Authors: Claire Donally
Sunny’s eyes fluttered
open—to a blackness as complete as the one behind her lids. Consciousness brought pain and a feeling of dampness in the back of her head. She tried to raise an investigating hand, and found her wrists were joined somehow. When she tried to twist them apart, the bonds stayed stickily put.
She slowly made sense of it.
Duct tape? I’m tied up with tape?
Sunny realized she was lying on her side, and there was tape around her ankles, too, which made things even more clumsy.
A second later, she felt something tugging at the tape on her wrists. Something biting at it. Instinctively, Sunny jerked away. Her fingers felt the brush of a large, fur-clad
body, and a moment later it was back, saying, “Meow” before biting at the tape again.
“Shadow?” Sunny tried to sit up—an extremely bad idea. Her head suddenly felt like a giant gong, the kind they ring by banging big logs against them. The pain exploding from the back of her head made her feel giddy, and the meal she’d recently eaten made a sudden concerted effort to escape from her stomach. She couldn’t keep it in, but Sunny at least managed to turn away so she didn’t get sick on herself or Shadow. But the cat disappeared.
Great,
Sunny thought,
Shadow
gets to barf all over Lee Trehearne and that’s fine. But when I get sick after being knocked cold, he scampers away? I guess it’s a little late to say, “Lassie, get help!”
She tried to worm herself away from the foul-smelling puddle she’d created, not easy in the darkness with her arms and legs bound and a head that still vibrated painfully at the merest motion. Taking a deep breath, she tried to call out, “Hello! Can anyone hear me?”
It came out as a low croak, more of a moan than words.
“Don’t bother,” Cale Kingsbury’s voice came back. “We’re pretty well soundproofed down here.”
A glow in the darkness came toward her, resolving itself into the image of Cale with a flashlight in one hand and a plastic bottle of water in the other. He knelt, holding it to her lips. “Here. You can wash your mouth out.”
Sunny swished the water around and spit the acrid taste away. “Somehow, I don’t have the feeling that you’re here to rescue me,” she said.
Cale’s usually insouciant face looked very serious in
the dim light. “I’m afraid not. Are you in any danger of puking again?”
She carefully shook her head with no worse effect than paralyzing pain. “No,” she said.
“Good.” He produced a roll of duct tape, tore off a piece, and slapped it over her mouth. “The next part takes us to a place where you might be heard.”
Cale picked her up without any sign of straining at the job and carried her along what Sunny soon realized was a tunnel.
“Another of Great-Grandpa Neal’s built-ins,” Cale explained as he walked. “A rum-running tunnel that goes from the basement of the house to the pier—and also to the gazebo. That was probably an escape hatch. There was another tunnel leading off the Neck, but that one collapsed, so I don’t know where it was supposed to go.”
Sunny shifted uncomfortably.
Collapsed. There’s a cheering thought.
“But this section is sound,” Cale assured her. “I made certain of that, just as I made sure the trapdoors in and out of here still work.”
He apparently reached their destination, because he set Sunny down.
“Need both hands for this,” Cale said, sticking the flashlight in his mouth. He approached a wooden section angled into the wall ahead and heaved. It took a couple of tries, but the panel finally gave way, rising up and revealing the blazing sunset.
Cale gathered Sunny up again and stepped outside onto the pier. Behind them, Sunny saw that a section of the stairway leading down to the wharf had swung up. Cale
deposited Sunny in the rowboat tied conveniently nearby and then went to shut the secret door. “Now for a little cruise.”
*
Shadow dodged back
when he heard Sunny being sick. Then he heard footsteps approaching down a long, dark hallway. And far, far away, he saw light. A single sniff was enough to tell him that Smells Good was coming back.
Crouching in the gloom beyond the circle of light, Shadow tried to decide what to do. What he really wanted was to leap on this two-legs with his claws out. But the human was much bigger than he was, and strong. He’d carried Sunny as if she weighed nothing. From the times she’d rolled over on him in bed, Shadow knew that wasn’t true.
And now they were stuck in this dark place. Even if he overcame Smells Good-Acts Bad, could Shadow free Sunny? The sticky stuff around her hands had resisted his efforts to bite it. And it tasted very bad.
When Smells Good picked up Sunny again, Shadow silently trailed along.
They walked for a while, until the male put Sunny down and pushed against a wall. It moved away, and Shadow caught the scent of salty fresh air. Maybe now was the time to strike.
But too quickly for Shadow to act, Smells Good had Sunny again, stepping out into the fading light. Shadow charged after . . . and then froze. They were on a long thing made of wood, with water all around. That’s where the salty smell came from.
And the bad human was putting Sunny down into a
smaller wooden thing that floated on the water! Shadow didn’t like this at all. Oh, he’d had times when he got caught in water. He’d been lucky enough to paddle with his paws and get out of the wet stuff. But Sunny’s arms and legs were tied together, as if she’d been playing with string and gotten tangled. She wouldn’t be able to swim.
He’d have to wait for a better chance.
When Smells Good went back to close up the opening he’d made, Shadow waited until the human’s back was turned, then darted forward and leaped into the floating-thing. Sunny stared at him as he landed, her eyes very big over the sticky stuff covering her mouth. Shadow squashed his way behind her so that the bad human wouldn’t see him.
Smells Good soon returned, climbing into the floating-thing and making it rock in a way Shadow really didn’t like.
From his hiding place, Shadow couldn’t see what the human was doing, but he could hear rhythmic swishing sounds and got the feeling that solid ground was getting farther and farther away. He nudged at Sunny to bring her hands within reach and again started gnawing at the disgusting sticky stuff. Then the rhythm changed, and they stopped, merely bobbing in place.
Shadow risked a look to see Smells Good’s back as he used a very thick string to tie the thing they were on to—Shadow wasn’t quite sure what this was. It was as big as a house, but it floated on the water. Why would anybody want to have a house that floated?
That’s the problem with two-legs,
he thought as he
dropped back into hiding.
They make some good things. But they’re crazy.
*
Cale deposited Sunny
rather unceremoniously onto the deck of the
Merlin
—more like a sack of potatoes than the gentlemanly helping hand he’d given her the other day. At least he had the manners to apologize as he moved her over to the cockpit, not that Sunny felt like appreciating them. As Cale ranged around the yacht, getting it ready to sail, she was shocked to see Shadow jump up onto the deck. He returned to the job of attacking her wrist restraints. He’d managed to tear a couple of holes in the tape with his teeth, but it wasn’t giving—it hadn’t been weakened enough. When Cale returned to raise the anchor, Shadow disappeared beneath the hem of her dress.
“Now we’ll just sail away. No engines, nothing to draw notice.” Cale took the wheel, and the
Merlin
surged forward. After a while he leaned over and removed the tape from Sunny’s mouth. “I’m really sorry about this, but I had my suspicions after I overheard you talking with Priscilla. And then when I tested the cameras and saw you in the gazebo, my hands were tied.”
“I think that’s my line,” Sunny said. She looked at the rowboat trailing along behind them on a towline. “So, secret passages and a rowboat. That’s how you were able to get around without anyone knowing.”
“Yes. That much worked well at least.”
Sunny nodded. “You’re used to having things work well—as the Taxman.”
Cale shot her a glance.
“You’re a legend in certain circles,” Sunny told him. “Mainly crime reporters.”
“Crime.” Cale repeated the word as if it had a bad taste. “I didn’t set out to commit any crimes. After the accident, I was looking for a second act—that was what the foundation was supposed to be, why it’s called Act Two. But people weren’t willing to give me a chance. Well, if they wouldn’t give voluntarily, I figured they’d have to be persuaded. I knew things, and I parlayed that into funding—seed money. No one I put the bite on was a saint, you know. At least now they were doing some good, even if they didn’t realize it. Those first transactions were pretty crude. But when we began extending our programs to work in prisons and I discovered the hackers, I was able to route money in more indirect ways.”
“So it was about the money,” Sunny said.
“Well, sure, it started out about the money,” Cale explained. “Seed money, like I said. But I didn’t want to make a pig of myself, or draw attention. After a while, when we showed what the foundation could do, we had more legitimate donors.”
“And then it became about the favors.”
“In a way I guess I’m a victim of my own success.” Cale sat for a moment with his hands on the wheel, then said, “My little projects went so well, I stopped planning for failure anymore. And maybe the old saying is true—you shouldn’t foul your own nest.” He started to laugh. “But look at the prize! If Carson actually becomes Mr. President, he’ll owe my family. But I’ll
own
him. The black sheep of the Kingsburys, armed with a presidential sex video. I’d be able to write my own ticket.”
Sunny winced.
He told me almost the same thing about getting Augustus de Kruk’s breakdown on camera—that I’d be set for life.
“So that’s what this was all about,” she said slowly, “a sex tape featuring Carson de Kruk? You planned to force Eliza Stoughton to act as the leading lady in your little production and even extorted a supply of Rohypnol to get Carson into a compromising position without him even remembering it. Except it didn’t turn out the way you’d planned.”
“I thought it would work perfectly. I’d even be on hand to deal with any last-minute glitches.” Cale might as well have been discussing a repair project on his boat. “Bellingham would provide the drug, and all Eliza had to do was persuade him to bring her along. As for the rest, she’d been indiscreet in front of a camera before. But this time, for whatever reason, Eliza balked. Worse, she confronted me. She’d had her suspicions, it seems, and it all came to a head when she went for a late-night swim. Maybe I’d overreached, by setting it up to happen while we were all together up here. In the end, well, it went badly. She’d been drinking and started to make a ruckus.”
“So you used your knowledge of the rum-running passageways to get into and out of the house unseen. It was just a short stroll from the gazebo to the point, where you tossed Eliza’s body off the cliff and then vanished back down the gazebo hole. As far as anyone knew, you were in the house the whole time, with a wall of external surveillance cameras to back up your alibi.” Sunny’s voice was dry and tight as she spoke, but Cale just responded with a matter-of-fact nod.
“I planned to just step back and let the police follow
their routine. I was disappointed at having to scratch my project, and I realized that there might be some bad publicity for the upcoming wedding, but hey, the Kennedys have endured worse.” His eyes flicked over her. “There was even the possibility of restarting when you turned up. Bellingham had enough doses for two people.”
If Sunny could have gotten a hand free, she’d have gone for him. But, while the tape gave a little, it still resisted her best efforts. So she used her mouth instead. “What happened with Nesbit?”
Cale’s busy eyes kept scanning the horizon, but his lips quirked. “We’d known each other since I ran for Congress,” he said. “But Nesbit had me all wrong. He suspected that
I
was the most blackmailable person on Neal’s Neck, so he started to ask me leading questions. I denied the whole idea, but I knew he’d keep digging—and worse, he’d probably tell other people. So I arranged a meeting, and came prepared. When I went off to get the supplies for that beer pong tournament, I considered buying a knife. But I couldn’t risk some shopkeeper remembering.” That bad-boy grin crept onto his face. “Then I remembered my brother Lem’s old tackle box.”
“You got the knife from there, used the passage to the dock, and set off for a quick row in the dark to make the meeting.”
Cale nodded with a flicker of anger. “Nesbit thought he held all the cards; that he was dealing with some screwup who’d roll over and tell him whatever he wanted. He was so surprised when I slit his throat.”
“Arrogant,” Sunny said. “Like you.”
Cale’s face was expressionless as he turned toward her.
“What,” Sunny burst out, “I should worry about what I say to you? I can pretty much figure how this twilight cruise is going to end. You’ll come back short an extra anchor or something. But I’m not coming back at all.”
“I thought we might be able to at least keep it polite,” he said.
“Real life is a lot messier,” Sunny told him. “People wind up chasing a cat with a fishing net, and the cops are put onto a box of tackle that nobody had thought of in years.”
“Yes,” Cale said. “That damned cat put quite a crimp in things, bringing attention back to the house.” Then he broke off. “Excuse me a moment. The going gets a little tricky here.” He reached over to a set of marine charts set up at the side of the wheel—and yelped in surprise to discover Shadow standing over them. “What the hell is that cat doing here?”
Shadow showed him, sending the charts flying as he left a set of bright red claw-marks on the back of Cale’s hand. Quickly lashing the wheel in place with a one-handed knot, Cale lunged for Shadow, only to end with his fingers just inches short as the cat used one of his prime evasion moves.