Mark waited until they were out of earshot before speaking, “He’s not the kind of guy I would want to have working for me.”
“No kidding”—she agreed—“not much for security either.”
He knocked on the door, but there was no response. He knocked again, harder.
“Maybe he went to lunch—” she studied the sun “—at least I’m guessing that it’s lunchtime.”
He didn’t comment; he couldn’t wait to tell Stewart what had happened. When Mark turned the door handle, it opened easily.
His brow furrowed, “I guess he needs to learn a thing or two about personal security.”
“Apparently”—an odd expression crossed her face—“especially with a manager like that guy.”
When Mark opened the door, it was clear that Stewart was no longer there. The room had been torn apart. The drawers were pulled out onto the floor, their contents dumped. The room had clearly been tossed.
Mark clinched his jaw and took a deep breath, “Wherever he is, he didn’t go willingly.”
Chapter 5
Scientific research consists in seeing what everyone else has seen, but thinking what no one else has thought. — Unknown Source
~
Mark and Ashlyn checked everywhere on the island that they could think of, but nobody seemed to know anything. Finally, they picked up supplies, and then went back to the boat.
“I should never have left him,” he lamented as he sat on one of the steps that led up to the aft deck. He put his head in his hands.
She didn’t say anything, but she stood next to him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Do you think somebody hurt him?—” His expression was tortured “—I can’t imagine that he had any enemies.”
“I don’t know”—she looked worried—“Mark, I’m really sorry I suggested we leave him.”
“You couldn’t have known,” he said quietly.
She looked as if she were about to say something, but a boy, who was running down the dock called out to him, “Wait mister, I’m supposed to give you this.”
He handed Mark a note and then left quickly.
“What is it?” she asked.
He studied it, and then after a long moment he answered, “It’s a note from Stewart, and I’m sure it’s his handwriting. He says he was really angry and decided to go home, but …,” he hesitated.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Do you think that he was really mad enough to trash his room like that? It doesn’t seem like him at all”—he looked away—“though he has been acting strangely lately.”
“I’m sorry—” she shrugged “—maybe I can get him to come back.”
“No, it should be me—” he stared down at his hands “—I’ll give him some time to cool off …Scratch that, I’ll send him a letter, and then give him some time to cool off, but I’ve got to get out of here.”
She nodded and followed him up to the pilothouse.
“I don’t know what I should say,” he stated dolefully.
“I’m sorry might help,” she suggested.
“Yeah—” he drummed his pencil for a moment “—I don’t know what else to do.”
He wrote, I’m sorry; I have been acting like a jerk. Please come back. He signed it, and then he put it in an envelope. He found the address, neatly penned it, and then pasted on the postage.
“I’ll take that and mail it for you if you would like. I need to get something before we leave anyway.”
He peered up at her gratefully. “I’m glad you are here.”
“I am too,” she said. She leaned over and kissed him softly, and then left with the letter.
He was falling in love with her, but he wished so much that he had handled things differently with his best friend. He hadn’t realized how much he cared until now.
She had only been gone for about thirty minutes when he heard her voice.
“Mark?”
“Up here—” he answered in surprise, and met her halfway down the stairs “—that was quick, did you run?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” She smiled.
He noticed that she was wearing different clothing. He felt like an oaf. That must have been why she had needed to go into town. He should have known; she hadn’t had many things with her, and she was almost broke. He kicked himself for not having been more thoughtful and wished he had taken her shopping.
***
Stewart sat in the corner of a dark room. His face was bloodied and bruised from being beaten. Initially he had only been threatened. The two thugs who had kidnapped him had ordered him to tell them where Mark was, but Stewart had no way of knowing. All he knew was that when he went back to the boat it was gone.
His captors didn’t believe him. Why in the world they wanted Mark, Stewart couldn’t imagine. However, this afternoon, he had seen Ashlyn talking to them, and a picture began to form. He had assumed that she had only wanted him for his money. Now he doubted it was anything so innocuous.
His first thought was that she had been in hiding, and capturing her was the reason they wanted Mark, but then Stewart had seen her talking to the thugs. There was clearly no animosity between them. In fact, it was evident that they were taking orders from her. She had walked into the room where he was being held, and just stared at him. Then she shook her head and walked out.
He heard her say, “He’s useless, get rid of him.”
The big guy, the one who had beaten him, walked in. His name was Justin. He was about six-foot-one with the body of a weight lifter. The other man had left with her, so it was just the two of them. Stewart braced himself and prayed for a quick death.
Justin’s phone rang and he listened for a few minutes before hanging up, and then he said, “I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere, or I will make you pay.”
“Right”—Stewart said aloud—“as if I could go anywhere if I wanted to.” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried it before. He had yelled, screamed, banged on the locked doors, and even on the barred windows. There was simply no point.
The building was off by itself between some palm trees. Maybe it was the local jail. He sat there considering his future. What should he do with the last moments of his life? He wasn’t close to his parents, and he hadn’t talked to his brother in years.
Ironically, it was Mark that Stewart wanted to talk to, in spite of the recent turmoil in their relationship. He wished he had never walked away angrily, though obviously, he had been right about Ashlyn, and now he was even more worried for Mark than he had been before.
Stewart was alone for far longer than he had expected, maybe an hour. He heard a noise outside that he couldn’t identify, then a moment later Ashlyn walked into the room—oh great, my favorite person.
She stared at him for a moment, furrowed her brow, and said, “I’ll be right back.”
He had waited another twenty or thirty minutes—if they are really going to kill me, I wish they would just get on with it—this in and out nonsense was making his anxiety unbearable.
She walked in, sounding agitated, “Come on, we’ve got to go quickly.”
He stood up and sarcastically retorted, “What, you want me to go somewhere else before you kill me? I guess then you won’t have to drag my body so far, but then Justin could do it, couldn’t he?”
Ashlyn shook her head. “Stewart, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”
“What do you mean?—” He gaped at her “—you just told them to get rid of me a couple of hours ago.”
“That wasn’t me.”
He was ready to spit out a venomous comment to anything she said, but he didn’t expect that. “What, you were just having a bad hair day when you told them to kill me, or maybe it was PMS, and now you feel better?”
“No”—she spoke forcefully—“I mean that was not me.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, and then he asked, “What, like an evil twin thing?”
“It’s so
mething like that.”
“Are you serious? What is her name?”
“I’m dead serious, but we have got to go now before they find …well, I’m not sure of his name, the big guy with black curly hair.”
“Justin?”
“I guess, come on.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She stared at him, blankly; a preoccupied expression blanketed her face.
“What is her name?” Stewart demanded.
Recognition hit. “Dierdra—” Ashlyn shook her head in apology “—I’m sorry, I’m just worried, let’s go.”
They left the small building, and she ordered, “Help me get him in there.”
Justin was face down in the sand, blood oozing from his head.
Stewart gawked at her, “Did you do that?”
She glanced down at the body on the ground and then back at him, “Yeah.”
Great, just when I felt safe. “How did you…?” He motioned with his eyes.
She didn’t answer. They dragged the body into the building and locked the door.
She prodded him, “Let’s go, we’ve got to hurry.”
Stewart was still brooding over the six-foot corpse, and tried to imagine how long it would be until someone found it. Sound might not carry on the island, but he bet the smell would soon enough.
“How long does it take for a body to start smelling?” he asked.
She glared back at him. “How should I know?”
“Well, I get the impression that he isn’t the first person you’ve killed.”
She didn’t say anything, just turned away and headed off across the island. He followed behind her.
After a few minutes, he asked, “Where are we going anyway?”
“We have to get a boat somewhere and get off this island—” she gave him a grave look “—Dierdra is with Mark.”
Stewart’s face went a little white underneath the black and blue. He had stopped dead in his tracks. “Does he know she’s not you?”
Ashlyn considered the question. “No.”
“Oh man, this is bad.” Then he asked her uneasily, “Why are you so sure he doesn’t? Maybe she told him. Maybe she killed him?”
“No, she is pretending to be me, I’m sure of that.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what I would do.”
***
Mark was in the pilothouse. Intensely focused and frustrated as he headed back to the place they had been the night before. It was getting dark, but they were nearly there. In the morning, he would dive into his work, literally, and see if it made him feel better.
Dierdra walked up behind him. “Are you planning on anchoring for the night sometime? You look like a man possessed.”
He studied her face. “Why do you suddenly not care?—” He stood up “—you know how upset I am about Stewart.”
She shook her head dismissively, “He’s fine. What do you need with him anyway?”
Mark couldn’t believe his ears; it was as if she were a different person. He glared at her. She didn’t seem to notice or care. He hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours or however many hours it had been. He knew that she hadn’t slept much either, maybe that was the problem.
He didn’t look back at her when he spoke, “Go ahead, and go to bed. I will be dropping anchor soon enough.”
“Okay, goodnight.”
A little less affectionate tonight, I guess. He gazed unseeing out the darkened window in front of him. Maybe, just maybe, Stewart had been right about her. Mark was tired and hoped things would be better in the morning.
***
Ashlyn had acquired a small motor boat somehow, and they were headed out. It was already dark and Stewart, even nervous on a big yacht, was having difficulty keeping his anxiety under control. She hadn’t said much of anything to him, and it seemed that his questions just irritated her.
“Where are we going to sleep?”
She gaped at him. “Where do you think? In the cabin, I know the beds are small and you are used to traveling in style, but I really didn’t have a lot of choices.”
“I was hoping we would dock somewhere for the night,” he suggested hopefully.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Where do you think we could do that? Mark’s life is in danger. We don’t have time waste going out of our way for a dock.”
He didn’t know where they were going—how was I supposed to know there was no place to dock?—he still disliked her, in spite of the daring rescue. After all, wasn’t it her fault that he had been stuck there on that island in the first place? He had to admit to himself that it wasn’t entirely true, but right now, he felt like being angry.
In spite of the urgency, she slowed the boat, exhausted. When she had it settled, she headed down to the tiny cabin she would be sharing with Stewart. The cabin was quite pathetic in comparison to the yacht, but at least the boat was a little faster.
He glanced up at her when she came in. “Why don’t you just call him? He has that satellite phone on the boat that he never uses.”
She studied her hands before looking at him. “I tried. I’m sure Dierdra would have disabled any communications on the ship first thing.”
“How do you know?”
She answered matter-of-factly, “That’s what I would do.”
“You keep saying that, but how do you know she will make the same choices as you would?”
She sat down on the port side berth, took off her shoes thoughtfully, and let out a long breath. “I’m really sorry for what has happened to you,” she answered, ignoring his question entirely.
It was the first time that she had actually looked at him. She got up and started searching through cabinets until she found a first-aid kit, then she walked over to where he was sitting.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“So you are a pretty decent doctor too, is there anything you can’t do?”
She answered simply, “Nothing that I‘m aware of.”
He didn’t expect that, it made her sound egotistical. He smirked a little and asked, “Do you really mean that?”
She raised an eyebrow, “Yes.” She turned to her bunk and pulled the blanket back.
Her manner had been strange, and she hadn’t said anything more before shutting off the light and climbing into her berth. He just laid there in the dark, contemplating the situation. He couldn’t see why Mark even liked her, and then there was Justin. Stewart hoped he was safe; possibly, she was just insane—he would find out soon enough.
***
Mark woke early. He felt much better than he had, but he was still tired. He felt uncertain that the correct number of hours had passed. He laughed aloud at himself. That had been such an incredible experience. He had a whole map full of magnetic anomalies and evidence, as well as being an eyewitness—I am going to solve the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle—he smiled to himself.
Dierdra was nowhere to be found. He went to her door and knocked. “Ashlyn, are you awake?”
She didn’t answer him. After a moment, he went into the galley to make himself some food. I guess the honeymoon is over, he lamented, and it hadn’t even begun.
Dierdra showed up just as he finished frying his eggs.
“You didn’t make any for me?” She pouted.
He turned around and questioned her with his eyes.
“What?” she asked.
“I thought our arrangement was that you would cook for me?”
He felt annoyed—why is she acting so differently?—It was as if he didn’t know her at all.
“I’m sorry”—she covered quickly—“I just overslept.”
“It’s alright. It’s been a weird couple of days I suppose.”
“So has anything really interesting happened out here?”
“What’s wrong with you? Did I dream the other night or what? You act like you don’t even know what we did.”
Dierdra glanced away for a second, and then said coyly, “Don’t be silly�
�” she walked closer to him and put her arms around his neck “—how could I possibly forget something like that?”
He focused on her eyes, and then pulled back a little.
“Hey”—she tilted her head—“if I seemed insensitive last night, I‘m sorry, I was just tired.”
“I know.” He leaned down and kissed her.
Kissing her felt different somehow, but he couldn’t explain it. When he had finally started to forget his irritation and relax, she abruptly pulled away from him.
“Feel better?” she asked as if kissing him would change his sour mood.
He didn’t answer; he just studied her.
“Are you going to dive here?” she asked.
“You know where we are—” he eyed her strangely “—right?”
She made a dismissive gesture, “Of course.”
“And you don’t have a problem with that?”
“Why would I?”
Her nonchalant attitude had him quite perplexed.
“You were terrified before; I thought you said you never wanted to come back here?”
She hesitated, “Well, I’ve thought about it and I’ve decided that I was being silly.”
He was beginning to wonder if she had multiple personalities. He needed to get away from her. He headed up to the pilothouse, and then chose to go up to the flybridge instead.
When Dierdra realized he wasn’t in the pilothouse, she began rummaging through his papers and charts.
***
Ashlyn was pushing the motor as hard as it would go, but the waves were not cooperating. The boat was pitching a lot, and it seemed as if the wind was fighting them too.
Stewart came up on the deck. He was having a panic attack from the way she was driving the boat. They were riding high in the water and going so fast that it felt like they were pounding over speed bumps.
“Can you slow down at all?” The dread in his voice made her turn around.
“Are you scared?”
“I hate the ocean.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! Aren’t you working on your PhD in oceanography or something?”
Time Storm Shockwave Page 6
