Dead for the Money (29 page)

When Leland spotted the line of boats under the bridge and turned aside, Cher came on deck, her expression determined. Leland tensed for confrontation.
Cher doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand that I can charm the girl now that Bud is out of the picture
. He marshaled his arguments. Because of this little snag at the bridge, Cher was going to be difficult.

“We gotta talk, Lee.”

“Cher, I’ve got it covered. Help me with this, and we’ll be right back on track.”

“Yeah, right.” Her tone gave him a chill.

“Think of the money. Not just the hundred thousand we could get for the lodge. Millions.”

She waved a palm in front of him as if trying to wake him from a dream. “You’re never gonna get your hands on it. She don’t like you, no matter what you think. And that Bud guy will figure out how to charge you with international kidnapping or something. Then where will you be?”

“I’m her father, Cher. It will take some time, but she’ll come around.”

“Maybe, but if she don’t, you’d better have a plan. If they catch us before you get her on our side, she’s poison.” Cher paused. “There won’t be nothing to do except dump her.”

Mildred felt Leland’s shock at the idea.

“Look,” she went on, “with the kid aboard, we’re kidnappers. Without her, we’re a couple of dumb, lost Canucks who should have turned around when we came to the Mackinac Bridge.” She watched him for a few seconds, her dark eyes intent. “Think about it. There might not be any other choice.” With that, she retreated, leaving Leland to come to his own conclusions. Mildred heard most of them, and she did not like them one bit.

B
RODIE
FELT
THE
BOTTOM
skim against the sand and felt the jolt as the boat stopped. It was still afloat, but the stern swung inward. Leland’s face appeared in the hatchway, his manner jerky and his eyes like fireflies, darting here and there without apparent purpose. He looked scarier now, as if a dial somewhere inside him had been turned too high.

He crouched as he came down the stairs, and that brought something to mind. Brodie suddenly knew that Leland was not her dad, whatever he thought.

His eyes narrowed as he glanced around the cabin. “You don’t have another phone or something, do you?” She shook her head, raising her hands to show their emptiness. “I didn’t think so, but I gotta believe that line of boats is there to stop us getting through the straits.”

Brodie’s heart gave a hopeful lurch, but she said, “Maybe it’s something to do with the race.”

“I don’t remember anything like this from when I raced with Uncle Will.”

Cher spoke. “What I said before. We gotta do it.”

“No.”

“Lee, she can’t talk to the police. She’ll tell them you forced her. That’s kidnapping.”

“I’m her father.”

“Says who?”

He straightened, offended. “I do. Jeannie and me—”

“Look at her! She don’t look nothing like you.” She turned angrily to Brodie. “When’s your birthday?”

“Um, September second.”

Cher did some figuring. “You came to Hornpayne just before Christmas that year. I’d say your beautiful Jeannie replaced you right after you left.” She pointed a finger at Brodie. “She’s some other guy’s brat, but he prob’ly didn’t have a rich uncle.”

Leland’s head twitched toward Brodie. Obviously he had not considered the possibility that Jeannie might have moved on so quickly.

“But Dunbar adopted her. He thought she was family.”

“So Jeannie pulled her own scam. Good for her.” Cher put a hand on his arm. “Lee, if they do DNA, and she ain’t your kid, you will go to prison for the rest of your life for kidnapping.”

“But if she is mine—”

“Your cousin or whatever he is will fight you in the courts for the next twenty years. You’ll be lucky to live long enough to see a penny of that money.” She glanced at Brodie, who stood white-faced as they argued. “You got, what, five years before she comes of age? And then it won’t matter, ’cause the money will be hers, and you’ll get nothing.” She ran her hand up Leland’s arm, caressing it, and her voice softened. “You had a real nice dream, Lee, but that’s all it was. Now we’re in trouble, and we cannot get caught with this kid.”

Leland stared at the floor. “What can we do?”

“We knock a hole in the boat, put it on autopilot, and send it out into the lake. We swim to Mackinaw City and find another boat somewhere. Once this antique is gone, they got no way to prove we were here.”

Leland raised his eyes to Cher’s face. “What about Brodie?”

Cher kept her eyes fixed on his. “She goes down with the boat.”

S
TRAINING
TO
SEE
AS
FAR
AS
POSSIBLE
through Bud’s eyes, Seamus was so focused that the cry was doubly shocking. Loud and sudden, Mildred’s voice was like a siren going off next to his ear. “They’re going to kill her!”

Bud reacted too, wincing and bringing his free hand up to touch the bandage on his head.

“What is it?” Scarlet asked.

“Quiet! We’re almost there!” It was all Seamus dared say, for Bud reeled slightly, causing the boat to weave in response. Scarlet stepped up and took the wheel, watching him with concern as he sank down on the seat, looking sick and confused.

“I’m okay,” Bud said, but he did not offer to retake control of the boat. Scarlet turned her attention to the water ahead, probably wondering if she should worry about catching up with Brodie’s abductors or looking after her ash-colored employer.

“There!” she said excitedly. “I see the bridge, although it’s banked in fog. Bud, we made it.”

Ghostly lights showed below the fog. Above it, the topmost shone brightly. Bud took heart at having their goal in sight, but Seamus was much less hopeful. If Mildred’s prediction was true, stopping Leland at the bridge might be possible, but it would come too late to save Brodie.

B
RODIE
THOUGHT
SHE
MIGHT
BE
SICK
. Leland and Cher stood toe to toe, arguing the prospect of murdering her and sending her body to the bottom of Lake Michigan. She tried to think of something to say. “Please, Dad, don’t kill me.” She could not say it.

After what seemed like an hour, Leland said, “No.”

Both Brodie and Cher knew what he meant immediately. Brodie breathed a sigh of relief. Cher growled a curse and turned away.

“I’m not giving up my daughter,” Leland gave Brodie a sick-looking grin. “Don’t worry, hon. Bud isn’t going to win this one.”

Cher opened her mouth to say something, but Leland raised a hand, palm out. “We’ll do like you said, sink this boat then go by land to the other side of the bridge and find another one.” He tried a charming smile. “That’s a good idea you had, ditching this old tub.”

She did not bother to answer. Brodie knew the woman was a threat, and Leland, crazy and crooked as he might be, was now her only protection.

Leland acted as if they were all in agreement on what would happen next. “Okay. I’ll get the boat set up for its final voyage. Brodie, you can come up on deck and help. Cher, pack up what we’ll need to get across Lake Huron.”

Brodie tried to picture what lay ahead. They were off the shore of Mackinaw City, the town at the northern tip of Lower Michigan. Toll booths for vehicles crossing the Mackinac Bridge were five miles away in the Upper Peninsula town of St. Ignace. Next to the bridge on this side sat an old fort called Michilimackinac, open for tours during the day but deserted at this time of night. Directly under the bridge was the Visitors Center, which would also be closed. Where was her chance for escape?

What lay on the opposite side of the bridge-way? It was hard to remember. She thought there were some historic buildings, a park, and then the marina. At this time of night, or rather, morning, there would be few, maybe no, people around. Getting help would not be easy.

Once past the blockade, Leland and Cher were undoubtedly capable of stealing a boat and crossing Lake Huron to Canada where they could keep Brodie prisoner. Alone with those two was not where she wanted to be.

Leland began rooting through a storage bin, grunting and clanging metal objects together. “Here we go!” he said triumphantly, pulling out the corkscrew anchor. “A perfect hole-maker.”

Setting the anchor aside, Leland prepared the boat for disaster. Starting the outboard motor, he turned the boat so that it headed back into the center of Lake Michigan. Then he fastened the tiller in place so the boat would continue in that direction for as long as it stayed afloat.

When Cher came on deck with a duffle bag, he ordered, “You and Brodie get into the water. I’ll finish this.”

Cher turned, blocking Leland’s view with her body as she showed Brodie the knife she still carried. “Don’t try anything.”

Brodie’s insides threatened to spill onto the deck if she opened her mouth. She went to the ladder and climbed down, letting her body into the chilly, choppy waters of the straits. Cher was right behind her, and Brodie felt a hand in her hair as they waited for Leland.

They saw only his head and shoulders as he moved about, but Brodie could fill in what was missing. He checked the tiller and the motor once more and then picked up the corkscrew anchor and looked around, trying to decide where to begin. After some thought he muttered, “The cabin floor, I think.” He disappeared from view, and they heard several sharp blows and the splintering of wood. Coming back up on deck, he jammed the anchor into the side of the boat nearest them, just below the waterline. It took several attempts to break through, but a satisfied grunt from Leland signaled a second success.

He moved to the transom and put the engine into gear. The boat, already filling with water, moved sluggishly forward. Brodie thought,
It’s dying, bleeding in instead of out, but dying nonetheless.

Leland stepped onto the tow-rail, balanced easily for a moment, and dived, pushing off from the foundering boat with strong legs. Making a watery chuggle, the boat went on alone, its bow cutting the water at a very low angle. Leland looked back once as he swam toward them. “There!” he said as he reached the two women. “Let’s see if we can find something better.”

They waded to dry land and stood, listening. The distressed sounds from the boat went on briefly. Then the motor coughed, coughed again, and died. Brodie felt a movement beside her and turned to see Leland, hand raised in a salute. “She was a good old girl.” Cher snorted derisively in response.

Before them was a stretch of beach, some scrubby grass, and then a wall of very old upright posts. The fort.
Got to act soon
, Brodie thought. If Leland had his way, she would soon be permanently missing from the United States. If Cher had her way, it could be much, much worse.

L
ISTENING
TO
THE
RADIO
TRAFFIC
, Bud tried to piece together what was happening ahead of them. Fog obscured the view, not unusual for the straits, where fronts often collided and temperatures differed sharply. Being unable to see more than a few feet ahead slowed their progress, which was almost more than he could stand this close to their goal.

There was a lot of chatter, and he could at times pick out Jim Ecker’s voice, giving commands. “Okay,
Beach Girl
. Keep an eye out,” and later, “I hear you,
Charlevoix Beauty
, nothing under the north tower.” He felt a rush of gratitude for the boaters helping him look for Brodie.

As they got closer, lights penetrated the soup of fog, more lights than he expected. Some of them were random, not neatly spaced like the lights on the bridge. As he peered ahead, Bud realized what those extra lights were and what the radio traffic meant. His friends were doing more than patrolling. They had formed a chain across the narrowest spot, on the far side of the bridge. Even in fog, Leland would not be able to slip through with dozens of brightly-lit boats in his path. Calling to Scarlet, Bud made for the center of the bridge, where he guessed Jim was overseeing the impromptu blockade.

“What is it?” Scarlet asked, peering ahead.

“The end of Leland’s run, I hope.”

The line of boats was a festive sight despite its serious purpose. Boats large and small bobbed quietly in the choppy water. As the Starcraft neared the line and Bud idled the engine down, sounds of music and conversation wafted across the water. Bud turned and paralleled the line, looking for a familiar shape. The first two boats he passed were unknown to him, but then he sighted
The Gull
, a trim little sloop belonging to his friend Ecker.

“Ahoy,
Gull
!” he called, and someone rose from a chair on deck.

“Dunbar, is that you?”

“It’s me, Jimmy. Any sign of the boat I described to you?”

“Not yet, but come aboard and we’ll wait for Leland together. I want to see you kick his ass.”

L
ELAND
LED
B
RODIE
and Cher along the shoreline, past the buildings of the fort. The grounds were vaguely familiar. Gramps had brought her there to see the displays and watch the re-enactments of daily life in the olden days. Now it was empty and silent, a faintly spooky place where ghosts might walk. Brodie did not want to think about ghosts. Her companions were scary enough without worrying about what evil the spirits of Indians, trappers, soldiers, and the rest of the dead might intend for her.

Soon the bridge loomed ahead. The fog hovered above them, cloaking the heads of the street lamps. A cyclone fence separated the grounds of the fort from the bridge area. There was a gateway, a porcupine-like turnstile that moved in only one direction, allowing exit but no entry. She thought Leland would head there, but he did not, and she soon saw why. The fence ended at the lake edge. Leland stepped around it, leading the way under the bridge.