by Todd Borg
I felt Spot alert. He didn’t express tension so much as awareness. I looked down at his head to see which way he was focused.
Ahead and toward the left. Toward the water.
To the right loomed a house lit by moonlight. It was down a slight slope. It consisted of two large boxes set at 30 degrees to each other, and it had a gabled roof that faced multiple directions. It was a large house, suitable for a rich rock band. The windows were black. No yard light that I could see.
Diamond made a soft shhh sound and held his arm up as he walked slowly forward. As we got closer, the house’s garage came into view.
With a shift of pressure on Spot’s collar, we angled out of the forest, toward the house. Parked in the drive was a black Audi wagon, invisible in the dark but for the reflection of moonlight off its shiny surface. I felt the hood. The heat was significant. The car had been driven recently.
I stopped and raised the megaphone with the small end of the cone not to my mouth, but to my ear. By pointing the large open end of the cone toward the house, I could listen to an amplified version of any sounds that might come. There was nothing beyond an airy whoosh, similar to what one hears when putting an empty conch seashell to one’s ear.
With Spot as my guide, I took the lead and walked slowly and silently around to the lake side of the house. There was a large deck and a long expanse of floor-to-ceiling glass. I raised my hand, signalling the others to stay put. Then I moved over to the edge of the dark windows. I could see in the moonlight that there were open drapes gathered at the window edge near me. I carefully lifted up my megaphone, wide end toward the house, and eased it up against the glass. I made sure that I was positioned behind the bunched drapes. If anyone was in there, I didn’t want them to see me or the megaphone.
Moving slowly so that I didn’t rattle the cone against the glass, I leaned over so that my ear was at the megaphone.
I held my breath and listened.
There was nothing.
After a minute, I pulled the megaphone away from the glass, looking carefully, studious in my effort to not bump anything.
As I lowered the megaphone, something nagged at me from just below my level of consciousness.
I stopped, trying to grab the thought.
I turned back toward where I’d just been focusing, reenacting my previous movements. I brought the megaphone back up to the window glass, listened again to the age-old sea, turned it away from the glass. I was very deliberate, looking for whatever had nagged at me, going slowly, taking in every aspect of the night, the moon, the cold air, the humid smells, the sound of distant waves lapping at the shore.
And there it was.
Two things.
The first was that, as I’d brought the megaphone around, away from the house, I noticed that Spot was once again looking out to sea, staring at Tahoe’s black plate of ice cold water ringed by snow-covered mountains. The other was that, as my megaphone made its arc away from the window, I did indeed hear sounds. Strange sounds. Possibly even human voices.
But they came not from the house where I’d come to listen.
They came from the lake.
FIFTY-NINE
Once again, I lifted my megaphone up and aimed the large open end out toward the lake. I heard waves. Wind. Water smacking rocks. A distant Canada Goose honking as he flew under the moonlight, trying to keep his family together as they wedged their V-formation north on a night trip toward the Arctic. Then came water slapping something more resonant. A boat hull, maybe. I stopped swinging my megaphone, brought it back a bit, waited, adjusted my position.
When I heard what might be the sound of water slapping a boat hull, I paused and waited. Maybe there was a different sound. Maybe not. I held still. Focused on maintaining a fixed, solid position. My shoulder muscles got sore. Started to quiver. But I kept the megaphone in place. And there it was. A human voice. Unintelligible. But human. Low in tone. Male. Tense.
I lowered the megaphone and whispered. “There’s no one that I can sense inside the house. But there’s a man out on a boat.”
I stared out at the water. The moon reflection was to the south from where I’d pointed the megaphone. The area where the voice had come from was to the right, northwest. There was a stand of trees on the shore, blocking the view, nothing but blackness.
I whispered, “Let’s walk down to the shore. Try to stay in the tree shadows. We’ll come up behind the boathouse. We can probably see the boat from there.”
I held Spot’s collar and let him lead. The ground between the house and the shore appeared to be a rock garden, paths between boulders, cedar trees trimmed into sculptures, pools of water, and cascades down to the lake. The tree shadows fell to the side of the garden. The moonlight was bright. We were in full view, if anyone was watching. I bent down to minimize my profile and moved fast to the boathouse. The others followed my lead.
We came up behind the boathouse building. From that position, I couldn’t see the lake, which meant that anyone on a boat couldn’t see me. The boathouse opened on a small harbor formed by an arcing breakwater of rocks that had been piled high. The best view would be from out on the breakwater, but that would put us in full moonlight, and I didn’t want to take that risk. Diamond, Street, and Evan huddled with Spot and me in the shadow of the boathouse wall.
I said. “If we step out, we’ll be in view and lit by the moon. So I’m going to peek around the corner.”
I saw Diamond nod.
I kept my hand on Spot’s collar, moved to the corner of the building, and looked out.
The trees that had earlier blocked the view were now off to our side. The lake was visible to the northwest. Floating about 50 yards offshore were several boats, all moored to buoys, all pointing west, into the wind, held in place by their buoy lines and the gentle force of the wind. The main boats I could see were motor cruisers with cabins. Two were in the 36-foot range, much larger than the boat that Jonas Montrop had been tied up in. One was closer to 40 feet. It had multiple cabins and a flying bridge. The sterns of each boat faced toward us on the shore. Beyond them were some other, smaller craft.
“Do you see anything?” Diamond whispered.
“Multiple boats, including three cabin cruisers, moored about fifty yards offshore. Because of their mooring arrangement, I can’t tell which, if any, of the boats belong to this house or to neighboring houses. I also can’t see any lights, so I can’t tell which boat is the one with the person I heard.”
“How would someone get to the boats?” Evan whispered.
“I can see a dinghy to the side of the biggest boat, so that’s probably where the person is. The boat sterns are facing us, but their lights are off. Someone could be sitting there in the dark, looking right toward us, and we’d never know. Take a peek and see if either of you can tell?”
Evan looked out from behind the boathouse corner. After a half minute, she pulled back behind the corner and shook her head. “No movement, no lights, nothing,” she said.
Street and Diamond leaned out next, but shook their heads after they pulled back.
“I want to listen,” I whispered. “But I worry the megaphone will catch the light. So let’s move around the back of the boathouse to the other side. Maybe there’s some cover there that will block the moonlight from shining on the megaphone.”
I motioned for Street to take Spot’s collar. Then I moved to the side, stepping carefully on stones and over shore bushes. The others followed. We had to step around an aluminum canoe that was propped upside down at the back wall of the boathouse.
“Careful,” I whispered, pointing at the canoe. “If we bump this thing, it will make a boom that could be heard for a mile.”
At the corner of the boathouse were some large boulders. I got down on my knees and positioned myself so that I could look between the boulders. I aimed the megaphone toward the boats, and put my ear to the small opening.
Again, there were wave sounds, water lapping at boat hulls, and some other sou
nd I couldn’t understand. It was like a small animal making little grunts. Or maybe the waves were causing two of the boats to rub up against each other.
I kept quiet, focusing on the sounds. They repeated. Waves and more waves and more squeaking grunts.
It almost sounded like whimpering.
Then came hushed words that stopped my breathing.
“Shut up, or I’ll tape your nose, and you’ll asphyxiate!”
I turned and whispered to Diamond and Evan. “There’s at least two people aboard one of the boats. It sounds like one is holding another captive.”
As soon as I said it, I realized that I’d made a mistake. Evan grabbed the megaphone from me, got down between the boulders, and pointed the megaphone at the boats. She put her ear to the small end.
I could hear her breathing, labored with worry and anticipation of the worst that she could imagine. There was nothing we could do but to wait. Evan was rigid with tension. She adjusted the angle of the megaphone a bit as if trying to hone in on a signal. She paused. Adjusted the angle again. Her breathing was still labored but regular.
Then she gasped.
SIXTY
Evan cried, a muffled shriek. She dropped the megaphone and turned her face to the ground, her hands in fists at the sides of her head. “No, no, no, no! It can’t be!” she wailed in a panic.
“Quiet, Evan,” I said in a loud whisper.
“He has Mia! I’d recognize that whimpering anywhere. You have to stop him! Mia is the only thing I care about in the world!” She stood up in full view of the boat.
I grabbed her and pulled her down as she cried out. I put my hand over her mouth, held her on the ground, and whispered into her ear.
“If you want to save Mia, you have to be quiet! We can figure this out, but only if you stay calm! If he hears us, he’ll likely start his engine and race off across the lake. Do you understand me?! You have to be quiet and stay in control!”
Evan’s body shook beneath me, tears dripping from her face.
“Nod if you can be quiet, and I’ll let go of you.”
She nodded.
I took my hand off her mouth. Evan curled up in a fetal position on the rocks and sobbed, her fist in her mouth to quiet the sound. Street bent down and put her hands on Evan, rubbing her back, talking in low tones in her ear.
“Okay, let’s make a plan,” I whispered. “Can you hear me, Evan?”
She nodded again but didn’t move from where she lay on the rocks.
“There’s that canoe behind the boathouse. The paddles are probably inside the boathouse. We can paddle out to the boats, figure out which one they’re on, and board it.”
“It’ll never work,” Diamond said. “Like you said, a canoe makes noise. If we’re out there paddling around trying to figure out which boat they’re on, he’ll hear us for sure, and he’ll escape.”
Diamond peeked out at the boats. “If we can determine which boat they’re on, we could paddle out and circle around so that we’re approaching the bow. He’s less likely to see us that way. We could make a fast approach to the occupied boat. Even if he heard us, we could maybe get aboard before he has a chance to start the engine and get away.”
“How can we figure out which boat they’re on?” I asked. “The voices could be coming from any of those three boats. We’d need something much more directional than this megaphone.”
Evan pushed herself up into a sitting position. She ran the back of her hand across her wet cheeks. She was still breathing hard, but she seemed to be in control. Even in the moonshadow, I sensed a change on her face. Her expression had morphed from fear to something else.
Anger.
“I can go,” she said in a low voice.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I can do a Night Swim. It might be too far to do it in one breath. But if I’m very careful, I can rise up slowly when I get halfway out. I’ll take a second breath and submerge for the rest of the swim. If I quietly surface out past the boats, then I can swim up to each boat and listen. When I figure out which boat they’re on, I can signal you somehow. Then you can paddle in fast, directly to the right boat.”
“The water’s too cold,” Diamond said. “If anyone should go, it should be me. I’ve got more body mass. I could last longer before hypothermia sets in.”
“Diamond, Evan’s talking about a special type of swimming she’s been practicing. Swimming underwater while holding her breath. She’s part of a group that does this.”
Diamond leaned to the side and glanced out toward the boats. “But those boats are too far to swim to underwater.”
“No they’re not,” Evan said. Her voice sounded hardened almost as if she were speaking through clenched teeth. “I could probably do that distance in the pool in one breath. Out here, two breaths. They’ll never know I’m coming up on them.”
I wanted to ask about the nightmares. I wanted to talk to Evan about her incapacitating fear of the lake, how open water at night gave her terrors. But she didn’t mention it, so I didn’t. Maybe if she could make Diamond confident that she could do the swim, it would help give her the boost she would need to do what she’d never been able to do in the past.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Evan?” I said.
“I have to,” she said.
I wanted to say, ‘But you never completed the Night Swim.’ I didn’t want to lose Evan to a wild, misguided desire to rescue her sister. But I kept my mouth shut. There are times when a person is trained and practiced and finally ready to go into battle to fight for a heroic cause. Those are not the times to question their resolve.
Diamond said, “People have just a few minutes in water of this temperature before they lose all control of their muscles.”
Street put her hand on Diamond’s arm as if to stop him from verbalizing any more of his doubts.
Evan looked at him. “My sister Mia may have just a few minutes left before this psycho sticks a spear through her or worse. I’m going. How should I signal you?”
I remembered that I’d replaced my pocket penlight with one of the new key fob LED lights. I got it out, took it off my keys, and handed it to her. “I think it’s waterproof. You can carry it in your hand or in your teeth. We’ll circle around and come in from out in the lake. We’ll watch the water near the bows of the boats. Try to get as close as possible to the boat with the man and Mia and then flash the light several times. If the light doesn’t work, slap the water with your open palm. We’ll hear that, and because the moon will be behind us, we should be able to see you. The man on the boat will think the slap is a fish jumping.”
“Okay,” Diamond said. “I’ll call it in and tell my deputies to come with lights and sirens off.”
Street said, “I’ll run back to the locked gate and wait for them. I can bring them out here and show them where you are. Maybe they can find another dinghy to get out to those boats.”
“Thanks, Street,” I said. “Be careful.”
Street squeezed my hand, turned to Evan and gave her a hug, then ran off into the darkness. I held onto Spot so he wouldn’t run after her.
Evan looked at Diamond and me. “I won’t go until you find the paddles and are ready.”
“Right.” I was about to walk around to the boathouse door and see about breaking the lock to get the paddles when I stopped and looked under the canoe. There they were, a small gift against a world of despair.
“Diamond,” I said, “let’s carry this over to the water. Then we’ll get you and Spot situated in the canoe and have the paddles ready before I get in and Evan begins her swim.”
We walked bent over as we carried the canoe behind the boulders, minimizing our exposure to the view from the boats. We lowered the canoe down so that the bow was in the water and the stern rested on a sandy part of the beach.
“You want me in the bow?” Diamond whispered.
“Sure, unless you’re good with a J-stroke.”
“That sounds like something for man
euvering from the stern,” he said. “I better take the bow.”
“Okay. I’ll hold the canoe as you climb in.”
Diamond stepped from the beach sand into the stern, then, steadying himself with his hands on the gunnel, he walked forward, stepping over the thwarts, and settled himself into the front seat. There was a length of line tied to the canoe’s bow ring. Diamond quietly coiled it and set it down at his feet.
Next was Spot. It took a little coaxing, but he’d been in lots of different watercraft. This was just another version. When he was lying down between the thwarts, I turned toward Evan.
“Once we get your signal and board the boat and make sure that Mia is safe, you can climb aboard. Or, if you’re too cold, I’ll haul you aboard. You’ll want dry clothes.”
“So I should give them to you,” she said. Her voice wavered a bit as if she were already shivering.
“I think that would be best.”
She put my LED light between her teeth, untied her shoes, and handed them and her socks to me. Next came her jacket, then her shirt. Last, were her pants. I took them all and stashed them under the stern seat in the canoe.
I walked back to Evan. Despite the fact that she was wearing her bra and underwear, I knew she felt naked, physically and emotionally. She was no doubt terrified by the prospect of the freezing water to come.
I put my hands on her bare shoulders. Her skin was already cold and blue-white in the moonlight. She was shivering in earnest.
“You can do this, Evan,” I said. “When we’re out there in that canoe, I know that when I look over toward those boats, I’ll see you flash the light or slap the water with your hand.” I gripped her shoulders harder. “I believe in you.”
