Maggy's Child, page 36
“Come on!” She jerked David to his feet before he could hit the ground, and kept running. Groaning, he nevertheless managed to stay on his feet, stumbling behind her until he regained his balance. Nick, his breathing audibly labored now, urged him on from behind. Behind them Maggy fancied she could hear the pounding of pursuing feet.
They burst from the woods onto the grassy verge, and Maggy bounded toward the cliff. Like the treetops, the stone of the cliff was silvered by moonlight. Far below, a ladder of silver cellophane stretched across Willow Creek.
“Sit down, push off, and slide,” Maggy ordered her son breathlessly, pulling him down beside her as she dropped to a sitting position on the edge of the cliff.
“But, Mom …” David, who had never to her knowledge been shown this particular route to the creek, glanced over at her in obvious doubt, his face white, his eyes wide.
“Do it!” Maggy gave him a push and went over after him, her hands skidding in the loose shale. To his credit, David didn’t scream, didn’t make a sound. Instead he fetched up on the rock ledge only seconds ahead of herself and stood up as she landed.
“Wow!” he exclaimed as Nick slid down almost on his back. The handcuffs were really hampering Nick’s mobility, Maggy saw, but there was no time to do anything about it and nothing she could do to free him even if they had the time. She didn’t think Lyle knew about this way to the creek.
Nick was on his feet, and the three of them stepped out onto the path that snaked down the cliff. Maggy went first, holding David’s hand tightly in hers, and Nick brought up the rear. Maggy gave a brief thought to Nick’s balance with his hands cuffed behind him, but when she glanced back she saw that he was hugging the cliff face and moving at a steady pace.
It seemed to take forever for them to reach the ground. Maggy was sweating by the time they did, both from physical exertion and from the terror that accompanied fleeing for their lives. Any second she expected to glance back and see Lyle and Ham and their two thugs in hot pursuit.
“Man, that was so cool,” David said as he jumped down onto level ground. Maggy, already in the act of dragging him across the road, stopped for a second to stare at him. He grinned at her, the moonlight gleaming on his braces, his eyes alight.
“You are one great kid,” she said, gave him a quick, hard hug, and pulled him after her toward the dock.
With David beside her, Maggy was already untying the rope securing The Lady Dancer when Nick came up behind them. He was breathing hard, and she spared him a glance of concern as she whipped the rope free.
“Get in the boat,” Nick said to David, who nimbly obeyed. Nick followed more awkwardly, and David reached up to steady him as he almost lost his balance stepping in. Nick sank down on a seat. David crouched beside him. Rope in hand, Maggy hopped in and moved to the rear, yanking on the starter for all she was worth.
She gave a sigh of relief as the engine roared to life on the first try.
“Mom,” David said in an odd voice as she pointed The Lady Dancer toward the center of the creek. “Look at my hand.”
He held his hand out toward her, palm out. His fingers were dark in the moonlight instead of pale as they should have been.
“I think it’s Nick,” he said before Maggy could question him. “I think it’s his blood.”
“Oh, my God!” Maggy’s words were as much a prayer as a gasp.
Nick’s expression was inscrutable. “I got hit back there at the house. It’s nothing serious.”
“Let me see!” Maggy started up from her seat.
“No!” Nick said it fiercely, his eyes gleaming at her from the darkness. “I’m bleeding a little, but I’m not dying. You concentrate on getting us out of here. If you don’t …”
He broke off, obviously not wanting to state the self-evident conclusion with David listening. Maggy finished the sentence in her own mind. If she didn’t, he would die. They both would. And maybe David, too.
A sudden report, a sharp pop in the clear night air, caused Maggy to frown.
“Look, Mom,” David said, sounding scared again as he pointed. “Look up there!”
On top of the cliff down which they’d just descended stood two figures. Silhouetted against the lighter background behind them, they looked no bigger than fingers at that distance. That they were part of the pursuing party was unmistakable, even before a stray moonbeam glinted off the barrel of a gun. But what worried Maggy was where were the other two?
“Don’t worry, we’re out of range,” Nick said. “They must be crazy mad to try a shot at that distance. But it’s good for us. The more noise, the better. Maybe somebody will hear and call the cops.”
His speech sounded vaguely slurred, and Maggy gazed at him in concern. How badly was he hurt? If he was dying, he wouldn’t tell her, not now.
“They’re gone, Mom,” David said. Maggy glanced back at the cliff to find that the figures had indeed vanished.
The night was quiet, dark, surprisingly warm. The gurgle of the creek and the drone of the motor were the only sounds. Above them, the sky was obscenely beautiful: a panoply of brilliant stars scattered across a black-velvet ground. The moon was full and yellow and looked as if it had been ordered by some movie’s central casting department to provide a touch of romance. Ahead of them, the river flowed serenely past.
As she looked at it, a cold whisper of warning rushed through her mind.
Maggy set herself to getting them out onto the open river with all speed.
The wind was against them. It blew from the north, and their course took them directly into it. The Lady Dancer chugged toward the river, seeming to move almost in slow motion.
The mouth of the creek was their most vulnerable point. At only thirty feet wide, with the channel only deep enough in the middle for the boat, the creek was both their route to safety and their Achilles’ heel.
If a gunman was there waiting, on that point of land at the mouth of the creek …
They made it through and streaked out into the open water. With a quiver of relief, Maggy felt the swell of the river catch the boat, tugging it vainly downstream. What she had feared most had not come to pass.
With River Road running the entire length of the Kentucky bank, Maggy dared not try to make a landfall on that side. It was very possible that Lyle, Ham, and the flunkies, together or in any combination, were already cruising along River Road, hoping they would do just that. Perhaps they were even watching The Lady Dancer’s progress across the river at that very moment. But even if they were, there was nothing they could do. No matter how fast they drove, Lyle and his cohorts could not make it all the way downtown, across the bridge, and over to the Indiana side before The Lady Dancer reached the floating service station that was Maggy’s immediate destination. The station itself would be closed, but there was a pay phone. She didn’t have a quarter on her at the moment, but it didn’t matter: Calls to 911 were free.
They were perhaps halfway there when she suddenly discerned the shadowy gray shape of a large boat, like The Lady Dancer running without lights, sliding toward them through the water on a course that would eventually intercept their own. At that distance it was impossible to identify it positively, impossible to make out distinguishing features, but Maggy knew, as surely as if the wind whispered its name, what the boat was.
“The Iris,” she said bleakly, staring at the dark hull that was closing fast. It was between them and the Kentucky shore. There was no going back. Giving up all thought of getting to the phone, she cut the rudder hard to starboard. They would have to land on the closest parcel of Indiana land they could reach and run for it.
Could Nick run? He had to. It was their only hope.
At least the Iris needed deeper water to dock than did The Lady Dancer. Maggy realized that she needed to go in somewhere shallow, beaching the boat. Lyle would have to break out the Iris’s dinghy to follow, which would take time.
Neither Nick nor David said anything. Maggy wasn’t sure that they realized the true extent of the danger they were in. The Iris, in a straight race, could overtake The Lady Dancer easily. Would their lead be enough to keep them safe?
Another wave caught The Lady Dancer and sent it scudding forward. For a moment it seemed as if they were flying through the water. Maggy leaned forward, trying to urge the little boat on with her own body’s motion. She was way beyond terror now, beyond anything except a fierce determination to save her boy and the man she loved.
She would not let Lyle win.
Six-Mile Island loomed just ahead. The prospect of making landfall there was briefly tempting, but immediately a tiny voice inside her cautioned no. If she did, they would be trapped like rats.
But she could use the island as cover, maybe hide behind it as she raced for land. Yanking the rudder hard to port, she sent the little boat scooting around the tip of the island. The island’s dense foliage blocked the Iris from view.
“They can’t catch us now, Mom!” David exclaimed excitedly. Then, glancing back, his mouth drooped, and he added, “Can they?”
The Iris had seen her maneuver and was following, full speed ahead. Maggy didn’t have the heart to answer David’s question. The knowledge was there, dragging down his face just as it dragged down her heart.
Grimly, Nick and David stared over Maggy’s shoulder as the fast-closing yacht came on. Maggy concentrated every atom of her being on getting as much speed from The Lady Dancer as she could. They were almost there.… Scanning Indiana’s rocky shoreline, she searched for a place to beach. Behind her, she could hear the pulsing of the Iris’s powerful engine. Another ten minutes and they would reach land.
They weren’t going to make it. Maggy already knew it even before she saw the huge dark bulk of the Iris looming alongside. Terror caused her to grit her teeth, made her palms sweat. David, staring up at the yacht too, was white faced, whimpering. Nick was pale, his jaw grim, his eyes dark and dangerous. But wounded as he was, and handcuffed, there was nothing he could do.
The Iris pulled in front of them, cutting off their access to the shore. Maggy cursed and pushed the tiller over. They would run the other way, run all night if necessary.
A powerful light was suddenly turned on The Lady Dancer, pinioning the three of them in its strong beam.
“Cut the engine! Cut the engine or we’ll shoot the boy,” a voice crackled at them from over a bullhorn.
Maggy froze. The Lady Dancer was racing at top speed, but the Iris was staying with them easily, keeping them pinioned in the blinding light. From the sound of the engine, she knew that Lyle had cut back the power: the yacht’s full speed was no longer needed, now that it was through playing catch-up. Glancing wildly around, Maggy saw that there was no escape. The Iris had her cut off from land, and could easily outrace her on the open river.
The question was, would Lyle really shoot David? She didn’t think so, but it also occurred to her, from what Nick had said, that it was possible that Lyle was no longer the man in charge. Ham would shoot David if it served his purpose, she had no doubt.
The Lady Dancer churned through the choppy water, straining for the safety it was never going to reach.
“This is your last chance to cut the engine before we start shooting. If you make me, I’ll kill the kid, Maggy. I mean it.” Distorted as the voice was by the bullhorn, Maggy recognized it: Ham’s.
“Cut the engine,” Nick said grimly. Maggy stared at him for a long, helpless minute. Then she did as he said.
“Good girl.” The voice came at her over the bullhorn again. The bright light shone relentlessly down. Shading her eyes, she looked up at the looming bulk of the Iris, idling now in the water beside them. A shot rang out, exploding in the quiet night. Maggy jumped, covering her head, while Nick threw himself, handcuffs and all, atop David.
In the ringing aftermath, Maggy glanced fearfully over at the slumped figures of her two males, her stomach churning with fear. Dear God, had one or both of them been shot?
Before she could even call their names, Ham spoke over the bullhorn again, terrifyingly cheerful.
“Don’t worry, we just shot your engine. I don’t have time to play cat and mouse on the river all night. Come aboard! The kid first, then you, Maggy. Then King.”
Maggy glanced again at the dark deck above her head, able now to make out the shadowy figures despite the light glaring in her face: Ham with the bullhorn, Lyle beside him, another man—a flunky, Maggy presumed—beside Lyle. But not, Maggy thought, one of the same flunkies that had been in the house. This one was broader, stockier.
David was struggling into a sitting position in the bottom of the boat. Tears spilled from his eyes. His mouth worked. Nick lay curled around him, his eyes closed, unmoving. Maggy scrambled across to them even as a ladder lowered, and the flunky swung down to take possession of The Lady Dancer.
As the man’s weight rocked the boat, Maggy hugged her son, whispering frantically in his ear, “Go to Dad. Stay by him. He’ll see that you’re all right.”
“Mom …” David wrapped his arms around her waist, clinging, weeping openly. The flunky loomed over them.
“I love you,” she whispered. She couldn’t help it: her eyes filled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. Stark terror claimed her as Maggy realized that this might be the last time in this life she would ever hold her son.
“Come on, kid.” The flunky pulled David away from her, set him on the ladder. David climbed slowly up, was grabbed from above and hauled aboard the Iris.
Maggy shut her eyes and said a brief, fierce prayer for his safety. For their safety, all three of them. Saint Jude, Saint Jude …
“Mrs. Forrest.” The flunky sounded ridiculously respectful as he reached down, caught her arm, hauled her to her feet. She glanced up into a pockmarked, flat-featured face. His eyes were a deeper blue than Lyle’s, and didn’t look unkind.
His pistol prodded her in the side. “You gotta climb the ladder now,” he said.
Maggy glanced down at Nick. He still lay motionless on the floor of the boat, his body curled into a ball, his eyes closed. Had he fainted? Or …
“He’s been shot,” she said to the man, dashing the tears from her eyes with both hands. “He can’t climb.”
“Shit.” The flunky glanced down at Nick, then squatted beside him, feeling behind Nick’s ear for a pulse. “He ain’t dead.”
He stood up again, feet spaced wide apart to keep his balance in the rocking boat, and pointed his pistol at Maggy.
“Get up the ladder,” he said.
With a last, backward glance at Nick, Maggy climbed.
“King’s unconscious,” the flunky called up to Ham as hands grabbed Maggy and hauled her onto the Iris’s deck.
“Carry him up.”
“Shit,” came the reply, and Maggy caught just a glimpse of the man struggling to hoist Nick in a fireman’s lift before Lyle reached out and dragged her close to his side.
David was on his other side, standing in the circle of Lyle’s arm. The boy glanced at his mother, and then up at Lyle.
“Please don’t kill Mom,” he begged in a quavery voice.
Maggy’s heart broke. Terror had already frozen it, and now that pathetic little plea from her son shattered it into a billion tiny pieces. Tears welled in her eyes again as she looked first at David, then at Lyle.
“I won’t,” he said, smiling that crocodile’s smile at Maggy even as he gave David’s shoulders a squeeze designed to be reassuring. “Go on down to the cabin now, David. I’ll be in in a little while.”
“Mom …” David’s eyes were dark with terror as they met hers. Clearly he was no more convinced by Lyle’s promise than Maggy was. But he couldn’t save her. The question was, could she save him?
“Go on,” she said sternly, nodding in the direction of the cabin. Head hanging, footsteps dragging, David obeyed. Maggy bit her lip as she watched him go. Whatever happened, David would be better out of the way. Out of the line of fire.
“Scuttle the little boat.”
Nick was dumped on the deck on his side and lay there, motionless. The flunky went back down the ladder to carry out Ham’s order, while Lyle, dragging Maggy by the hand, moved aft to poke at Nick with a booted foot.
“I hope he comes to in time to know who it is who’s blowing his brains out.”
The flunky reappeared, stepping onto the deck. Ham glanced at him, and he nodded. Then Ham turned to Lyle.
“Get us out of here.”
“Aye, aye,” Lyle said, grinning.
Releasing Maggy’s hand, Lyle moved toward the controls, and seconds later the Iris was under way again. Maggy braced herself against the forward movement, gripping the metal rail beside her for support. Ham had his pistol trained on Maggy. Almost at her feet, the flunky crouched over Nick.
“Where’s the kid?” Ham asked, frowning.
“I sent him down to the cabin.” Lyle spoke over his shoulder. He was in his element, the wind whipping his fair hair back away from his face, his expression relaxed. Lyle liked nothing better than being at the wheel of his yacht, and it was obvious that he was enjoying himself hugely.
“Get him!” Ham’s order to the flunky reverberated like a shot. Maggy stood transfixed as the man obediently headed into the cabin after David.
“I don’t want my boy watching while we blow these two away,” Lyle objected, frowning.
“You are the stupidest …” Ham spoke through his teeth.
“The little shit was on the radio!” The flunky reappeared in the cabin doorway, hauling David after him with a fist hooked in the neck of his pajamas. David looked scared to death, but also oddly triumphant. Maggy’s blood ran cold.
“Fuck!” Ham exploded, kicking the wooden rim of the deck, his face apoplectic as he turned on Lyle. “You stupid son of a bitch! You sent the kid to a cabin where there’s a radio?”
“It’s a CB. I can’t believe …” Lyle glanced at David in a way that boded no good for him. “Did you raise anybody, son?”
The question was deceptively gentle. Still in the grip of the flunky, David shook his head.
“You see? No harm done,” Lyle said to Ham, relaxing again.
