed it to him. “You want to explain what’s going on?” He didn’t want to believe that this was all tied up with Abby and her investigation. He was trying hard not to believe it.
“I’m just taking a little trip. I told you.”
“Cut the bull. This is me you’re talking to. You’re holding back, and I want to know the truth.”
“The truth? You want the truth?” Gil shook his head. “No, slick. I don’t think you do. I don’t think you’d like the truth.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Gil was clearly becoming more agitated by the minute. Something was wrong. Drastically wrong.
“It means that you would be better off if you just let me walk out of here, no questions asked. Can you do that?”
“Gil, you’re not making any sense,” Houston said, when in fact, everything was beginning to make sense.
“You know—” Gil’s hands curled into fists “—I was just going to disappear. Nice, clean. No muss. No fuss. But you had to… to…”
“To what?”
“Screw it up like you always do!” Gil shouted. “It’s your fault that everything is messed up. I tried not to do it, but there’s no other way.”
“Gil.”
“You had to go and crawl in bed with an insurance investigator, didn’t you? My God, Houston, couldn’t you tell she was stringing you along? She wasn’t after you. She was after me. And you did everything but take her by the hand, didn’t you?”
As he watched his friend change from easygoing to frantic practically before his eyes, the truth—the real truth—began to dawn on Houston. And Gil was right: he didn’t like it.
And Abby was right. She had been right all along. He had refused to see the way she had pieced the puzzle together because he didn’t want to see. Now, he had no choice.
“You did it, didn’t you?” Houston said, straight out.
“I never set out to hurt anybody,” Gil went on, ignoring the direct question. “I sure as hell never meant for anybody to get killed.” He looked at Houston. “I loved Shelley. You know, after she was… Afterward, I started thinking that maybe that was my punishment. Can you beat that?” He started to pace. “I haven’t been to confession in fifteen years, and all of a sudden I start thinking maybe I need to see a priest.”
Houston watched the man he had known almost all his life unravel before his eyes. He didn’t stop him. And he didn’t walk away. They were both compelled to play this scene out to the end. No matter what the consequences.
“And when you didn’t die, man, was I happy. A sign, you know. I took it as a sign that things would work out. Then she showed up, and ruined it all. I was going to fix it, you know. It just got out of hand. Everything just got out of hand. At first it was just a hundred dollars here, two hundred dollars there. But I hit a losing streak, and I couldn’t break it. I knew sooner or later things would turn around, and I’d be on a roll again, but…”
“How much?” Houston asked calmly.
Gil stopped pacing. “What?”
“How much money did you take, Gil?”
“Uh, two hundred and twenty thousand. No, twenty-five. Yeah, that’s it. Two hundred and twenty-five thousand.”
“Why didn’t you come to me? We could have found the money somewhere.”
Gil laughed. “Don’t you think I tried that? Couldn’t get a loan. This wasn’t exactly a sum you pull out of an automatic teller machine, you know. And the people I owed… Well, let’s just say they’ll float you for only so long, then they aren’t interested in excuses.”
“But, to-”
“When they found you alive… man, I was thrilled. I really was. You’ve got to believe me. I never meant to hurt you or… I can’t tell you what it did to me inside when I heard about Shelley. I swore right then and there that I would never gamble again.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah. You don’t know what I’ve been going through since you told me about your lady investigator. I went over and over it in my mind until I just couldn’t see any way out but to leave.”
“Gil, listen to me. We can get you some help.”
“Help? You mean jail, don’t you? Maybe weekly visits to the prison psychologist? No, thanks. I was a cop, remember? I know what happens in those places,” he said
, his eyes wild. “Forget it. I’d kill myself first.”
“Don’t talk crazy.” Gil was spiraling out of control. If Houston didn’t do something to stop him, there was no telling what might happen.
“Crazy like a fox. You may have delayed my plans, but everything can still turn out for me. I just have to do a little readjusting, that’s all.”
“Gil, you’re my friend, and if you won’t take steps to help yourself, I’ll do it for you.” Houston picked up the phone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to try and reach Abby at the airport. Maybe we can make a deal with the insurance company,” he said, dialing. “If we make restitution, there’s a possibility you can avoid prosecution.”
“Hang up.”
“It’s the only—” Houston glanced up to find a gua in Gil’s hand.
Abby sat at a small table in one of the airport coffee shops, an untouched soft drink in front of her. She should be checking in for her flight to Honolulu, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Leaving Maui was breaking her final connection to Houston, and while her head told her it was necessary, her heart rebelled.
She closed her eyes, seeing again the pain in his eyes as she outlined her betrayal, step by step. She couldn’t have done any more damage if she had taken a knife to his heart. And what had ever possessed her to think he would believe her in the first place? Gil Leland was like a brother to him. Why should he take her word at face value? She loved him, but it was too little, too late. He’d said that he loved her, and she had betrayed that love. He must hate her now. And she would have to live with that for the rest of her life.
But what kind of life would it be without him? A half life at best. Exactly the kind of life her mother had lived. Exactly the kind of life Abby had sworn she would avoid at all cost.
Memories, vividly painful memories, washed over her. The first time he kissed her. The night they had dinner in his garden and lay together in the hammock looking up at the stars. The wonderful drive through the mountains, and his own special place. Whaler’s Village. All of it. Memories too painful to relive, too precious to forget. And in the end, what good were memories? They wouldn’t keep her warm on a cold winter night. They couldn’t ever replace the real thing.
Just then a voice announced her flight was boarding at gate fifteen. Abby heard the message repeated, and knew she had only minutes to check her bags and make the flight.
Only minutes to fly away from the only man she had ever truly loved.
Without a thought to the consequences, Abby jerked up her bags and started running. But instead of running toward the check-in counter, she ran toward the rental-car counter.
Houston was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And he loved her. What they had was too good to run away from. She had to go back and try to convince him that she loved him, would keep on loving him, no matter what. And if he rejected her, she wouldn’t leave. Whether he believed her or not, there would be another investigation, and when Gil Leland was revealed for the scum he was, Houston was going to need a friend. Abby intended to be there for him. If that meant quitting her job and waiting tables just so she could stay in Maui, just so she could be near him, then so be it.
She rented a car and drove back across the island. More than once she had to caution herself to slow down. But she couldn’t get to Houston fast enough to suit her. Anxious to see him, yet fearful he might reject her again, she thought about getting a hotel room, then calling him. But, as she approached the turnoff to his house, she couldn’t resist.
But he wasn’t home. Disappointed, she drove on into Lahaina.
It was almost dusk, and the harbor lights were beginning to flicker on. The streets were crowded with tourists and shoppers. The restaurant parking lots were full.
Abby knew the dive shop would be closed, but she also knew Houston and Gil often worked in the office after closing. Oh, Lord, she thought, what if she ran into Gil? No, she decided. Gil, or no Gil she had to find Houston.
When she pulled into a parking space across the street from the dive shop, she saw the T-Bird parked out front. She glanced up and saw the office light was on. He was here! Oh, thank God.
But would he listen to her? Would he even talk to her?
Abby made her way around to the back door, and was surprised to find Gil’s old Jeep parked in the alley. Were they both upstairs? She knocked on the door and waited. And waited. No answer. She knocked again. Still no answer.
Since none of the office windows overlooked the alley, Abby was certain they didn’t know who was knocking. So that eliminated the possibility that they knew it was her and simply refused to answer. The obvious possibility was that they weren’t there. But both cars were. Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of her neck, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Of course, Abby calmed herself, they could have walked to a nearby bar or restaurant. If that was the case, she stood little chance of finding Houston tonight. But she wanted to find him tonight. She needed to find him.
Feeling frustrated and dejected, she walked back to her car. What choice did she have but to find a room and wait until morning? For several moments she sat in her rented sedan, trying to decide her course of action. And in the back of her mind was the nagging feeling that something was wrong. She looked down toward the docks, at the boats in their slips, some rigged with lights. She looked again, harder this time.
There were lights on the Lone Star catamaran! She was sure of it. But Houston wouldn’t be on the docks. If someone was aboard, it was Gil.
Abby thought about it for a long time, then decided that if the only way she could find Houston tonight was to confront Gil, then that’s the way it would have to be. She locked her car and walked toward the docks. As she neared the boat, she noticed lights were on below, but saw no one on deck. Gil must be below. Stopping at the edge of the narrow gangplank, Abby glanced at the catamaran gently rising and falling as a slight wind whipped through the harbor. Then she glanced down at the water. So dark. So deep. Fear, cold and clammy, seized her and for a moment she felt dizzy.
She could do this. She had to do this. But not in these shoes, she thought, slipping off her two-inch pumps and stuffing them into the pocket of her blazer. She would have preferred shorts instead of the long gauzy skirt that whipped around her legs in the wind, but she would just have to make the best of it. Holding onto the rail, she carefully made her way across the gangplank, onto the deck. She took a deep, steadying breath…and realized there were voices coming from below deck. And both voices were male.
There were a dozen possibilities of who the second man could be, but instinctively Abby knew it was Houston. Gathering a handful of her flyaway skirt in one hand, she made her way across the swaying hull, to the cabin situated between the twin hulls. The roof of the cabin rose a good four feet above the deck, and the hatch cover was open to the steps leading to the galley and wheelhouse.
But she stopped short of the first step when she heard Gil speak.
“I wish there was another way to do this, Houston. But there’s just not. I have to get those people off my back for good. One more time—won’t you let me walk away? All you have to do is keep your mouth shut.”
“I can’t. You’ve stolen. Hell, you’ve killed, and I can’t let you walk away. But I’m asking you, begging you, not to do this, Gil.”
“Sorry. I’m out of options, slick.”
“Killing me isn’t the answer. And no one is going to believe a suicide.”
Abby’s heart shot into her throat. He was going to kill Houston! She bent down, edging closer.
“Why not? Lots of people around here know you felt guilty about Shelley’s death. Lots of people know how depressed you’ve been. And it’s fitting that you would decide to end your life the same way Shelley died.”
“No one will believe it.”
“I’ll leave a little note on your computer that will help convince everyone. By the time the
police find it, I’ll be long gone.”
“To spend the rest of your life running, hiding? What kind of life is that, Gil?”
“I told you. Anything is better than prison. Now, shut up.”
Someone was coming up the steps! Quickly, Abby crept around to the back side of the cabin and flattened herself against the deck. Aided by the cover of darkness, she peeked around the corner of the cabin and saw Gil walk forward, cast off, then walk back down below deck. If he felt free to leave Houston below, that must mean Houston wasn’t free, Abby surmised. Gil must have him tied up or somehow confined.
Suddenly the engine jumped to life, and Abby started to roll. Her hand shot up to grasp the hatch cover as the boat moved out of its slip and out into the harbor. If the boat was moving, Gil was obviously at the wheel; and if he was at the wheel, he didn’t have a clear view of the cabin stairs. Without any thought about what might happen to her, Abby crept back around the cabin and down the steps.
The instant he saw her, Houston opened his mouth to call her name, but she put her finger to her lips in warning. His hands were tied, and the rope stretched down around the leg of the bench-style table that was bolted to the deck. Abby slipped into the opening to the glass-bottom pontoon closest to Houston.
“For God’s sake, Abby, get off this boat,” Houston whispered, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “He’s got a gun.”
“Not without you,” she whispered back.
“You see that box over there?” With a nod of his head he gestured to a copy-paper box sitting atop a counter used to serve snacks to customers. “He’s got explosives and a timer in there. You’ve got to get off. Now!”
“No.”
They were moving out of the harbor and soon they would be headed out to sea. There was no time to argue with her, Houston decided. “In my pocket is a penknife,” he said, praying the small blade was sharp enough to cut through the rope. “Can you get it?”
“I’ll try.” Abby crawled out of the opening and scooted under the table directly behind Houston’s legs. “Which pocket?”
“Right.” He shifted his body and leaned back as far as he could.
