Against the Tide (16 page)

“Thank you for that prayer,” Megan said quietly after they'd both said amen.

“Bon appétit,” Garret said as he picked up a piece of fish.

Megan did likewise, giving it a contented sniff before taking a bite. “Yum,” she said as she set the piece down. “Just as good as I remember.”

For a while neither of them spoke much as they enjoyed their meal. Once again, Megan wished that they were involved in a real relationship, out for an afternoon date with nothing much to talk about beyond the weather and getting to know each other better. It sounded so blissful. Instead, they had this gloomy cloud hovering over them, sort of like the fog that now completely obliterated the river.

“The Bridgeview really does have the best fish and chips in town,” he said as he shook out some malt vinegar.

“I agree.” She picked up another piece of fish. “Dad said it's because Marty uses halibut. A lot of places use cod but it's not nearly as good.”

“Your dad would agree.” He chuckled. “I remember how he'd throw it back if he thought it would live. Otherwise he'd give it away.”

Megan laughed—and then stopped. “Wait a minute!”

“Huh?” Garret stopped with a bite of coleslaw halfway between his mouth and the plate.

“I've got it.” Her face flushed with excitement.

“Got what?”

She blotted her mouth with her napkin and stood “I know where the yellow envelope is, Garret. I'm certain of it.”

“What? Where?”

She pushed her plate toward him. “Can you give Marty my apologies and ask him to put this in a to-go box?”

“But what are you—”

“I've got to go get it. Now!”

He reached out to grasp her arm. “Where is it?”

She leaned down, speaking quietly. “Dad hated cod. But when I reloaded his freezer yesterday, there was a large package marked cod.”

He frowned. “So?”

“So, don't you remember how I told you Dad had once hid his novel manuscript in the freezer for safekeeping?”

“Oh, yeah.” Garret nodded with wide eyes.

“I'm going out there now,” she said.

“Not without me, you're not.” He nodded over to the police escort who was still eating his lunch. “And not without him, either. I'll go let him know what's up.”

Megan waited impatiently as Garret spoke to the cop. Jingling her car keys in front of Garret when he got back, she urged him to hurry.

“I'll just pay the bill, then follow you.”

“Great. I just know this is it, Garret.”

Megan's heart pounded with happy excitement as the three of them got into their vehicles and drove down Rawlins Road. She just knew this had to be it. It felt exactly like something her dad would do. If only the package was still there! In her eagerness, she knew she was driving too fast—but wasn't this an emergency? Nearly to the beach road turnoff, she realized that Garret had slowed down behind her. What was taking him so long? Didn't he know this was urgent? She turned onto the beach road, then slowed down so much that she was barely moving. But she still didn't see him turn yet, nor the policeman behind him. What was wrong?

NINETEEN

O
n Rawlins Road, Garret noticed the flashing lights behind him. As he pulled over for the oncoming cop car, he was well aware that Megan had been driving over the speed limit and that he'd been trying to keep up. But he should be able to explain to the cop what was going on. But the police car as well as an ambulance zipped past him. Now he felt a rush of panic. Had something happened to Megan?

No, that was impossible. She was less than a mile ahead of him. Probably wondering where he was. Seeing that the police car and emergency vehicles turned the opposite way on the beach road, he decided that they were off to help someone else and, once again, he stepped on it. He did not like having her out of his sight.

As he came to the intersection of the beach road, he looked in his rearview mirror again. Where was the cop who'd followed them from the restaurant? Shouldn't he be right behind him? There was no point waiting for him. Leaving Megan on her own for even one minute seemed too long.

When Garret got to Rory's house, he was relieved to see Megan's Prius parked out in front—with her still in it. “What took you so long?” she demanded eagerly as he got out to meet her.

He explained about pulling over. “Maybe there's a wreck on the North Beach Road. Probably tourists.”

Megan had her house key ready. “Let's hurry and get it and get out of here,” she said, leading the way to the front door. “I just know it's in the freezer.”

Garret looked up and down the quiet road. “I wish that cop would hurry,” he said as he followed her to the house. “Maybe we should give Greene a call.”

“Let's get the envelope first.” Megan unlocked the door, letting them into the silent house. “Everything looks pretty much like it did yesterday,” she said quietly.

Garret stepped in front of her in a protective way, reaching for his holster, making sure his firearm was ready—and wishing they'd waited for police backup.

As they quietly moved through the house, Megan could hear her heart beating in her ears. But fortunately, that was all she heard. Wasting no time, she headed straight for the garage and opened the freezer chest, desperately digging for the suspicious package of cod while Garret watched out the windows in the garage door, with his revolver ready. When she finally found the package, she tried to bend it in her hands and when it gave slightly, she knew it wasn't a frozen fish. It was paper. “This is it,” she told Garret.

“Trouble,” he said quietly, waving her over to him.

“What?” she asked nervously.

“That black sedan has both our cars blocked in.”

As she peered out the garage door window, Megan shoved the package into her oversize bag. “There are two guys. They're going in the front door,” she whispered in horror. “I left it unlocked.”

“And these guys are armed,” Garret whispered back. “We have to get out of here.”

Megan dug in her roomy bag, producing her dad's Jeep key. “We can take the Jeep.”

Garret pointed a ways down the beach road. “Look at that.”

She peered down at a similar sedan parked down the road. Like it was waiting for them.

“What do we do?” she asked him.

“Take the old river road.”

“Do you think we can make it? No one uses that road. It's a mess.”

“That's one reason those sedans won't be able to follow us.”

She nodded, waiting as he quietly opened the side door of the garage. “You're going to drive,” he told her.

“Why?”

He held up his gun in answer. “I'll be riding shotgun.”

Garret slipped out first, looking all around before motioning for her to join him. Together they went along the side of the garage until they reached the front, where Garret peered around the corner.

“We'll have to make a run for the Jeep. The driver's side is away from them. You stay low and get over there and unlock it while I back you up from here. As soon as you're inside, start the engine and I'll sprint over and jump in.” Fortunately, the Jeep was only about ten feet from the garage. Still, it felt like fifty yards as she raced for the driver's door. Thanks to her trembling hands, it took longer than it should've to get inside and start the engine. But Garret seemed to literally fly over, jumping inside just as she put it in Reverse, backing right onto the lawn. Then, spinning it around, she tore off down the driveway and toward the old river road.

“The sedan on the road has seen us,” Garret told her. “They're coming fast. Step on it.”

Without speaking, she ran the Jeep through the gears and sped to the end of the beach road. Most people assumed the road ended there. The driver of the sedan was probably no different.

She had to slow down to turn off the beach road, but as the tires hit the sand and rocks, she put it into four-wheel drive and, thankful that Dad had been her driving instructor, she stepped on it again.

“You're doing great, Megan. Go!”

She pushed the Jeep as fast as it could safely go, praying that they wouldn't bounce off the bumpy road and wind up in the river where it looked like the tide was heading out.

When they finally had what seemed a cautious distance behind them, Megan slowed down a bit and glanced into the rearview mirror.

“They're not following,” Garret said. “But we're not out of harm's way. All a person needs to do is check a GPS to see where this road ends.”

“Where's that?” She held tightly to the steering wheel, trying to keep the Jeep on the bumpy road.

“Less than a mile from the marina. It won't take a genius to figure out where we're going.” Garret was on the phone now, talking to Detective Greene, telling him they had the evidence and where they were headed. “If you could meet us there, we would appreciate it.”

Megan continued pushing the Jeep, eager to get to the marina where the police would meet them. Although she felt a sense of accomplishment for how they'd gotten into her dad's house and nabbed that envelope, she didn't want them to play the heroes in this scenario. She would be happy to hand off the evidence to the police.

“I still can't believe we got it,” she said.

“Want me to make sure it's the real deal?” Garret offered.

“Yes, please, do.”

In no time he confirmed it was Rory's research packet.

“I will only turn it over to the police if they promise to let me have a copy. I need to finish what my dad started.” And then she would get on with her life. Whatever that meant. She wasn't completely sure. Something about being back in her beloved little seaside town...and something about Garret...made her question returning to Seattle. But there was no time to examine those doubts now.

By the time they reached the end of the old river road, Megan felt like her brain had been seriously rattled by all the bumps.

“I thought the cops were meeting us here,” she said.

“I did, too. But maybe they're at the marina.”

So she hightailed it to the marina, hoping that Detective Greene and other cops would be waiting for them. But when she spied the marina from the road, the parking lot by the store looked barren.

“Huh?” Garret looked all around. “Where are they?”

“I don't know.” She glanced at him. “What should I do?”

“We'll go in and wait for them.” Garret shook his head. “At least there are no black sedans waiting for us.”

“Yeah. That's something.”

“You must've driven even faster than they expected,” Garret said as she turned in at the marina. “Nice work. Park in front of the store for now. I've been worried about Wade. I want him with us. Then we'll park the Jeep by the house and hole up there.”

Megan felt relieved as she parked right next to the store. “We made it.”

“You did great,” Garret told her. “Give Greene a call. Tell him we'll be in the house. I'll be back in less than a minute.” He jumped out and ran to the store.

Garret had just stepped into the store when Megan felt icy fingers tightening around her throat. She turned to see a familiar-looking man outside the Jeep. He'd stuck his hand through the cut part of the Jeep's soft top.

“Come on out, Miss McCallister,” he said in a sinister tone, waving a revolver with his other hand. “And bring your bag with you.”

Before she could respond, he whipped open the door, jerked her out and grabbed the bag with the envelope. Then, twisting her left arm painfully, he shoved the barrel of his gun into her ribs, thrust her bag into her free hand and commanded her to walk down the dock.

“You're the guy at Marco's restaurant,” she said suddenly. “You're Kent Jones. Garret's employee.”

Ignoring her, he just kept forcing her down the dock. She desperately tried to think of something—some way to catch him off guard and escape.

“Garret told me that you had access to my dad's boat,” she said as he pushed her along.

“I had access to all the boats.” He stopped by a midsize fishing dory.

With one big shove, he pushed her into the boat. Megan landed on her back next to some gas cans, but quickly struggled to her feet only to discover he was on deck, too. With his revolver still pointed at her.

“Down on the deck. Now! And keep your mouth shut or I'll be forced to use this.” He waved his gun. Then he shoved her back down into a mess of coiled ropes. With one hand he hurried to pull in his line then started the motor. He grabbed her by the arm and forced her up to the bow, shoving her into a seat. “I want you next to me.” He gave her an evil grin. “Just like we're on a hot date.” He chuckled creepily, then narrowed his eyes as he flashed his gun again. “But don't move. And don't get any ideas.”

She was still clutching the bag with the precious envelope as the boat took off down the river—still trying to think of a way out of this mess. But first she wanted information. “You did something to my dad's boat, didn't you?”

He feigned an innocent look as he steered the boat out into the thick fog.

“You did, didn't you?” she persisted, clutching her bag to her chest. “You made it sink. I know you did.”

“Not me personally,” he said lightly. “But my gun helped out.” He snickered and waved his gun.

“So you killed my dad?” She tried to keep her voice calm as if she was doing an interview for the paper.

“Nah. That was someone else.”

“Did they drug him?” she asked in a flat tone. “Poison?”

“Something like that. Let's just say ol' Rory barely knew what hit him.”

As Kent focused on getting the boat down the river, she began to formulate a plan. A plan which might or might not work. Despite the thick fog, she could see that the current was moving at a good clip—because the tide was still going out. The good news was that the water level would be low. If she could jump out on the starboard side, she might be able to swim underwater long enough to make it to the shallows where Kent wouldn't be able to maneuver his boat. Although since it was a dory, he might be able to go farther than she expected. But hopefully, the fog would help cover her while she swam for shore. Still, there was no time to waste. He was already beyond the marina.

Clutching the bag to her chest, she slid out the envelope and slipped it into her parka as the gunman's attention was fixed solidly on the fog-encased river. Then she called upon her acting skills. She made a gagging sound. “I'm gonna be sick!” she exclaimed.

“What?” He turned to look at her and she gave her best imitation of nausea.

“I'm seasick! I'm gonna throw up.” She threw her bag down on the deck, knowing she was leaving her phone and wallet behind, but knowing she couldn't take it. Then cupping her hand over her mouth, she feigned an even louder gagging noise that sounded so real, she wasn't sure she was faking. In fact, she honestly felt sick.

Still gripping the helm, Kent scowled at her then tipped his head to the railing. “Don't barf on my boat or I'll make you clean it up.”

She dashed over to the starboard side and, hanging her head over the railing, she made some loud and realistic noises while tightening the waist belt of her parka to secure the envelope and then, just as he turned the boat toward the middle of the river, she tumbled over the side. The shock of the cold water nearly sucked her breath away, but instead of surfacing like she wanted to do, she swam with all her might until she felt certain her lungs were going to burst.

She gasped for air when her head finally emerged from the water, hoping that she'd gone far enough to escape him. But she could still see the dark outline of his boat and she could hear his engine rumbling not that far away. When a couple of gunshots splashed the water just a few feet from her, she took a fast gulp of air then ducked back under, praying for strength and help.

But as she swam for what she hoped was the river's edge, she felt nothing but the current moving her. And it was going even faster than she'd expected. If Kent didn't shoot her the next time she popped up, she would probably be pulled out into the ocean. Not that she would last that long with these water temps. Begging God for help, she swam as hard as she could, but she knew that when she surfaced, Kent would probably be even closer, his gun ready to stop her.