She swam until her arms ached. Finally her feet hit sand.
She blinked and wiped the water from her eyes. Those might be trees in the distance. One of the barrier islands. A lone, abandoned building stood in the center.
The Uppards, she realized.
She’d reached a sandbar. Not too much farther.
She squinted against the water, trying to spot any sign of trouble. A sign of Billy or Rich.
She saw no one.
Samantha didn’t know how long that would last, though. She had to hurry.
Using the last of her energy, she swam to shore and dragged herself onto land. Rain stung her eyes and she coughed, water coming from her lungs.
The trees. She had to get to the trees.
Forecasters were calling for a rising tide. This whole island could disappear under water soon, for all she knew.
Each step felt as though she was slogging through quicksand.
She couldn’t go to the house. That would be the first place they’d look.
Finally, she reached a grove of live oak trees. She sank to the ground beside one of them.
Lightning cracked in the distance.
That’s when she spotted someone else coming ashore.
She braced herself.
The worst wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
EIGHTEEN
John saw the boat remains floating in the water.
Was that the boat where Samantha had been?
Alarm rushed through him. Was she okay?
He slowed his boat and searched the water for a sign of life. Life jackets and coolers floated all around the structure.
He didn’t see any bodies, no signs of death.
But capsizing in a storm like this wouldn’t leave very many survivors.
He thought of Connor. Connor couldn’t lose his mom. He needed her.
If John was honest with himself, he needed Samantha, too. The thought of life without her caused an ache to form in his chest.
He slowly puttered the boat, fighting violent waves. If there was a chance Samantha was out here, he had to stay.
A head bobbed to the surface.
John stopped his boat beside the figure.
Rich.
Reaching into the water, John pulled his so-called friend from the waves. Just as the man sprawled at the floor of his boat, the bay growled angrily. This wasn’t good. The storm was getting closer. No one would survive out on this water for much longer, especially not in a small fishing vessel like this one.
“Where’s Samantha?” John grabbed Rich’s shirt—drenched from the rain—and made sure the man saw the intensity in his gaze.
“I don’t know.” Rich coughed, water gurgling in his throat. “The boat flipped. The storm. I couldn’t see anything.”
“Why would you do this?”
Rich shook his head, his voice now hoarse, his skin pale. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand hard decisions. I just thought you had more backbone than that. Did you volunteer to help me because you knew Samantha was here?” The timeline didn’t add up in John’s mind. What was he missing?
“No, I promise you. That wasn’t the case. Billy didn’t approach me until a few days ago on the docks. I told him no initially, that I couldn’t do that to you. But then he offered more money, money that would go a long way.”
“Sounds as if you’re making one bad decision after another.” He didn’t have time to talk about all of this now.
More water lapped over the side of the boat. He ignored the storm a minute. He needed answers. Now.
“To the mainland.”
“What was Billy planning to do with Samantha?”
“He was going to torture her until she handed over some information. You don’t want to mess with this guy.”
Another wave lapped over the boat and it teetered. It was just a matter of time before John’s boat suffered the same fate as Billy’s. He had to get to the closest island and now.
* * *
Samantha remained low as she looked for the figure in the distance. Billy. Billy was on the island.
But where had he gone?
A gust of wind had peppered her eyes with sand and in that brief moment, he’d disappeared.
The island wasn’t that big and a pool of water had already gathered near her feet. Unless she reached the highest point of land, she was going to be covered in water before the end of this storm. Islands like this didn’t have any caves or any other means for shelter. They were basically oversize sandbars that had survived for years.
And if the storm didn’t do her in, Billy would. Her options weren’t looking good.
Where had he gone? She crouched behind the tree, trying to see him in the flashes of lightning. But he’d disappeared. Somehow in those dark moments when waters had been pouring like a stream from the sky, he’d vanished.
The sounds of the storm masked any telltale signs that he was getting closer. She needed to get to higher ground yet remain low in the brush at the same time.
The wind sent a branch toppling to the ground. It narrowly missed hitting her.
Her heart beat even faster.
The magnitude of the storm took her breath away, and she knew the worst wasn’t even on them yet.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Please, Lord, protect me. Help me. Give me wisdom. Watch over Connor. Keep him safe.
As lightning flashed again, she spotted Billy. He was limping. His forehead was bleeding. And he was coming her way. Only a few feet away for that matter.
“Samantha!” he called. “I’ll find you. And I’ll kill you, if it’s the last thing I do!”
* * *
It was a risk. John knew that. But this island seemed the most likely one where Samantha may have washed up.
He prayed he was right. Because otherwise he’d just left the woman he loved out in the bay to die.
He loved.
The thought seemed so foreign, yet so familiar. He had been letting his past hold him back. He had to remedy that and tell Samantha how he felt. But first he had to find her.
And he had to figure out what to do with Rich. If he tied the man up, he’d basically be handing him a death sentence. If he didn’t tie him up, he’d be handing himself a death sentence.
Instead, he knocked Rich out, dragged him onto the sand, and prayed he’d remain unconscious for long enough that John could find Samantha.
He lumbered onto the sand. The rain and sand blinded him. He shielded his eyes. The downpour had erased any footprints, any sign that someone had been here. If he was going to find Samantha, it would be more like a game of hide and seek. The only sense he could use was sight. His hearing, smell, everything else was blinded by the storm raging around him.
The water around the island was already up to the dune grass. There was usually a skirt of sand around the island. That meant the water was rising rapidly. It was only a matter of time before the whole thing was under water. He had to move quickly.
This would not be a replay of Alyssa. This wouldn’t be the same story, only with a flood instead of a fire.
He pushed through the brush at the center of the island. The whole place was probably only an acre, if he had to guess. There was evidence that fishermen and partyers had been out here. There were soda cans and potato chip wrappers and old fishing line. He could barely make out anything in the storm, but every once in a while, he stumbled over something. Too bad there was nothing that would give evidence that Samantha was here.
He paused as he spotted something. Was that the purple bandana that Samantha always wore? Maybe this was the right place.
Hope surged in him, renewing his search. This place wasn’t that big. He could search it quickly. He wa
sn’t sure what he’d do once he found her. Going back out on the water wouldn’t be safe. Neither would staying here. But he’d cross that bridge when he got there. Right now he just had to find her.
Lightning flashed in the sky. It illuminated a figure in the distance.
Billy.
John had done his own internet search on him. He’d seen his picture.
Right now, the man had the look of a hunter searching for prey.
John ducked behind some thick underbrush. He needed to keep his eye on the man.
Because that man was obviously trying to keep his eyes open for Samantha.
* * *
Samantha heard Billy call her again.
She didn’t have to look at him to know he had a crazy look in his eyes. He’d always had a bit of a crazy look about him. She’d just never realized it until she discovered his secret. Before that, she’d just thought he’d looked passionate and curious and a bit mischievous. Once she knew the truth, everything else made sense.
Billy was a psychopath. He was the scariest kind of psychopath. He was the one who could so easily conceal the truth from others, to the point where they trusted him with their lives. That’s how he became a cop.
“Where are you, Samantha? You might as well give up. Make this easier on yourself. I know you’re trembling with fear right now. We can put an end to all of this right here and now. You don’t have to live like this anymore. In fact, you don’t have to live at all.”
She pressed herself against the tree, hoping he didn’t see her. One flash of lightning, one wrong move could give away her location.
“You just need to face your fate, Samantha. You’ve known from the start that at the end of all of this, you were going to die. Aren’t you tired of being scared? It’s exhausting, isn’t it?”
She could hardly breathe. She could hear him getting closer and closer. It was only a matter of time before he found her. Then she’d be a goner. She had nothing to defend herself with. She had nowhere to go.
The one thing she’d done right before she’d attempted to leave was putting her cell phone into a plastic bag. She’d had the foresight to know it could very well rain on her on the trip to the mainland. She wanted to keep her phone close, just in case of an emergency.
This definitely counted.
She pulled it out from her back pocket, relief washing through her when she saw a signal. The plastic bag had worked.
“Thank You, Jesus,” she whispered to heaven.
She texted both John and Nate, letting them know where she kept the safe-deposit box that held all the evidence implicating Billy. At least, at the end of this, they could hopefully catch him and put him behind bars where he belonged.
That was the only positive outcome she could see.
She hoped Connor was okay.
Maybe John would take care of him like she’d ask him to if anything happened to her. John was so good with him. And Samantha had no one else.
Though she hadn’t wanted to admit it, every time she closed her eyes she’d seen images of happily-ever-after, and each one had included John. She’d tried to deny it; she’d tried to push the images away. But they’d been there. They’d warmed her heart only to leave her reeling as she’d realized that it wasn’t a possibility.
With trembling hands, she pulled her phone out again. She shouldn’t do this. She knew she shouldn’t. But she had to tie up loose ends, and this was the only way she knew how to do that.
She texted John, asking him to look after Connor, saying she was sorry for all the trouble she’d brought upon him. She ended with, You really came to mean a lot to me. If circumstances had been different...both of our circumstances... Between the storm and the isolated location, she could only pray all the messages she’d sent had gone through.
Just as she hit Send, she felt a shadow fall over her.
She looked up and Billy was standing there, a gleam in his eyes and a gun in his hands.
* * *
John spotted Billy. Saw the gun.
He shifted from his barricade.
And there.
There was Samantha.
She was alive.
Thank goodness, she was alive!
But she wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t do something.
Before Billy could realize what was happening, John darted from his hideout. He tackled the man until they both landed on the ground with a thud.
The gun flew from Billy’s hands.
“John!” Samantha gasped.
He wrestled with Billy.
She scrambled toward the gun just as Billy sat up and threw a right hook at John. John dodged him and tackled him back down. They thrashed on the wet, sopping ground, each fighting for survival.
Samantha grabbed the gun. Her hands trembled on the weapon. In one swift move, Billy kicked the firearm from her.
It scattered into a puddle. Samantha began crawling toward it.
Billy lunged, grabbed Samantha by the wrist. “Not so fast, sweetie.”
Her face twisted with pain.
John grabbed him and slammed him to the ground again.
The wind beat through the trees. The sand became an obstacle within itself as it flew through the air, stinging them with its minuscule pebbles. Limbs from the trees cracked and nosedived to the ground until the wind caught them and they became projectiles. There was nothing safe about being out here. Not Billy. Not the weather. Not Samantha—at least not where his heart was concerned.
Billy, in a burst of strength, threw John off him. In one swift move, he stretched his arm and reached for the gun, pointing it at Samantha’s head.
“All of this is going to end now,” he shouted over the howling winds.
John raised his hands. “Don’t hurt her.”
“At least one man in her life has been noble and loyal.” Billy sneered.
John saw a man who had nothing to lose. The police had already found him out. He was on the run. He had no reputation to tarnish—it had already been destroyed. People with nothing to lose did foolish, reckless things.
“It’s not too late to turn things around. It’s never too late,” John urged.
“Says the one who let his wife die at the hands of an ex-boyfriend. I’m not sure how reliable you are.”
“He would never do what you and Anthony and the rest of your friends did,” Samantha shouted over the wind. “He’s ten times the man any of you ever were. What happened to Alyssa was the fault of a man just as deranged as you are.”
“It’s going to be really hard on him then when you die at the hands of someone else just as deranged. Imagine the guilt he’s going to carry with him. Now and forever.” Billy smiled sadistically. “Unless he dies here, too. But then again, what fun would that be? It’s only fun if people have to live with the consequences of their choices.”
“You’re sick,” Samantha muttered. Despite the fear in her voice, her eyes were narrowed and filled with disgust. John also saw the worry there. That was Samantha. Always worrying about other people and how her life would affect them. There were worse qualities she could have.
“Enough of this talk. Let’s get down to business.”
John saw Billy’s finger flex on the trigger. That’s when he dove at the man, determined to save the one other woman in his life he could see himself loving forever.
Just as his body collided with Billy’s, he heard a shot ring out.
His heart sank as he feared the worst.
* * *
Samantha stared at John, her breath unable to reach her lungs. What had just happened?
Billy crumpled in front of John, red staining his shirt. Somehow, he’d ended up shooting himself, Samantha realized.
He stared into space for a moment, then his body went sti
ll.
He was dead.
In one swift move, Samantha darted across the soggy landscape and fell into John’s arms.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” John whispered, his breath coming in rugged gasps.
“Connor?”
“He’s fine.”
“Thank goodness. You shouldn’t have come. How’d you know?”
“Connor saw what happened and got me.”
“I’m sorry, John. Fear makes a person react in ways they wouldn’t ordinarily react. I was going to run—”
“It’s okay. We’re together now. That’s all that matters.”
She pulled some more rain-slathered hair away from her eyes. The wind strengthened, sending a tree toppling close by.
“Though we’re not out of the woods, yet,” John muttered. “We can’t risk getting back in the boat. Our chances are better here.”
“Our chances aren’t good period, are they?”
He said nothing. “We’re going to get through this. The coast guard will send someone out, once the storm weakens some. It’s too dangerous right now.”
“John, look.” She pointed in the distance. The water around the island had risen more. Soon, the whole island would be a part of the bay. A storm had formed it, and a storm would probably destroy it.
He grabbed her hand. “Come on. We’ve got to find higher ground. Then we’ll hunker down. This storm is only going to get worse.”
“Connor?” she asked.
“Tanner’s family is watching him and Rusty. They’ll be fine.”
At least Connor was in a better position than she and John. He’d be safe from the storm at Tanner’s. Still, the comfort of the thought didn’t begin to compare to the agony she felt when thinking about never seeing him again.
They sloshed through the landscape. At one time, it probably would have seemed rugged and untouched. Now it seemed like a grave. A watery grave.
They found a patch of land that wasn’t covered in water, and crouched beside a tree there. “Stay here for a minute,” John told her.
Desperate Measures Page 18
