A Fatal Vineyard Season (24 page)

I didn't reach the cockpit, but I did reach the boarding platform on the stern, where I landed with a crash that sent a searing pain through my left arm and nearly as bad a one through my injured leg. I almost went overboard as the boat surged forward, but got a grip on a cleat just in time and pulled myself up against the transom. I hung there, below the cockpit railing, as the boat picked up speed.

If Alexandro had seen me, he gave no sign of it as he drove the boat out toward the drawbridge. Where was he
going? Over to the mainland to escape island law? Maybe, but not likely.

I remembered what Lisa Goldman had told me: that Alexandro thought black women who think they're God's gifts to the world should be screwed until they know their places, then kicked off the steamer dock with rocks tied to their necks. Too many people were around the steamer dock for him to do that, but there weren't any witnesses on the
Invictus
. Alexandro was going out into the sound to rid himself of Ivy Holiday.

I wondered if Ivy was dead or alive. He'd brought her to this dock where he could make his boat fast and devote all of his attention to her. Now he was through with her, and I didn't want to think of what he might have done.

I groped for my pistol and realized it was gone. Somewhere, maybe on that gimping run from the Land Cruiser to the dock, we'd become separated. Damn. I had never wanted or needed a weapon more.

I looked back at the pier and saw the police officer scrambling back up the road toward the house. While she was calling people, I hoped she'd call the Coast Guard.

I got onto my knees and peeked over the transom. Alexandro had eyes only for what was in front of him, which was wise, considering the rising waves and east wind into which he was heading. The
Invictus
was powerful and heavy, though, and split the water cleanly as she drove up the Lagoon. But if the waves were rising in this sheltered place, I knew they must be worse out in the sound, even though the full force of the hurricane was still hours away.

Offering prayers to broken stone, I slipped over the transom into the cockpit of the boat and, eyes on Alexandro, scuttled forward until I got to the hatch leading to the lounge beneath the flying bridge. Then, still unseen, I slipped below, shutting the hatch behind me.

The lounge was luxurious, with generous seating, a bar, a carpeted deck, and windows on every side. Stairs led down
to cabins both aft and forward. The aft cabin was, I guessed, the master bedroom. I took a deep breath and went down the ladder, past the engine room, fearing what I would find in the captain's cabin.

I found nothing. I looked in the private head and in the many lockers and under the queen-size bed. But there was no sign that Ivy had been there. Alexandro apparently wasn't about to intrude upon Alberto's private quarters.

I felt a change in the motion of the boat and heard a different sound from the engines. I went back up into the lounge and looked out a window. We had passed under the drawbridge and were now in the entrance to Vineyard Haven harbor, between East and West Chop, churning northeast, taking the white-capped waves on our starboard bow.
Invictus
was beginning to pitch and roll and throw spray to her lee, but she put her shoulders to the sea and moved steadily ahead. I hoped that Alexandro was not as stupid about handling a boat as he was about other things, because if he was, this storm could bring us all to grief.

I took the forward ladder and found myself in a combination galley and dining area. A storage cabin and a head, complete with shower, were to starboard, and a narrow bunk room was to port. Crew quarters, probably, should Alberto ever want a crew. Forward was a door leading to what, in this boat, was surely a sleeping cabin. I went to the door and opened it.

Ivy Holiday, bloody and motionless, lay naked on the double bed, crucified, her arms spread and tied to the bedposts. No part of her was unbruised, unbeaten. The lovely bones of her face looked broken beneath the swelling flesh that covered them. Her sleek skin was a mass of welts and blood. Her wrists were raw beneath their bonds, and her fingers looked as though they had been broken one by one. Blood was between her legs, and on the bedclothes beneath her.

I went to her and touched her throat. She moaned and I
saw that her perfect teeth were now only bloody gums. She was alive, but barely. I was filled with fear and rage.

Two worthless emotions. I pushed them away. I wanted to be cold, not hot.

I got out my pocketknife and cut away Ivy's bonds. I wrapped her in the bloodstained bedspread. I tentatively tried to pick her up, but when I did, my bad arm was shot with fire. I laid her back down.

I looked around the cabin. A hatch was in the ceiling, leading out onto the foredeck. Stored under the bed I found the ladder that could be attached to the deck beneath the hatch and would allow people to pass between deck and cabin without going aft. I wrestled it into place, then went out to the storage room and got a length of line and two life jackets. I got one jacket on Ivy and strapped it tight and put the other aside for myself.

Returning to the galley, I found a meat cleaver and several knives. I took the cleaver and the sharpest of the knives, then went to the storage room to see what else I might find in the way of weapons. The swordfishing harpoon was there, and I took that. And I found an ax. I put the harpoon and the ax in the cabin with Ivy and peeked up into the lounge. Alexandro was still up on the flying bridge.

I went up into the lounge and looked out at the water. Night was coming fast. The sea was gray-black, and every wave had whitecaps being blown to leeward. The
Invictus
was off West Chop, heading across toward Cape Cod, with the waves banging against her starboard bow and sending water and foam flying across her deck. She was pounding, but she was strong. I wondered how far out Alexandro planned to go before he came below to tie some weight to Ivy's neck and toss her overboard. I looked back at West Chop. The lighthouse was almost directly downwind of us, and my memory of the tides told me that they were falling to the west.

I didn't have much time. I got the ax and went to the engine room. With the ax I cut the fuel lines. I was back in
the forward cabin when the great engines sputtered and died.

Immediately the living thing that the
Invictus
had been became a dead creature, tossed and rolling in the rising waves. In moments Alexandro would be coming below to see what was the matter. I shut and locked the door behind me, then climbed the ladder, opened the hatch an inch, and looked up at the flying bridge. Alexandro was gone. I threw open the hatch. The roar of the wind and sea filled my ears, and water sloshed over the foredeck and poured into the cabin, drenching me.

I tied the line around Ivy and laid her over my left shoulder. My bad arm screamed at me. I went up the swaying ladder and with what seemed the last of my strength, thrust her out onto the tossing deck and lashed her to the hatch. Then I went back down and put on the other awkward life jacket.

As I was tying the last tie, I heard Alexandro screaming invectives. He'd been to the engine room and seen the cut fuel lines and now he was searching the boat. It wouldn't take him long to reach the forward cabin. I picked up the ax and began hacking at the hull of the boat with my good arm. It was a strong hull, made of thick fiberglass, but the ax was sharp and adrenaline filled my veins. The ax went through and I cut again and again as water spurted up at me. I chopped and chopped again, and more water came, and then I saw the door shake as Alexandro put a shoulder to it, howling curses.

The door wouldn't stand against him for long, I knew. I put down the ax and took up the harpoon and threw it. The razor-sharp barb went through the wood and I heard a sharp cry from the other side.

I couldn't tell if it was a cry of pain or surprise or both, but I didn't wait to find out. I went up the ladder and out onto the deck. I loosed the line from the hatch and tied it around my waist. Then I got Ivy's body under my good arm and went overboard with her.

The water was wild but not too cold. September water, not winter water. Still, we couldn't stay in it too long before hypothermia would begin having an effect on us. When the waves lifted me, the line linking me to Ivy would tug at me and the wind would hit me, but I would be able to see the glimmer of the West Chop light. Then I'd sink into a trough and again the line would tug, but now I could see nothing.

Somewhere behind us, upwind, the
Invictus
was taking on a lot of water. I wondered briefly if Alexandro had been hit by the harpoon, and if he could swim. Then I put him out of my mind and concentrated on my own swimming, one armed, downwind through the gathering darkness toward West Chop.

I swam and swam, then rested, exhausted, and let the waves carry me whither they would. I pulled Ivy close to me and tried to tell if she was still alive. But she was wet and cold and I couldn't be sure. Then I swam some more, wondering if the light was getting closer or whether the wind and tide were going to carry me past the point of land and on down Vineyard Sound until, at last, the cold grip of the sea would carry my warm life away and leave my corpse floating, floating, lashed to Ivy's. Would I of coral be made? Would I suffer a sea change into something rich and strange?

I rested, then swam, then rested, then swam. My legs were iron, my arm was becoming lead. My eyes were full of salt, my skin was cold. The light seemed no nearer.

I swam and swam and knew I wasn't going to reach the shore. I hoped Zee wouldn't be too unhappy. I hoped my children would live good lives and not suffer because they had no father. I wanted to tell them that we all have a death to die and that no one should be too sad when it happens.

But I didn't want to die. I wanted to see Joshua and Diana and, most of all, Zee. I swam.

And then surf was all around me, with towering, crashing waves and roiling sands, and I was being swept up onto a beach, then carried out, then swept up again. I dug my fingers into the sand and clawed my way forward. A wave carried Ivy up beside me, and I grabbed her life jacket before the next ebbing wave jerked her back into the thundering black surf. A wave crashed down on my back and my face was full of sand and water. I choked and gagged and the surge of water carried me and Ivy high up onto the beach. I got to my knees and was knocked down. I gasped for air and tried to stand. My legs were like water and collapsed under me. I had no strength. I got up onto my knees; I took hold of Ivy's life jacket with my swimming hand; I backed up the beach. The surf clutched at us, but I went backward until I could go no farther and fell onto the wet sand.

The wind was howling now, and my teeth were chattering, but we were out of the water. Beside me, Ivy lay still as death. I was too weak to carry her. I looked around, trying to see through the darkness. Some sort of shrub was growing there. I tried to untie the line from my waist, but the knot was too much for me. I dug into my pocket and found my knife and got it open with my teeth and cut the line. I rested, then dragged Ivy to the bush and tied her to it so she couldn't wash away if the water rose too high before I could get back.

I rested some more, until I was afraid that if I stayed longer, I would perish from the cold. Then I willed myself up onto my feet and started inland to find help.

Fortunately, I didn't have far to go, for some West Chop
folk were out looking at the stormy sound. I gave them quite a shock as I staggered into their view, but they were quick to respond. Some went running down to the beach and others picked me up and carried me to a nearby house where they gave me tea and phoned for an ambulance.

I rode to the hospital in Oak Bluffs under a siren and was greeted at the emergency ward by faces I knew pretty well, since most of them had worked there with Zee for years. They asked me questions, examined me, got me into bed, and gave me something that put me to sleep, but not before I told them to call Zee and tell her I was fine.

As I drifted away, I asked about Ivy and was told that she'd been flown to Boston by helicopter just before the real winds began to blow.

When the big winds finally slowed down, I had visitors: Julia Crandel and Jack Harley, both grieving; Lisa Goldman, to tell me that the
Invictus
had drifted down onto the rocks off West Chop and had broken up on them, and that Alexandro was missing, presumed drowned.

They didn't let me get out of bed until Hurricane Elmer was only a fading low-pressure system somewhere off to the east of Nova Scotia. Thus, I missed his visit and would have no tales to tell of his mighty winds and high tides, no bragging rights.

I was giving the nurses such a hard time by the time Elmer was gone that it was clear to everyone that I should be thrown out of the hospital. Lisa Goldman came by and picked me up and took me to get my truck, which was parked by the police station, having been driven there by a cop who had picked it up in Alberto Vegas's driveway.

“And there's this,” said Lisa, handing me my old .38. “Our gal Peggy found it on Alberto's dock after she ran down there trying to keep you from being an idiot. You should be more careful with your hardware.”

“I will be.”

“First boat from Woods Hole will be over in an hour. I
understand that your family is aboard. You might want to meet them.”

“Wise advice, Officer.”

And I took it.

And after Zee and I were through being lovey and Zee was over the first stages of being furious, we drove home and found a lot of branches down, some screens blown out, and two cats who acted as if nothing had happened, but pointed out that their food dishes were getting pretty low and reminded us that they hadn't had their afternoon snacks for a while.

It was a fine day, as is often the case when a storm has just passed, and we worked all afternoon cleaning things up and getting straightened away. Then we fed the tots and played with them in the living room, then put them to bed.