‘What happens to the cash if Gabe . . . doesn’t show up?’ mused Jude.
The yacht rolled on a wave. Jess grabbed the foldout table to steady herself. ‘Oh, I could kick myself for not being nosier. I never asked Gabe how he went from fixing boat engines and oiling decks to living the dream overnight. Never, ever questioned where he’d found the cash to walk away from everything without a backwards glance.’
‘He’d been saving up for years!’
Jess gave her brother a look. ‘Oh, please. He had a jarful of coins. That was his idea of saving. One time, I overheard Anita at the Castaway Diner telling somebody that she hadn’t any notion how Gabe’s shipwright business stayed afloat. Anita said he had the accountancy skills of a seagull. That didn’t stop somebody from handing him ten thousand dollars the week before we set sail, plus five thousand more in the time we’ve been gone. And five hundred dollars every month before that. I guess you’re right, Jude. Even good people have secrets.’
Jude said slowly, ‘But are they the kind of secrets that could have got him killed?’
Jess flinched at the word ‘killed’. It belonged to her mystery novels, where murderers and assassins were fictional. She hoped it would stay that way.
‘I s’pose we have to consider every possibility. Is there anything else in the pouch?’
‘Nada. Oh wait – there’s an inside pocket.’ Unzipping it, Jude tipped it up.
A piece of paper fluttered out. He caught it in mid-air and passed it to Jess.
She read aloud:
Gabriel,
A long time ago, you promised that you’d go to the ends of the earth to keep them safe. Circumstances have changed, and I’m afraid that is now necessary. You know what to do. Our arrangement will continue unchanged. God speed.
‘Them? ’ Jude said. ‘Are they talking about us?’
Jess was in shock. ‘What “arrangement”? Is this about the thousands pouring into Gabe’s bank account? Was Gabe being paid to protect us? To be our bodyguard?’
Jude studied the paper for clues. It appeared to be part of an email with the date, time and sender snipped out. Judging by the creases, Gabe had tossed it in the trash before changing his mind.
‘Jess, let’s say the man at the boatyard did recognize the skipper, that it wasn’t just a case of mistaken identity. Remind me what he said?’
‘His voice was muffled by the dinghy sail. I couldn’t even tell you what accent he had. All I made out was: “If you ever breathe a word . . . you’ll live to regret it.” ’
Jude began to pace the small saloon. ‘What if Gabe witnessed a crime on one of his night fishing trips. A smuggling operation. The smugglers might have paid him hush money to leave town in a hurry and to keep his mouth shut. Maybe they changed their minds later and decided to shut him up permanently.’
Jess shivered, suddenly chilled. ‘Doubt it. If the letter is about us, it means there was nothing spontaneous about our voyage. That there was a plan all along. And when Gabe got the email, he activated that plan. We left Florida in a rush for a reason.’
‘So, we’ve been on the run and we didn’t even know it?’ Jude was incredulous. ‘Then whoever is looking for us must be deadly dangerous. Why else would the skipper go to such lengths to keep us out of their clutches?’
‘They must have a long memory too. The person who wrote this message is calling on a favour from way back. If Gabe was being paid to take us to the ends of the earth to keep us safe, then somebody has been hunting us for years. Possibly our whole lives.’
‘Hunting us? But we’re nobody. Who are they?’
‘More importantly,’ said Jess, ‘who are we?’
4
THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA
‘Good morning, good morning. Anyone home?’ boomed a voice on a megaphone.
Sam exploded into action, his deep bark gunshot-loud in the confined space. He bounded up the steps and continued to sound the alarm from the deck.
A thirty-foot grey inflatable patrol boat loomed in the galley porthole.
Jude ducked out of sight. ‘It’s the marine cops! Two of them.’
Jess’s knees almost dissolved. ‘It’s good news – has to be. They’ve saved Gabe!’
Or bad news, was her second thought, but she banished it from her mind. ‘Worst-case scenario, they’re here to tell us which hospital he’s in.’
‘Worst-worst-case scenario, they can help to find him,’ said her brother. ‘Worst-worst-worst-case scenario, they can help us.’
Until that moment, the twins had refused to allow themselves to consider the grim fate that might befall them if their guardian didn’t return; if the police or social services discovered two just-turned-twelve-year-olds alone at sea.
Their eyes locked in shock.
But there was no time to think about it now. The yacht see-sawed on the surge as the police boat came alongside.
Jess snatched up her life jacket. ‘Jude, the box! If Gabe is back, he’ll kill us if he finds we’ve been raking through his private stash. I’ll hide it under the floorboard. You go stall the cops.’
‘No, you’re better with strangers. I’ll hide the box and be right up.’
‘GOOD MORNING, GOOD MORNING . . . PERMISSION TO STEP ABOARD.’
Jess flew up to the deck, realizing too late that she looked feral, her long dark hair salt-stiffened and tangled, her T-shirt stained with ketchup and sticky tears.
In the saloon below, Jude skidded on a piece of broken china as he rushed to gather the pouch’s contents, nicking a toe and banging his elbow on the cabin door.
Overhead, Jess grabbed the dog’s collar and leaned over the guard rail. She smiled her best, most innocent smile. ‘Shush, Sam! Morning, Officer – everything OK?’
‘Good morning to you, young lady. All is well? We’ve had reports of suspicious activity in the area.’
‘All is excellent,’ said Jess, taking in the easy grins and relaxed but alert body language of the two Caribbean policemen. No Gabe.
The cops were on the lookout for trouble, but not yet aware they’d found it.
‘We’re just chilling,’ added Jess for extra effect. ‘Another day in paradise. Nothing suspicious going on around here. How about you? Caught any criminals today? Rescued any sailors or swimmers?’
The officer at the helm laughed. ‘None so far. We had a fearsome north swell last night, and it musta scared off the smugglers and kept the tourists in their beds. Where’s your skipper? May we talk wit’ him?’
‘He has a migraine; he’s lying down,’ improvised Jess.
‘Want me to check on him?’ asked the cop.
Overhearing the question as he emerged on deck in two mismatched socks, one with a bloodied toe, Jude said hurriedly, ‘Oh hey, good morning, Officer. Sorry, the skip’s busy checking charts and making breakfast. He can’t come up right now.’
The lead cop cocked an eyebrow: ‘He’s lying down or he’s makin’ breakfast and checking charts? Can’t be all three.’
‘He must have made a miraculous recovery, which is great news because he promised to make us pancakes,’ lied Jess at the exact moment that Jude told them Gabe was also frying up hash browns ’n’ eggs.
‘Eggs and pancakes,’ affirmed Jess, shooting her brother a glare. ‘And hash browns. They’re yummy American fried potatoes.’
‘Yeah, he’s cooking up a storm.’ Cupping an ear, Jude bent over the companionway. ‘What was that, Skipper?’ He straightened. ‘Captain Carter says thanks for stopping by, Officer. Everything’s fine. We’re totally fine.’
The policemen exchanged glances. One opened his notebook and jotted down a few details. The other reached for the yacht ladder.
‘If the captain can’t come to us, we’ll come to him.’
‘No!’ cried Jess. ‘I mean, he’s at a delicate stage of cooking. The pancakes could be ruined.’
The cop was still smiling but instinct told him that all was not as it seemed. He put a determined boot on the la
dder of the yacht.
The Swiss Shepherd hung over the edge and snarled down at him. Jess pulled Sam away half-heartedly.
Undeterred, the policeman climbed.
Had his radio not burst into crackling life just as he put a hand on the yacht’s guard rail, the fate the twins feared most might have followed as swiftly and dismally as a guillotine. But it did. Judging by the speed with which he returned to his own boat, the call was a life-and-death emergency.
Before gunning the engine, the policeman cast a final hard stare at the children and dog, as if committing their faces to memory.
‘Enjoy your pancakes in paradise. Mind you take care now.’
Jude watched the patrol boat go until it was a speck on the turquoise horizon. His fists were clenched.
‘No way are they taking us to any orphanage or whatever they have these days. I’d rather die.’
Jess was trembling. ‘Don’t worry, ten thousand stallions couldn’t drag me to one of those places, and I wouldn’t let them touch you, either. What if they separated us?’
The twins said together: ‘We need a plan.’
A wedding party on a catamaran sailed into view, bass thumping.
Jude shielded his eyes from the morning glare. ‘First, we need to get out of here. Where should we go? Pick an island and let’s sail there.’
Jess was startled. ‘But what about Gabe? How will he find us if we move?’
‘Sis, we’ve drifted a long way. If Gabe did fall overboard, he could be washed halfway to Puerto Rico by now.’
And be fish food, Jude tried not to think, but a great white glided into his brain and filled it with images he wished he could unsee.
Jess said mutinously, ‘Just because we can’t tell the cops that Gabe’s lost at sea in case the child protective services snatch us into care, doesn’t mean we should give up on searching for him. He’s our family. I’m not going anywhere till we agree that unless we have concrete proof that Gabriel’s gone for good, we’ll keep looking for him.’
Jude itched to move on, to hear the snap of the sails. The thought of being imprisoned in an institution filled him with terror. He wanted to be long gone before the cops came sniffing around again, but to placate Jess he said: ‘Fine by me.’
He pulled on his new sailing gloves.
Jess stood her ground, arms crossed. ‘I’m serious, Jude. I plan to get to the bottom of what has happened to Gabe if I have to turn over every shell and pebble on every island in the BVIs—’
‘There are over sixty islands!’
‘Then we have to hope we discover the truth on the first, second or third island. So far, we have five mysteries to solve. Gabe’s disappearance is only one of them.’
She ticked them off on her fingers:
‘One: Did Gabe have an accident or was he the victim of foul play? Two: Who’s been putting money into his bank account? Three: Who sent the email? Four: Who is hunting us? And five: Why?’
‘Five mysteries? Is that all?’ Jude said lightly. ‘No problemo. We’ll be the FBI and Sherlock Holmes combined. Only, can we please get out of here before anybody else comes poking around, asking awkward questions? We can find another uninhabited island and lay low till we figure out what to do next.’
He took the email out of his pocket. ‘Here, you can keep this.’
The creased paper was cool in Jess’s hand, but rereading the words galvanized her like nothing else.
A long time ago, you promised that you’d go to the ends of the earth to keep them safe. Circumstances have changed, and I’m afraid that is now necessary. You know what to do . . .
God speed.
Jess zipped the email into the pocket of her life jacket. ‘Basically, we’re caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.’
Jude looked keenly at her. ‘I know which I’d choose. How ’bout you?’
For an answer, Jess put on her deck shoes. ‘Mainsail or headsail?’
Jude didn’t hesitate. ‘Headsail. If you slip the mooring line, I’ll deploy to port. Keep on the starboard side or you’ll get whacked in the head as the sail fills.’
He hopped into the cockpit and began working through his pre-departure safety checklist. Sam squeezed in beside him. Absent-mindedly, Jude stroked the dog’s ears.
Jess felt a rush of affection for her twin. He seemed both impossibly grown up and way too young to be in charge of an ocean-going vessel. ‘Jude, if Gabe has gone forever, what then?’
He glanced up, surprised. ‘We carry on.’
‘Carry on? And go where?’
‘Anywhere you fancy. Auckland, Ireland, San Diego, the Seychelles . . .’
‘What about school?’
‘You can teach us. We have the lesson plans. We can set a timetable and everything.’
‘And how do we survive?’
‘We just will,’ Jude said simply. ‘Maybe I don’t have a Yachtmaster Ocean Certificate, but I’m a decent sailor. I’ll skipper and you can crew.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ said Jess, temper flaring. ‘Why do you get to be the skipper?’
Jude grinned. ‘Because I’m the best sailor. I can read a chart, for starters. Anyhow, you’re the detective in this family. Figuring out five mysteries is a full-time job.’
‘That’s true,’ conceded Jess. ‘But what’ll do we do for cash?’ But even as she spoke, a plan was formulating in her mind. ‘Forget it, let’s worry about that later.’
Jude was staring in alarm at the flotilla of charter yachts, speedboats and dinghies sailing over the horizon. He said vaguely, ‘Yeah, we’ll worry about that later.’
He was putting on his gloves and deck boots when Jess spontaneously rushed over and hugged him. She cuddled Sam too, so he didn’t feel left out.
Jude smiled and gripped the helm. ‘So, we’re really doing this?’
‘Yes,’ Jess said, ‘we really are.’
Up in the bow, she braced herself against the pulpit and leaned out over the water, poised to reach the yellow buoy.
Jude was checking the wind direction. ‘Ready to slip?’ he called.
‘Ready, Captain.’
Diamond droplets of seawater speckled Jess’s arms as she hauled in the mooring line. ‘Clear,’ she shouted.
Jude released the furling line, and the blue and orange headsail filled with a whoosh.
The yacht responded like a racehorse on the gallops. Jess felt the boat’s power and grace as she rode the first waves.
The fresh-salted air rushed through her lungs and cleared her head. The knot in her chest loosened slightly. Jude’s point, about the yacht drifting for hours after the mooring buoy snapped when the freak wave struck, was a good one. Whatever Gabe’s fate, they wouldn’t find answers by staying in one place.
Their only hope of learning the truth was to move on.
Keeping low, she went over to the shroud, the wire rigging that secured the mast. It was her favourite place on the boat. Sam came to sit beside her as she dangled her legs over the side. The hull made music as it sliced through the wind and water.
Anchored, Jess had felt helpless. But as they sailed, her confidence seeped back. At the helm, Jude’s shoulders squared and he stood straighter too. For better or worse, they’d taken charge of their own destiny.
It wasn’t until hours later, when a pleasure cruiser packed with bronzed young people in Speedos and bikinis swerved dangerously near to them, causing Jude to take rapid evasive action, that the knot returned to Jess’s chest. This time it lodged there.
Beneath her life jacket, the email seared her heart.
Who had sent it? Why did they care?
Did they care, or were they also part of some strange and sinister plot?
For as long as she could remember, Jess had adored reading mysteries. She loved putting herself in the shoes of fictional detectives and trying to crack the clues and spot the villain before they did. But now that her guardian was missing and she had a starring role in her own mystery, she wasn’t sure where to begin.<
br />
How do you solve a mystery when that mystery is you?
5
DOLPHIN DREAMS
Gabe had always said there were only two types of people in the world: those who believed their glass in life was half empty, and those who were glad it was half full.
‘Not true,’ Anita, the Castaway Diner’s smart, vivacious manager, had told the twins back in Bantry Creek, pursing her lips in that particular way of hers. ‘Millions of folk don’t got nothing in their glass at all. Fact is, they don’t even have an empty paper beaker. I prefer a different saying: “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorns have roses.” Your mama was more of the rejoicing kind.’
On this, she and Gabe were agreed. Right from when the children were tiny, Anita and Gabe had encouraged them to honour their mother by rejoicing in the small things.
Rather than wallow in self-pity because their dad was dead and their mum had passed away one hour and twenty-three minutes after they were born, the twins had grown up believing they were blessed. An honest, good-hearted man had officially adopted them, and they had more unofficial adoptive ‘mothers’ than anyone in America.
Eleven, to be precise. The entire female staff of the diner.
Except for Tiffany, who everyone knew was a fully-fledged child-loathing, fire-breathing dragon.
‘Most kids have one soccer mom. You two got lucky and got a whole team,’ Anita would tell Jess and Jude with a laugh.
They also had two unofficial ‘fathers’, if one counted Ricardo and Al – respectively kitchen hand and grill operator extraordinaire. The men had appointed themselves as Gabe’s support crew and the twins’ back-up dads to ‘even out the numbers.’
Gabe and the twins had lived about a minute’s bike ride from the boatyard diner, in an airy timber rental house with a rocking chair on the porch. Since their guardian worked long and unsociable hours, the waitresses took it in turns to run Jess and Jude back and forth to school. They also supervised their homework, albeit with mixed success.
As a result, Jess and Jude ate most of their meals at the diner. In between, they hung out with Gabe at the boatyard, helping him oil decks, maintain rigging or scrape barnacles off hulls.
Wave Riders Page 3
