Ben tried not to react, but he couldn’t help himself. It was one thing to leave Julia alone after such a bitch of a day, but there was no way he was heading out to sea at night without the navigation equipment in working order.
He stared at the dock and the ramp leading up to the wharf, imagining striding up there and leaving his brother alone to do their father’s dirty work. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave his brother stranded like that. The sense of family obligation was too strong.
“A fucked GPS and radio’ll give us a good excuse if we bump into the Coast Guard again,” Pete said.
“I thought you already tried that with them.”
Pete said nothing, but he turned the ignition. The boat’s engine started up with a low, steady grumble. Water boiled up from the stern as threads of exhaust rose into the air.
“Cast off,” Pete called out to Ben over his shoulder.
For the longest time, Ben didn’t move. He simply stood there, his arms folded across his chest as he glared at Pete, wondering who the hell he thought he was, trying to take over Capt’n Wally’s role. It was galling that his little brother would try to boss him around like that, shouting out commands like he was a damned rookie deckhand. If anything, he — Ben — should be piloting the boat tonight, but he had to acknowledge that Pete probably was better at it than he was. It had been too long a time since Ben had piloted a boat. For the longest time, he hoped he would never have to get onto a boat again.
“Fuckin’ bullshit, is what it is” Ben grumbled as he finally relented and walked over to the thwarts. He quickly undid the knotted ropes from the cleats and dropped the coils onto the deck. He pulled the buffers in and, reaching across the gunwales, pushed off. The motion was wasted, though, because Pete engaged the engine and started slowly backing away from the floating dock. The boat heaved up and down on the gentle swells, and the rumbling engine echoed like rolling thunder from the granite block walls that lined the inner harbor.
As Pete brought the boat around, moving forward, Ben took a moment to look around. The town was Maine postcard beautiful, with lights on in many houses, and the dark hump of the mainland rising against the starry sky, topped by the Congregational Church steeple. Starlight and the streetlights lining the road shimmered like orange snakes on the oily, black water. The seas were calm, and a warm breeze redolent of salt and seaweed wafted inland.
It was a gorgeous night for a cruise. At least they had that going for them. If the Coast Guard spotted them and approached, they could always say they were out for a late-night cruise … a little male bonding between brothers who hadn’t seen each other in a long time.
Ben snorted at that thought and watched the shore slide quietly by as Pete skillfully guided the boat through the maze of anchored boats and buoys that bobbed in their wake. Before long, they rounded the headlands and were heading out to sea. Pete gave the engine a goose, and soon they were skimming across the water, the waves choppier now, slapping against the hull. In case someone was watching from the shore and got suspicious of what they were up to, Pete took an easterly bearing. Once they were well out of sight, he would turn southeast and head out to The Nephews for the pickup.
Ben had to admit that he’d never liked being out on the ocean — especially at night. The sea simply wasn’t in his blood the way it was with his father and Pete. He had always assumed that a large part of his distaste for the ocean was his way of rejecting his father and his father’s way of life. Since high school, he’d been determined not to end up doing the same things his father did. After being overseas for four years, he had come back to The Cove, but he still wanted to get out … somehow. He kept telling himself he was simply taking his time trying to figure out what to do next; but with each passing day, he felt more and more like The Cove was doing its damndest to keep him here. And on a night like this, looking at the town as it rapidly receded, he had to admit that it wasn’t such a bad place to end up.
The brothers barely spoke. They couldn’t hear each other, anyway, above the sound of the engine. Pete piloted the boat further out to sea, picking up speed. For his part, Ben had nothing to say. He was still thinking about what Julia had told him … about how Pete had been after her. He wanted to ask Pete about it if only to tell him that he never meant to hurt him, but Pete was more sullen than usual, if that were possible. Ben decided not to bring it up now. They had a job to do.
Without any illumination from the dead navigational equipment, his brother was no more than a silhouette etched sharply against the night. He was motionless as he stared straight ahead out the wheelhouse’s front window. He could have been a statue. It was impossible to know without asking, but Ben was sure Pete was nervous and not admitting it. He might be worried about getting stopped by the Coast Guard after making the pick-up, but Ben suspected that something else was bugging his brother. He wished he didn’t feel so closed out.
“So,” he said, moving into the wheelhouse and standing next to Pete.
Pete didn’t reply. He didn’t even bother to glance at him.
Ben told himself to keep what he was thinking to himself, but he knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t going to be able to. He found it difficult to admit — even to himself — that he was in love with Julia. The power of such emotions confused and frightened him. He wondered if or how much he could trust her. A woman who would screw around with a married man, especially a shit-for-brains loser like Tom Marshall, might not be as honest and open as he wanted or needed. It was obvious she’d put all that behind her. It was also obvious that she loved him. He wished he knew what he was so afraid of.
Ben started pacing back and forth as the boat rocked beneath his feet. The motion kept throwing him off-balance. When they were a couple of miles from land, Pete heaved to and headed south toward The Nephews. The wind was blowing across the bow, and the waves slapped against the hull with an irritating, steady rhythm that gradually gathered strength.
Is this how it’s going to be all night? Ben wondered. Neither one of us saying a goddamned word?
That might be the best thing, Ben decided, because he didn’t like what he was thinking about his brother or Julia. He replaced the gaff on its holder and was about to sit down when the boat hit something so hard it threw Ben forward onto the deck. He landed hard, his knees banging the decking, sending an electric shock up his hips.
The boat’s engine kicked and started whining with a high-pitched wail, but the sound was all but lost beneath the explosive sounds of wooden beams snapping and the hull ripping apart. The night suddenly collapsed on top of them. The world began to spin madly out of control.
“What the —” Ben shouted, scrambling to get back onto his feet.
His brother was sagging as he held onto the wheel. His feet kept slipping out from under him like he was trying to stand on a tilting sheet of ice.
“Son of a bitch!” Pete shouted, but his voice was lost beneath the sound of fiberglass snapping like a string of firecrackers going off inside Ben’s head.
Before Ben could react, the Abby-Rose heaved hard to port. Lobster traps and other gear clattered across the deck and banged against Ben. Something pinned his leg down as most of the equipment spilled over the side, hitting the water with loud splashing sounds.
The world didn’t right itself. It kept tilting crazily to one side until the sky was where the ocean should be. In a terrifying instant, a deafeningly loud whooshing sound filled the night as a huge wave swept Ben overboard.
He hit the water hard on his left side. The cold slap of the wave stung his face. Then, before he could react, he was sinking like a stone into the pitch-black ocean.
Chapter Seventeen
All the King’s Men
The house was dark as Louise pulled into the driveway. Tom’s car wasn’t there, so she was confident he wasn’t home, but she had waited until dark just to be certain. There was a slim chance he’d left his car off at the garage for some repairs or something, and she wanted to make sure the
re were no lights on in the house before she went in.
Holding her breath, she counted to ten. Her hands clenched the steering wheel as she studied the darkened house. It felt weird to think that she used to live here. It already seemed so long ago, a distant part of her life even though she’d been married to Tom less than a year. Looking up, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see herself staring out from the upstairs window of her old bedroom … a ghost, trapped there forever.
But that was exactly what she was trying to prevent.
She wasn’t about to let Tom or anyone else run her life. This was still her house, too, damnit! Unless or until they got divorced, she had as much legal right to be here as Tom did. It might have been smarter to wait until one or both of her brothers were available to come with her to get the rest of her things, but she was determined to face this alone. She had to prove how tough she was, if only to herself.
Finally, she killed the engine, pulled the key from the ignition, opened the car door, and stepped out. The night was quiet and warm. A faint breeze was blowing in off the ocean. She took a quick breath, smelling the distant salt marsh. The tide was definitely out. Her feet crunched on the gravel as she started up the driveway to the kitchen door. She hoped Tom hadn’t changed the locks, but if he had, she was prepared to break a window to let herself in.
The bastard deserves everything bad that ever happens to him, she thought as she stood on the doorstep and fiddled with her key ring until she found the right key. When she did, she held her breath again for a count of ten before slipping it into the lock and turning it.
After a moment of resistance, a faint click sounded as the bolt turned.
She let her breath out in a long, slow whistle and wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead.
“I hope your dick dries up and falls off, you fuckin’ warthog,” she whispered as she pushed the door open and entered the kitchen.
The place was a mess. Teetering stacks of dirty dishes and pans were piled high in and around the sink. The smell of rotting food and trash was almost enough to make her gag. She resisted the urge to turn on the overhead light. There was no telling when Tom might show up, and if he caught her snooping around like this, he very well might follow through on his threat to shoot her.
Besides, she knew her way around the house well enough without lights. She wouldn’t need them until she got upstairs and started collecting the few things of hers she wanted to bring home.
The stairs creaked with every step, setting her teeth on edge. Her eyes darted from side to side. She felt like an intruder in her own home. Moving about in the darkness, once again she found it all too easy to imagine that she was a ghost come back to haunt the place where she had once lived. The sense of unreality was so powerful it almost overwhelmed her until she got to their bedroom. Once there, after drawing the shades, she turned on a single bedside light.
Like the kitchen, the bedroom was a shambles. The bed hadn’t been made in days, and dirty laundry was strewn all around. She found a pair of her panties on the floor by the window and guessed they must have fallen there when Tom had been throwing her stuff through the screen. She put the rest of her clothes and some family photos and mementos into a couple of shopping bags she’d brought along, and slipped her jewelry into her pockets.
Get what you came for and get the hell out, she cautioned herself, but she couldn’t stop from snooping around a little. She opened the top drawer on Tom’s bureau and started rifling around, pawing through his socks and underwear. She considered throwing everything onto the floor along with the dirty clothes but decided not to.
He probably wouldn’t notice, anyway.
When she tried to open the second bureau drawer, it was stuck. She wiggled it back and forth, and tugged on it until, finally, she pulled back so hard it came flying out of the bureau. The drawer landed on the floor, clipping her left ankle hard enough to make her cry out. Trying to shake off the pain, she looked down. That’s when she noticed a thick manila envelope that had dropped onto the floor. It was held shut by a thick rubber band. Curious, she reached down and picked it up, not knowing or even suspecting what it was until she removed the elastic, undid the metal clasp, and opened it.
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” she whispered.
Her eyes bulged from their sockets when she saw the contents of the envelope. She looked around as if suspecting someone was watching her.
“You son of a bitch,” she said, smiling as she hefted the thick stack of money. The top bill was a hundred dollar bill. She rifled the stack quickly, making sure they were all hundreds. Her smile widened, and her breath caught in her chest. Then, moving fast, she closed the envelope and wrapped the rubber band around it. She looked around again, keenly aware of her heart hammering hard in her chest.
“Sweet Mother of Jesus,” she whispered.
Her head snapped around, and she fully expected to see Tom standing in the doorway, glowering at her with his revolver aimed right at her head. She folded the envelope up and stuck it into the waistband of her jeans, un-tucking her blouse to cover it.
She hadn’t counted how much there was, but it was a lot, no doubt. She wondered why Tom had hidden it in his bureau, but it didn’t take her long to figure it out.
He wasn’t just leaving her.
He was planning on leaving town.
He must have come by this money illegally, and she’d be damned if she was going to let him keep it.
She set about picking up the clothes she had scattered around the room and put the drawer back, reassuring herself that everything looked like it had when she’d first come in. Ultimately, it didn’t matter because Tom wasn’t the most observant guy on the planet. Her breath came in thin gulps. A metallic taste filled her throat, making her wince as she gripped the shopping bags she had filled and snapped off the bedroom light. She closed the door — It had been closed when she came upstairs, right? — and carried her booty downstairs.
When she reached the foot of the stairs, she resisted the urge to run out the door and get the hell gone. She slowly, carefully locked the kitchen door behind her and then walked across the lawn to her car. She was fearful that — any second now — headlights would appear on the road and — just her luck — turn into the driveway, blocking her, but she made it.
She was panting heavily, her armpits damp with sweat as she opened the passenger’s door, threw the bags of clothes onto the front seat, and then walked around the car to get in the driver’s side. She was hyperventilating. Her hands were tingling as she shoved the key into the ignition, convinced her car wasn’t going to start, and she’d be stranded here.
But the engine turned over easily and ran with a low, reassuring rumble. She hardly breathed as she shifted into gear and did a three-point turn to back around. Just as she shifted into drive, her cell phone chirped. Wound as tight as she was, she jumped and let out a piercing scream.
Her hands shook out of control as she twisted to one side and fished the cell phone from her jeans pocket. Some of the jewelry she had taken spilled onto the car seat, but she didn’t care as she flipped open her phone and looked at the caller ID. The phone rang a second time.
“Fuck!”
It was Tom.
Cold sweat broke out across her forehead as she wondered whether or not to answer.
Was he close by?
Was he watching her now?
Did he have his gun aimed at her head, ready to blow her the fuck away?
Louise craned around and looked, but she didn’t see anything.
The phone rang a third time. She shifted the car into park and, sucking in a breath, pressed the green answer button on her phone.
“Hu’lo?” she said, trying hard to sound perfectly normal.
“Hey, Lou.”
It was Tom, all right.
“I wasn’t sure you’d answer if you knew I was calling.”
Immense relief flooded her. If he was out there in the darkness, watching her, he wouldn’t have responded
like that.
“What’d yah want?” she asked, feeling braver and beginning to think she actually might get away with this.
“I … umm, I kinda need your help,” Tom said. For the first time, she noticed the note of contrition in his voice.
Louise stuffed back a burst of laughter and shook her head, wishing he was standing right in front of her so she could spit into his face.
“Really?” she said, not believing what she was hearing.
“Yeah, uhh, this is serious, Lou. I … I’m in a bit of a jam.”
Louise was tempted to say: Good … Now go blow it out your ass, but she held back. She had just stolen a pile of money from him. The least she could do was hear him out.
“What’s the problem?” she asked, forcing herself to sound patient and understanding even though she wanted to laugh out loud at him.
“I — I’ve been shot,” Tom said.
“What?”
Not that she cared all that much, but she couldn’t help but react. Now her curiosity was piqued.
“Wha — what happened?”
“Long story,” Tom said. “I was in a … in a shootout with some drug dealers.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.
Her free hand drifted to the envelope of money stuffed into her waistband. If she played along with him now, she realized, he’d be less likely to suspect her when he found out the envelope of money was missing.
“Yeah … I took a slug in the shoulder and one in the leg. Nothing life-threatening, I don’t think. At least that’s what the doctors tell me, but I —” He heaved a shuddering sigh after his voice choked off.
“You what?” Louise asked, forcing herself to sound concerned.
“It looks like I … I might have shot and killed a DEA agent.”
“Jesus, Tom.”
“I’m gonna need a lawyer.”
His words stunned her. This was so surreal it couldn’t really be happening.
“Look,” Tom said, his voice wavering. He sounded like he was trying not to cry. “I … I know you have every reason to tell me to go fuck myself.”
The Cove Page 33
