ShadowsintheMist

by Maureen McMahon

  I whirled and ran to the window, thrusting my head out, away from the smoke, gasping desperately for air.

  “Suzanna!”

  I looked down. Grant was making his way across the rocks below, while further along I saw Colin sprinting down the beach from the steps.

  “Grant,” I cried. “The lighthouse is on fire! I can’t get out!”

  “I’m coming up!” he shouted.

  “You can’t,” I began but he’d already disappeared.

  It was only a matter of moments before he burst into the room, slapping frantically at his clothing. He’d doused his shirt in water and wrapped it around his head. It was steaming and he hastily threw it off.

  I stared at him numbly, unable to move, feeling my legs become weak.

  “Oh, Grant!” I whispered. “Thank God!” My knees buckled.

  He was across the room in an instant, scooping me into his arms, holding me close so I could feel his heart beating and smell the singed hair on his chest. There was no need to speak. All the feelings that I once tried so desperately to deny broke free. It was as if our spirits met and merged. The sensation lasted only a few seconds but it was enough to topple all barriers. We both knew there was no turning back.

  It was a guttural yowl that broke us apart. Spinning around, we stared in mutual surprise at Kong, standing, tail erect, in the center of the room.

  “How did he get up here?” I exclaimed, through fits of coughing.

  “I don’t know,” Grant replied. “But I think he’s trying to tell us something. Look.”

  The cat began to pace in a circle, tail twitching, crying plaintively, his eyes fixed upward. I followed his gaze, my eyes streaming with tears from the smoke. I was just able to make out an outline in the ceiling.

  “Grant! Look there! I think it’s a way out.”

  He looked to where I pointed and hurried over. Sure enough, it was a trap door. By standing on tiptoe, he was just able to reach the handle. It took some moments of tugging but finally, in a whoosh of dust and cobwebs, it came free and a narrow set of steps concertinaed down.

  “Get up!” Grant said, giving me a quick shove.

  I didn’t need further prompting but climbed the rickety steps swiftly, squeezing through the small hole above to the very top of the lighthouse. I crawled away from the hole on my hands and knees, heedless of the shards of broken glass cutting my flesh, grateful for the wind gusting in from the lake. Grant was up behind me and pulled the trapdoor shut to keep the smoke contained below.

  I looked around me. In the center of the platform was the working part of the lighthouse—the beacon, its mirrors shattered, its lamp long since destroyed. The glass beneath my hands and knees was all that remained. Our perch was protected by a stone parapet that rose to about three feet. It was crumbled in parts and I saw huge cracks where stone and mortar were ready to fall to the sea below. Seagulls had left inordinate amounts of droppings, which had hardened over time and made the surfaces even rougher.

  Grant was inspecting the walls, peering down over the edge.

  “What will we do now?” I asked, exhausted from coughing, wiping my eyes with a piece of cloth I ripped from the skirt of my dress.

  But Grant didn’t answer right away. He waved an arm in a wide arc. I stood up and went to stand beside him. Far down below was Colin. He was holding a high-powered spear gun we kept in the boathouse for scuba fishing.

  “Go ahead, Colin!” Grant yelled. Then, he turned to me. “Get down low, Suzie. He’s going to shoot.”

  I dropped automatically. Within moments, I heard a pop and a chink.

  Grant cursed. “Not high enough,” he muttered, then yelled, “Hurry, Colin!”

  There was another pop and a zing and I saw the spear clatter across the floor a few feet beyond me. Grant grabbed the line attached to it and began to haul it in, hand over hand. I jumped to my feet and watched as he pulled up a rope that was affixed to the end of the line. I waved an arm at Colin. At the same time, I saw flames licking out the window of the room where we’d just been.

  “Grant, look!” I gasped.

  Grant’s face paled slightly. “We’ll have to hurry.”

  The frame around the spotlight was of steel and it was the only thing safe enough to tie the rope to.

  “You’re going down first,” Grant said. “Get out of that dress. It’s too cumbersome.”

  I didn’t argue but pulled the now torn and filthy gown off, watching, shivering, in my underwear, as he made a harness in the end of the rope. He held it open and I slipped it over my head and down around the back of my thighs.

  “I’ll lower you down,” he said, “but you’ll have to keep yourself steady. Just hold your feet out to keep from swinging into the wall. Are you okay?”

  I nodded, trying not to tremble, my teeth chattering with fright and cold.

  He didn’t give me time to think but lifted me over the edge of the wall, facing the open lake. This was the only unbroken expanse of wall. We couldn’t take the risk of the fire catching the rope aflame by going too near the window.

  I was petrified. Suddenly, I was dangling in midair, the rope biting unbearably into the flesh at the back of my legs, the wind icy on my skin. Far, far below I could see the dark shapes of the huge boulders surrounding the lighthouse base. The cresting waves were foaming around them, breaking over the tops. I clung tighter to the rope, feeling suddenly dizzy.

  “Don’t look down, Suzie!” Grant’s voice snapped me out of it. I looked up. He was there, above me, the rope wrapped around one arm and around his waist, his face tense and flushed with the effort of holding me in place.

  “Use your feet!” he yelled.

  I nodded and put my feet out tentatively, feeling the cold, slimy surface of the wall.

  “I’m going to lower you now! Try to walk down the wall using your feet!”

  I did as he said, moving my feet numbly, my heart stopping each time he let a loop of rope loose with a lurch. Slowly, very slowly, I made my descent. My hands throbbed with the ferocity of my grip. The bite of the rope was almost unbearable. Halfway down, I put out a foot and it slid on the wet surface. The movement overbalanced me and sent me spinning out of control. I heard Grant curse but all I could do was hang on as the wall came up to meet me with such force I thought I would black out.

  “Use your feet!” Grant bellowed. I heard the strain in his voice and it was this that made me thrust my legs forward to prevent a second collision with the wall. If I was struggling, I knew he was struggling more.

  “I’m okay now!” I yelled as best I could and was able to continue the slow descent.

  It seemed like hours before I reached the bottom. Here I encountered more difficulty. The breaking waves made the rocks inaccessible by land from this side of the lighthouse. I managed to cling to one huge boulder while I disengaged the rope. The spray and waves doused me instantly, the shock of the cold water helping to clear my head.

  “Stay where you are, Suzie!” Grant called. “I’m coming down!”

  He pulled the rope up and I watched, dazed, as he wrapped remnants of my mother’s wedding dress around his hands, then carefully climbed over the edge of the parapet. With one arm holding the rope under him, the other gripping it above, he took one look, then pushed off, abseiling down in three giant leaps. What took me an eternity, he managed in a matter of seconds! My relief was tangible. He clambered over to where I clung to the rock, his face mirroring his concern.

  “We’re nearly home, Suzie. Can you bear a short swim?”

  “I…I don’t know,” I said truthfully. My teeth chattered uncontrollably and the numbness in my fingers and toes was spreading. He crawled over nearer to me and pulled me into his arms. I was shaking fitfully and it was some moments before the warmth from his body made any impression. The crashing spume continued to douse us mercilessly Still, I felt safe in his arms and wished I could stay there forever. His lips touched my forehead, soft, reassuring.

  Then we heard the motor
.

  “It’s Colin,” Grant said, his voice relieved. “We won’t have quite so far to swim.”

  I looked out over the water and saw Beacon’s fishing boat chugging in. Colin was standing up at the wheel with a spotlight trained on us. He cut the engine to an idle some fifty yards off the rocks and hailed us.

  “It’s as close as I can get!” he yelled. “You’ll have to swim out.”

  Grant looked down at me, questioning. I nodded. “I’ll make it.”

  He gave me a quick squeeze, then raised an arm. “We’re coming,” he called. Then, to me, “When we get in the water, put your arms around my neck and just hang on.”

  “I can swim,” I insisted.

  “Don’t fight me on this, darling,” Grant said. “Please, just do as I say.”

  I frowned but realized I was in no shape to argue. We crept down to the very edge of the rocks. Grant held my hand tightly and we waited as a swell broke over us, nearly sending me toppling backward. As the water whooshed back out, Grant slipped into the black depths, pulling me after him. Together, we flailed out past the boulders and into deeper water before another swell could push us back. Once there, Grant trod water while I obediently wrapped my arms around his neck. Then, he began to swim strongly toward the boat, towing me like a useless bit of flotsam.

  The water was freezing and after a few seconds, I couldn’t feel my extremities. I was glad, now, that I hadn’t tried to swim myself. As it was, my muscles weren’t responding to anything I told them to do. My fingers wouldn’t cling and my legs wouldn’t kick. I felt myself losing my grip and I gave a strangled cry just as I lost my hold and sank into the inky depths.

  The next thing I knew, I was lying on the deck of the boat, coughing water from my lungs, a coarse blanket rough against my skin. Grant too, was wrapped in a blanket and crouched over me, his wet hair dripping onto my face. He touched my cheek tenderly when I opened my eyes, then turned to Colin.

  “She’ll be okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Colin revved the twin engines and we were off, bouncing across the waves in the direction of the boathouse. I struggled to sit up and Grant put an arm around me, pulling me close so I could lean against him, feeling suddenly too weak to even speak.

  As we pulled up to the pier, I looked over at the lighthouse and gasped. Flames leapt out of the roof now and the walls were ablaze. Great tongues of fire licked into the night air, illuminating the rocks and the sand all around. I could see the shadowy figures of people milling on the beach. People from the party, no doubt. As Colin cut the engine, I heard the roar of the fire over the crash of the waves.

  Then, I heard another sound and I turned my head in time to see a Coast Guard cutter and a police launch roar past. But they weren’t heading for the lighthouse, they were heading further out onto the lake. I watched, fascinated, as their spotlights picked out a large yacht bobbing at anchor.

  “They’re only here to assist,” Grant said.

  I looked at him, puzzled. He smiled.

  “Darla—or I should say, Pauline—and company bagged them just as David boarded. They needed to catch them in the act to make it stick.”

  “Darla?” I queried through numb lips

  “She’s FBI, Suzie. They’ve known about David for some time—about the drugs, that is—but they wanted to identify his contacts. That boat out there holds the key to busting a syndicate that has operations in Colombia, Cuba, Canada and at least six major cities in the US.”

  “Darla is a federal agent?” I said weakly.

  He laughed. “Yes, darling. Her real name is Pauline Petrowski. Did you really think I was so infatuated with my secretary that I had to bring her to Beacon? Don’t feel too bad, it’s what you were supposed to think. It was the only thing we could come up with to get her into the house. She was there to keep an eye on things and to make sure nothing happened to you. Also, she needed to keep close tabs on David—check his movements—do a bit of, and please excuse the expression, undercover work.”

  I smiled at him ruefully. “I was jealous, you know.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m glad to hear it. I thought all this time that you really didn’t care.”

  I looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his arm around me and regretted all those months and years of confusion and denial. Tears of pure relief filled my eyes. “I love you,” I said simply. “And I think I always have.”

  He looked down at me, his own eyes shining conspicuously. “That makes two of us,” he murmured and lowered his head to kiss me, long and lingeringly.

  * * * * *

  Alicia met us at the boathouse and was surprisingly in control, holding out warm clothing for both Grant and me, then ushering us over to where paramedics waited to tend our bruises, burns and abrasions. They suggested we come with them to the hospital for a more thorough examination but we both refused, our eyes glued in morbid fascination to the flaming lighthouse.

  The rest of the partygoers stood about in groups, also transfixed. Their Halloween costumes made the beach look like the set of a horror movie. Someone handed me a hot drink and I sipped it gratefully.

  A Coastguard cutter appeared out of the gloom and trained a hose on the burning building. But, after a few moments, they gave up and shut off their pump, bobbing at anchor to watch, like the rest of us, the final death throes.

  Suddenly, I remembered. “Grant!” I cried, “Kong! Where is he?”

  Grant grimaced. “I don’t know, Suzie. After you went up the ladder, I looked around for him and called but he’d disappeared. Perhaps he knew another way out.”

  I stared at the roaring flames and tears filled my eyes. “How could he get out of that?” I murmured.

  Grant looked down at me and, seeing my distress, wrapped me in his arms. “Cats have a sixth sense when it comes to these things,” he said. “He’ll probably show up without a mark.”

  I knew he was trying to comfort me and though I wanted to believe him, I had grave doubts. But I didn’t have time to worry about Kong. One of the police launches was making its way toward the pier at top speed. It pulled up too quickly, sending a huge bow-wave arching over the boards.

  “Stay here, Suzie. I’ll see what’s up.”

  I watched wearily as Grant strode to meet them. I could make out one of the figures as Darla—or Pauline—looking decidedly out of character in a plain black sweater and black trousers. Her hair was whipped into tangles, her face pale in the dark. She was flanked by two burly men. As they met Grant, they all began gesturing extravagantly, their faces grim. Grant listened, nodded, ran a hand through his hair, turned to gaze up the beach, then spoke again. Seconds later, they separated. Pauline and the two men ran up the beach toward Spindrift while Grant turned back to me.

  “I want you to go up to the house, Suzie,” he said. His face was tense.

  I shivered and pulled the blanket tight around my throat. “What is it, Grant? What’s gone wrong?”

  He crouched down in front of me and took one of my cold hands in both of his. “I don’t want you to worry,” he said. “It’s just a minor hiccup. He can’t get far. They’ve got police patrols all up and down the coast roads and…”

  My body went rigid. “Who can’t get far? David? Are you telling me that David got away?” My voice shook.

  He pulled me to my feet and hugged me tightly but I still felt a chill that went beyond comforting. “Go up to the house, Suzie. Go to your room and lock the door. You’ll be fine there. I’m going to help them find him. He slipped overboard just as they were making the arrests. He’d have a tough swim in this icy water. He won’t be in very good shape. We think he’ll head for Spindrift.” He kissed me quickly, passionately, then put me away from him. “Will you do as I say?”

  I looked at him—his fierce eyes, the set of his jaw—and I nodded. He turned to go but I put a hand on his arm. “Please,” I said, my whisper reflecting my fear, “he’s killed two people already, Grant. Please, be careful.”

  He smiled
, that clear beautiful smile that I loved, nodded and was gone. I watched as he disappeared down the beach, then I turned to go, having lost any desire to involve myself further.

  * * * * *

  The wind had picked up, blowing in cloud cover to blot out the stars and moon. With the flames from the lighthouse dwindling to flickering embers, there was very little light left. Most of the guests had dispersed. The few who remained were being rounded up and escorted to their waiting limousines and cars by Alicia, Colin and two security guards. No one protested. None of these people would want their names linked to headlines describing a large drug bust. There were plenty of reputations still in their infancy and any hint of impropriety could destroy them altogether. I didn’t worry about Dirkston Enterprises. It had already survived enough scandal to test its mettle.

  I didn’t feel like speaking to anyone, so I hurried up through the dunes, avoiding the steps, following a path through the reeds and grasses that zigzagged up. This path would bring me out closer to Beacon’s west boundary. From there, I could skirt the grounds quickly, enter the house through the servants’ entrance and go straight up to my room without running into anyone. All I wanted was to soak in a hot bath and crawl into bed. The cuts on my knees and arms were throbbing and my head was dizzy from delayed shock.

  I took off my shoes to make better progress in the shifting sand and it felt soothing on my bare feet. I worried about Grant. If he found David first, there’d be a showdown. I didn’t doubt Grant’s ability to take care of himself but I didn’t trust David. He might be armed. Even if he wasn’t, I knew how desperate he would be—and desperate men resort to desperate measures.

  I reached the top of the dunes without incident. Here there was a gap in the iron fence behind a clump of heavy evergreen shrubs, so well-hidden that anyone unfamiliar with it would never find it. It was one of those little chinks in security that Leo never knew about. If he had, he’d have seen the fence fixed immediately.