by Debby Giusti
“What do you mean?” Lydia pressed.
Rob shook his head. “Somebody did a little work for me and saw more than he should have. Said he was going to talk. That was the last thing he said. By the way, you should close your curtains at night, Lydia.”
She remembered the Peeping Tom’s face—Rob’s face—at the window.
The jagged boulders loomed ahead.
“If you’re going to start a fire in Katherine’s house, the police won’t buy it,” Lydia insisted. “Two arson cases would raise anyone’s suspicions.”
“We’ve got other plans for you,” Butch sneered. “Although I can add fire to the mix, if you like.”
“Matt will find us.” Lydia hoped her voice sounded more convincing to them than it did to her.
Rob shook his head. “He’s having a little trouble with his truck in Atlanta. I wouldn’t count on him.”
The boat slowed. Rob cut the engine.
“Get your boy. Tell him you’re going for a ride.”
Butch lowered a dinghy over the side.
Lydia’s heart beat against her chest. Frantically, she searched for a way out. “We won’t make it in this storm.”
Rob bowed mockingly. “Then I’ll have Butch escort you.”
“Let Tyler stay on board, Rob. He’s so sick. He won’t tell the police anything.”
“Get below.” Butch pushed her forward.
She stumbled down the steps and into the cabin. Her right hand brushed against her skirt.
Her fingers touched the cell phone Matt had given her.
Sitting on the couch next to Tyler, she inched the phone from her pocket.
“Honey, you have to wake up.” She kissed Tyler on the forehead. Keeping the phone hidden from Butch’s view, she pushed 9–1-1 and Send.
“Where are you taking us?” She directed her voice toward the mouthpiece.
Dear Lord, let someone answer.
“To the caves. They’ll never find you there,” Butch said behind her.
“The boulders by Katherine O’Connor’s house on Sanctuary Island?”
If only her voice could be heard over the roar of the storm. She jammed the phone between the cushions and pulled Tyler into her arms.
Keep transmitting.
Butch shoved them up the steps.
Rob grabbed Tyler.
His bottom lip quivered. “Mama?” He started to cry.
Black water churned around them. The storm howled and waves rocked the boat.
“Get in the dinghy,” Butch ordered, his hand tight on her arm as he forced her over the side.
Lydia’s foot slipped. Her left leg plunged into the cold water. Butch shoved her into the bottom of the tiny craft. She landed on her left arm. Pain sliced along her shoulder.
Tears clouded her eyes. Terrified the dinghy would capsize, she was more afraid of what would happen once they were in the cave.
“Keep Tyler with you, Rob,” she pleaded.
“No, Mama,” her son screamed.
The neighbor laughed.
Butch climbed into the dinghy and pulled a rope from his pocket. “Hands behind your back.”
She didn’t move.
He slapped her. She reeled from the blow.
“Do what I say. Now!”
He grabbed her arms and wrenched them back. She gasped in pain. The cord cut into her wrists as he pulled it tight.
“Mama.” Tyler cried.
Rob bound her son’s hands, then handed him down to Butch.
“Take care of them. I’ll wait here.”
Tyler huddled next to her, sobs racking his small body. She leaned close, trying to protect him from the rain and wind.
Butch rowed them toward a black hole in the rock, then turned on a searchlight, illuminating the craggy interior of a vast cave.
Lydia’s stomach roiled. At the far end, an outcrop of rock hung about six feet above the water.
Butch guided the boat to the raised landing. He forced Lydia and Tyler out of the boat and pushed them up the steep incline and onto the ledge while he followed.
“Don’t leave us here.” Lydia cried in desperation.
She looked at the opening of the cave. The sea level rose with each lap of water. The entrance would soon be covered.
“No one’ll find you.” Butch laughed. “Not even your boyfriend, Matt.”
He stooped to gather an armful of dry twigs from under a nearby overhang.
Fear wrapped around her. “What are you doing with that driftwood?”
“You know I love fire. My signature, so to speak.” He forced them back-to-back, tied them together and arranged the twigs at their feet.
“Kind of appropriate to die like your husband, don’t you think? ’Course he pleaded with me. Said for me to take him but not hurt you two.”
Griffin pulled a lighter from his pocket, held it to the dry kindling and fanned the smoldering wood.
“You can’t leave us here,” Lydia cried as the fire ignited.
“Just watch me.” He climbed down from the ledge and into the dinghy then rowed across the choppy water.
“Happy camping,” he called back to them. His evil laughter echoed in the cave as he passed through the entrance.
Lydia scooted back, pushing Tyler clear of the flickering flames. The glow from the fire illuminated the tomb that surrounded them. She searched the rocks. Even if they weren’t tied up, there’d be no way to escape.
“Mama?” Tyler shivered, nudging her.
“I love you, honey.”
Cold steel touched her hand.
“Dad’s knife,” Tyler said. “I got it when you were on the phone.”
He jammed it into her outstretched palm.
She grabbed for the knife, felt it slip between her fingers. Catching it, she worked it around in her hand.
Let it open.
Digging her fingernail into the groove of the blade, she tugged. Her nail broke. She tried again.
The flames darted along the kindling. Smoke drifted upward. Her eyes burned. She tasted the acrid ash. Just like the fire seven months ago.
Heat seared her legs. She tried to inch away from the flames.
Once again, her fingers pried at the knife.
Please, God. Help me.
The blade opened.
She grabbed Tyler’s hands.
“Hold still, honey.”
Rob had wrapped the rope only once around his small wrists. She worked the blade back and forth, hoping she wouldn’t nick his flesh.
The rope fell free.
Without prompting, Tyler reached down and untied his feet, then kicked at the twigs, the fire licking Lydia’s legs.
Oblivious to her burns, she turned the sharp blade to her own hands. Pain slashed her finger.
“Mom, you’re bleeding.”
“Take the knife. Cut the rope for me.”
Tyler grabbed the handle.
“Saw back and forth,” she told him.
Tyler’s small fingers shook, but he worked rapidly. At last, he cut through the thick hemp.
Taking the knife from him, she bent down and severed the rope binding her legs.
Finally free, she slumped with relief and wrapped her arms around his shivering body. Light from the last burning branches cast an eerie glow across the pool of water.
As she watched, the water rose another inch, covering the cave’s entrance.
They were trapped.
TWENTY-ONE
Matt arranged for his truck to be towed to a nearby Atlanta garage for repairs and signed for a loaner car.
Once he hit I-75 South, he floored the accelerator. With the anthrax scare at Lenox Square, the streets should be clear of cops. He didn’t want to waste time explaining why he was doing ninety in a fifty-five-miles-per-hour speed zone.
Outside the city, he called Eunice.
“What’s the latest?”
“The storm’s turned, heading straight for Sanctuary. The island’s under evacuation. Water’s rising and
the Bay Road’s near flood level.”
“What about Lydia Sloan and her son?”
“Butch went out there earlier.”
“Butch?”
“Everyone else was tied up with the evacuation, Chief.”
“Are they headed for the mainland?”
“Haven’t heard,” Eunice said.
“I’ll phone the O’Connor house.”
“Doubt you’ll get through. The island phone service went out about fifteen minutes ago. I had a silent alarm from that residence a while back.”
Matt’s pulse raced as fast as the autos along the highway. “When?”
“Not long after Butch left. ’Spect they tapped in the security code and hit the wrong buttons.” Eunice sighed. “You know how often that happens.”
Did Lydia inadvertently send the alarm when she punched in the regular code? Or was she sending him a warning?
Matt didn’t like it. He’d given Lydia and Tyler thorough instruction on the silent alarm. Both of them understood the system. Perhaps the storm had scared Tyler and the kid cried wolf.
Matt shook his head. Butch wasn’t the friendliest. Not by a long shot. If he’d done anything to frighten them—
“You want me to call Jason’s cell?” Eunice’s voice pulled Matt back to the issue at hand. “Have him check on Ms. O’Connor’s houseguests?”
“No, I will. You phone Sam Snyder. Ask him to meet me at the mainland marina with that motorboat of his.”
“Water’s pretty rough for a ride, Chief.”
“By the time I arrive, it may be the only way to the island. Explain the situation to Sam. Tell him I need to get back to Sanctuary.”
Matt hung up and tried the cell he’d given Lydia. The voice mail clicked on.
“Lydia, it’s Matt. Call me back.”
He disconnected and called Jason.
“How’s it look on the island?”
“Storm’s heading our way. Evacuation’s in progress. Residents are cooperating. No problems so far.”
“Have you seen Lydia Sloan?”
“Katherine’s houseguest?” Jason asked.
“Yeah. Eunice said Butch’s helping her. Should be off the island by now. Check her house, and let me know if you see anything contrary.”
“Roger. Out.”
Matt disconnected and studied the sky. Dark clouds filled the horizon. The wind had picked up speed and the temperature had dropped significantly.
Ten minutes later, his phone rang.
“Chief, it’s Jason. Natalie just called. She’s in labor and needs a ride to the hospital. I’m headed that way.”
“Where’s Griffin?”
“I saw him boarding Rob Jackson’s boat down at the marina. Ms. Sloan and her boy in tow. I wanted to tell Butch about Natalie. Only I didn’t get there in time.”
Matt let out a sigh of relief. “Rob’s probably docked at the mainland by now.”
“No, sir,” Jason responded. “He was aimed in the other direction.”
Where would Jackson be going in the midst of a storm? Back to Katherine’s?
A slash of fear cut through him.
“Jason, backtrack to the O’Connor place. See where they dropped anchor…Jason?”
No answer.
“Jason, you hear me?”
Matt’s phone beeped.
Call disconnected.
Frantically, Matt hit Memory for the dispatcher.
No answer from Eunice.
He redialed Jason. A message flashed.
Call failed.
The storm was in full fury when Matt arrived at the marina and found Sam and his motorboat.
“Stay here,” Matt yelled above the howling wind. “I don’t want to put you in danger, Sam.”
The old guy shook his head. “Don’t leave me out of the action. Plus you’ll need another pair of hands. Climb aboard.”
Even with two large spotlights flashing through the night, visibility was poor. Waves battered the boat, but Sam was an accomplished seaman and kept them on course.
The boulders appeared in the distance.
“Flash the lights over the rocks, would you, Sam?”
“Highest tide surge I’ve ever seen.” Sam squinted into the angry squall. “Even the entrances to the caves are covered.”
Something caught Matt’s eye.
“See that?” He pointed to the crest of the boulder. “Looks like smoke.”
Sam scratched his head. Another wisp escaped from the rock. “You know these rocks always fascinated Rob.”
“Pull up a bit,” Matt said.
Sam edged the boat near the jagged peaks.
“Give me as much light as you can.”
Matt leaped onto the boulder and climbed straight up to the ledge. Might be a long shot, but the caves were a perfect place to hide someone. Or leave someone to die.
“Lydia,” he screamed, knowing his voice was lost in the wind. She would never hear him over the roar of the angry storm.
Where was the smoke coming from? He signaled Sam to shine the spotlight on top of the boulder again. Nothing.
Matt shielded his eyes from the onslaught of rain. One more puff of smoke, and he’d be able to pinpoint its origination.
There. A tiny whiff curled skyward before it vanished in the wind and rain.
He gave Sam a thumbs-up and raced forward, spying a fissure in the rock. He peered down. The glow from a dying fire illuminated the cave below.
Lydia and Tyler stood huddled on a small outcrop of rock. His initial elation at finding them crashed.
Water lapped over the ledge.
He blinked. The tiny fire went out.
Lydia and Tyler were cast into total darkness.
TWENTY-TWO
Lydia shivered with fear as she hugged Tyler, his body on fire with fever. She pulled him into the light from the burning twigs. His eyes stared back at her, dull, lifeless, glistening like a sheet of ice.
Tyler slumped against her. So small. So frail.
The light flickered. Before long they’d be plunged into darkness.
Her heart broke when she thought of her son’s life cut short. It didn’t matter about her own. Nothing mattered, except Tyler.
Oh, God, why have You forsaken us?
She looked into the water—a dark abyss that rose ever so steadily.
Even if they could swim to the entrance, the rough seas outside the cave would crash them against the rocks. They’d never make shore.
She hugged her child tighter. The end was close. The water would rise and…
The last glowing ember went out.
Darkness.
Tyler moaned, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Shh, baby. Shh.”
Lydia looked up toward the heavens. She and Tyler needed a miracle. She closed her eyes.
Don’t turn Your back on me, Lord. Save my son. He’s too young to die.
“Lydia.”
Her eyes blinked open. Now, she was hearing voices.
She patted Tyler’s back and rubbed her hand over his shoulders.
“Lydia.”
Her heart lunged in her chest. “Matt?”
“Look up.”
She tilted her head back and studied the roof of the cave. All she saw was darkness.
“Turn the boat’s spotlight this way, Sam.” She heard Matt shout.
A ray of light flickered through a fissure in the ceiling of the cave.
“Matt, we’re stuck. Get Sam to bring his boat,” she screamed.
“The water’s covered the entrance.”
“Then swim in to us.”
“I’d never find the opening in time. There’s only one way. You’ve got to swim out, Lydia.”
“Tyler’s burning with fever. He won’t make it.”
“You’ve got to try. Have Tyler wrap his arms around your back. Dog paddle across the cave. Sam’s positioning a searchlight toward that section of the rocks. You should be able to see the light underwater. It’ll show you th
e way out.”
Lydia shook her head, her fear of being submerged as strong as her fear of dying.
“I…I can’t, Matt.”
“It’s the only way you can save Tyler.”
“You know I can’t go under water.”
“Tell him to hold on to your shoulders. Paddle with your hands and kick your feet. When you get close to the entrance, duck your head under water. Your body will follow. You’ll be submerged for only a short time, a minute at most. I’ll meet you on the other side.”
Tears streamed down her face. Matt was asking too much.
“Mama, I’m scared.” Tyler cried.
“Trust me,” Matt yelled. “You can do it.”
Trust. There it was again.
“I trust you, Matt. But I can’t trust myself.”
“Ask God to swim with you, Lydia. God helped me save Tyler from the rip current. He’ll guide you through the entrance.”
Lydia’s heart broke. Her son shouldn’t have to die in this dark cave because his mother didn’t have the courage to save him.
Matt believed in her. She had to believe in herself. And even more important, she had to believe in God.
Jesus, I trust in You.
She knelt on the ledge. The water swirled around her.
“Climb on my back, Tyler. Mama’s going to swim us out.”
“I’m cold.” He moaned.
“I know, honey. But we’ve got to get to Matt.”
She turned so Tyler could wrap his hands around her shoulders. “Hold on tight.”
She lowered herself into the chilly water.
The spotlight from Sam’s boat flickered in the distance, the opening to the cave about three feet below the surface.
“We’re going to paddle across the water, then we’ll dive below. Like a dolphin, Tyler. You’ve got to hold your breath when I tell you. Remember your swimming lessons?”
She could feel Tyler nod his head.
“Don’t let go.”
Slowly, she paddled toward the far side of the cave. Her left shoulder ached where she’d hit the dinghy.
“Tyler, suck in a big breath. Hold it until we’re out of the cave. One, two, three. Now.”
Lydia grabbed a lungful of air and dove below the surface.
The memories returned. She was a young child trapped in the waves. Panic seized her.
Jesus, I trust in You.
She opened her eyes and saw the entrance outlined with a glowing light.
