by Various
“No one was ever supposed to get hurt. No one.”
Sophie shook her head. Unbelievable.
“I let my emotions get the better of me.” Katie pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. When she spoke again, her voice shook. “I would never, not in a million years, do anything to hurt anyone. Especially you. I see the way my son looks at you.”
Sophie’s ire flickered a little. “So you following me into the woods right now is an opportunity for friendly conversation?”
“No.” Her gaze moved back to Tom Allen, and the fear returned. “I thought if we could talk, you might consider signing over the land,” Katie finished. “I thought it should belong to the town. To everyone here.”
“Fuck that,” Tom Allen said. “She’s not signing it over to Lindsey Point. This land should have been my father’s. All of it. Not the goddamn town’s. Mine.” He wheezed, pressed his free hand to his chest as he coughed and spat.
“Hello!” A voice echoed in the dark.
Sophie’s heart leapt up.
“Don’t you say a word.” The few feet between them vanished. He pressed one hand over her mouth and slammed the crowbar into the small of her back with the other.
Sophie gasped. Now she couldn’t have said a damn word even if she tried.
“Tom!” From the corner of her eye, Sophie watched Katie grab the man’s jacket. He shook her off.
“Get out of here.”
“I told you, no one gets hurt. I never wanted that.”
“It ain’t about what you want, bitch. This land is mine, and if I have to kill Miss Smith here to get it, then I will.”
Katie pulled at his arm, and this time he let go long enough to backhand her a second time. This time she fell to the ground and didn’t move.
“Now start walking,” he said into Sophie’s ear.
“Hello! Someone out here?” The voice was too far away, and too far to their right. Tears squeezed out and ran down her cheeks. He kept the hand on her mouth and forced her backward. Her ankle screamed in pain with every step.
“The story, dear Sophie, is that my father was friends with Petey and Miranda in school. Good friends.” He wheezed. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
Impossible, actually. She tried to bite him, but she couldn’t open her mouth far enough. He twisted the crowbar so the narrow edge dug into her skin, and she gasped.
“Keep walkin’.”
She did.
“So they were friends,” Tom Allen went on. “Such good friends, in fact, that Petey told my father he could be assistant keeper of the lighthouse. Help out part-time, keep the grounds, things like that. Told him about this land, too, and said they’d both build homes on it when the time came. Raise their kids together. Be neighbors.”
With every few words, they took another step toward the water. Sophie didn’t know how far away they were, but the moonlight in her peripheral vision brightened a little, so it was close. She’d never seen it in the daylight. She didn’t know what the shoreline looked like. Tom Allen, on the other hand, had grown up here. He knew every rock, every tree, every swell of ground for miles. She blinked away tears and forced herself to breathe.
“’Course, the problem was Miranda didn’t like my father as much as Petey did.”
Sophie couldn’t imagine why.
“She told him he made a mistake in tellin’ my father that. Said the lighthouse and the land belonged to them. Only them.” His hand tightened against her mouth. “Can you believe that bitch?”
Eyes wide, Sophie shook her head and tried to fake concern.
“So one night my father went over to the house to talk to her, to let her know he didn’t have nothin’ but good intentions. And she wouldn’t even lissen to him! Pulled out a fryin’ pan and told him to leave her the hell alone.” He chuckled and coughed in one abrupt movement, a miserable sound that gave Sophie chills from head to toe. “Petey came in, saw what was happenin’, and tried to get in the middle of it.”
And that’s where the scratches came from, Sophie thought. If Miranda had been that upset by Wilson Nickerson’s advances, she would have lashed out at anything in her way to get rid of him. Even catch her own husband with her fingernails by accident.
They burst from the trees, and Sophie looked around wildly. A few traces of sunlight lay scattered across the water, but fog and darkness obscured most of the beach. A few hundred yards away, she could see the swing of a flashlight. The beam kicked its way along the sand, from wave to rock and back again.
Up here, she willed. Why the hell aren’t you looking in the woods? Hadn’t Francine told them where to find her? She glanced around as best she could. A few feet away, rocks replaced the grass, sloping down to the water. No path. No sand.
Panic swept over her. In another second, he’d shove her over the edge and wait for her to drown. He’d watch her with a shit-eating grin on his face and tell the cops he tried to save her.
She lost her footing and slipped to her butt. Something crashed in the woods, and Sophie opened her mouth and screamed. This is real. Not a do-over. I mess this up, and everything Petey and Miranda and my father lived and died for goes into the water with me.
She screamed over and over, until Tom Allen raised the crowbar high over his head and she scrambled backward on all fours to get out of his way. Two figures burst from the trees, but it was too late. She couldn’t make herself stand up. She couldn’t even stop herself from screaming. She kept scuttling back so the arc of the crazy man’s weapon wouldn’t cut her face in two or, more likely, bash out her brains.
Across the last little piece of sandy ground. Onto the rocks, slimy with moss and barnacles. And into the ocean. Down she went, slipping over the rocks and scraping her hands until she hit the water and was jerked into the deep. The sky and the trees disappeared and all she could make out, pressing on all sides and stealing her breath for good, was dark, deep, horrible water.
Chapter 39
“Where is she?” Lucas pushed through the crowd gathered near the woods. How the hell had so many people found out so quickly?
“Oakes?” Bruce Wallace glanced over. “You got my text?”
Lucas nodded. From Bruce and Rich both.
“They haven’t found her yet.”
“But it’s Sophie they’re lookin’ for?”
The medic nodded, a tight jerk of the chin. His emergency bag lay at his feet. “Reports said she might be in the woods. With Tom Allen. And–”
“And what?”
“Your mom’s here too.”
“My mother?”
The radio at Bruce’s hip crackled with static, and he took a few steps away to answer the call.
Lucas’s hands turned to fists. How much time had he wasted in going back to his apartment?
He hurried down the beach, avoiding the access road and the gawkers collecting there. A teenager with stringy blond hair held up a cell phone and snapped pictures–of what, Lucas couldn’t tell. The dark treetops? The lighthouse? He wanted to tear the thing from the kid’s hands and pitch it into the water. Why are you always behind the camera? Shannon had asked him once. Why didn’t you ever want to be in front of it, telling the story instead of recording it? Well, he was right the hell in front of it now, wasn’t he? He wasn’t crazy about it, hadn’t asked for it, but sometimes life tossed you into things you never asked for. He kept moving.
Two cops stood at the base of the access road, where it turned sandy and lost shape and bent toward the woods. Ahead of them, a hundred yards or so, a few officers more hurried down the shoreline, flashlights bobbing along with their jagged, uneven gaits.
“Excuse me sir.” One cop stopped him with an upturned hand.. “Oh, hey, Lucas.” She dropped her hand and patted him on the arm instead. Simone Arquette. Same graduating class from high school. Same group of friends for a while, until she got smart and took all honors classes her junior and senior years while he skated through with the basic graduation requirements. She propped both hands on the
small of her back and looked up at him. “You know I’m not supposed to let anyone past here.”
“I know.”
She tipped back her cap and grinned. “But let me guess. You have a special interest in this call.”
Jesus, did everyone in town know about him and Sophie? Lucas grunted and stared at the horizon. “Guess you could say that.”
“I’ll tell the chief I gave you permission. Go ahead. But please be careful.”
“I will. Thanks.” But he didn’t join the cops walking the beach. Instead he headed straight for the thickest part of the woods. He had a hunch–only a hunch, but it had to do with something Sophie had said the other day and something he recalled from a few stories his parents told at the dinner table when he was a kid.
If there is a treasure, I’m betting it’s not money, Michael Oakes said once over ice cream and pie.
What, then? Katie had asked.
I don’t know. It’s something you can’t put your hands on. A view, or something like that. Peterson used to talk about it in study hall, remember? Like it was the moon or the stars or how far you could see from the top of the lighthouse. Somethin’ crazy.
Something crazy, indeed. Lucas hedged his bets and walked along the edge of the trees. In the near-dark, it was hard to make out any break in the foliage. He curved around and headed for the coast instead. Behind him, a whistle blew, and he could hear a couple of the cops yelling at people to move back, get out of the way, stop taking pictures. The farther he walked, though, the quieter it became, until he reached the last copse of short, stubby pines. This close to the bay, with their roots in the sand and feeding on salt water, they couldn’t grow much taller than his chest. He stopped and peered into the darkness.
Nothing. Soft splashing, but that could have been waves hitting the shore. He listened harder. Closed his eyes. Then he heard her. A voice. High-pitched, maybe a little scared, but loud enough to bounce off the fog and reach his ears.
“Sophie!” Lucas took off on a dead sprint.
“Luc–” A choked-off syllable, followed by more splashing.
He skidded to a stop and almost pitched forward onto his face. Slippery rocks and pebbles made up the beach here, and high tide was coming in fast and recklessly. His jammed one fist to his mouth and tried to banish the memory of Trina Kreuger, the little girl from Bluffet Edge who’d drowned here a few years back. He’d been on duty that afternoon. He’d been the first to respond, actually, to her panicked mother who couldn’t swim and stood there pointing at a blond head bobbing in the water that got farther and farther from shore with every minute.
He’d woken to the mother’s screams for almost a year after the recovery–not a rescue, they didn’t call it that when you pulled a body from the water. Just a recovery.
It was damn well going to be a rescue this time.
He edged toward the water, watching every spot he put each foot. Dangerous place to try to swim. Not deep, but the current could catch people off-guard and pull them under without warning. He forced himself to breathe normally. A five-year old hadn’t had a chance, but a grown woman might be strong enough to survive. Lucas bent and unlaced his sneakers. Pulled off his t-shirt. Banished the screams from his head once and for all.
“Lucas!” Rich caught up with him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“She’s in the water.”
“Holy fuck.” Rich’s eyes widened. “Where?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t know for how long.” That scared him more. She’d been treading water for five, ten, maybe even fifteen minutes, and exhaustion and cramps were setting in by now. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sophie!”
“Lu–Lucas?”
There. To his right. He shook Rich’s hand from his arm. “Get Bruce down here. Now. And send a couple of those cops into the woods.”
“Don’t go in, man,” Rich said. “It’s the worst spot. Current’ll take you right the hell under.”
“I have to.”
Rich grabbed his arm. “It isn’t safe. You know that.”
Yes. He did. But he also knew if he waited even thirty seconds more, he might lose her. She sounded panicked and weak as it was. Another minute, and she’d be gone and he’d never find her. He had to go in right here. Right now. He had to jump.
“Hang on, Sophie,” he hollered. His voice echoed back to him across the water, but he didn’t hear anything in return. Without another word, Lucas skidded barefoot across the rocks and waded into the water. When it hit waist-level, he dove in and began to swim.
A moment later, a violent undertow jerked Lucas beneath the waves.
* * * *
Sophie saw two things at once: a rope flying through the air, and two arms pin-wheeling in her direction.
Was it Lucas? She couldn’t tell in the dim light, but the giant head and torso moving through the water sure looked like her guard dog. She smiled despite the salt water in her eyes and ears and mouth. He’d come to save her after all, like some hero plucked straight from the pages of a romance novel.
“Sophie?” His head bobbed above the water.
“I’m okay,” she said as he neared. The water was cold, and her arms and legs felt like they might fall off from fatigue, but her heart pounded inside her chest with every breath she took. This time she welcomed it. Meant she was still alive.
His hand reached for the rope, fallen a few feet in front of her. With one arm, he pulled himself through the waves to her side.
“There’s–” A wave smacked her in the face, and she almost went under. Spitting water, she resurfaced. Her throat hurt. “There’s an undertow,” she managed to get out. “We can’t go back in. Not this way.” She’d turned and swam alongside it as soon as she felt it. She’d stayed parallel to shore the way her teenage lifeguarding classes had taught her, and now about fifty feet out, the only thing pulling at her feet was the occasional strand of seaweed.
“Take this.” He handed her the rope. He worked it around his waist and pulled her close to him. His bandage had fallen off in the water, and the wound at the base of his head gaped out at her, ugly and raw and black.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I have no idea.” He had that look on his face, the half-pissed, half-curious look, like he couldn’t believe where he was or what he was doing. “I should be home. In bed. With a beer.” Each sentence came out labored.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was an idiot. What I said about the balcony, I mean. And–”
“Sophie.”
“What?”
“Stop talking. Please.”
Someone on shore yelled. A moment later, a searchlight played over their faces, and the rope went taut in their hands.
“Hang on,” he said, and they were being pulled down the shoreline, past the trees and the rocks until they were almost opposite the beach. Scores of people milled around the sand, illuminated by the headlights of police cars pulled up at awkward, abrupt angles, and someone who looked an awful lot like Tom Allen stood there with his hands cuffed behind his back.
Sophie’s gaze moved past the crowd. She shivered so hard her teeth chattered in her head. But there, to her right, the lighthouse rose to the sky, a dark silhouette without a blinking light or a keeper but still a marker of safety. She blinked the water from her eyes. It wasn’t so scary or solitary after all. In fact, relief of a magnitude she’d never felt before coursed through her veins.
There sat Lindsey Point. There stood the lighthouse where her grandparents had lived and her father was born and a guy she really liked kissed her until the rest of the world went away. She pulled in a long breath. As long as she could see it, she wasn’t dead. She wasn’t drowned. In a minute she’d feel the ground under her feet and someone’s arms around her waist.
Sophie kept her eyes on the lighthouse the entire time.
Chapter 40
They sat in Francine’s parlor with blankets wrapped around them and coffee brewing in the corner. Sophie
couldn’t stop shivering, even though Francine had turned up the heat. What she needed more than anything was a change of clothes, but the police had asked for a few minutes before she went upstairs. So here she was. She rubbed her hair with a towel and tried to keep her teeth from chattering as she answered.
No, she hadn’t suspected Tom Allen before tonight. And why hadn’t she? Where the hell was her girl-radar, her reporter’s intuition? She drummed her toes against the carpet and repeated how she’d met him, where he’d accompanied the crew (everywhere that would give him privileged information, thank you, Lon, for bypassing the background check), and what exactly had happened earlier in the woods.
“What’s he being charged with?” Lucas asked. He’d pulled a chair up close to Sophie as soon as they walked in the room, and now he sat with one hand on her knee. She wanted to tell him she was safe, no longer in danger of going under, but she kind of liked the pressure of his touch. Besides, that sensation of going under didn’t always happen in open water, did it? Sometimes you could fall and not even realize it until you were halfway in love.
In love?
Sophie tried to make herself focus on the question-and-answer process, which became more difficult with every second that passed.
“A couple more and we’ll be done, I promise,” said the cop, a tall lanky guy Sophie hadn’t seen before. He glanced at Lucas, then looked straight at her as he asked, “Do you know why Katie Oakes was in the woods tonight?”
Lucas’s hand tightened on her knee. Sophie knew he’d already talked to his father. She knew he planned on going to the Med Center to see his mother whenever they were finished here.
Sophie took a deep breath. “No,” she answered. She didn’t look at Lucas. “I mean, not really.”
The cop frowned and flipped through his notepad. “Her statement was that she came upon Tom Allen holding you against your will with a crowbar as a weapon. When she tried to intervene, he struck her.”
