Wyatt lifted the cooler lid. “Cleared out. Lester must have emptied it while we were up at Remy’s place.”
She caught his eye. Remy and the dogs had heard something on the way to his place, but they had ignored the warning. Now they had to pay the price. “This keeps getting better and better.”
“As long as we don’t run into Lester, we’ll be fine.”
She didn’t believe that for a minute. “West wind.”
“So?”
She smacked her ankle. “Black flies.”
Chapter 50
Wyatt needed to think. He sat on the bow platform. It was his fault they’d lost the anchor. He’d reacted without thinking. He’d tried to play the hero.
He’d made things worse.
Would his error cost them their lives?
The mainland receded with every breath he took. “Why won’t this work? With the two of us paddling, we should make better time.”
“This boat’s heavy, and it sits low in the water,” Laurie Ann said from the stern. “We’ve got the wind and the tide going against us.”
“I bet people used to paddle out here before the days of gasoline motors.”
“Sure they did, but they didn’t buck the wind and tide.”
There had to be another way. “Can we lighten the boat?”
“You want to throw the motors overboard?”
“Not that. Are there water tanks in the hull we could purge?”
She shook her head. “Everything in this boat is here for a reason, even the flare gun, which we will need once night falls.”
He couldn’t stop their steady progress eastward. Worse, dusk was falling. Everything would be harder in the dark. If they missed the barrier island, they would be swept into the Atlantic Ocean, lessening their chance of rescue.
“I’m going to try my phone again.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. No signal. “This thing worked on the island. Why won’t it work out here?”
Laurie Ann propped her feet up on the side of the boat. “Between cell towers. It’ll improve once they install that new microwave tower. Once we get closer to Sapelo, the phone should work. Meanwhile, try the ship-to-shore radio.”
“Where is it?”
“On the console there. Behind the wheel.”
“I don’t see it. That’s odd.”
Damn!
“Lester.”
“He took it?”
“He made sure we couldn’t get help.”
“You’re awfully calm about this.”
“Not as calm as you think. Lester will come after us. He must be waiting for nightfall. My guess is he’s holed up near the island and will watch for our approach.”
“How could he know we’d return to the island?”
“Folks around here know the tide and the wind direction. Even if we’d noticed the severed anchor rope in time, we would still be sitting ducks on the open water. He’s counting on us being defenseless.”
His fingers tightened around the boat’s railing. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I.” She patted the shotgun resting in her lap. “But I’ll be ready for him when he comes.”
“You ever shot anybody before?”
“No, but I’m prepared to do whatever it takes. I’ll protect us.”
He squinted into the thickening dusk. “I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, I’ll take care of him.”
“Let’s remember our specialties. You handle fires. I handle crazy people with guns.”
Fire.
A fire out here would be bad.
He smacked another fly on his ankle, irritated at the sharp stinging in his skin. “I think I see something,” he whispered. “I don’t hear a motor, but I could’ve sworn I saw a boat coming this way.”
“Let’s keep the talking to a minimum. We can both start paddling again on the left side of the boat. We need to keep veering to the right to get caught up in the island’s marsh fields.”
“Gotcha.”
Wyatt kneeled in the bow in the twilight. His arms ached from paddling but he wouldn’t give up. Not while there was a chance to fight for their survival. Lester may have incapacitated their craft, but he didn’t have them by the throat.
Night fell, and still he paddled. He heard Laurie Ann’s oar dip in the water, felt the boat continue ever eastward. Were they doing enough? Should they risk the flashlight or use the flare gun?
The wind died down. A faint aroma registered in his senses. Gas. He was certain of it. He paddled away from the scent, but there was no getting away from anything. The aroma grew stronger as he lifted his paddle out of the water.
Was gas floating on the water?
A flame flickered off to the right.
A torch flared.
Wyatt gulped. If the water surrounding their boat was saturated with gas, that torch could ignite the entire area. Not good.
In the thick twilight, the flames cast a demonic glow on the man’s face. Lester Church. The man he’d been chasing for two years. Wyatt hefted the oar across the railing and reached behind him for the pistol.
Face to face at last.
His serial arsonist.
The man who was responsible for his partner Bobby’s death.
The gun was the same temperature as his body. He eased it forward. How much hot water would he be in for shooting first and asking questions later?
“Found you,” Lester said.
“Leave us alone, Lester,” Laurie Ann called. The sound of her racking the shotgun was unmistakable. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Orange-tinged shadows played across Lester’s face. “I do. Want to hurt you.”
How’d he get here so quietly? Wyatt’s eyes strained in the dark until he made out an electric trolling motor powering the smaller jon boat as Lester circled their disabled craft. No wonder his approach was silent. Those things hardly made any noise.
The torch was stationery beside Lester. Must be wedged in an oarlock hole or something. Wyatt studied Lester again, realized that the man had a rifle pointed directly at him. Would he shoot them first and then torch their bodies?
“I want to see you burn,” Lester continued. “I want to see your whole body light up like Christmas and the Fourth of July, and I want to savor all the dark smoke. I’m sending you both directly to hell tonight.”
“Not happening,” Laurie Ann said, her voice tight with fury. “Help is on the way. It’ll go better for you if you turn yourself in right now.”
Lester cackled. The sound warbled across the waters like a crazed marsh hen. “Whatever help you think is coming won’t make it in time. I had fun with the sheriff’s boat before I headed across the sound.”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes. The bastard had planned this, from emptying their fuel tank to the severed anchor line. He kept his eye on his opponent’s gun, waiting for his chance to strike.
“Throw Uncle Pete’s shotgun in the river, Cuz, or I’ll blast a hole the size of Florida in your boyfriend’s chest.”
Laurie Ann complied. The gun slid over the side of the boat and into the water with barely a splash. The smell of gas was so strong, it was a wonder the fumes didn’t flash.
Wyatt still had the Glock. Lester didn’t know about that weapon. With Laurie Ann’s shotgun out of the picture, he’d have to neutralize the threat.
“I did what you asked. Let us go. I can get you the help you need,” Laurie Ann said. “You don’t want to do this.”
“You don’t know me.” Lester shouted, anger coloring his words. He put the gun down and waved the flaming torch like a baton, pointing it at Laurie Ann. Flickering shadows darkened and etched his harsh features. “All these years, and you never knew what I was. I fooled you. I fooled your dad. I fooled everyone.”
The need to act thrummed through Wyatt’s blood. Lester was too far away to grab. If he swam through the gas-coated water over to Lester’s boat, he’d leave Laurie Ann unprotected. He had a choice to make: take a kill shot to be certain the man was dead or try to wound him. With the gentle movement of boat vessels, his best chance of hitting the man was a torso shot.
“No one’s fooled now,” Wyatt said, hoping to draw the man’s attention away from Laurie Ann. He had the gun concealed in his lap. “We know you killed three people in fires. We know you started fires all over the state.”
Lester pointed his flaming torch toward the bow of the boat where Wyatt sat. “You’re not even a real fireman anymore. Couldn’t take the heat, couldja? You flamed out.”
“Easy with that,” Wyatt said. He brought the Glock up, allowing Lester to see his extended arms and two-handed shooting grip. He was aware of Laurie Ann reaching for something beneath her seat. “I’m calling the shots now. Put the torch down.”
“You don’t have the guts to shoot me. I know your type. All hype and glory. No guts. I make the rules here.” Lester waved the flaming torch in a circle around his head. He lowered it near the side of his boat. “I say you burn.”
Wyatt couldn’t breathe. If Lester’s torch touched the water, fire would flash.
“I figured you’d come looking for Spivey and Miles,” Lester said. “Didja know a boat soaked in gasoline burns faster than a boat sitting in gasoline-coated water? Didja know your bilge is full of gas?”
Wyatt remembered the bow compartment and the anchor rope still strewn out on the floor of the boat reeked of gasoline. Lester had pre-soaked their fiberglass boat to add to its flammability. He’d coated the water to cut their escape route.
The torch wobbled.
Wyatt’s finger tightened on the trigger.
He heard rustling behind him. Before he could turn around, he heard something fly out of their boat and strike one of the gas tanks Lester was emptying over the side of his boat.
The thwack of impact was followed by a terrible moment of silence.
Lester’s face contorted in rage. “No!”
Wyatt squeezed the trigger until the gun emptied, every shot aimed at Lester’s torso.
Flames appeared everywhere.
On the water.
On Lester’s boat.
On Lester.
The whoosh of fire raced across the water.
They had to move.
Now.
Wyatt scrambled to uncross his ankles. His ears rang from the gunshots. “Jump, Laurie Ann!”
The boat rocked and he lost his footing, banging his head as he went over the far side of the boat. He felt the impact of someone plunging into the dark water beside him, and his heart jolted. By the distant light of the fire above them, he recognized Laurie Ann.
She’d made it.
Thank God.
Together they swam underwater until he thought his lungs would burst. He surfaced and treaded water. An inferno raged in and around their boat.
“Wyatt?” Laurie Ann called softly.
He turned to the sound of her voice. “I’m here. Coming.” He eased over to her position. His skin burned from the gasoline. He felt oddly weak. Light-headed even.
“Did you hit him?” she asked.
“Yes. I saw him recoil from the shots. Between the bullets and the fire, Lester is dead. Count on it. By the way, it was brilliant of you to use the flare gun.”
“I aimed at the gas tank, hoping the diversion would give us time to escape.”
“Those things pack a wallop. I’ve never seen such an explosion.”
“I nearly got us killed.”
“We’re alive.”
Wyatt needed to touch her to make sure she was all right. He reached to hug her and scowled when he felt her shirt. “Where’s your bulletproof vest?”
“At the bottom of the creek. Once I saw him coming toward us, I undid the fastenings. I ditched it after I dove in. It was either lose the vest or drown. I should have worn a fireproof vest.”
She’d nearly died.
Because of him insisting on the heavy vest.
If she hadn’t been proactive about removing the vest, he would’ve lost her. He’d never meant to hurt her. He cared for her. He couldn’t imagine a world without Laurie Ann.
She was all right. He had to focus on the positive. “I’m glad you were using your head.”
“Can you see Lester’s boat?”
The fire cast an orange glow across the water. Thick black smoke filled the air. “It’s on fire. Your dad’s boat, too. “
“Stay close. The island is to the right of the fire.”
“I will.” As he swam beside her, he remembered the seven-foot alligators he’d seen in the creek earlier in the day. Those lumbering giants swam with only their eyes out of the water. Their powerful jaws cruised below the surface.
In the dark, he’d never see them coming.
Chapter 51
Laurie Ann’s arms felt like lead weights as she stroked through the water. Her sprained ankle throbbed with every kick.
Don’t wimp out. You’re responsible for getting the two of you to safety.
But the images in her head wouldn’t leave her alone.
Her cousin was a stone cold killer.
He’d nearly killed them.
But they’d made it out of the fire alive.
And Wyatt, he’d stepped up when she knew how hard it was to fire a gun at a person. He’d saved her twice now. He was the kind of guy she’d given up hope of finding. The kind of guy who didn’t back down from trouble. The kind of guy who stood up for right and valued loyalty and friendship.
She was crazy about him.
If they survived the night, she wanted him in her life. Forever. Suddenly her career seemed inconsequential. She could be a cop anywhere. She didn’t have to live in Mossy Bog.
Lester had burnt her house, so she no longer had a home.
She was more mobile than she’d been in her entire life. More than anything, she wanted to talk to Wyatt about the future, but their safety was paramount. Tomorrow wouldn’t come unless they survived the night.
She felt Wyatt stroking smoothly beside her. She wouldn’t let him down. She’d fight to keep him alive. She’d fight to keep him in her life.
Her fingers sank into the mud of the creekbank. Relief careened through her like a rollercoaster and left her just as shaky. She stopped swimming, and her feet touched bottom.
Wyatt stopped a second later, standing beside her in the muck.
“We made it,” she whispered, barely able to control her elation.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s get out of the water, and I’ll call for help.”
“Your phone is waterproof?”
She slogged up the muddy bank, ignoring the constant throbbing in her ankle. “I put the phone in a wet bag before it went in the cargo pocket of my pants. It’s a precaution my dad taught me. You never know how wet you’ll get in a boat. I’d say we got pretty wet this time.”