Ted clutched the white ring, but the look on his face told Brody he needed to get to him fast.
After emptying his pockets, Brody toed off his shoes. He threw his cell phone to Cindy. “Call nine-one-one. Tell them to send an ambulance and rescue personnel.”
He dove into the water. Surfacing some feet away from the boat, he kept his eyes on Ted as he used a modified Australian crawl to cover the distance from the boat to Ted.
The sound of the throttle made him glance back. Cindy had turned the craft and was barreling straight toward him.
“Stop,” he shouted, raising his arm. Surely she could see him in the water.
The look on her face chilled him.
“I’m going to kill both of you,” she shouted over the roar of the engine.
An icy thread of fear wove its way along Brody’s spine. The police had arrested the wrong person. Keith Allen wasn’t the killer. Cindy was.
Diving deep, Brody saved himself from being run down. Once he surfaced again, he watched her turn the craft around. At least, she wasn’t aiming for Ted, who floated on the life preserver about fifty feet away.
“You killed Paul.” Brody needed information.
“And I would have killed Joshua, except Stephanie called his house and said she was on the way. I wanted him to drown like Hayden had.”
“You drugged Stephanie and tried to drown her.”
“She would have died except for you. You won’t be able to save her this time because I’ll make sure you’re dead. Ted won’t survive long in the water.”
“Why, Cindy?”
“Because Hayden loved me. He told me that day on the lake, just before he jumped into the water after me. Stephanie saved everyone except him. She never liked Hayden because of what his mother had done. He was everything Ted should have been and wasn’t. Stephanie was always so protective of her brother. She tried to be his mother and that upset him even more. He didn’t want a second mother, he wanted his dad. But his father never had time for him.” Brody tried to follow her ramblings.
Before he could ask about Hazel and what she had done, Cindy pushed on the throttle.
“The storm clouds are moving in,” she screamed. “I’ll make sure you won’t survive.” Her face twisted with rage, her teeth clenched together, her eyes wide.
Brody glanced at Ted, floating away from the path of the craft. Hopefully, Cindy would keep going to the marina, thinking Ted would perish in the rapidly churning water.
The boat approached. Sucking in a lungful of air, Brody dove deep but not deep enough. The rotor caught his leg, cutting a deep gash into his flesh. Blood swirled from the wound and floated to the surface.
The engine wound down. Hopefully, Cindy saw the blood. His chest burned, but he remained submerged. The longer he stayed below water, the more likely she would think he had perished.
His lungs screamed for air.
Another second and they would surely explode.
The sound of the engine came at the moment he surfaced.
He gulped air.
A crash of thunder sounded overhead.
Cindy glanced back. Once again, Brody dove underwater and surfaced as the craft headed for the mainland. He turned to search for Ted, but in the growing darkness and the rising crest of the waves, he could see only the water and the lightning that zigzagged across the sky.
TWENTY-TWO
Noticing the darkening sky, Stephanie hurried to unload the rest of the supplies. She had sent Nikki back to post so she wouldn’t be late for work.
Glancing first at her watch and then at the water, she expected to see Cindy’s boat bringing Ted and Brody back to the marina. Ready to set out to find them, she let out a pent-up breath when the boat rounded the bend.
Stephanie knew the relief she was feeling was not just for Ted but also for Brody. He’d helped in so many ways today, and she’d taken comfort seeing how he and Ted had worked together, whether hauling supplies or aiding some of the other, more seriously wounded soldiers. They’d even formed a team for the fun run and had pushed two other men in wheelchairs.
Although the foursome hadn’t won the timed awards, they’d come first in the wheelchair competition with a bevy of high fives around. Seeing the sense of accomplishment on Ted’s face when he and Brody stood together with their handicapped teammates had made her reconsider what she had thought about Brody. Perhaps there was hope for them after all.
Knowing she was getting ahead of herself, Stephanie carried the last box of supplies to her car. When she returned to the dock, she saw Cindy tying up her boat.
A tingle of concern gave her pause as she looked around the empty marina. “Where are Ted and Brody?”
“They stayed behind. One of the other soldiers came by with his boat. Ted wanted another turn on the zip line.”
Stephanie glanced at the lightning in the distance. The strikes had to be hitting close to Big Island. “The zip line is the last place he should be in this storm.”
Cindy’s smile was reassuring. “I’m sure they’re headed back by now.” She pointed to the water. “They’re probably right around the bend. I wouldn’t worry, Stephanie.”
But she was worried and also angry that Cindy had returned to the marina without them.
“Who’s the soldier?”
“I can’t remember his name. He was there today. I saw you talking to him. Big guy. Brown hair, cut in a military buzz.”
Which would fit most of the guys at the picnic. “Sam Taylor?”
“That’s him. He should be here in a minute or two.”
Cindy stepped closer and stared at Stephanie’s face. “You forgot to use sunscreen.”
Stephanie touched her cheeks, knowing they were probably pink. “I was too busy.”
“I’ve got some great aloe that takes the sting out of any sunburn and also helps so you won’t peel.” She dug in her purse and pulled out an unmarked plastic spray bottle. “I buy it in a large size and then keep the smaller atomizer in my purse.” She sprayed a hefty dose over Stephanie’s face.
Stepping back, she groaned and wiped her hand over her lips. “It got in my mouth, and it tastes terrible, Cindy, and smells even worse. I think I inhaled half the bottle.”
“You’ve got some on your cheeks that needs to be rubbed in. It’s grainy but effective.”
The spray wasn’t cooling or pleasant. Stephanie shook her head. “That’s enough. Thanks.”
“Here’s a tote one of the ladies left on the island.” Cindy handed the bag to Stephanie. “The name tag on the outside says it belongs to Maureen Meyers. Could you see she gets it?”
“Maureen’s the wife of one of the soldiers. Sure, I’ll drop it off at her quarters when I’m back on post.”
Cindy glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to hurry. Walt wanted me to join him for dinner, and I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
Once again, Stephanie turned her gaze to the choppy water. “Cindy, are you sure Sam was heading back to the marina?”
“Of course. He’ll be here in a minute or two.”
With a wave of her hand, Cindy raced to her car and soon left the marina.
With a frustrated sigh, Stephanie grabbed her purse and hurried to the end of the walkway where she scanned the lot, hoping to see Sam Taylor’s Hummer. Even used, the vehicle was much too expensive and had probably soaked up all Sam’s reenlistment bonuses and monthly paychecks, as well as his hazardous duty pay while he was deployed.
The Hummer wasn’t in the marina lot.
From the top of the walkway, she could see Big Island in the distance with no boats in sight. What she did see was the descending darkness, and a sheet of rain heading across the lake toward the marina.
Whatever had happened wasn’t good.
She raced tow
ard The Princess, but it was too slow and too small to navigate the choppy waters. She had to take The Upton Queen.
The boat she hadn’t been in since the night Hayden died.
Tonight Ted was in danger as well as Brody. She needed to get to Big Island as quickly as possible.
“Oh, please, God. Help me save both of them, so no one else has to die.”
TWENTY-THREE
“Mayday, Mayday.” Stephanie repeated the distress alert over the cabin cruiser’s radio. Once she received a response, she relayed her location and that she needed help on Big Island Lake.
Glancing at the gas gauge, she realized too late the tank was riding on empty. She had to make it to the island. From there, she could wait out the storm as long as she knew Ted and Brody were safe.
The wind howled and rain pummeled the craft. Giant waves splashed against the bow, rocking the vessel and causing her to worry whether the boat would survive the forceful winds and vicious surf.
Once again, she was back three years ago. She’d forbidden Ted to go to the Big Island with the rest of the kids. He’d promised her he would spend the day with Paul at his house.
Stephanie had taken his compliance as a good sign and was relieved that her work with Ted was starting to pay off. She decided to show him how happy she was about his change of heart and had prepared a carrot cake, which was his favorite. He’d called while she was making the cream cheese icing. First he’d told her where he was and then that he and the others needed a ride back to the marina.
Keith had said he would pick them up, but he had gone to Atlanta and was tied up getting out of the city. Stephanie had done so much and was so tired of failing with her brother, she refused to ruin the cake, plus she wanted him to realize how disappointed she was with his decision to go with the kids instead of obeying her.
So she had waited thirty minutes until the cake was done and sitting on the counter before she left the house, angry and ready to give her brother a piece of her mind.
Her delay that day had caused Hayden’s death. She could never forgive herself. Now this evening, she couldn’t let another mistake cost someone else’s life.
Not her brother’s. Not Brody’s.
God had failed to respond to her pleas for help three years ago. If only He would listen to her now.
“Ted! Brody!” she screamed as she approached the island. She turned on the spotlight and rotated it back and forth, searching for some sign of them. Raising her hands to her lips, she called their names repeatedly as she played the spotlight over the shore, seeing nothing.
Needing something with more volume, she rang the bell, hoping its deep knell would be heard over the thunder and roar of the wind.
Adjusting the angle of the light, she saw something on the swell in the distance and steered forward. There in the light was Ted, desperately hanging on to the life preserver. He raised his hand and shouted back to her.
Tears of relief burned her eyes. She edged near him and stretched out her hand.
Once on board, he pointed to the water. “Brody and I got separated. I thought I heard him call my name.”
The wind whipped at her hair. She pushed it back and squinted into the murky water, looking for any sign of Brody as she turned the spotlight into the deep, dark abyss.
“Where is he?” she screamed above the storm.
“There.” Ted pointed to where the light cut through the night.
Was that a hand? Without thought, she dove into the water, following the light.
But she couldn’t find Brody.
She swam deeper, reaching for anything she saw that could be him, his hand, his arm.
Her lungs burned.
She surfaced, grabbed another breath and dove again, just as she had done so many times in her dreams.
Please, God. Let me find him.
Ted adjusted the light, and she dove again, only this time, as her lungs burned for oxygen, a vision from her past appeared. Something she had seen that night as she labored to save Hayden. Something she had glimpsed too briefly to recognize in her dreams. A memory from her past she had buried as a child when she had walked in on Aunt Hazel in her parents’ bedroom. With her youthful innocence, she hadn’t realized the significance of finding her father in bed with her mother’s sister.
Gasping for air, Stephanie surfaced, upset by the vision as well as her inability to find Brody.
“There he is,” Ted screamed.
She saw Brody’s shirt. Grabbing him, she pulled him close. Ted threw the life preserver that was attached to the craft by a rope and pulled them toward the boat. Between them pushing and lifting, they hoisted Brody on deck.
Stephanie placed her hands under his sternum and pressed down, as he had done to her just a few days earlier. One, two, three, the pace was fast, and she used her full weight to keep his blood circulating.
“Radio for help,” she called to Ted, “and head for the marina.”
The engine throttled forward and the craft moved through the water. Then, like a dying creature, it sputtered and stopped. The rain eased ever so slightly, but fog floated in around them.
“We ran out of gas,” Ted called to her through the haze.
“What about the radio?”
“It’s not working.”
“Ring the bell, Ted. Someone might hear us.”
Her brother scrambled to the stern and began to ring the death dirge.
Stephanie had found Brody, but that didn’t mean she’d be able to save him.
* * *
Brody’s chest burned like fire. A weight crashed into his ribs, and he gasped for air.
Turning his head to the side, he gagged. Water spewed from his mouth.
“Oh, Brody, you’re alive.”
He didn’t feel alive—he felt battered and broken, until he blinked his eyes open and saw Stephanie’s face just inches from his own.
“Talk to me,” she begged. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I—I’m o-okay.”
A smile covered her mouth, a mouth he wanted to kiss, but he’d have to wait until he could catch his breath and sit up without feeling dizzy and sick.
“Head for the marina,” he said.
She shook her head. “We’ve run out of gas.”
“Call for help.”
“We have.” Yet the call had gone unanswered.
At least the rain had stopped, and although the waves were high, the craft could handle the rough surf. If only her stomach could. She’d never gotten seasick before. She hung her head. The world swirled around her.
Her cheeks were on fire. Not sunburn; something worse. What had been in the aloe spray?
“Are you all right?” Brody sat up and reached for her.
As much as Stephanie wanted to reassure him, all she could do was gasp for air.
* * *
“Stephanie!” Brody screamed. Her cheeks were beet red and burning hot.
“She’s having a reaction,” he called to Ted. “Get the EpiPen out of her purse.”
Grabbing the shoulder bag, Ted dumped the contents on the deck. Her wallet and lipstick. A package of tissues and a comb. He shook the purse again. Two plastic EpiPen cases fell onto the deck. “Stay calm, honey. The epinephrine will work in a minute or two.”
Her raspy pull for air sent a rush of terror that knotted his stomach. His hands couldn’t undo the packaging fast enough.
When he held up the first Auto-Injector, he saw something that made his heart sink. The vial was spent. He opened the second EpiPen and found it empty, too.
“Radio for help again,” he told Ted. “This time you’ve got to get through.”
Stephanie’s whole body convulsed. She needed more air than her constricted bronchioles would allow.
&nb
sp; “Did your mother keep any medication onboard?” Brody asked Ted.
“In the first-aid kit.” He raced below deck and returned with the box that he opened and then held out for Brody, who rummaged through the gauze and tape. His fingers dug to the bottom and found nothing.
“Mom kept a small pouch in a cubbyhole under one of the seats. It may still be there.”
Brody took Stephanie’s hand. Her chest heaved as she tried to draw in the oxygen she so desperately needed.
Ted raced to the stern and returned carrying two plastic containers. “They’re out-of-date.”
“Then say a prayer that they’ll still work.”
Uncapping the first applicator, Brody sighed with relief when he saw the medication had not been depleted. In one swift motion, he jabbed the spring-loaded syringe into her thigh.
“Get the next one ready, Ted.”
Brody bent over Stephanie, searching for any change in her condition. The wild look in her eyes told him the terrible truth. She still struggled to breathe. The epinephrine must be too old to counter the reaction.
“Please, God.” He reached for the second EpiPen.
Once again, he pushed the injector firmly against her thigh. The medication automatically released. If only it would work.
Stephanie continued to gasp for air.
Seeing her distress, Brody feared that he was going to lose her, and without Stephanie, he couldn’t go on.
* * *
The sound of the ship’s bell rang in the fog of her mind. Stephanie couldn’t focus or pull herself out of the haze.
Voices sounded around her.
“Can you hear me? Open your eyes, hon.”
She inhaled deeply, enjoying the clean air that filled her lungs. The burning had ended, along with the fear of not being able to breathe.
She lifted her hand toward her face.
“Watch, honey. You’re getting oxygen. You’re probably feeling the nasal cannula.”
Could she be dreaming? Her struggle for air had been so severe.
Someone touched her arm. “Stephanie, open your eyes.”
Brody’s voice. She wasn’t dreaming. Thank God, she was alive.
The Soldier's Sister Page 19
