I stepped out of the truck for some privacy and dialed Deloris. The connection was not great. But she knew it was me, and spoke quickly. “It’s about time! You need.… But Trudy … Careful.” The tone of her voice relayed urgency, but I only caught fragments.
“Please repeat” was all I asked, hoping for a moment with enough reception to understand what Deloris was trying to convey.
“First time … right track … she’s not at school. She’s,” Deloris faded out again, leaving me with more questions than answers.
“Try again,” I said, hopeful that I would pick up a few more words to make some sense of what she was saying.
This time all I heard was “Watch your back” before I lost her altogether. I stared at my phone, waiting for service. I dialed again. This time Deloris answered with “Trudy … percent match with lab report,” before the static took over. I wandered around on top of the hill, staring at my phone and hoping to find a spot from which to make a third call. Clark had opened his window, I assumed to listen in on my conversation, which made me nervous. Now, there was a good chance that Trudy was going to be put back under the microscope from what I had heard in the broken connection of my call to Deloris. I walked a bit farther away and hoped to be out of hearing range when and if I was able to place one more call to Deloris for clarification.
I felt true compassion for Clark and Joan Proctor, and assumed that they knew something, and would do anything to protect their daughter. I should have been suspicious of Clark’s willingness to help me with a ride, I thought, after putting them through the ordeal and embarrassment of dragging Trudy off-island. He must surely be hoping that I am way off track, I thought. And he would have been correct had Deloris not gotten the partial message across.
As I approached his open window, I saw that he had pulled a shotgun out from behind the seat. “A big snowshoe rabbit just scampered across the road here and behind that stand of trees,” he said quietly. “Mind if I jump out and take a look? Joan makes a mean stewed rabbit.”
“Go for it,” I said as I climbed back into the passenger side. Clark had left the truck running for heat, which felt good on my feet and lower legs. I would be careful about how I asked, but needed to learn where to find Trudy in the event that I had not misunderstood what Deloris was trying to tell me. I needed the cooperation of Joan and Clark more than ever. And I was running out of time to get back in their good graces and get information before I needed to board the boat.
I continued to stare at my phone hoping for a miracle. My battery was nearly drained, which was not surprising as the phone had been searching for service most of the day. I dug around in my bag for my twelve-volt charger and opened the truck’s ashtray hoping to find a functional outlet into which to plug it. Every muscle in my body tensed. I felt heat surge from within my chest as my pulse raged with the excitement and fear of what I saw in the bottom of the ashtray. I picked it up to be sure. There was no mistaking it. I held a thick, masculine, gold chain with a pendant forged in a halfheart shape. I turned the piece over and read the inscription. “And back.” Mrs. Kohl’s mystery lover had been revealed. And if my instincts were right, so had her murderer.
I slipped the necklace into my hip pocket, pulled my gun from its holster and stepped out of the truck. I needed to place Clark under arrest and get him off-island on the boat that would arrive in approximately ninety minutes. Keeping the pickup truck between myself and the trees where Clark had disappeared in pursuit of game, I waited for him to emerge. When he didn’t, I decided to be proactive and go in after him. Aware that he might have his gun sighted on me, I moved quickly in the random zigzags that make the kill zone difficult to hit.
I leaped over a snowbank like taking a hurdle, landing on my feet. I picked the biggest tree on the edge of the thickly wooded area, and dove behind it. I pulled the hammer back, cocking my gun, and waited, not daring to poke my head around and risk being shot. Within a minute, I heard the truck door open. I peeked out to see the interior light on in the cab of the truck with the passenger door open. Clark stood leaning into the truck. I knew he had to notice the ashtray being open and the necklace being gone. He stood and slammed the door shut with great force, and shouldered his shotgun, sending me back into full hiding. Footsteps crunched in the frozen snowbank, then stopped. I knew that it was optimal to take Clark alive in order to discover the whole truth and prosecute all guilty parties. I wondered if full disclosure and closure were worth risking my own life. A man who could brutally murder a lover was certainly capable of shooting me. And from what I had learned so far about island justice, he could probably make my death look like a hunting accident or even self-defense. The necklace in my pocket was the single key to linking the murder to Clark Proctor. And I knew that I was the only one besides Clark who held that key. If he could do away with me, he would likely be off scot-free.
“You have something that belongs to me, Detective Bunker,” he yelled. “Your handgun is no match for this twelve-gauge.” I stayed behind the tree and remained silent. “I know what you are thinking. But you are wrong.” A long silence, during which I imagined him shouldering the shotgun in my basic direction, waiting for a shot, was followed by, “Jesus Christ! Come out! I won’t hurt you.” I didn’t believe him. I had to follow my gut. To do otherwise, and be wrong, would be fatal.
I sat in the snow with my back pressed against the trunk of a large spruce tree for what seemed like forever. I held my loaded gun in a ready position in case Clark decided to flush me out of hiding. I could hear the truck’s engine idle over the stiffening breeze that sounded like a hoarse, raspy whisper. I glanced at my phone to check the time. Nearly an hour had passed when I heard the truck door open and close, indicating that Clark was now within the cab. I knew that I might eventually have to make a break and head deeper into the woods if there was any chance of making it to the dock to catch the last boat off with or without Clark. As I sat and waited, I contemplated my options. I could come out with my hands up and hope that Clark was telling the truth about harming me. Nope. I could come out suddenly with my gun blazing and hope to get the upper hand in a shootout. Nope. I would be an easy target. I needed backup, period.
As I looked at my phone and prayed for one more bar of service so that I could place a call for help, I heard a second vehicle approach. As the vehicle crested the hill, the bang of a backfire startled me. Surely that must be Manny in the ALP truck, so prone to backfiring and sputtering, I thought. I heard the crunching of tires and realized that Manny had joined Clark in the pull-off area very close to where I sat. I strained to hear what was said. I could hear the two voices, but could not make out words. When I heard laughter, I figured that Manny was not in on the “hunt,” and that Clark would get rid of him as quickly as he could. I assumed that Manny had the decency to be concerned about me as I had not returned to ALP, nor had I collected the Range Rover from the side of the road. Now was my chance, I thought, to make a move. My best-case scenario now was to get off Acadia Island safely, and return with reinforcement to arrest Clark Proctor.
I slithered on my belly through the snow, making my way deeper into the woods where I could stand and not be seen. When I felt that I was safely behind a pile of blown-down trees, I stood cautiously and looked toward the road. Sure enough, Clark was sitting with the shotgun perched on the sill of the open window, and Manny was pulling away. I trudged deeper into the woods, knowing that if Clark wanted to track me through the snow, I would get a clear shot at him. He would realize that and would not leave his truck. This gave me confidence to travel. I walked in the direction that I assumed was parallel to the road, down a steep hill and toward the dock area. There was no way to make the late boat. But if I could get to the dock, I could commandeer a boat to get back to Green Haven with. I recalled that two scallop boats were on moorings when I arrived this morning, and knew that I could sneak aboard one after dark. I just needed to remain in hiding until then.
I was getting really cold, and wished I
had the hat and gloves that I had left in Clark’s truck. I took off my coat and sweater, wrapped the sweater around my head, and quickly put my coat back on. I had to keep moving to keep from freezing. The sun set, taking with it the bit of warmth it held in mid-winter. Dusk was quickly followed by pitch blackness.
I made my way to the top of a small knoll and pulled my phone out for one last look. Wow! A random spot of cell service made my heart race as I dialed Deloris. My heart sunk as I heard a busy signal. I quickly dialed the only other number I knew by heart: the café. My hands were now shaking from cold. I felt weak. Mild hypothermia, I knew. Headlights came slowly down the hill as I hoped for the phone to ring before I lost the signal. To my amazement, the phone was answered on the second ring. “Hello. Harbor Café. Wally speaking.” My brother’s voice was clear and cheerful. I wondered if I was delirious.
A searchlight from the open truck window blazed a wide and bright beam very close to my position. “Wally, this is Jane. Is Audrey there?” I couldn’t believe I was speaking to my brother.
“Hi Jane. I love my new job!”
“Wally, this is an emergency,” I said trying not to panic and frighten my baby brother. “I need to talk with Audrey.”
“Audrey had to go. She left me to clean up and she is coming back for the dinner rush.”
“Is anyone there?” I asked, desperately hoping that he was not there alone.
“Nobody. I am responsible for holding down the fort. And filling up aaaalllllll of the salt shakers.”
Oh no, I thought, as the searchlight glanced by my right side. I ducked down hoping to stay out of sight, and said, “Wally. I need you to get a message to Audrey or any adult. Please, this is very important. I am on Acadia Island and need some help,” I said calmly. I knew it was senseless to give Wally any more detail. “Can you do that for me?”
“Of course I can. I’m not a baby. I am in charge while Audrey is gone.” He seemed hurt that I would question his ability to relay the message. But I couldn’t worry about that now. I had to get moving again before the searchlight found me. I thanked Wally quickly and told him I would see him later.
I hung up and moved as stealthily as I could through the snow, praying that Audrey would return to the café right away, and that Wally would get the message right. I tried Deloris again as I lumbered along. My legs were tired and cold. It was getting difficult to lift my feet, resulting in more of a shuffling than a stepping. The phone refused to connect. I considered trying to send a text message as doing so required little to no reception. Then I realized that the only numbers I knew were landlines. A full moon rose over an outline of jagged treetops, slightly illuminating my surroundings, and me, I realized as I saw the headlights coming back from the opposite direction.
The outline of a sprawling summer residence came into view, and I knew I had to get to it. I must be close to the dock. I hated being so unfamiliar with the lay of the land, and knowing that this was Clark’s home turf. He probably knew every nook and cranny of this rock, I thought as I reached the back of a main house. Maybe there would be a quick source of heat, or some food. At the very least, this unoccupied structure would serve as a hiding place until I could make a dash for the dock. The place was dark. I tried every door and window before realizing that it was senseless to go inside. There would be no power and no heat source. And Clark Proctor might be the caretaker, and if so would know the place like the back of his hand. My only chance was making it aboard one of the scallop boats.
I painstakingly made my way through another patch of woods and back out to the main road, where I could see the lights of the dock. I hadn’t seen headlights for a while and I was making good time walking. If anyone came along in a vehicle, I decided I’d take cover behind the high banks of snow on the side of the road. Fortunately, I knew that I would hear anything coming long before I saw them or they saw me. I couldn’t trust anyone. I wondered if Manny had indeed come looking for me when I didn’t return to the plant and the Range Rover hadn’t moved. And what was his interest in finding me? Pure concern, or some evil intent? I wondered if he might be a conspirator or accomplice in the Kohl case. At the very least, I had him on criminal threatening, harassment, and trafficking of pornography. I realized that I was a long way from knowing the answers.
I was at the edge of the parking lot above the dock when suddenly the lights lining the dock went black. I ducked between two parked cars to collect my thoughts. The lot was full of vehicles, some piled high with snow and others totally clean. I thought I heard an engine far off in the distance, but couldn’t be sure.
I worked my way from vehicle to vehicle, darting quickly. Was I being watched? I tore frozen sleeves from around my hands and grasped my gun again. The grip of my gun had been warmed by being tucked in my belt, and felt good in my frostbitten fingers. The whine of an engine grew louder. Now I could tell that it was a diesel, and it was just off of Acadia. I listened intently as I prayed for the engine to be that of a boat coming into Acadia rather than going by.
A car’s headlights flipped on behind me, illuminating everything around me and casting my shadow long and bold down the narrow road onto the dock. The truck’s engine started. I bolted.
With nothing else to hide behind, I had only one direction to go, and that was away from the truck that had started to drive toward me. I sprinted to the dock just as a green light rounded the headland at the outer harbor entrance. I recognized the green light as a running light signifying the port side of a vessel—the boat was indeed heading into the harbor. But the boat was still a long way from the dock, and moving slowly now.
The narrow walk that connected the parking lot to the dock was slick with ice. I slipped wildly as I tried to make the ramp that led to the float. I slid by the open gate and just missed grabbing a railing. The truck was literally on my heels now as I neared the end of the dock. Icy banks on either side forbid me to get out of the way. I had no choice than to go over the end of the dock and into the water—it was either that or get plowed into and pushed overboard. This was suicidal, I knew. But I took my chances rather than being run over by the truck.
I flung myself over and felt like I was in midair forever; floating down slowly to the surface of the black water. I had reacted in self-preservation, and had no plan. I heard the splash before I felt the breathtakingly frigid water. I was done for. I took two breaststrokes before surfacing, still gripping my gun in my right hand, and popped up under the dock.
I climbed onto a beam at the base of a piling to the dock’s deck, struggling to get my entire body out of the icy ocean that had the ability to kill me quicker than a bullet. I clung to the beam and tried to gather my thoughts. My only chance of surviving was to get back ashore without being seen. And to do that, I might have to force myself back into the water.
The truck had come to a stop at the end of the dock above my head. Headlights illuminated the harbor. I was now shivering uncontrollably, and trying to remain quiet. I looked at the float where the dinghies where tethered, and wondered if I could make it over and into one of them without being seen. I heard a second vehicle coming and knew it was Manny when I heard the loud bang come from the tailpipe. The ALP truck crept down onto the dock directly behind Clark Proctor’s truck. I heard two doors open and close. I watched movement between the planks of the dock above me and listened. I had to do something fast. I was becoming extremely hypothermic, and soon would not be thinking clearly. I had to force myself back into the water and pull myself along the pilings to reach the shore, where I could get out of the water while I still had the strength to move. I shoved my gun into the front of my waistband and took a couple of deep breaths.
As I pulled myself toward shore, I could hear the two voices clearly. The men were nervous. “Did you actually see her go into the water?” Manny asked.
“Yes. I even saw the splash when she hit the surface.”
“Well then, where the hell is she? She can’t be holding her breath.”
“Doe
sn’t matter. She is dead. Do you know how cold this water is? No way anyone could survive it,” Clark sounded like he was trying to convince himself of my demise. Well, I had bad news for him.
I felt my feet hit the ground. I stood in chest deep water and waded ashore slowly, being careful not to make a sound. I now held my gun and prayed that it had not been submerged long enough to wick through the bullet’s sealed cartridge, rendering the primer useless. The Glock was not my worry. Wet ammo was. State-issued firearms were equipped with marine spring cups designed to fire when wet. But I had seen reports where they had failed. I was counting on not becoming a statistic that required the gun manufacturer to go back to the drawing board.
Clark was armed, jumpy, and ready to pull the trigger. It was clear that the approaching boat was coming into the float. I stood in waist-deep water at the bottom of a ladder that led to the top of the dock behind the men. My skin had gone from stinging cold to burning hot, and it itched like nothing I had ever experienced. I was in extreme pain, but that was better than numb, which I assumed was next. “What the fuck is that boat doing here?” asked Manny.
“Looks like it’s coming into the dock. We’ll have to tell whoever is aboard that they can’t tie up here. I’ll send them to the dock in Smiths Cove,” Clark said.
“What if they are here looking for Bunker?”
“We’ll add to the body count,” Clark said with the calm of a cold-blooded killer. Before Manny could respond, the boat was nudging the floats. The men were distracted by lines being tied to cleats, giving me time to climb the ladder undetected and hide behind the ALP truck. Although I couldn’t see them, I heard familiar voices. Cal and the sheriff were here! I silently thanked Wally and knew that my life might be spared. But now there were three of us in danger. I couldn’t allow the feeling of relief to overwhelm me to the point of relaxing.
Shiver Hitch Page 23
