Bermuda Heat

by P. A. Brown

  David peered out at the growing storm. “Unless he took refuge at Grotto Bay, he’s out there.”

  “Maybe if we wait a bit,” Chris said. “The storm will let up…”

  “Nice idea,” David said. “But when? And how far does he get? We know if he reaches the other side we’ll never find him.

  Or Imani.”

  At least not alive, were the unspoken words between them.

  Chris took a deep breath. “Then let’s do it.”

  David squeezed his sodden shoulder.

  ChAPteR twenty-thRee

  Saturday 7:30pm, The Causeway, Hamilton Parish, Bermuda They waded through a litter of blood red petals that stuck to their pant legs and slipped under their feet. Sheer instinct kept them on the smoother surface of the roadway and out of the sand and rubble that littered the edge of the stone wall.

  In between blasts of rain laden wind Chris could see further.

  When he caught his first glimpse of Longbird Bridge at the north end of the Causeway, he touched David’s arm. They huddled close, as much for warmth as to hear each other.

  “Can you see any sign of him?” David asked.

  Chris strained to see through the rain but couldn’t make out anything even vaguely human.

  “Nothing,” he shouted.

  David pointed right, toward the open ocean, and shouted,

  “Let’s go around that way.”

  Bowed under the force of the storm, they struggled to cross the last section of road. As they made their way toward the bridge, they tried to keep the fallen palm fronds from tripping them. For the first time since his release he almost envied the inmates at Westgate. No doubt they were on lock down, warm and dry in their cells, away from the storm surge. No worries except whether their next meal would be edible.

  They reached the bridge. They were almost on the other side, in St. George’s Parish. David grabbed a steel frame that allowed the drawbridge to be raised or lowered for ships moving through the harbor. Wind roared and whined around them and now he could hear the boom of the all too near ocean. Waves crashed over the Causeway, at least a foot of water lay over the roadbed, washing back into the harbor, sucking everything with them.

  Winds screamed overhead and tried to pry their fingers loose 222 P.A. Brown

  and knock their feet out from under them. It was as though the sea wanted to claim them for itself.

  Finally, they were beside the bridge abutment. Chris’s fingers slipped off the wall he was clinging to. He cartwheeled his arms as he lost his balance and nearly toppled over the short stone wall that separated the road from the bay. David grabbed his saturated jacket and hauled him back. Chris yelped and fell into David’s arms.

  “Are you sure you can do this?” David shouted. “Or should we go back?”

  “No!” Chris pushed away from him. He struggled back to the wall and didn’t even look to see if David followed.

  Chris felt like he was blind. He forced his head down to prevent his eyes from filling with salt water. He could taste salt in the back of his throat and up his nose, his lips were caked with sand and salt. Chris and David clung to each other as much to protect each other as to stay upright.

  Chris knew they had made a terrible mistake. What were they going to do if they found Daryl? David had no weapons, nothing more than his size to intimidate Daryl. Any physical fight out here could lead to them all being swept over the side into the unforgiving sea. If they turned back now, they might have a chance. On the other hand, if they turned back now David would lose everything. His job, his self-respect; it would all be gone.

  And then he thought of Imani and what abandoning her would mean. More than even David faced. Even if they could convince the police of Daryl’s guilt, it would be too late to save Imani.

  Their only chance was to catch Daryl here, on the Causeway.

  He forced himself upright and tried to see through the veil of rain and pounding surf, but there was still no sign of their quarry.

  Wouldn’t it be ironic if after all this, Daryl was killed by this storm?

  He put his head down and kept walking.

  BeRMudA heAt 223

  Saturday 7:50pm, The Causeway, St. George’s Parish, Bermuda David wrapped Chris in his embrace and could feel the younger man’s strength ebbing. It matched his own exhaustion.

  Both of them had been through so much since they had arrived in Bermuda. Was it worth it? Or had he already sacrificed too much? For what? To discover a father who had abandoned him years before? To finally realize that his mother was an award-winning bitch who had never really been any kind of mother at all? But was that fair? She had faced her own demons and had dealt with them as best as she could. The fact that she did such a lousy job was probably as much a result of her upbringing and her own unbending mother.

  Beside him Chris stumbled and nearly took them both down.

  David sat him down and crouched next to him on the pavement, his back against the stone wall. When Chris looked up at him in alarm, he bent over him.

  “Just sit here for a minute.” David rubbed Chris’s legs through the soaking wet denim. His own were cramping up from the cold and damp so he could only imagine what Chris’s were like. It was only recently that Chris had been bed ridden. Normally a fanatic about his fitness, he hadn’t been to the gym in weeks. He’d gotten over the flu, sure, but no way had he regained his strength. Now he was out here doing this and risking it all, for what?

  David stretched his legs out, doing his best to ignore the water that soaked everything. After he’d worked the kinks out of his legs, he went to work on his husband’s.. Chris groaned when David’s fingers dug into tight muscles, forcing them to yield.

  A hitch developed in David’s side and he tried to take in several diaphragm relaxing breaths. Chris did the same and David felt him wince from the pain.

  “Breathe slowly. Try not to inhale any water.”

  Chris’s eyes were bleary. “Easy for you to say.”

  David forced a breathy chuckle as he continued to try to imbue Chris’s legs with warmth. “So, was it the vacation you 224 P.A. Brown

  imagined it would be?”

  “Oh yeah, Disneyland for the criminally insane,” Chris muttered. When he struggled to his feet, David reluctantly helped him up. They both stood swaying in the gusting wind. “Let’s do San Quentin next year.”

  David smoothed Chris’s spiky hair back from his forehead.

  Even wet it remained golden, like spun sunshine. David’s own shaggy mass lay plastered to his skull, feeling abnormally heavy.

  Water poured down his back.

  Chris leaned into his shoulder. His eyes had a dreamy, faraway look. David suspected he was going into shock.

  “Come on,” he said as gently as he could, given he had to shout just to be heard. “Let’s finish this once and for all.”

  Swaying and stumbling under the barrage of wind, rain and pounding surf, they pressed forward. If it wasn’t for the presence of the stone wall, they couldn’t have kept their course. Even with it, they staggered back and forth, banging already skinned knees and hands on the hard limestone rocks.

  Chris shied away from the wall, bumping into David’s chest.

  David grabbed him to steady him. He was startled to see a dead gull lying against the stone abutment. Had it lost its way and smashed into the Causeway as it tried to find its own shelter? It looked pathetic, a sodden mass of feathers and dull, lifeless eyes.

  The gull’s broken wings twisted in the wind, making it look like the bird was trying to take flight again.

  They skirted the hapless gull and pressed on, both of them ignoring their failing strength, neither willing to surrender.

  Ahead of them, two dark figures appeared through the gray shroud of rain.

  David gripped Chris’s arm so hard he stumbled against him again. Before Chris could cry out, David pointed ahead of them.

  “There,” he said. “That’s gotta be them.”

  ChAPteR twen
ty-FouR

  Saturday 8:15pm, The Causeway, St. George’s Parish, Bermuda Chris crept along the rock wall after David, trying not to do anything that might attract attention. A figure leaned against the bulwark. No longer stylish hair hung down over his face. At his feet Imani had collapsed on the sodden pavement. From his gesticulations, it was plain Daryl was shouting at her. Nothing could be heard above the storm. That was probably why they caught up to the fleeing pair; Imani had put up a fight all the way, slowing Daryl down.

  David pulled Chris over into his embrace. David was shaking nearly as hard as Chris. He pulled Chris down against the wall.

  “We can’t let him see us just yet.”

  “How do we reach him?” Chris asked through chattering teeth.

  David considered their options for a minute or two. Finally he said, “We’re going to have to split up.” He pointed to his left, showing a sweeping arc that would take one of them around Daryl, going between Daryl and St. George’s. “I’ll go that way, you approach him more directly. If he spots you, chances are he’ll spook and try to take off. If he does, or worse, tries to grab Imani, I’ll be ready and I’ll head him off.”

  “What if he’s armed?” The cold Chris felt this time had nothing to do with hypothermia. “I mean besides his knife.”

  “None of his crimes seem to involve firearms. No reason to think he’s got a gun at this date.”

  “You like to gamble, don’t you,” Chris muttered. But David was right. They had no proof Daryl had ever had any weapon beyond a knife and the silk tie that he had stolen from David. He hadn’t needed one, had he?

  “He’s been out here even longer than us.” David’s speech 226 P.A. Brown

  was growing slurred and Chris could hear his teeth chattering. “I doubt he’s in any better shape than we are.”

  Chris hoped he was right. But then Daryl was unpredictable in the worst way, a man who may have graduated to murder, even if it wasn’t intentional. Chris could imagine a dozen ways the whole mess had gone down. Daryl had left Florida abruptly, even though from all appearances he was doing well. Why? Had he raped someone there? Killed someone? And if he had, was that what Joel had figured out about the man who was so interested in his daughter? Had he known why Daryl left Florida? In retrospect, it seemed obvious that Joel had been suspicious, and if he confirmed that suspicion, or was about to, what would have happened to Daryl if the truth had come out? Is that why Daryl killed him? Desperate people did desperate things; things they were sorry for later. And if the hot-tempered Jay had let himself be talked into the assault on David and then later reconsidered his action… The way Chris saw it, Daryl had two options: accept the consequences, or eliminate the problem all together. He might even have regretted Jay’s death. But a man facing a lifetime in prison might do unthinkable things to avert that fate.

  “Including killing his best friend,” Chris said.

  David leaned closer. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Chris wiped the water out of his eyes. Not that it did much good, the rain and wind were unrelenting. He broke away from David’s grip and began to beat his way toward the other side of the Causeway. He ignored everything but putting one foot in front of the other.

  Wind slapped and howled around him, driving water that felt like a thousand spikes into every piece of exposed flesh.

  He swore it took hours, but was probably only minutes, before he reached the far stone wall. He clung to it for several seconds, trying to still his racing heart. Taking deep, lung-clearing breaths, he tucked his chin into his chest to keep the water out of his nose. His mouth was agape in a vain attempt to suck air into his starved lungs. Moving parallel to the wall, he inched along it, using it as support. He could finally see Daryl again, but BeRMudA heAt 227

  couldn’t make out where David was. Imani remained huddled at Daryl’s feet. Chris hoped his attention would be on Imani, that he wouldn’t be paying attention to things around him.

  But Daryl must have seen something. His head snapped back and he grew rigid. Then he whirled and darted toward the airport.

  David appeared out of the thundering rain and ran after him.

  Chris wondered where he got the energy from. He tried to head Daryl off. Daryl didn’t see Chris right away, but when he did, he stumbled, trying to turn sideways. Chris wondered where he thought he could go. It was a good thing Daryl had no idea how weak Chris and David were.

  Daryl either wasn’t paying attention or he was really desperate.

  Maybe he figured the water this close to shore was shallow enough he could wade ashore in it. He slammed into the wall, and bent over at the waist. Chris shouted and bolted toward him, even though he knew there was no way Daryl would hear him.

  David reached him first. He and Daryl went down as David jerked him off the wall. Their feet got tangled and neither of them could get up. Chris reached them as David threw Daryl off and tried to scramble away on his hands and knees. Chris hurled himself at Daryl, ignoring the snap of overworked muscles and joints. Together the two of them slammed onto the hard pavement. Daryl grunted as the breath was knocked out of him.

  He gasped, writhing helplessly under Chris, who wasn’t doing much better. Daryl thrashed around as he caught his breath and tried to buck Chris off.

  “Get off me, you fucking faggot!” he roared, wrapping his hands around Chris’s throat. “Leave me alone.”

  Chris’s vision grayed and he could feel his consciousness failing. He grabbed Daryl’s wrists, but he was too weak to budge them. Then, in one last desperate bid he rammed his arms in between them and with a shout, dislodged Daryl’s deadly embrace. He rolled free, feeling the bite of Daryl’s boot in his side.

  Chris ignored it. He crab-crawled over to where Imani lay unmoving. He pulled her into his arms and smoothed the tangled 228 P.A. Brown

  hair off her brow. Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Hey, Imani. You’re okay.”

  “C-Chris? Where? How—?”

  “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  “Oh, God. Daryl… Daryl came over…” Chris leaned in closer to hear her tiny voice above the roar of the storm. “He wanted to tell me how s-sorry he was about Dad. H-he seemed so sweet. I thought—”

  “Don’t,” Chris managed to say. “Don’t talk about it. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I should have known better, should have known David would never hurt anyone…”

  She struggled to sit up. “You have to tell him—”

  “Hey, he knows. You’re his sister. How could he ever think badly of you?”

  Chris’s vision was red-tinged and his throat felt like he’d swallowed rusty nails. He blinked when Daryl appeared in front of him and lunged for Imani. “Bitch,” he roared, and ripped her from Chris’s arms. “This is all your fault.”

  Something large and angry flew into Daryl, knocking him sideways. Chris clutched Imani and together they watched David pummel Daryl. Chris was mesmerized by David’s fury. He blinked to clear his eyes of blood and water, and began to grow alarmed when David didn’t back down, even when it became clear Daryl had no more fight in him.

  Beside him Imani made a sound. She was staring at David, and Chris could feel her terror.

  He crawled across the pavement and grabbed David’s arm as he swung it to pound Daryl one more time. He was dragged between the two of them, knocking them apart. He shouted,

  “No, David. Stop. He’s not worth it.”

  Finally Chris’s words seemed to penetrate the enraged man.

  He shook his head and straddled Daryl’s unconscious body.

  BeRMudA heAt 229

  “Please, David. You have to stop. Please.”

  David looked from Chris to Imani. He rolled off Daryl, who didn’t move. David crouched on the roadway, his shaggy, sodden head in his hands. Chris was horrified to see his fists were covered in gore and blood. Gently he took one in his.

  “Oh, David. You’re hurt.”


  David took his hand away. He reached up to stroke Chris’s face, brushing away his tears. “Don’t, hon. Oh, don’t do that.

  You know I can’t stand it when you do that.”

  Chris snuffled and wiped the snot off his nose, giving David a weak grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to feel sorry for myself.” He shot a glance at Daryl. “Is he…?”

  David’s face hardened. “No, he’s okay, more’s the pity.”

  “David.”

  “I know. Trust me, I’ll refrain from killing him, though it’s only what he deserves.” David glanced over at Imani again.

  “How’s she holding up?” he asked softly.

  “Better than I am. Your sister’s one tough lady.”

  “Hey, what did you expect?”

  Daryl groaned and David was immediately on him again. He bent low, checking his pulse. When Daryl opened his eyes, David loomed over him.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said.

  “Get off me,” Daryl snarled. “You fucking fag—”

  David leaned closer, pressing his knee into Daryl’s chest. “I’d be real careful what you say, Mosby. Until the cops get here, I’m in charge. And if you piss me off I just might dump you in the damn bay and you can show me how well you do the Australian crawl.”

  Daryl’s eyes shot over David’s face then flashed to Chris, who tried to look as tough as David did. He didn’t once look at Imani.

  He wanted to say, “He means it,” but knew his voice would be too squeaky to be menacing. Instead he put his hand on David’s arm. David rose and turned away from Daryl. He took 230 P.A. Brown

  Chris in his arms.

  “God, I love you,” he murmured, stroking Chris’s back.

  “We’re almost there, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah, we’re almost there. I’m going to be glad to go home.

  L.A.’s never seemed so sweet.”

  Chris leaned back and met David’s eyes. He narrowed his own. “Don’t think for one minute you’re getting out of this holiday.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Imani joined them. David hugged her and they bent their heads together. When they broke apart, Imani was crying. She dashed the tears and rain from her eyes.