Against the Claw

by Shari Randall

“Careful!” I shouted.

  “Don’t worry, I grew up on a ranch.” Henry stumbled and dropped the gun. He picked it up and the gun went off.

  Eden screamed. I dropped the bottle. Champagne foamed and spilled across the rug. The boat rocked. Henry missed his footing and dropped the gun again.

  “Henry, what’s wrong with you!” Eden shouted. She lunged off the couch and picked up the gun. “You just shot up Stellene’s couch!”

  Henry laughed and swore. Red crept up his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to do that, honest!”

  “I don’t want this.” Eden shoved the gun into Lorel’s hands.

  “I don’t want it!” Lorel shoved it at me, like a game of hot potato. I waved it off.

  Lorel ran to the bridge and shoved the gun back into the drawer. She slammed it shut. In the shocked silence, we looked at each other. Then we burst out laughing.

  “On that terrifying note, time for bed,” Henry said.

  “Yeah, that was enough excitement for me.” Lorel twisted her hands.

  “You’re a menace,” I said to Henry.

  “He always has been.” Eden ruffled his hair.

  “Yeah, but I’m cute.” Henry knelt by the couch. “Bullet went through and got the floor. I’ll have to get this repaired for Stellene.”

  Eden moved a pillow to cover the hole in the couch cushion. “See, all taken care of.”

  Henry groaned. “Nah, I’ll have to make it right.”

  Eden shook her head. “Mr. Responsible. That’s what happens when you’re the grandson of a judge and son of a sheriff. What was his name?”

  “Good old what’s his name.” Henry laughed.

  “He was a Henry, too,” Eden said. “Henry ‘Eye for an Eye’ Small.”

  I could only imagine what Henry’s law-and-order grandfather would make of his tattooed musician grandson.

  Eden and Henry stumbled into the master cabin. “Time to get some beauty sleep. Don’t wake me before noon,” Eden called. “Oh wait, I’ve got rehearsal at eleven. Somebody wake me around nine? Remember, I’m ravenous in the morning.” She shut the door.

  I grabbed a towel from the galley and mopped up the champagne. The teak flooring under the couch was splintered around a small hole. It would cost a fortune to repair. Well, Eden could afford it. I sat back on my heels, dizzy. “Why am I so tired? It’s only after midnight, right?”

  “It was a long day, plus all that champagne.” Lorel pressed her hand to her head. “That gunshot almost gave me a heart attack.”

  I laughed. “Did you see Henry’s face? He gave himself a heart attack.”

  “Let’s go to bed, Allie.” Lorel yawned. “We’ve got to get up and make breakfast.”

  We walked carefully down the passage to our bedroom. I pressed my hand against the wall to keep my balance. I was so tired.

  “I don’t think those two are getting up too early.” Muffled laughter floated toward us. “I’m glad there’s a cabin between us. I don’t want to hear anything personal. Though don’t you think there’s something off about them?”

  “Who?” Lorel threw herself onto the bed, not bothering to turn on a light. Pale silvery light came through the porthole.

  I plopped fully clothed onto the bed and kicked off my sandals. “Henry and Eden?”

  “Famous people are different.” Lorel crushed the pillow to her chest and pulled out her phone.

  “And who leaves a gun lying around like that? Stellene’s so worried about security but she leaves a loaded gun lying around,” I said.

  Lorel’s face was gray in the light from her cell phone.

  “Are you drunk dialing Patrick Yardley? Didn’t he drop his phone in the—” I stopped short.

  “His phone.” Lorel rubbed her eyes. “Oh, that’s right.”

  Lorel was drunk and sleepy. I wasn’t going to get her in a more vulnerable mood.

  “So Lorel, why did you and Patrick call it off?”

  She was quiet for a long time. My eyelids were so heavy. Just when I was about to roll over and go to sleep, she spoke so softly I had to strain to hear her.

  “You have to swear you won’t say anything, Allie. I think…” Lorel’s voice trailed. “Patrick’s in trouble but he won’t tell me why. I mean, it’s his gambling. And his backers. They keep asking for more and more money. He won’t let me help. He doesn’t trust me. He—” Lorel started to cry, then snored.

  What was she going to say next? The champagne and the gentle rocking of the boat made it impossible to keep my eyes open. I drifted to sleep. The dead girl from Bertha’s boat surfaced for a moment, but sleep came so fast her white face faded like fog.

  * * *

  Great. I got up and staggered to the bathroom in the dark. When I finished I fumbled back across the stateroom and fell into my bed. Just as my head hit the pillow, a white blur passed by the porthole above my bed.

  Was that blond hair? What was Eden doing up? Or was it Henry? I was too sleepy to think. I rolled over.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  My eyes flew open. My mind struggled to shape thoughts. It was the Fourth of July. Jerks tossing cherry bombs off a boat. So close. I strained to hear more, but there was nothing but Lorel’s gentle breathing. I rolled over and drifted back to sleep.

  Chapter 18

  Sunday, July 5

  It seemed that only a moment had passed when the shrieks of passing gulls woke me. I rolled over and sat up. A jolt of pain made me press my hand to my forehead. The champagne. Did I drink that much?

  The gulls’ screams grew sharper, formed into words.

  “Help! Allie! Help me!”

  Lorel?

  I stumbled to the door and ran toward the sound. Lorel’s screams ripped at my chest.

  “Lorel! Where are you?” I shouted.

  From the saloon, Henry’s sleepy voice called, “What’s going on?”

  I didn’t bother to answer him as I ran out to the swim deck.

  A black rigid-hulled inflatable, the fast and stealthy boat Navy SEALs use in the movies, was tied up to the back of Stellene’s yacht. What on earth was Lorel doing in that RHI?

  Lorel held her hands palms out like she did when she was a little girl and got her hands covered in sand. Heat rose into my chest and my face. Her palms were smeared with something reddish brown.

  Blood?

  “Lorel, are you hurt?”

  Henry thudded down the passage behind me, breathing hard. “What the hell’s going on?” He grabbed my arm.

  A man lay in the bottom of the RHI, huddled at the bow. My eye moved from jeans, a light blue shirt, mottled with red and brown stains, to tousled brown hair. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

  “Allie, help! It’s Patrick. It’s Patrick,” Lorel shrieked.

  “I’m coming.” I threw off Henry’s hand and swung my legs over the wide side of the RHI, pulling at the end of the rope that tethered it to Stellene’s yacht. Water slicked the bottom of the boat.

  “Allie, what do I do? He’s dead, he’s dead.” My sister pressed her hands to her head, smearing her beautiful golden hair with brown streaks.

  I leaned against the high sides of the RHI to steady myself. Behind me, Henry swore. I turned to him in a fury. “Call 911! Stop standing there and do something!”

  His mouth fell open. “I, I don’t know how to use a boat radio—”

  “Your cell should work. Hurry!” I turned back to my sister. “Lorel.” I tried to steady my voice. “Are you sure?”

  I reached down. Patrick’s beautiful hair was unmistakable. I couldn’t bring myself to push back his hair to see his face, but I pressed my fingers against his neck. The stubble on his jawline rasped under my fingers. His skin was cold. There was no pulse.

  Patrick Yardley is dead! How? What was he doing here? I swallowed hard and met Lorel’s eyes.

  Lorel screamed and again pressed her hands to her head. Suddenly I couldn’t bear his blood on her hands, in her hair.

  Lorel’s chest heaved as if she was going to be
sick.

  It was too much. Patrick’s blood. My sister’s screams.

  Lorel fell toward me and grabbed my arms so tightly her nails dug into my skin. I wrapped my arm around her and tried to help her walk past Patrick’s body, but her knees buckled. The RHI started to drift and turn in the water. There was a reddish smear on the shoulder of my T-shirt. Patrick’s blood! Sickness overwhelmed me. I have to get this blood off us.

  I leaned over the side of the boat and pulled Lorel into the water with me.

  The shock of hitting the water extinguished my panicked thoughts. The water closed over my head and roared in my ears. Lorel was motionless for a second, then she clawed for the surface.

  We surfaced, gasping. Henry knelt and dragged Lorel onto the swim deck. I followed. I was numb. Lorel coughed and choked up water. The water wasn’t that cold, but my legs trembled as I pulled myself up. Henry wrapped Lorel in a towel and held one out to me.

  Lorel sagged and Henry and I half carried, half walked her to the saloon.

  Henry kicked aside his duffel bag and lifted a wrinkled blanket from the couch. Lorel collapsed onto it and buried her face in a pillow. I covered her with my body, feeling her tremble. A warm softness covered me. Henry tucked the blanket on top of us.

  I squeezed my eyes shut but I couldn’t block out the image of Patrick’s lifeless body. How could I ever unsee it? Worse was seeing Lorel fall apart. I pressed closer to her, trying to comfort her, trying to keep her together, trying to keep myself together.

  Henry paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair, picking up a T-shirt and a water bottle and stuffing it inside his duffel. A distant voice came from his phone. “The cops are coming and said they’re sending the Coast Guard, too. They said to stay on the phone but I don’t know what to tell them,” he said. “Just the name of Stellene’s boat.”

  “We’re at anchor off Harmony Harbor,” I said. “They’ll know where it is.”

  “Should I call Stellene?”

  Not a phone call I wanted to make. I pressed my cheek against Lorel’s wet hair. “Let the cops do it.”

  Lorel wailed and I stroked her hair as questions flooded my mind. Did Patrick come to see Lorel? Two deaths on the water in Mystic Bay in one week? What on earth was Patrick Yardley doing in a boat tied up to Stellene’s yacht?

  Chapter 19

  Somehow I got Lorel into our stateroom and helped her into a hot shower. There were some sweatpants and T-shirts in a drawer. I pulled Lorel out of the shower and dressed her. She didn’t resist, just sat on the edge of the bed staring at nothing. This scared me more than her weeping. I threw on some clothes from the same stash in the drawer.

  “Lorel, let’s get something to drink.”

  Lorel whimpered. “I have to go to him.”

  “No, Lorel, no. We can’t help him now.” I led her back to the saloon.

  The television was on. Henry jumped up from a chair and we settled Lorel into it. There was a black terry-cloth robe draped on the back of the chair and he gently laid it around her shoulders.

  “Damn. This is awful. Did you know that guy?” Henry said.

  I nodded. “My sister’s boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend,” I said quietly. “Patrick Yardley.”

  He didn’t blink. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Eden, wrapped in a matching oversized black robe with a sleep mask pushed to the top of her head, joined us. Her eye makeup was smeared and her short blond hair stood up all over her head, like the feathers of a baby bird. “I feel like hell. What’s going on? What did I miss?”

  Lorel turned her face away and closed her eyes.

  Henry pulled Eden into the passageway. They spoke quietly. She swore. Her footsteps thudded toward the back of the yacht. I picked up the television remote and hit the mute button as Bertha’s interview with Leo Rodriguez replayed on the screen.

  Eden and Henry returned. Eden’s face was pale. “Some boats are coming.”

  Eden sat next to Lorel and rubbed her back. “How awful,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

  Henry pulled aside the saloon’s curtains. Bright sunlight streamed in. I winced.

  Henry nodded. “Me, too. Wicked hangover. Drank too much. I’m in no shape to face the day, forget the cops and—” He looked at Lorel, hunched his shoulders, and looked away.

  “Allie, let’s get Lorel something to drink.” I followed Eden into the galley.

  “Here.” Eden found a box of tea bags. She nodded at a coffee maker. “Or maybe coffee? She looks like a coffee girl.”

  I took four mugs out of a cabinet. “Tea’s probably better now.” I filled a kettle with water while she opened the refrigerator.

  “Tea for me and Henry, too.” She put two scoops of sugar and milk into two mugs. “What do you and Lorel like?”

  “I’ll have it plain and put some sugar in Lorel’s. Thanks.”

  “Anything with caffeine. My head’s splitting.” Eden ran a hand through her cropped hair and whispered, “So that guy was a friend?”

  “My sister’s ex-boyfriend. Did you know him?” My mind was still spinning. Did he come to see Lorel last night?

  “I mean, I didn’t see his face.” Eden shuddered.

  “Patrick Yardley. He owned a restaurant in Mystic Bay. New Salt.”

  She shook her head, her large dark eyes blank, just as Henry’s had been. “No, I don’t recognize the name.”

  We brought the tea into the saloon. I helped Lorel sit up and pressed a mug into her hands. Eden handed a cup to Henry and sat on the arm of his chair.

  “Try a sip, Lorel,” I said.

  She obeyed, but her hands shook so much I wrapped mine around hers to steady them. A Coast Guard launch pulled up to the yacht, a Mystic Bay police boat right behind. In the distance a Harbor Patrol boat approached. Everyone was coming. Everyone was too late.

  “What do we do now?” Eden said.

  Voices and the sound of heavy footsteps rose from the passageway.

  “Stellene didn’t even want me out here,” Eden muttered. “I should’ve stayed in the house.”

  Chief Emerson Brooks ducked his head and stepped into the saloon. He was Verity’s uncle and he’d coached Lorel’s softball team. His solid, familiar presence wiped away my last bit of composure. Tears welled and blurred my vision.

  “Allie! Lorel! What—” He rushed to kneel by Lorel.

  “Aunt Gully catered Stellene’s party.” I wiped my eyes. “We stayed out here last night.”

  Chief Brooks put a hand on my shoulder. “How are you doing, honey?” I hugged him and then introduced Henry and Eden. Lorel looked at him blankly, shivering.

  Two Coastguardsmen entered the saloon and nodded at Chief Brooks. They knelt next to Lorel, talking softly with her.

  “Allie,” Chief Brooks said, “let’s let them tend to Lorel. Come tell me what happened.” Reluctantly, I stepped aside.

  Chief Brooks, Henry, Eden, and I sat at the table. He set his hat down and ran his hand through his cropped gray hair. “Patrick Yardley. Was he here on the boat with you? Having a party?” His eyes were sad. Disappointed?

  Eden, Henry, and I started talking at once.

  “Maybe you’d better fill me in, Allie.”

  In a low voice I told Chief Brooks everything that had happened, but I kept my eyes on Lorel. She sat upright and seemed to have pulled herself together enough to talk with the men as they took her blood pressure. From below came heavy footsteps and the occasional shout. The roar of boat engines and diesel fumes drifted in with humid air.

  “We’ll take statements from all of you,” Chief Brooks said. “We’ll get you off this boat and take you back to shore.”

  “I have a rehearsal this morning,” Eden said.

  Henry said, “Did you call Lars?”

  “He’s coming down from Boston,” Eden said.

  The silent television screen said it was nine A.M. On a normal day we’d be helping Aunt Gully at the Mermaid.

  “I have to call Aunt Gull
y,” I said.

  “Give her a call. I’ll get you over there as soon as we’re done.” Chief Brooks looked at Lorel, his brow knotted. “And get Lorel back home.”

  “Chief.” An officer looked in from the passage.

  Chief Brooks and one of the Coastguardsmen joined him. The other packed their equipment gave Lorel a reassuring smile, and also went into the passage.

  They conferred in low tones but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Eden and Henry shared a look, then they both scrolled on their phones.

  This simple action made my temper flare. I rubbed my aching head. Why was I being so judgmental? Eden and Henry didn’t know Patrick. They didn’t know Lorel or me. They’d been perfectly nice. They’d go back to their lives untouched by this tragedy. I went to Lorel.

  Lorel stared out the window as a fishing boat chugged past. Without turning she said, “I said terrible things to Patrick that night on the breakwater, Allie. I didn’t even get to talk to him last night. I didn’t get to say good-bye.” I squeezed her shoulder then I called Aunt Gully.

  “Lazy Mermaid Lobster Shack,” Hilda answered. For a long moment I didn’t know what to say. I took a deep breath and explained the situation.

  “Oh, God, no!” she moaned.

  “Hilda, put Aunt Gully on.” My voice frayed.

  “What’s going on?” Aunt Gully said as Hilda wailed in the background.

  “Aunt Gully, it’s Allie. I can’t say much but we’re on Stellene’s yacht. Chief Brooks is here.” I could hardly form the words. “Patrick Yardley’s dead.”

  Aunt Gully gasped. “Are you and Lorel all right?”

  Lorel, still clutching her mug, stared at nothing.

  “Yes.” No need to worry Aunt Gully further.

  Chief Brooks came back into the room.

  “We’re going to take you all over to Harmony Harbor. Just have a few questions to ask of you. Mrs. Lupo’s letting us use her home then you may be able to go.”

  May. He said “may.”

  “Aunt Gully, we have to go. Chief Brooks said they’re going to ask us some questions at Harmony Harbor. I’ll call you when I can.”

  “Honey, I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay.” No sense arguing. Aunt Gully was coming over.