Identity Unknown

by Terri Reed

  “Handle?”

  “Smuggling goods to and from ships anchored off the coast was how people survived. Then the War of 1812 happened, and the tunnels were used by the militia to defend the bay. Aha. Found it.”

  “How do you even know the tunnels are still there?”

  “I grew up in this town, remember? I’ve explored every inch of the tunnels, the cliffs and the forest on the west side of the town.” She planted her feet and grasped the handle to lift a two-by-two hatch carved into the floor. “Grab the edge.”

  He did as she asked, easily lifting the lid all the way. He peered into darkness below. He thought he heard a rustling sound. Were there snakes in Maine? An image from a movie slammed into his mind. The hero of the action flick fell into a pit of snakes. A shudder of revulsion vibrated outward from John’s core. Why could he remember a movie and not something important like his name or his life?

  “There’s a ladder” she said. “We’ll have to go by feel until we close the hatch. I don’t want to use my light until we’re safely below ground.”

  She sat on the ledge and felt around with the toe of her boot until she found the ladder rung. “Got it.” She held out her hand. “Sit next to me.”

  John slipped his palm flat against hers. Warmth shot up his arm from the point of contact. Her fingers entwined with his as he settled on the edge.

  “Can you balance the hatch while you go down the ladder?” she asked, her voice oddly breathless.

  “I can manage that.”

  She slipped off the ledge and disappeared into the pit below. After a few moments, she called out, “Okay, start down.”

  John used the toe of his boot to find the rung of the ladder, then he climbed down, slowly allowing the hatch to close behind him, blocking the moonlight until only darkness remained. His hands tightened on the rung as his foot touched the ground. Audrey flipped on her flashlight, illuminating a long tunnel carved through the earth and bolstered by thick wooden beams.

  Damp, earthy scents filled his nose, making him itch. An uneasy shiver worked its way through him. He decided he wasn’t fond of enclosed places. “Are you sure this won’t collapse on us?”

  She laughed. “Yes, I’m sure. This way.”

  They traveled through the dark, dank tunnel for several yards. A rodent scurried along the ground beside him.

  They finally came to a wooden door with large black hinges and a lever latch that let out a loud squeak as Audrey lifted it. Then she pushed the door wide enough for them to slip through.

  They were at the base of a cliff just north of the beach where John had washed ashore. He breathed in deep of the salt-tinged air, liking the refreshing way it cleared off the itch to his senses and made his chest expand. Definitely more comfortable in open spaces.

  Audrey walked away from the water to a berm separating the beach from the street. John followed, the sand making his gait unbalanced. He paused to turn back to the sea, his gaze on the churning ocean. Moonlight danced on the white-crested waves that undulated with the rough current. The lights of Canada twinkled in the distance like little beacons.

  Audrey retraced her steps to his side. “John?”

  Could he have washed ashore from the country across the bay? “Have you heard from the Canadian government?”

  “Not yet. You have to be patient.”

  “I wonder if patience is one of my virtues.”

  She tucked her arm through his and steered him toward the road. “Patience takes discipline. There may be people who are born with an extra dose, but it’s been my experience that patience takes effort. We’ve become too much of an instant-gratification world.”

  Staying to the shadows, they walked at a steady pace down the quiet residential street to the main street. Audrey led him to a steep staircase behind the mercantile. “My apartment’s up here.”

  He followed her up the staircase, curious to see how this woman lived. “You don’t live with your mom?”

  “No. She lives in a cottage near the medical center.” She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  He entered the studio, taking in the very feminine decor. Bright color spots popped against earth-toned furnishings. She’d carved out very distinct sections in the open studio space.

  Just inside the entrance was the kitchen and eating area. Whitewashed cabinets and stainless steel appliances took up one wall, while a small antique-looking table with folding sides and two wooden lattice-back chairs sat across from the stove and sink.

  For the living space, a well-loved sofa with plush throw pillows butted up against the exterior wall, and a glass coffee table sporting a stack of books sat on a round area rug covering hardwood floors.

  On the opposite wall above a six-drawer dresser, a television had been mounted on a swinging arm so that she could watch from the sofa or from the full-size bed decked out in shades of purple and pink bedding.

  A small vanity table laden with jewelry and makeup paired with a curved-back chair sat next to a door that he assumed led to the bath. The whole effect was impressive. She’d made the most of the tight space.

  “This is nice,” he commented out loud. “Homey.” He couldn’t help but wonder what his accommodations were like. Did he live in a studio apartment or a house? Did he share his living space with someone? A wife? A roommate? Or did he live alone? He rubbed at the biting sting at his temple.

  “Thank you,” Audrey replied. “I like it.”

  She pulled a duffel bag from beneath the bed then proceeded to throw some clothes from the dresser into it. She grabbed a few items from the bathroom. After zipping up the bag, she lifted the strap and dropped it over her shoulder. “All set.”

  “Let me take that,” he said, reaching for the strap.

  She stepped back. “I’m capable of carrying my bag.”

  He held up his hands. “Whoa. I didn’t think you weren’t. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

  Embarrassment charged across her face. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be testy. I’m always having to prove myself, and sometimes I forget that I can allow someone else to do things for me.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he assured her. “I’ve been impressed with you from the moment I awoke in the hospital.”

  Her gaze narrowed slightly as if she weren’t quite sure she should believe him. He remembered her disdain of charming men. He wanted to smash in the face of the man who’d hurt her.

  “We should get moving,” she said briskly. “My car’s parked on the street.”

  He nodded and followed her out of the apartment. Her car was a beautiful early-model Mustang GTO in a metallic blue. The charcoal-gray interior looked brand-new. The passenger seat was comfortable. She started the engine, and the beast of a car growled. “Sweet ride.”

  She pulled away from the curb and headed away from the main drag. “I love this baby. I saved up for years before finally finding the right one. It has a V8 engine and had very low mileage when I bought it.”

  “Not very stealthy,” he commented at the rumbling beneath the floorboards.

  “Yeah, well, I hadn’t expected I’d need stealth. But it will pretty much outrun any other car on the road.”

  “You sound sure. What about in the snow?”

  “Snow tires.” She turned down a residential street.

  “Doesn’t seem like a practical car.”

  “I manage in the winter. I keep the trunk weighted.” She grinned at him. “I take this baby to the racetrack in Bangor during the summer.”

  For some reason he wasn’t surprised. She struck him as a woman who liked adventure. “That sounds fun.”

  “It is.” She brought the car to a halt in front of a box of a house trimmed in twinkling blue and white lights. An inflatable snowman stood sentry on the front lawn, and behind the front wind
ow curtains was the outline of a Christmas tree.

  Deputy Dan Paulson hustled out of the house with a bag slung over his shoulder and carrying a thick jacket, which he thrust into John’s hand when John jumped out to push the backrest forward so Paulson could climb into the small backseat. It was a good thing it would only be the three of them, because no way could another person fit back there.

  “Sheriff said we’re going out to Quoddy Head,” Paulson remarked as she gunned the engine and they took off.

  “Yep. I know a safe place.” She turned onto the highway heading away from the ocean.

  “Is this where the captain lives?” John asked.

  She chuckled. “Not anymore. But fair warning, it’s rustic.”

  John studied her profile, liking the curves and angles of her face. “How rustic? As in no restrooms? No heat?”

  “Not that uncivilized. No internet, no cell service.”

  No biggie for him. He didn’t have a cell phone or a computer.

  Paulson nearly sputtered. “But what if we need help? How do we contact the sheriff?”

  “Satellite phone,” she replied. “Don’t worry, Paulson. There’s no way anyone will be able to find us out there.”

  “Yeah, from your mouth to God’s ears,” the other deputy groused and sat back.

  “Amen to that,” John said. He sent up a quick prayer that whoever was after him didn’t know about this place. Audrey exited the highway onto a two-lane road that stretched out before them with dense woods on either side. Snow covered the forest floor. Occasionally John checked the side-view mirror to make sure there were no other cars traveling in the same direction. The longer they drove, the denser the foliage became.

  Suddenly beams of light appeared behind them.

  Adrenaline pumped through John’s veins. What were the chances that someone else would be out on this road at this time of night? How had they found them? “We’ve got company.”

  The lights gained on them. The hairs on the back of his neck jumped to attention. This was no casual driver out for an evening drive.

  “Hang on,” Audrey warned. She cranked the wheel and sent the car into a spin. She straightened the wheel when they were facing the oncoming car.

  “What are you doing?” Paulson shouted. “Are you crazy? This isn’t a time to play chicken.”

  “I’m not,” she replied in a tight tone. “Normally we’d be dealing with a couple feet of snow at this time of year, but it’s late in coming. We have only a dusting to make things slick.”

  Facing the oncoming vehicle allowed John to determine the rapidly approaching car was an SUV. A monster of a thing with a large brush guard, looking a bit beat-up.

  “It’s them,” Audrey said. “The men who are trying to kill you.”

  Grabbing onto the dash, John asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I told you this can outrun anything,” she said. “That beast of a machine won’t be able to turn around quickly enough to follow us. We’ll be taking a more scenic route.”

  The distance between them and the oncoming SUV lessened. John gritted his teeth. He had to trust Audrey. Trust that she knew what she was doing, because he and Paulson were at her mercy.

  Blinded by the SUV’s headlights, he braced himself for impact, but at the last second, Audrey swerved, roaring past the SUV. She floored the gas, and the Mustang raced away, the studded tires thumping on the snow-crusted road. She shut off the headlights and the interior dash lights, plunging them into darkness.

  “Hold on, because there’s a turn up here and I’m going to make it without braking,” she said.

  From the backseat Paulson groaned. “You’re going to kill us.”

  * * *

  “Have a little faith, Paulson,” Audrey shot back. Her heart pumped a frantic rhythm beneath her breastbone. Her hands gripped the steering wheel. She eased her foot off the gas. The car incrementally slowed. How had they found them? Her mind grappled with possibilities. Something that had been bugging her roared to the center of her mind.

  How had the bad guys known where to find John when he’d washed ashore? And then when exactly to hit the ambulance?

  She downshifted and cranked the wheel, smoothly taking the turn into a break between two copses of trees, and brought the car to an abrupt halt.

  “John, check your clothes and your boots for a tracker.”

  “Tracker?” His voice held a glint of surprise. “Of course.”

  John searched his clothes and gritted his teeth through the pain as he finally yanked off his boots, inspecting them. “Found it.” He rolled down the window, allowing the frigid air to swirl through the interior of the car while he chucked the tracking device out into the woods. “It was embedded in the heel of my boot.”

  Gratified and yet mad at herself for not thinking of it sooner, she pressed on the gas and they bounced along on a rough road with only the moonlight as their guide. A layer of snow that had crusted into ice crunched beneath their tires and twinkled in the moonbeams. She kept the car at a moderate speed, compared to how she’d been driving.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Paulson asked in a shaky voice.

  “Of course. I know every inch of these woods,” she said. “Besides, there’s no way for them to know where we’re heading now.”

  After ten minutes and no sign of being followed, she flipped on the headlights, illuminating the trees and the snow covering the ground.

  The dirt road ended at a T. She slowed and took the turn to the right. They headed down another road, barely wide enough for the car. A pristine layer of white covered the swath of road, which ended at a large circle.

  She parked and popped open her door. The crashing of waves on the rocky shore could be heard even though she couldn’t see the ocean from where they were. “Okay, boys, we’re hiking from here.”

  “Hiking to where?” Paulson asked from the backseat.

  She twisted around to look at him. “The lighthouse.”

  Paulson scoffed. “I thought you said you knew a safe place out here. I thought you meant a nice warm vacation home.”

  She held back a smile. “The lighthouse is safe.”

  Paulson shook his head. “And if they decide to look for us at the lighthouse, then what?”

  “We’ll see them long before they reach us,” she told him. “And if we need it, there’s a dory we can use.”

  “A dory?” John opened his door.

  “A small flat-bottomed boat,” she answered. “There’s one docked at the lighthouse.”

  “Great,” Paulson groused. “We can be ducks in a boat. And if the bad guys don’t do us in, the ocean will.”

  “Relax, Dan. The dory has a motor.” She climbed out of the car and shut the door. She flipped up the collar of her uniform jacket and regretted they couldn’t have driven right up to the lighthouse.

  John climbed out, slipped on the borrowed jacket and then hustled to the back of the car to pick up Audrey’s bag from the back hatch. “You lead the way,” he told her.

  She hesitated, fighting her need to be independent. “Thank you.” She flipped on her flashlight. “We’re going to be forging our own trail until we meet up with the official one.”

  They hiked for an hour through dense trees and bushes before they came to an actual trail carved through the forest. Then they followed that trail until they reached an area with darkened outbuildings surrounding the lighthouse that stood sentinel at the easternmost edge of the state park.

  “Is the lighthouse manned?” John asked.

  Audrey shook her head. “No. The lighthouse became automated in the late 1980s—”

  “And the park closed in mid-October for the winter,” Paulson interjected. “So basically, were alone out here without internet or cell service.”

 
“There’s a satellite phone in the watch room,” Audrey assured him through gritted teeth. His whining was getting on her nerves. “The mayor insisted on putting one in several years ago when the automated system failed during a storm. That way if it ever fails again or needs to be serviced and the lighthouse has to be manned, there’s a way to communicate with the outside world.”

  Inside the lighthouse, they made their way to the watch room. The glow from the lantern beam reflected off the oblong windows encasing the watch room. Audrey stared out at the dark night beyond and thanked God they’d made it safely.

  Paulson dropped his duffel in the middle of the room. “The sheriff said to bring you a change of clothes.” He tugged open the drawstring top and pulled out several things. “I grabbed some of my brother’s things he’d left in our spare room when he last visited. You’re about his size.” Paulson then made a beeline for the satellite phone set up in the corner. “I’m going to let the sheriff know what’s happened.”

  John snatched up the clothes Paulson had provided before moving to stand beside Audrey. “You okay?”

  Turning to stare into his dark eyes, she felt the need to share her thoughts. “Just thanking God we made it here in one piece. I’ll admit I was a bit nervous out there.”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “Only a bit? I was downright petrified.”

  She cocked one eyebrow, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Her hair had come loose from the clip in the back during their hike. Long tendrils curled over the collar of her uniform and tickled her neck. She pushed a strand back. “Oh? So you doubted me? But I got us here safely.”

  He reached up to lay claim to a lock of blond hair, rubbing the silky strands between his fingers. “Yes, you did. And very expertly, at that.”

  His praise softened something inside her. She mentally scrambled to reclaim her professional detachment, but apparently it was hiding behind tender affection.

  John glanced at Paulson, who had his back to them. Then he tugged her close and leaned toward her but stilled with just a few inches between them, allowing her the opportunity to step away, to put a stop to what was about to happen.