She said, "Well, you know, you said some unkind things to me earlier. About how I was a better stalker than a writer. That hurt my feelings. But I really am a good researcher, a good investigator, even though that doesn’t make me a stalker. When I was writing the other stories, I looked up a lot of stuff. I remembered that someone in Rumbar’s family had a connection with a boat, so I got online and looked it up. One of his aunts has a boat registered to her, and I remembered hearing before that there was an old derelict boat anchored here somewhere. I asked around, and someone told me where it was."
"So did you tell the police? Are they on their way?"
"No, because I wasn’t sure it was the right boat. Or that you were on it. I wanted to find out for myself first."
"So no one knows where you are?"
"No. I wanted to make sure. Plus, I wanted…"
Her voice trailed off, although it was clear what she wanted: A chance to be part of the story, to be the one who found Rumbar. And me.
"What about your cell phone? Are you getting a signal? Call them now."
"Uh, well." She ducked her head, and I could hear the embarrassment in her voice. "I, uh, accidentally dropped my cell phone into the water when I was climbing aboard. I think that’s the noise that Rumbar heard."
I rubbed my forehead in frustration.
"How did you get out here yourself?" I asked.
I could hear the grin in her voice. "I, shall we say, liberated someone’s dinghy. Also, I borrowed some clothes that were hanging out to dry."
Leaning closer, I could see that instead of her usual buttoned-up attire, she was wearing shorts and a tee shirt that had seen better days. She was barefoot. Despite myself, I grinned too. The thought of prissy Grace stealing ratty clothes—and a boat, no less—was really pretty funny.
"Is your dinghy tied up here? Won’t they see it?"
"Despite what you think, I’m not an idiot, Shelby. Of course I didn’t tie up to their boat. It’s about fifty feet away, in some reeds in a marshy patch."
Reaching out, I touched her shirt. It was dry. "I still don’t understand."
"I dropped an anchor, then let out a lot of line, enough that I could paddle over here and climb aboard. Then I just pushed the dinghy away and watched it drift back into the marsh. It’s anchored, so we won’t lose it. Although," she said thoughtfully. "With fifty or sixty feet of line out, it may take some time to find it. You can swim, can’t you?"
"What about Rumbar’s boat? Did you see their dinghy? They had to have some way to get out here."
"I did see it. They brought it up on deck. I doubt if we could launch it without them knowing. Why don’t you know that? Surely that’s how they brought you out here."
"They injected me with something when they found me in the bathroom. I was unconscious. I didn’t wake up until after I was already locked into the room you found me in."
She got quiet for a minute, then in a small voice, she said, "I owe you an apology. You were right. I should have left you alone when you asked me to. I shouldn’t have kept at it, and I shouldn’t have published those articles. I’m really sorry."
I thought for a moment. "Rumbar never said how he knew where I was and that I was alive. Someone else may have told him. Or he may have had someone watching for me. It might not have been you at all."
She sniffled a little. "That’s very generous of you, Shelby, considering how angry you were with me this afternoon. And especially considering that you don’t like me, anyway."
"I’m liking you more and more all the time, Grace. I really am. I mean, you’re here, right now, helping me. If we get out of this, you will have saved my life. I can’t not like you after that."
Awkwardly, she gave me a hug, her thin body quivering with silent sobs. "Hey, it’s okay, Grace. Don’t be upset," I said, with alarm, patting her on the back.
"It’s just that…well, you’re not the only one I’ve had problems with. My dad says it’s because I’m so stubborn that I only see my side. And despite what you said just now, I contributed to the problems you’re having, because I was being too selfish and only thinking of my story." She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I just plowed on, regardless of your safety. Like I said, I’ve done it before. I’m not very proud of myself right now."
"Well, you should be," I said. "You kept at it and found me when no one else knew where to look. That says a lot about you. The good side of stubborn. Come on, we need to get out of here. Rumbar’s got some friends coming in a little while, and they don’t have good things planned for me."
She rubbed her face with her palms. I noticed that her hair was slowly breaking free of its constrictive band. In the dim light, with streaks of mascara on her cheeks and her old clothes, she looked very young.
I stood up, taking her by the hand. "Lead me to where you came aboard."
We crept out into the corridor, padding noiselessly with our bare feet. Once, we heard voices and stopped. My heart pounded, and I held my breath. Then a door closed.
"Must be one of them going to the bathroom," Grace whispered. She tugged my hand, and we walked on until we reached the end of the corridor. We heard the sound of water running, then a door opened, and Rumbar’s voice came, "Pour me one last drink, Ivan. They’ll be here soon."
Unexpectedly, Grace got the giggles. She doubled over, gasping and laughing silently. I tried shushing her, and finally had to drag her by the scruff of her neck up the steps and onto the deck. The cool night air felt good after the closeness below. I frog-marched her over to a part of the deck that was in shadows, where she continued to rock with laughter.
"What is so funny?" I hissed.
"Well…we…ha ha ha ha…we heard…ah ha ha ha…water running, didn’t we?" Her giggles finally started to taper off. "I just never thought a murderer would bother washing his hands after he used the bathroom." Saying this out loud brought on a fresh wave of laughter. I put my hand over her mouth and held her still. Pushing my hand away, she went on, "I mean, good personal hy…hy…hygiene just doesn’t seem to go with being a criminal!"
I clamped my hand firmly down on her mouth again. "Grace, that’s funny and all, but can we save it for later?"
Gradually her body stilled, and she gently pushed my hand away again. "I’m sorry, Shelby. I think I just got a little scared for a minute. And for some reason, that always gives me the giggles. I’m okay now."
"Are you sure?"
"Yep. I’m fine. I’m sorry."
"Okay, so where do we go from here?"
She paused, looking around to get oriented, then pointed. "I came up a ladder over there. We’ll have to climb down, then swim that way—pointing a different direction—to find the dinghy."
"Okay, you lead."
We tiptoed across the deck to the ladder. She climbed down first, hesitating on the last rung. "Follow me," she said, sliding into the water with a small gasp. I came down the ladder and dabbed my toe in the water. It was cool, but not cold. I lowered myself in. Okay, it was a lot colder when my whole body, as opposed to just my toe, was in. I twisted around. Grace was bobbing about ten feet away. When she saw that I was looking at her, she began dog-paddling in the direction that she’d pointed earlier. I breast-stroked after her, feeling the water swirl around me. Fortunately, the water was fairly calm, meaning that we weren’t fighting waves. But I could feel the current pushing against us. The tide must be going out.
Catching up with Grace, I swam alongside her, toward the reeds. We were still about thirty feet away when I heard the sound of another boat, its engine puttering along at idle speed. Turning back toward Rumbar’s boat, which I now saw was a good-sized stainless-steel-hulled workboat, I saw a power boat with no running lights bump up against it. A male voice called out, "Ahoy, Johnny! Ivan!"
A moment later, Rumbar’s head appeared above the railing. "Hey, it’s about time. We were starting to wonder about you. Come on, let’s get that stuff aboard and get going."
I started swi
mming again, pushing Grace along as she panted beside me. "Come on, we have to hurry. It’s not going to be long before they find out I’m gone." We inched closer to the edge of the marshy reeds.
"Tide’s changing," Grace gasped. "It’s getting harder to swim."
"Not much farther now. You can do it," I said, grabbing a handful of her tee shirt and hauling her along.
Finally, we made it to the tall marsh grasses. I didn’t see the dinghy anywhere.
"It must be further than I thought," said Grace. We swam along the edge of the marsh, looking around for the dinghy.
"There! There it is," Grace said, pointing. The dinghy bobbed about twenty feet from us. "The anchor line must have twisted around some of the reeds." We paddled toward the boat, still fighting the current. When we reached the dinghy, we were both out of breath and clung to the sides, panting.
Just then, I heard a faint shout.
"I think they know I’m gone. Come on, hurry!" Quickly, I swam to the other side of the boat, hoisting myself up onto the tube and slithering over and into the boat. Grace, on the other side, tried pushing up with her arms, but then fell back into the water with a small splash.
"I’m not strong enough," she said, gasping. "I can’t get up over the edge."
"Here, give me your hands." I got a tight grip on her wrists. "On three, I want you to kick your feet as hard as you can, to help me get some momentum. Ready? One, two, three." I heaved, she kicked, and the next moment she’d flopped down into the boat. She turned over on her back, her breathing erratic.
"Get the engine started." Glancing over toward Rumbar’s boat, I saw that his friends had untied their boat and begun circling the workboat. Nudging Grace with my foot, I said, "Come on, Grace, get up and get the engine started while I get the anchor in."
Obediently, she crawled toward the stern, and a moment later, the engine purred into life. I had moved to the bow and was trying to haul in the anchor line, but Grace was right: Somehow, it had gotten twisted around the reeds, and I couldn’t free it. I lay down on my belly and hung over the bow, trying to untie the anchor line. But the knot was wet and tight, and I couldn’t get it undone.
"Damn it! Do you have a knife or anything, Grace?"
"Uh, no. Let me see if I can find something in one of the pockets here. She began searching, while I futilely worked on the knot.
The other boat was widening its circle, coming closer. And closer.
Chapter 28
"Here!" Grace said. "It’s not a knife, it’s a PVC cutter, but see if it will work. Looks like they must have been doing some kind of project. There’s a bunch of pieces of PVC here too. I used one of these once when I helped my friend Pete with a project."
Ignoring her nervous chatter, I said, "Great. Can you come up here and hold the rope taut?"
She moved forward, and we stood shoulder to shoulder as I sawed away with the PVC cutter.
"It looks kind of like a garrote, doesn’t it?" she said, nodding toward the cutter.
"How do you know what a garrote looks like?" I asked.
"I watch CSI, same as everybody," she said, defensively. "Oh!" She staggered backward slightly, as the rope came apart. I grabbed her arm.
"You all right?" I asked.
"Yeah, just lost my balance there for a minute."
"Okay, let’s get going," I said, motioning her toward the engine.
"You want me to drive?" she said in surprise.
"Yes, you’re the one who knows where we’re going."
"All right." She sat down, grabbed the tiller, put the engine in gear, and inched the throttle up. "I’ll get us up to speed after we’re away from these guys. I don’t want them to hear us if we can help it." She guided the boat along the edge of the marsh, keeping to their shadow as much as possible.
"Good thinking," I said. I began searching through the pockets under the dinghy seats, looking for a radio. Nothing. I looked around. "Grace, can you hand me that bag that’s near your foot?"
She grabbed it and pushed it toward me. I unzipped it, pulling out a sweatshirt. I tossed it to Grace. "Here, put that on."
"What about you?"
"There’s another one here for me," I said, tugging it over my head. It smelled like detergent and fabric softener. Another point to Grace for stealing clean instead of dirty clothes. I dug through the bag, pulling out sunscreen, snorkels and masks, a paperback book, and finally, at the very bottom, a VHF in a plastic bag. Gratefully, I worked open the zipper lock and pulled out the radio, twisting the switch to turn it on but keeping the volume low so the sound wouldn’t carry across the water.
Glancing back, I saw that Rumbar’s friends’ boat was still circling. They hadn’t caught sight of us yet.
"Won’t they hear you if you hail the police?"
"We’re going to try something else. You’re going to hail Matt’s boat."
"I thought Thief of Time belonged to Nathan," she said, puzzled.
"It does. That’s why we’re not going to hail it. If Matt’s listening, he’ll know who it is. Do you know what the GPS coordinates are for Rumbar’s boat?"
"No, not really. I just followed the directions that a guy gave me."
"Okay. Well, you’ll need to give Matt something he can use to figure out how to find us, once you switch to a different channel. If we’re lucky, Rumbar won’t recognize your voice or the boat name, so won’t follow to a new channel. Plus, he has no idea you came aboard. Here, switch me places. Tell me where I need to head while you talk to Matt. Try not to use names, okay? Except for the boat name. It’s Just Add Water."
I put the radio down, then we swapped places, and I took the tiller. She picked up the radio, cleared her throat, clicked the button, and said, "Just Add Water, Just Add Water, this is Amazing Grace." She released the button. In the starlight, I saw her grin. To me, she said, "Detective Fairholm calls me that. Sarcastically, you know."
"I remember."
After a moment, Matt’s voice came back, sounding cautious. "Amazing Grace, acknowledge and switch to one seven."
Grace clicked the radio, "One seven." She pushed the channel select up one notch.
"Amazing Grace, go ahead."
"Just Add Water, I’ve picked up your package." I laughed; Grace was enjoying this. "Repeat, your package is fine."
"Amazing Grace, where can I get the package?"
"We can rendezvous. There’s a bar downtown called Al’s Place. Ask Al the bartender. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll tell you where we can meet."
There was a short silence while Matt thought that over, deciphering the instructions.
"Just Add Water. You can bring some friends to the party too. In fact, we’d like that."
"Will do. Just Add Water back to Channel 16."
"One six." Grace dialed back to Channel 16.
"How was that?" she asked.
"You were great," I said.
"Really?"
"Really. Like you do this kind of thing every day of the week."
"It is kind of fun," she admitted.
"Okay, it’s going to be a while before they get here. We still need to stay out of sight." I gestured back toward Rumbar’s boat. In the darkness, I couldn’t see his friends’ boat any longer, but I was sure it was there.
"Maybe you could crank up the engine a little more," she said.
I nudged up the throttle. We picked up speed. Just as when we were swimming though, we were fighting the current. We seemed to be going in slow motion. Then, without warning, the engine sputtered a few times and died.
Chapter 29
"What happened? What’s the matter?" Grace said.
"I think we ran out of gas. What’s in that gas can?" I asked, pointing to a small plastic jug near her feet.
She picked it up and shook it. "Nothing. It’s empty."
Not good.
Behind us, I heard voices. Straining in the starlight, I caught sight of Rumbar’s friends’ powerboat. Looking more closely, I saw that there was a dinghy next
to it. Rumbar must have launched it to help with the search.
"Okay, grab the oars. We’re going to head into the marsh to hide until Matt comes."
Together, we rowed into the reeds, pushing them aside to make our way into the marshy area. We’d only gone a little way before we stopped.
"What’s wrong?" Grace asked.
"I think we’re aground. We’ll just sit here and wait."
"What if they find us?"
"They won’t," I said. I hoped.
The voices got closer. The conversation drifted over to us. "…can’t have gone far if she was swimming…" A stranger’s voice.
"She must have had help. I don’t know how she got out, otherwise." Ivan.
"I found something!" Rumbar said. "Here. It’s a line, looks like was cut. Maybe an anchor line. It’s wrapped up in these reeds. I’m going to look along here." I saw a powerful spotlight, close to where we’d found the dinghy, sweeping the area.
"Johnny, turn that damn light off. Do you want people to see you?"
"Ivan, we have to find her, or make sure she’s dead. Don’t you get it?"
"Turn off the light."
The light kept moving. "I’d guess she’s headed toward shore," Rumbar called. "You take your boat and head that way, see if you find her. I’ll keep looking here, just in case she’s hiding."
I heard the sound of the powerboat as it picked up speed and headed back toward Beaufort.
"Grace, we need to get out of the dinghy. He’ll see us when he gets closer. The boat’s too close to the edge of the marsh."
For the second time that night, we slid into the water. This time, though, it wasn’t only water. My feet sunk down into muck. I rolled onto my back, keeping my head up so I could hear, and motioned to Grace to do the same. As quietly as possible, we backstroked further into the marsh.
Rumbar’s light got closer. Ivan was still arguing with him. "Johnny. Come on. Turn off the light and let’s get out of here."
Rumbar didn’t answer, just kept shining his light. "Here! I knew it! Look, Ivan, there’s a dinghy. I told you."
Telltale (Shelby Hope Book Two) (Shelby Hope Novels 2) Page 17
