Ronny’s kayak sliced expertly through the water, but Amanda fought the wind and waves with each stroke and bounced around like a cork. Ronny rapidly outpaced her as he barrelled out over the open water. Waves sloshed over Amanda’s bow. Anger took hold. This little midafternoon breeze was not going to get the better of her! She braced and leaned and punched forward until her boat, sluggishly, reluctantly, began to obey.
They had lost sight of the red boat. Had she imagined it? Or had it sunk? Just as she began to doubt the sight of her own eyes, an orange, plastic bailing bucket bobbed by. Farther over, a coil of plastic rope. Ronny gave a shout and pointed to a yellow PFD floating in the water, aimless and abandoned.
Amanda began to fear the worst. She scanned the waves. Ronny was still powering ahead, and a few seconds later, his shout carried over the wind. “Over here!”
Amanda dug her paddle in. Ronny was bobbing on the waves, leaning over in his kayak to reach for a dark shape in the water.
“Raft me!” he shouted as she paddled alongside. “Come up beside me and lean across to stabilize both boats.”
Amanda started to paddle around him.
“Not that side!” he shouted. “You’ll crush her.”
Belatedly, her water rescue lessons came back to her. She drew her boat alongside and leaned across both boats. Beyond Ronny’s boat, she could make out the shape in the water. The woman lay on her back, motionless, dressed in black pants and yellow windbreaker. A PFD cushion was looped uselessly through one arm, and waves lapped over her face. Her long, dark hair spread around her, and her eyes were rolling back in her head.
Every second counted. Ten minutes ago, this woman had still been calling for help, but hypothermia and exhaustion were taking their toll. Ronny leaned far out of his kayak and slipped his paddle under to lift her head. Immediately, her eyes flew open and she began to flail. She clutched the paddle and began to pull toward Ronny’s boat.
“You’re all right!” he shouted. “Just relax! We’re going to get you up onto one of the kayaks, but I need you to let go of the paddle.”
She continued to clutch at the kayak, which rocked. Amanda leaned over farther, trying to keep them both stable.
“What’s your name?” Ronny asked.
She merely shook her head. He asked her again. “Sophia,” she stammered through blue lips. Amanda could see that her grip on the paddle was weakening. Ronny unclipped his extra life jacket and held it out.
“Sophia, let go of the paddle. Take this instead.”
She took the life jacket, and he coaxed her through the motions of slipping it on. Then, exhausted, she stopped thrashing and lay limp.
“Amanda, do you think your cockpit is big enough to fit her in front of you?”
Amanda made a quick guess. The woman was petite, even smaller and more delicate than she was. “Absolutely. Just tell me what to do.”
“Bring your kayak around to her other side, bow facing her. Then get your rope ready and make a big loop. We’re going to get her up on your front deck first.”
Amanda released his boat and fought the waves and the chop created by the rocking boats as she brought her own boat around.
Without her stabilizing grip, Ronny’s kayak was pitching wildly and his face contorted with the effort of keeping it straight.
“Sophia, we’re going to give you a rope, and you’re going to roll over onto your stomach and pull yourself onto the deck of Amanda’s kayak.”
No response. “Sophia! Can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She turned her face toward Amanda.
“Sophia, take the rope! Loop it under your armpits.”
Sophia let out a wail and lunged for Amanda’s boat, which nearly capsized.
As Amanda fought to control her kayak, Ronny tried to talk the terrified woman down. “Sophia, listen to me. You’ll be safe in the kayak, but you have to do exactly what I say. Loop the rope around you.”
This time, perhaps because she was too exhausted to panic, Sophia took the rope. “Good. When I count to three, you’re going to kick your feet and Amanda’s going to pull. I’m going to lift.”
“I’m — I’m cold!”
“I know you are, Sophia. But we’re only a few minutes from shore. Let’s get you on the kayak. Ready?” Her teeth chattered and her limbs shook, but she managed a nod. When he tried to lift her, however, she clutched him and nearly pulled him over. The kayaks rocked. Amanda saw anger flash across Ronny’s face, but when he spoke, his voice was soothing. “Sophia, remember, just kick. We’ll do the rest.”
This time, they managed to hoist Sophia onto the front deck of Amanda’s kayak, face down and hanging onto the deck ropes. The kayak’s bow sank and the stern rose, catching the wind. Sophia shrieked, and it took all Amanda’s strength to keep her kayak level.
“You’re fine,” she murmured. “This kayak is tough as nails.”
Ronny grinned at her in thanks. “Now, Sophia, swivel around to face the other way until your feet are in the cockpit.”
“The-the what?”
“The hole. Amanda will guide you and pull you in.”
Bit by bit, Sophia slithered and pushed until she slipped into the hole and landed in Amanda’s lap. Amanda ignored the searing pain that shot through her hips. She pulled the thermal blanket from behind her seat, draped it over the woman, and rubbed her back. She had stopped shivering, which was a bad sign. “Lean forward over the deck and lay your head down so I can paddle,” she whispered.
Once they were all stable, Ronny looped his tow rope to Amanda’s bow. “Good work, gang! Now to shore and a warm fire.”
Amanda’s boat lumbered and pitched as she tried to paddle over Sophia’s head, but with the aid of the tow rope, they were soon on shore. Ronny sprinted up and laid a sleeping bag on the rock in the sun. Sophia stumbled as she clambered out of the boat and required Ronny’s steadying hand to make it to the sleeping bag. As he bent over to check her pulse and temperature, his voice was soft and his touch tender.
“You’re okay,” he murmured. “This sun will warm you up big-time. We have some tea, but I don’t think we need a fire.”
“What happened?” Amanda asked as she poured tea from her thermos.
Sophia had still barely uttered a word. Now she clutched the sleeping bag below her chin and rocked back and forth. “The boat … I hit a rock. Made a hole, lost the engine.”
“Was there anyone else in the boat?” Ronny asked.
“No, no. No one.”
“Where were you coming from?” Amanda asked.
She didn’t answer. She had light-brown skin, long, thick hair that hung about her in sodden black ropes, and the broad, high cheekbones of Southeast Asia. Her accent was hard to place, but the slight lilt of Spanish suggested Filipino.
Amanda handed her the cup of tea, which she cradled in shaking hands. “Thank you,” she whispered. She looked in dismay at the water all around. “How will I …?”
Amanda was already rummaging for the VHF radio she’d seen in Ronny’s daypack. “Ronny will radio the marine OPP and get a rescue boat out.”
Her head jerked up and her eyes flew wide. “No!”
“The accident should be reported,” Amanda said.
“No. I’m okay. It’s too much trouble for police to come.” When Amanda frowned in puzzlement, she put her hand on Ronny’s arm and pasted a smile on her face. “Please. I don’t want to be trouble. I can go back with you.”
“No,” Amanda said. “Ronny’s kayak is too small, and I can’t paddle five kilometres across open water with you and my dog in the cockpit.”
Ronny had been strangely quiet, but now he squinted out over the water, which was still churning. “We can’t go anywhere yet. It’s too rough.”
“I need to go! Someone is waiting.”
Amanda quietly studied the woman. Something didn’t add up. The woman had almost drowned, so perhaps her fear was understandable, but it was the mention of the police that had driven it over the
top. Amanda had seen that kind of fear before, in places in the world where justice was arbitrary and where the authorities were not always your friend. Amanda had thought Sophia was from the Philippines, which had its share of police abuse, but there were other, more oppressive countries in Southeast Asia. Could her fear simply be a holdover from her homeland?
She took out her cellphone. “Ronny, maybe your dad could come out in the boat and pick her up.” She frowned at her phone. “No signal.”
Ronny nodded to the hill. “You should be able to get one up there.”
She held out her phone. “Why don’t you call him?”
Ronny squirmed. “Maybe better if the request came from you. I’ll stay with Sophia.”
His discomfort seemed peculiar, but she had no time to waste on the subtleties of father-son relationships. Even if she reached George, it might be several hours before he could get out here. Amanda leashed Kaylee, and the two of them set off, picking their way through mossy bogs and stunted pines. Just like a Tom Thomson painting, she thought as she looked up at the jagged pines silhouetted against the puffy clouds. Kaylee led the way, nimble-footed and happy, her nose to the ground as if following some invisible scent.
Midway, Amanda paused to check her phone, which still showed no signal. Frowning, she scanned the horizon. Our luck, she thought. There is cellphone coverage along most of this coast now, but there must be some hill between here and the tower. Farther up the trail, the trees gave way to prickly juniper, moss, and lichen-covered rock that crunched underfoot. Amanda stood on the tallest rock. One bar. Not enough. She waved her phone with her outstretched arm, hoping to snatch a signal from the ether, before glancing at the phone in disgust. We could be here until tomorrow, she thought.
She made her way through a scrawny copse of trees to the lee side of the hill, already formulating alternate plans. If necessary, she would ask Ronny to double up with Sophia in her larger kayak while she took his. Kaylee would have to squeeze below deck.
As she swept aside the last pine branches and stepped into the clearing, Kaylee gave a short bark. Far below, in the open water between the island and the distant shore of Franklin Island, she spotted a splash of red.
“Hey!” she cried, rushing toward the drop.
A second shape came into view behind the first, this one yellow. “Hey!” she shouted. “Help!”
The two kayaks didn’t turn. If anything, the lead kayak seemed to surge forward as if to escape. Paddles thrashed the water, and scraps of shouting could be heard over the gusts of wind. What the hell? Amanda thought. Those look like … our kayaks!
“Goddamn!” Amanda yelled. “Ronny! Stop!”
The kayakers leaned into their strokes, powering away from the island. Furious, Amanda spun around and began to race across the hilltop. This made no sense. Maybe a crisis had occurred. Maybe he’d left a note or some clue as to his plans.
She and Kaylee slithered back down the hill as fast as they could, grabbing saplings and boughs to break their descent, and reached the beach within minutes. The two kayakers had long since disappeared beyond the neighbouring islands on their way to the open water.
Dumped on the shore where the two kayaks had been was some food and camping gear. Had Ronny emptied the kayaks to make them lighter for speed, or had he been trying to leave her some supplies? She pawed through the piles, but there was no note, no clues, no apologies or explanation of any kind.
What the hell! Why would he take off, unless Sophia was in distress and needed help immediately, in which case why not use his VHF radio to call for help?
That thought caused her to search once more through the gear. No radio, no flares, no compass, and no maps. Not even a mirror or shiny pot for signalling. Nothing but binoculars and a useless cellphone. She glanced around the deserted island. This was deliberate. Ronny had left the first aid kit to ensure she was safe but had removed every means by which she could summon help. That sneaky, manipulative bastard! Why?
She turned the puzzle over and over in her mind. When she’d first headed up the hill to get a cellphone signal, he’d been fully supportive of asking his father for help. Even in retrospect, she could see no deception in his manner. Yet something had happened shortly after she left. Something had changed his mind about the urgency of the situation or the need for secrecy. Otherwise why not wait for her to come back down and explain to her that he was going to take Sophia ashore and would send help for Amanda as soon as he got there? She might not have liked the idea — indeed would have argued for doubling up on one of the kayaks so all three could go back — but she would probably have agreed.
Instead, however, he had sneaked off and left her no means to call for help, thus making sure that he and Sophia got a good head start before anyone else got involved. Ronny was young and impulsive, maybe even overconfident, and she had a sense he could be a practical joker, but he was not reckless. He never forgot the dangers of the lake. He’d been eager to prove to his father that he could handle the trip. So what had happened to change his mind?
Sophia.
Sophia had begged them not to call the police. She had claimed she didn’t want to be trouble, but she had seemed afraid. What could she possibly have told Ronny to convince him to leave? Amanda thought about the scraps of shouting she’d heard as they left the island. The splashing paddles. An argument? Had Ronny been trying to stop her?
Wind gusted across the open bay, whipping up whitecaps. Waves foamed over the rocks. Memories of her days lost in the Newfoundland wilderness crept in, of surf spewing high into the air and wind gusts spinning her little boat around like a toy top. Fear clogged her throat, fear of being helpless out on the water, but even worse, fear of being left alone. Just her and Kaylee perched on this tiny island in the vast, relentless water.
She hugged Kaylee as she beat back the racing panic. She was not helpless. She was not abandoned. She was only a few miles from civilization. She had supplies and shelter. Ronny might send help any minute. Chris might even track down where she was, but in the meantime, she had to prepare for a night on the island.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chris glanced at his cellphone one last time before pulling off the highway in Parry Sound. No texts. No response to the last four he had sent since arriving in Toronto three hours earlier. He stopped off at the crowded Tim Hortons for a much needed coffee and toasted BLT before continuing down toward the harbour. The Town of Parry Sound was nestled at the end of a long, deep inlet, its harbour protected from the open lake but big enough for large cruisers, yachts, floatplanes, and even a couple of cruise ships.
He parked his rental truck at the dock and unfolded his tall, lanky body from the driver’s seat, stretching to ease the pain and stiffness in his back. The gesture reminded him of his father after a long day on the tractor, windblown and roasted by the prairie sun. He pushed the thought away with disbelief. He was thirty-five years old and ruggedly fit from hiking the mountains around Gros Morne National Park. Surely at the peak of his prime.
With longing, he eyed the floatplanes buzzing in and out. It was over a year since he’d flown, and although he’d considered renting one to speed up this trip, he knew the cost would be prohibitive. There’s a lot of money around here, he thought as he watched the planes and cruisers come and go. Even in this sheltered harbour, the wind was strong, bobbing the yachts in the slips and clanging the rigging against their masts. Clouds were piling in from the west, threatening to turn the blue sky leaden.
Was a storm on the way?
Immediately to the right of the docks, the Ontario Provincial Police station sprawled along the water’s edge. As he debated dropping in to check on possible weather alerts, two OPP officers burst out the door and hopped into a police Interceptor. Before he could approach, they had peeled out of the parking lot and headed up the road.
Although he knew he’d always be extended a brotherly welcome, he had no friends in the local OPP. He did, however, have a buddy in the Coast Guard whom he knew fro
m Newfoundland. There were no guarantees he’d be on duty, but the Coast Guard was the more appropriate place to ask about weather warnings and general marine conditions.
Checking his GPS, he followed its route to the Coast Guard base up the street, amused to see a squat little red and white lighthouse guarding the front gate. He felt right at home. He parked on the street and walked through the open pedestrian gate unchallenged. As he was heading for the main building, he spotted a flurry of activity down by the dock, including an ambulance with its back doors open and a couple of paramedics loading gear into a sleek, steel Coast Guard boat. Parked next to the ambulance was the police Interceptor he’d seen leaving the OPP station earlier. The two officers were down on the dock conferring with a man Chris recognized as a Coast Guard captain from his uniform and insignia.
The three men and the paramedics loading up the boat moved with an intensity that gave Chris pause. Was this a routine assignment or was there some emergency? He was debating approaching them to offer assistance when one of the OPP officers noticed him.
“Can I help you?” he snapped as he approached. With one arm outstretched, he tried to herd Chris back toward the gate.
Chris identified himself, but the officer seemed unimpressed.
“Is there any way I can help?”
“Everything’s under control, Corporal,” the man said, still herding.
Recognizing the practiced cop stonewall, Chris abandoned the effort and made a show of turning to leave. Out of sight, he ducked inside the main Coast Guard building, startling the clerk seated behind a bank of computers. He identified himself again and gave his folksiest grin.
“It’s beginning to blow out there,” he said, “and I’m wondering if I should be going out in my kayak. What’s the weather like out on the bay? Any alerts or warnings?”
The clerk nodded. “Small craft warning. Winds from the north, twenty gusting to thirty knots. You don’t want to be out in a kayak.”
“If it’s anything like Newfoundland, you folks get lots of tourists and city folk who get themselves in trouble out on the water.”
Prisoners of Hope Page 4
