"When are we going in?"
"Just before dawn. There's only Tio and the witness. We hit the other woman and she's down. Tio will have to stay up all night standing guard. He's already tired. He won't be a problem."
"I wish we didn't have to kill a marshal. A lotta crap's going to rain down on us for that. The boss won't be pleased."
"The boss will send us to Mexico for a little vacation. It'll blow over, like always. Our man has got the right connections."
"I still say Kit should have killed her."
"Kit should have done it when he was paid to do it." This was the voice of the third man, the one who had not spoken yet.
"Yeah, well, spilled milk is a mess, but whining about it won't fix it."
There was laughter from the other two men. "Bailey, you couldn't pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel."
A flash of lightning gave Joey the brief glimpse he needed. The three men were dressed in dark clothing, their bodies illuminated only a moment. They were lean, young hired killers. Aaron was sitting to the left, his arms behind his back and his legs in front of him. Not a comfortable position, but then the killers weren't necessarily concerned about their victim's comfort.
Anger made Joey even more cautious. Whatever he did, he couldn't risk Aaron. Since his friend couldn't get up and run to safety, Joey knew he'd have to construct a diversion.
Easing backward, he felt his way to the boat. The little skiff was Aaron's joy. Joey would see that he got another one. He checked the gas tank. It was half-full. When he cut the gas line, he allowed it to seep over the seasoned wood. Jerking the loose knot free, he cut the boat adrift. When she was easing out into the deeper water, Joey found the lighter in the waterproof pack he carried. Striking the flint, he tossed it into the pooling gas.
The explosion was so fast and so hot that even though he ducked beneath the surface of the water, the sound deafened him. The water rocked over him, a heated blaze of liquid fire. Joey held his breath and swam until he thought his lungs would explode with the same force. When he dared to lift his head and draw in oxygen, he was outside the area illuminated by the burning boat.
"My boat! My boat!" Aaron's voice carried across the water, a cry of terrible loss.
"Shut up!" one of the men ordered. He yelled back at the others. "Stay with him. Somebody's out there, and I'm going to find him." There was an edge of fear in the man's voice.
Joey eased along the edge of the knoll, following the man. When he was as far away from his friends as he could get, Joey tossed the bullet into the still water only ten feet from him.
The gunshots blasted into the swamp only feet from Joey. There was no point in ducking; the shooter couldn't see him. He was firing blind, shooting at anything that moved on the off chance that it might be life threatening.
"You okay, Bailey?" One of the men yelled.
"Yeah, it was nothing." Bailey's voice held embarrassment. "Musta been a turtle."
"It wasn't a turtle that set our boat on fire. Now, how are we going to get out of here?" The man sounded more annoyed than upset.
"We're not going anywhere until we finish our job. I'd rather stay out here and be alligator bait than go back and admit that the witness is still alive."
"Right," Bailey grumbled. "There's nothing here that I can see." He started back.
Joey threw another bullet. The plop was audible, a challenge.
Bailey edged closer to the water. He listened, waiting for the lightning that would give him a chance to see. Joey knew he had to act before that very lightning gave him away. When he heard Bailey turn as if to go back to camp, Joey flung himself out of the water. Before Bailey had a chance to do anything but struggle, Joey pulled him down into the water, holding him under as he fought to get up to air.
Lifting the butt of his gun, Joey brought it down as hard as he could. Bailey ceased to struggle, his body going limp in the cold water.
Joey knew the smart thing would be to kill him, but he dragged him into the shallows and turned him on his back. He was out, but only for a limited time. Joey used the tie line from the boat to secure him. It was a thought that it might be kinder to kill him. Left alive, he could attract an alligator. Joey pulled the knot brutally tight. It was a chance old Bailey would just have to face.
"Hey, Bailey?" Another of the men approached. Joey grabbed Bailey's gun and tucked it in his pants.
Using the same ploy, he subdued the second man. Now there was only one left. Joey walked out of the water and toward the place where the lone killer guarded Aaron.
"Where's Bailey?" the man asked without looking up. He was sitting on his haunches before an old army pack, eating out of a bag.
The night was terribly dark, and Joey had counted on the fact that the man would not recognize him.
He walked straight up to him and lashed out with his foot, catching the man just under the chin. He went down like a sack of flour.
"Joey!" Aaron's voice held a real note of relief. "I knew you'd figure out a way to save me." His face darkened. "You didn't blow up my boat, did you? That wasn't you who blew up my Antoinette?"
Joey untied his friend's hands. "It was the boat or you. I really liked the boat a lot, but I picked you, anyway."
As soon as Aaron's hands were free he shook them vigorously while Joey untied his feet. "Couldn't you just have cut her adrift?" Aaron asked.
"It would have lacked the visual effect," Joey said. Using the same ropes that had bound Aaron, he tied up the third killer.
"We should shoot them." Aaron wasn't kidding. "They were going to kill us."
"I know. It would be the smart thing, but the way I figure it, they wouldn't dare swim. If they have any brains at all, the thought of what might await them in the black water will keep than on land. I want them alive so I can question them."
"Are you sure?" Aaron wasn't ready to let them off so easily.
Joey patted his friend's back. "Find their guns and let's go."
"Go where? The boat is blown to bits."
"To the cabin."
"You want me to swim?" Aaron made a motion toward the swamp. "The gators will eat us alive."
"I made it here."
"Well, we should stay here."
"Laurette's been shot, and Con's all alone with her. We have to get back." He could picture her, standing at the door, watching for him to come back. It was powerful motivation to make the long, hard swim. That was the image he had to keep focused on. Something positive. Cori St. John.
"Is Laurette hurt bad?"
"She could be if we don't get out of here and get some help."
"You really want to swim?" Aaron looked toward the water as if he could make the boat reappear.
"It's going to rain, anyway. If we stand here we'll get just as wet."
The lightning popped and the sky rumbled. Fat drops peppered the water in front of them.
"Damn, it's cold." Aaron shivered. "I guess we might as well swim for it." He waded into the water with Joey at his side.
The rain was so hard that Joey swam by instinct. All of the landmarks were obscured by the pelting rain, and at times he had to tread water until he felt Aaron beside him. They did not waste energy talking.
Joey knew that he had pushed past the edge of endurance in the cold water already. He could think only of getting to the cabin, of the fire and the hot soup, and the healing warmth of Cori's sweet kisses.
When at last his fingers found the dock, he fumbled before he could get up. Only Aaron's gentle pushing got him up the ladder and onto dry land.
"You're freezing," Aaron said, putting an arm around his friend. "Let's get inside."
Together they lurched up the dock and to the cabin door. Joey knocked lightly, calling Cori's name as they entered.
The fire in the fireplace was out, just a bed of dying embers. The stove was cold, the smell of the soup still in the air. Joey's gaze swept the room. Laurette was sleeping soundly, her chest moving gently up and down.
>
And Cori was nowhere in sight.
"Where is she?" Aaron asked.
"I wish I knew." Joey felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach. There was no boat, no way for Cori to leave. Where had she gone? Better yet, how had she left? And why?
"What are you going to do?" Aaron asked.
Joey closed the cabin door. Still dripping, he went to the fireplace and built up the fire. Then he felt his sister's forehead. "Her fever is down." At last he picked up a towel and threw it to Aaron while he found one for himself. "I don't know what to do. I don't think Laurette knows where Cori went. I suppose I'll look for her." He didn't have a clue where to begin to hunt. The patch of land was barely a quarter of a mile wide, and a half a mile in length, depending on the tides. It was surrounded by marsh on the west side, and the north end was a jungle of small trees. There was no place Cori could go, and no reason for her to leave the cabin.
Aaron looked out the window. "You won't find any tracks left after this storm. We don't even know how long she's been gone."
"Joey?" Laurette's strained voice silenced anything Joey might have wanted to answer.
He was at her side. "Are you okay?"
"Dreams. Strange dreams." She smiled. "I need some antibiotics."
"And we'll get them." Joey brushed his fingers over her brow. "Where did Cori go?"
Laurette tried to look around the room, but the effort was too much. "She was here. She gave me soup." She smiled. "She's a good girl, Joey. You picked a good one."
"I did." Joey smiled down at his sister. "Now, rest, Laurette. Aaron and I are going to think of a way to get us back to town. Just rest and dream of being at home with Cliff and Angela."
She was asleep before he finished speaking.
Joey stood, acting as calm as possible. He could not show that he wanted to beat the walls down with his fists. He turned to Aaron. "I have to go."
"I'll watch Laurette. Don't worry about your sister. I'll take good care of her. Just find Cori."
The thick mud sucked at Cori's shoes, and the rain blinded her. She had given up any attempt to listen for wild beasts in the marshy land she traversed. If an alligator came to eat her, she wouldn't be able to see him coming. Rain, mud, bitter cold and Kit Wells were the only realities.
He was alive.
Somehow, he had managed to survive the alligator attack. He had come back.
By the time she'd gotten to the door, he was gone. The only evidence he'd been there was a trail of blood that was rapidly being swept away by the rain. Using the lantern, she'd examined the bloodstain.
She'd touched her finger in it, drawing back the redness. It was real. Kit was real. Her teeth chattered as she clung to that thought. He was real. She had not imagined him.
Leaning against the door, she fought the demons of self-doubt. After weeks of believing that Kit was alive, she'd finally discovered that he was. She'd come for evidence, and she'd found it. Now he was dead. She'd seen the alligator go after him with her own eyes.
Except he'd been standing at the window not two minutes before. Dear God, the man had come back from the dead again. And this time she didn't believe it.
From the closet she borrowed a rain slicker. Gun in hand, she went out the door and into the driving rain. At the bottom of the steps she hesitated, torn between loyalty to Joey and his sister and the image of Kit. It had to end. Kit could not possibly have been there. He was dead. But she had to prove it to herself.
Had the horror of Kit's face begun to unravel the edges of her sanity? She looked at the fingers she'd dipped in the blood. There was no trace of anything except cold rain.
"Kit!" She called his name as she moved steadily away from the cabin. She had never asked Joey how large the tract of land was that the cabin stood on. She turned to look behind her and saw nothing but the driving rain. The lighted window of the cabin was totally hidden by the gray curtain of water. And Laurette? Cori could not leave her for long.
Only long enough to prove to herself that Kit was dead. She would not spend the rest of her life catching glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye.
The heavy pounding of the rain made her dizzy. Leaning against the trunk of a tall, slender tree, she fought for deep breaths. She considered turning back. She knew that she was not acting in a rational manner, and that frightened her more than the thought of seeing Kit's ghost.
She struggled forward through the copse of slender trees, the rain blinding her. The shotgun was slick in her hand, the metal slightly oily. Stumbling forward, she grasped another tree as she went down on her knees. The futility of her search struck home.
In the downpour, she'd lost her direction. The swamp around her was empty. There was no movement, no sign of any other life. Gradually the rain began to lesson.
It stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sky was still overcast, a roiling gray that spoke of more bad weather to come. The only sound was the rain dripping into water and mud. The ground was covered in dark leaves and sticks. There were no tracks, no trail to follow.
Once again, Kit Wells had led her to a total dead end.
"Cori?"
She swung around to find Joey standing not ten feet from her. His look was strained, pushed to the limit. She couldn't tell if the water on her face was from the rain or her own tears.
"Cori, are you okay?" Joey approached her slowly. She looked broken. When she didn't try to dart away from him he pulled her against him, both of them shivering. He kissed her forehead and her cheeks, and lastly her lips. "What happened? What are you doing out here?"
Cori grasped his hands and pushed away from him. "Did you see him?"
"Who?"
Her voice was panicky. "Kit. He isn't dead. The alligator didn't get him. He was here, I saw him."
Joey finally understood her shivering was not completely from the cold. He'd never felt that Cori was in greater danger.
Chapter Thirteen
"Well, we're one sorry group." Aaron threw a wet log on the fire and let the hiss conclude his commentary. He looked at Cori, who stared sightlessly into the flames, and at Joey, who watched Cori with the intensity of a hawk.
"Laurette's fever is down even more." Aaron shrugged when he realized he was talking to himself.
Ever since Joey and Cori had returned, soaked and silent, there had been an air of tension in the cabin that was palpable. They were drier now, but no more talkative.
In the short amount of time that Joey and Cori were together, something had happened, and from the way it looked to him, neither of them knew exactly what it was.
"Joey, why don't you and Cori get some rest. I'll keep watch for a while. When it gets daylight, we're going to have to make some decisions." They had left three men hog-tied on an island that could submerge with a strong tide. According to Cori, there was another man, perhaps severely wounded, somewhere outside the cabin. Laurette was better, but the bullet needed to be extracted, and soon.
There was no boat, and Aaron wasn't certain when a fisherman might happen by. There were a lot of things that demanded priority.
"I'll bring in a bit more wood," Joey said. "We can stick it in front of the fire, and maybe it'll dry out a little."
He left the cabin without looking back. The rain had stopped, and the hovering clouds seemed to have trapped some warmth. Dawn was just around the corner, and he could tell already that the day was going to be much warmer. That, if nothing else, was good news. He angled under the cabin and went to the pile of wood that had been carefully gathered for fuel.
They didn't really need more wood, but he hoped the exercise would help clear his thoughts, which had been very confused since he'd found Cori was safe. The feel of her in his arms had been one of the most intense pleasures he'd ever hoped to feel. That was before he started to wonder why she was out in the swamp.
Three days before, she'd been a woman who wanted desperately to believe her husband was alive.
Apparently, that hadn't changed. He'd seen the desperation in
her eyes. She wanted Kit Wells alive, no matter that he'd tried to kill her.
When he'd first sighted her, slumped against a tree, he'd thought she was mortally wounded, but the wound had been only to her heart. He had seen the look on her face. She was still in love with Kit.
He hefted the ax and brought it down with all of his might. The slender log snapped in two and both halves leaped into the air. He chopped another and felt the beginning of the physical release he needed.
Cori St. John or Brently Gleason. Who was this woman who had crept under his skin? Did he have any idea? Could the past drive her away from him? He brought the ax down with tremendous force. The log snapped and the blade of the ax dug deep into the muddy ground.
AS soon as the cabin door closed, Cori stood. She paced the room a moment, then made her decision. "I'll go help Joey." She picked up the shotgun as if carrying it were second nature to her.
Outside the cabin she saw the first fingers of dawn streak the sky pale pink. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. It was something her sister Lane had said as a child. When they had shared a room together and were planning a picnic or swim, Lane would predict the weather. Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Cori was sure there were a million variations of the saying, but that was the one Lane had taught her. She made a vow to herself. As soon as she got back to civilization, she would telephone her sister and arrange a visit.
Witness protection be damned. She was going to see her family.
But first she was going to talk to Joey. There was a lot unsaid between them. Too much. She'd been emotionally wrung out and terrified when he'd found her in the woods. Fear for her sanity had made her back away from Joey. Now he'd put up a shield between them, an emotional barrier that she didn't fully understand.
The sound of an ax hitting the solid logs came to her, and she followed the noise to the woodpile behind the cabin. He was a solitary figure against the pinkening sky. Stopping, she watched him heft the ax and bring it down to cleave the slender logs.
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