Shattered Haven Read online

  Allison straightened, and Terrance aimed the gun at Brinks, who hadn’t stopped barking since they stepped into the cockpit. “Shut him up, or I’ll shoot him.”

  “Brinks, sit.” When the dog complied with the command, Blake gave a second. “Lie down.”

  Brinks hesitated, his ears back and a low growl rumbling in his throat. Blake gave the command again, and the dog finally obeyed, flattening himself against the floor of the cockpit. But he wasn’t relaxed. Every muscle beneath that slick black coat rippled with tension.

  Terrance repeated his earlier instructions. “Now get off the boat.”

  Allison held both hands up in front of her. “Terrance, think about what you’re doing. You have a life here. Is whatever’s out there worth giving that up to live a life on the run?”

  “Quiet!”

  Allison flinched at the sharp command, and Terrance continued.

  “You call this a life? Working for you uppity people with your big boats and fancy houses? It’s a great life for you, maybe, but not for the people who do your dirty work.”

  Allison’s jaw dropped at Terrance’s verbal attack, and Blake’s stomach clenched at the hatred behind the words. His hand moved to his side. Her Glock was holstered there, hidden by his windbreaker. Could he use it? Would he have the guts to actually pull the trigger?

  Resolve surged through him, and he had no doubt. If it came down to Allison’s life or Terrance’s, he wouldn’t hesitate.

  “If you try anything, she dies.”

  Terrance’s words froze him in his tracks. He would have to wait for the perfect opportunity. With Terrance’s weapon trained on Allison’s chest, now wasn’t the time.

  He stepped from the boat and glanced around him. Everything was deserted. No one lingered about in the parking area or on the back balconies of any of the Cedar Cove condominiums. If anyone had heard Brinks’s barking, they had ignored it. Blake sighed. They were on their own.

  “Walk toward my boat, both of you. And no heroics if you want to live.”

  Blake followed Allison down the dock, chart and compass clutched to his chest. But before he could board the old Bayliner, Terrance stopped him.

  “Wait right there. Are you armed?”

  As expected, Terrance found and removed the Glock within moments, then worked his way down each of Blake’s legs. Finally, he straightened.

  Blake breathed a sigh of relief. Terrance didn’t check his shirt pocket, so he still had his cell phone. Not that it would do him much good. With Terrance watching his every move, he wasn’t likely to have the opportunity to use it.

  Terrance nudged him forward with the barrel of the gun, prompting him to board. Allison was already seated on the side-facing bench, and he moved to sit next to her. But Terrance had other ideas.

  “You’re going to captain the boat, and she’s going to tell you where to go.” He handed Allison a small flashlight, then settled onto the seat in the back. “Any monkey business out of either of you and you’ll both be feeding the fish.”

  Blake gave Allison the compass and laid the chart across her lap. When her eyes met his, they were filled with fear. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, offering an assurance he didn’t feel.

  “Break it up.”

  Allison flinched again, and Blake fought back a sudden urge to deck Terrance. He released her hand and sank into the pilot’s seat. As he began to motor away from the dock, hopelessness descended on him. He had promised to protect her. How was he supposed to do that alone on a deserted island with an angry armed man?

  He motored past the tip of Cedar Key toward the channel, his mind churning. If he could dial Hunter, maybe he could relay their plight unbeknownst to Terrance.

  He slipped the phone from his pocket and laid it on the seat between his legs, keeping his left hand on the wheel. Without fully turning his head, he cast a sideways glance at Allison. She sat watching him, eyes alert. He swiped his thumb across the screen to unlock it and touched the icon to pull up his call log.

  When he cast another glance at Allison, she was studying the chart in the glow of the flashlight Terrance had given her. She looked past the bow and held up an index finger. “Head toward the four-second red beacon.”

  “Will do.” He cast the words over his shoulder so Terrance would hear. As long as Terrance was convinced they weren’t trying anything, he would probably stay seated. If he stood and approached him from behind, Allison would find a way to warn him.

  He glanced down at the phone, careful not to dip his head, and redialed his last contact. Come on, Hunter. Pick it up. And listen carefully to what I’m going to say. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and, confident the windbreaker would hide the glow, turned in his seat.

  “Terrance,” he began, “when Allison told you what was on that paper, she wasn’t lying.” He dipped his chin, bringing his mouth closer to the phone. “She thought the Ss were 5s. She just figured it out today, that those first designations are beacons and the other numbers are degrees on a compass.” He repeated each line, then gave the final clue. “Once she drew the lines, they all converged on one of the Northwest Channel spoil areas.”

  “Whatever. Just drive.”

  Blake released a pent-up breath, trying to dispel some of the tension. He had done everything he could. There was nothing to do now but wait and hope for Hunter’s help.

  No, there was one more thing. He should have thought of it sooner. He had always handled things on his own, but now he was out of ideas.

  He turned his thoughts heavenward and began to pray.

  * * *

  Allison pulled her windbreaker more tightly around her. Now that the sun had fully set, there was a chill in the early November air. But it didn’t begin to match the cold knot of fear that had settled in her gut.

  All the precautions they had taken were for nothing. Because here she was, speeding into the night, bouncing over the waves with a gun pointed at her head.

  Was Terrance really capable of murder? The thought seemed almost inconceivable. But before tonight, she would never have imagined him being capable of any of the other things he had done, either.

  And once he had what he sought, what would he do then? Would he leave them on the island to be rescued once daylight came? Or would he make sure he left behind no witnesses?

  Or would he even have a choice? If he was working with Bear Stevens, Bear was likely calling the shots. A giant fist clamped down on her chest and squeezed.

  But Blake had a plan. He had called someone. She was sure of it, even though she hadn’t watched him do it. Not wanting to alert Terrance, she had averted her gaze shortly after he removed the phone from his pocket.

  She clicked on the flashlight and shined it over the port bow. A shape appeared, a mini island created during dredging. It was the first of several spoil areas on the east-west stretch of the channel. A four-second red beacon flashed just ahead, a four-second green in the distance. If her calculations were right, their destination was between. Maybe they would be seen by some late-returning boater. The chances weren’t good, but she was clinging to whatever hope she could find.

  As they motored past the red beacon and drew closer to the green, she once again shined the light over the port bow. “This is it.”

  The roar of the motor lowered in volume and pitch, and their forward movement slowed.

  “Move around to the back side.” The command was for Blake, but Terrance’s eyes remained on her. So did the pistol.

  As Blake circled around behind the small island, she tried to beat back discouragement. Terrance was lessening the chances of being seen, squashing what little hope she had. His boat would be out of sight. And though sparse, the scrub oaks and pines that had grown up would help hide them, too.

  “Ease the boat to shore.”

  Blake did
as told, cutting their speed even further. Finally, the shhh of fiberglass passing over sandy bottom whispered through the hull.

  Terrance waved the gun at Blake. “Step ashore and set the front anchor.”

  Blake climbed onto the bow and eased himself over the rail, landing with a splash in the shallow water. Terrance’s boat was pretty basic, no electric windlass or any other bells and whistles, so everything had to be done by hand. He measured out about twenty feet of rode and tied the line off to the front cleat. After unhooking the anchor from its brackets on the front rail, he carried it several yards inland and drove its pointed steel ends into the sand.

  They were headed toward high tide, so there was no chance of the boat being grounded when they finished. Terrance would be able to board and take off...once he dealt with her and Blake. A shudder shook her shoulders.

  “Okay.” Terrance leaned forward to reach between the pilot’s seat and the side of the boat. “Come back and get the shovel.”

  Shovel? Who carried a shovel on a boat? Allison turned to watch him lift the item from the floor and lay it on the bow. He was prepared and probably had been for a while, confident that it was just a matter of time until he got what he wanted.

  And why not? No one suspected him. He was right there as she went in and out of the marina, even followed her on her charters a couple of times to ensure that she was safe.

  She stifled a snort, kicking herself for once again being duped. It was the story of her life. When was she finally going to start looking behind the obvious? But somewhere beneath the silent castigation was the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t seen what Terrance was.

  Once Blake had the shovel, Terrance took the flashlight from her, then gripped her arm and pulled her up. “Let’s go. Leave the chart, but bring the compass.”

  She stuffed it into the pocket of her shorts, then scrambled forward, constantly aware of the pistol pointed at her back. By the time she reached the bow, Blake had dropped the shovel and stepped back into the dark, rolling water.

  With her hands on his shoulders, she lowered herself into his waiting arms, and he carried her ashore. When he set her on her feet, he didn’t release her right away. And for several brief moments, she reveled in the warmth of his embrace and the security she felt there. Emotion welled up inside, and regret that she had never been able to express it.

  “I love you.” She wanted him to know. Chances were good neither of them would make it off the island alive.

  His arms tightened around her, and he pressed his cheek to hers, his mouth close to her ear. “Stay alert. Don’t give up.”

  Her breath caught, and her stomach rolled over. He did have a plan. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes.

  “Get a move on. Now!”

  Blake tensed, and she did, too. The steely voice was like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head, dousing that flicker of renewed hope. She pushed herself from Blake’s embrace.

  “Pick up the shovel and move away from the boat.”

  Terrance stood on the bow, the weapon pointed at both of them, careful not to get within strike range of the shovel. He was being cautious, and for good reason—he was outnumbered two to one. Of course, that lethal piece of metal he held had a way of evening things up.

  She stepped back with Blake, then watched Terrance jump from the boat. He nodded at her and made a small motion with the gun.

  “You’re going to find the exact spot, and he’s going to dig.”

  She gave a sharp dip of her head and swallowed hard, then walked in a tight, slow circle. All three beacons were visible from the island, casting their beams of light through the darkness. She chose the nearest one, the four-second red, and held up the compass. Her hand shook, making it hard to get an accurate bearing. Drawing in a steadying breath, she cupped her clenched fist with her other hand. It helped. But when she aligned the front and rear sights, she was a couple of degrees off. She needed to move left.

  She dropped her arm and began walking toward the center of the small island, stopping to take regular bearings. Finally the number she sought lined up perfectly. One done, two to go. And adjustments to make on the first and second while she sought to line up the third.

  Finally, she stopped and turned to face Terrance. She could no longer see the third beacon, the four-second green that marked the beginning of the main shipping channel. A small pine blocked her view, apparently having grown up since whatever they were seeking was buried. But she knew which direction it lay and was confident she had located the designated spot.

  “This is it.”

  She looked from Terrance to Blake. The three of them stood in a loose triangle, Terrance still keeping his distance.

  “Start digging.” Terrance leaned back against one of the trees, but he didn’t relax his stance or lower the weapon.

  Blake stepped forward, drove the shovel into the ground and lifted a small mound of sand. Over the next ten minutes, an ever-widening hole appeared. Terrance grew more and more antsy, ratcheting her own tension up several degrees.

  When Blake stopped digging and turned to look at her, Terrance shoved himself away from the tree and strode toward her, fury flashing in his eyes. Fear exploded in her chest. What was he doing? She hadn’t done anything to set him off. She threw up both hands and stumbled backward.

  He reached around her to grab a handful of her hair and forced her to her knees. Blake started toward them, still holding the shovel. Then Terrance jammed the pistol into her temple. Panic pounded up her spine. God, please help us.

  “You think this is one big game, don’t you?”

  Hand still fisted in her hair, he jerked her head backward. Pain shot through her scalp and neck, and a strangled scream made its way up her throat.

  “You’re stalling, trying to stretch it out. You keep looking at each other with those knowing glances, figuring I’m too stupid to know what you’re thinking.” His voice increased in pitch and volume, that cold control he had displayed all evening slipping. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through the past month? How many times I’ve been called inept and incompetent, while you’ve gone on your merry way?”

  Allison tried to still her spinning thoughts, to focus through the pain and fear. What was he talking about? Who had called him inept and incompetent? Surely not any of the residents of Cedar Key.

  “You’ve stalled long enough. If you don’t get moving and find this thing in ten minutes, I shoot her.”

  The panic she had been trying to hold at bay pounded up her spine and exploded through her mind. What if she was wrong? A miscalculation of one or two degrees could cause them to be off by several feet.

  Blake resumed digging with renewed vigor, turning over large mounds of dirt. The hole expanded until it measured six-by-six by one foot deep and partially wrapped a small pine. He stopped digging and, holding the shovel vertical, drove it into the ground again and again. Finally, near the edge of the hole, his efforts met with a thud.

  Relief washed through her. Once Blake finished uncovering whatever he had found, Terrance would probably still shoot them. But Blake had bought her some time.

  Terrance suddenly released her. “Don’t move.”

  He returned to the same tree he had stood by before and removed a cell phone from the case at his hip. After a few taps on the screen, he put the phone to his ear.

  “We found it.” A quick beat passed. “I don’t know. I don’t have it open yet. The girl’s boyfriend is digging it up.” There was another pause. Then Terrance’s voice grew defensive. “Hey, I didn’t have a choice. She had figured it out, and he was with her.”

  Allison watched him. Who was he talking to? Bear? Or someone else altogether? This someone was apparently calling the shots. And he wasn’t pleased that Terrance had kidnapped both of them.

  When she turned t
o look at Blake, he had stopped digging. He bent to lift the chest he had uncovered and placed it on the mound of sand.

  Terrance took two steps toward him, then stopped. “Leave the shovel and go stand over there.” He made a motion with the pistol, indicating a place about ten feet from where she knelt. “If either of you try anything, she’s dead.”

  He closed the remaining distance, speaking into the phone. “It’s uncovered. I’m getting ready to open it.”

  After stepping into the hole, he dropped to his knees. From her vantage point, he was in profile. He laid the phone next to the chest and briefly touched the screen. Had he disconnected the call? Her question was answered when a raspy voice shattered the silence.

  “Well?” It was a single word, but managed to be impatient, demanding and condescending, all at the same time.

  “I’m opening it now.”

  He placed the weapon within easy reach and pulled the flashlight from his pocket. Two latches held the lid closed. There was no lock. Whoever had buried it probably hadn’t seen the need. It had apparently remained undisturbed for years.

  Terrance unfastened the two latches and slowly raised the top. In the beam of the light, the box appeared to be plastic with a rubber seal between the case and its lid, similar to the waterproof box that held her flares and flare gun. Except this one was larger. As he peered inside, she found herself holding her breath. What was inside the box? What was so important that it had cost her her serenity, her security, and probably her life?

  Terrance’s mouth fell open. Then he snapped it shut again to release a soft whistle. Finally, he reached in and pulled out a thick wad of bound bills, then another and another. Was he getting a cut? Was that what had enticed him to turn from honest work to a life of crime? It wouldn’t surprise her. The promise of that kind of money could tempt a lot of people.

  “Don’t you be thinking of double-crossing me, boy.” The harsh words seemed to jerk Terrance back to earth in a flash.

  He began to stuff the bundles back into the box. “Just chill. I’m doing everything like we talked about.”