We sit at the dining table. I can’t
help but smile when I remember our little affair here a few weeks ago.
“This boat has been cleaned right?”
I ask.
Knowing my angle, Morgan laughs and
nods.
“I saw a familiar man when I picked
up the food. He looked straight at me like he recognized me, but didn’t say
anything.”
“Maybe he was waiting for you to
approach him.”
“Maybe… but I got this C-R-E-E-P-Y
feeling.”
“I’m learning to spell you know,”
Abby says.
“Yes, I know,” I reply. “Like C-A-T.
What’s that?” I distract her.
“Cat, and dog is D-O-G.”
“Great.” Morgan ruffles her hair.
“Daddy, don’t. You messed up my
hair.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say,
“There’s a brush in the bathroom.”
“Daddy, may I be excused? I have to
fix my hair.”
“Sure, sweetie. You’re such a
princess,” he replies. Once she’s out of view he asks, “Did he make any
advances toward you?”
“No. But he stared at me until I
left.”
“What did he look like?”
“Blonde hair, blue eyes, tall,
probably late forties or early fifties…”
“Could be anyone. Maybe it’s
someone you met at my party.”
“I suppose.”
“Try not to worry about it. We’re
about to get in queue for the parade now, anyway. You said you brought extra
blankets?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe we can do the parade from
the flybridge.”
“Okay. I’ll clean this stuff up. Get
Abby into an extra sweater, and we’ll meet you up there.”
It takes Peaches a second, but she
eventually gets up the staircase and cuddles up on the tanning pad with Abby
and Pixie. It’s a beautiful but chilly night. Christmas carols blast through
the boat’s built-in speakers. The water’s edge is lined with people. From our
vantage point, hundreds of flashes go off as
Abby
is shown off in all
her splendor.
Some boats show off their funny and
whimsical displays, others are simply adorned with festive lights. Abby waves
and screams and Peaches joins her by barking when we sail by. The crowd cheers,
showing appreciation for our display.
We continue along the route. Morgan
takes a bit of a detour home, around Alcatraz, then we head for Angel Island.
Abby curls up with Peaches and two thick blankets while Morgan circles me in
front of his body and wraps one arm around my shoulders.
We aren’t doing anything sexual but
his arousal pokes my ass, and I’m excited about what I know will happen when we
return home. He kisses me gently on my neck, rubbing my shoulders. At this
moment, I’m grateful and extremely happy to be in his life, sharing this
special time with him.
A strong gust comes through,
blowing one of the blankets away.
“Daddy, I’m cold.”
“Come on, sweetie. You’re tired,
too,” I say, outstretching my hand. “I’ll take you downstairs, and you can lie
in a warm bed and watch TV.”
“Okay. But I want Peaches and Pixie
to come with me.”
“I’ll take Pixie with me now. I’ll
have to come back to help Peaches down the stairs.”
“Okay. Bye, Daddy.”
“I’ll be down in a minute, sweetie.”
I make sure she’s comfortable in
the cabin, put on some cartoons, and return upstairs. When I slide open the
saloon door off the stern, a mechanical sound gets my attention. I can’t see
clearly, but it looks like something is approaching the boat.
The hairs on my neck stand erect. I
attempt to run up the stairs but fall in my haste, slipping down to the bottom
and crashing my knee on the riser of the lowest step.
Though I’m in
pain, I feel a sense of urgency. Two
jet skis fast approach. As quickly as I can, I climb the stairs, but almost as
I reach the top, I hear a loud noise behind me. At the same time I turn to
look, a man grabs my ankle and pulls me down the stairs.
“Morgan!” I scream.
My body crashes to the teak wood
floors.
Dressed in a black wet suit and a
mask, the man presses his foot against my neck. I can’t breathe. I try to push
his foot away. The boat lists sharply, sending him off balance. He slips and
stumbles to the side.
From the corner of my eye, I see a
fishing gaff in the holder. I pull it from the end and swing it at him. Blood
immediately splatters the floors.
Holding onto his ribs and looking
at the blood on his hands, he says, “Fuck! You fucking stabbed me.”
I stumble to my feet, and he
pounces at me. I dart out of the way. He slips on his own blood and falls over
the edge of the stern.
Still in pain, I limp up the stairs
and run to Morgan.
“Morgan!” I shout over the wind and
loud music.
“Oh God, baby, what happened to you?”
He looks at the blood on my pants.
“Two jets skis are coming after
us.”
“What?”
“Look over there,” I point. “They’re
coming after us.”
“Fuck! Zoë get downstairs. Once you’re
inside, get at the helm. I’ll transfer the control to downstairs and join you.”
I do as he says, limping down the
stairs while calling Peaches, but as she looks down the steep stairwell, she
stops.
“Come on, baby, you can do it.”
Peaches whines and hesitates, makes
an attempt and backs away.
“Come on, girl. You can do it.”
We’re travelling fast. The other
jet skis close in on the boat. The boat jostles like we hit a wave. The sudden
movement throws Peaches and me off balance. She falls through the steep
stairwell. I try to catch the beast of a dog that she is, but she hits the teak
floor with a loud thump as she comes down.
She howls in pain and can barely
move. I don’t want to cause more problems by moving her but at the same time I
now have a clear view of the two white jet skis. Two men control them, another
man sits on the back of one. All are wearing black wet suits like the man who
got onto the boat.
I leave Peaches and hobble to the
helm to control the boat. Seconds later, I hear Morgan’s voice behind me.
Turning to look, I realize he’s on his cell phone. He runs to me when I’m about
to move.
“No. Stay,” he says, pushing the
throttle forward. The boat speeds up but not fast enough for the approaching
vessels.
Leaning past me, he opens a
compartment. My heart plummets to my toes at the sight of the firearm. I trace
his steps to the stern, and I see one of the men leap onto the boat. Morgan
fires a shot at one of the jet skis. One turns away; the other still chases us.
The first man disappears from sight. I’m not sure if he was shot or is on the
lower part of the stern where I can’t see.
I try to focus on what’s ahead of
me, but I’m worried and distracted about Morgan, Abby and Peaches. From behind,
I notice the blue lights of the marine police vessel approaching the boat.
The other jet ski speeds away. The
marine police boat speeds off—I assume to go after them. Morgan returns inside
as another police vessel approaches. He stops the boat.
I stagger to the lower deck to
check on Abby. I’m relieved to see she’s fast asleep, oblivious to what took
place.
“Is she okay?” Morgan asks when I
resurface.
“She’s sleeping,” I respond, and
head toward the stern.
“Where are you bleeding?”
Three officers tie their small vessel
to the boat and come aboard.
I run to check on Peaches. “It’s
not me. One of the men jumped on the boat, and I lunged at him with the gaff. I
called you, but I guess you couldn’t hear me.”
“Zoë, I’m so sorry. The wind and
the music must have been too loud.”
Peaches has her eyes wide open, but
she doesn’t move and whimpers in pain. She’s also panting heavily.
“Morgan, help me. Peaches is hurt.”
He runs toward me and checks her
eyes and gums.
“She’s in shock. Stay with her.
Talk to her while I get some blankets to keep her warm.”
I do as he says, as the police look
on. At the same time, I hear Morgan on the phone.
He hands me some blankets. “I’m not
sure how long I’ll be,” he says, “but just make sure they’re waiting when we
arrive.” He ends the call then speaks to the officers. “I live at Belvedere.
This dog needs to get to a vet and my daughter is in the cabin. Can we do this
there?”
“Sure, we’ll follow you,” one of
the officers responds. Two officers follow in the other boat and one stays with
me in the back.
“Baby, are you okay?” Morgan asks.
I nod in reply, but where the man
pressed his foot against my neck is sore. He hugs me briefly then goes to the
wheel, and we start our journey home.
“She’ll be alright, ma’am. Won’t
you girl?” the officer says, tenderly caressing her head.
Peaches looks at him and tries to
wag her tail, but there is very little movement. I bite my thumbnail as I
helplessly stare on, worried out of my mind.
We arrive at the house and as the
boat backs onto the dock, Rick, Lucas, and two women whom I assume are vets,
wait. As the engines to the boat cut off, they come aboard with the guidance of
the police so that they don’t contaminate the scene.
“I’m sorry about your dog. Can you
tell us what happened?”
As they check on her, I explain to
them the events that caused this. It seems like it’s been hours.
Morgan hugs me. “Baby, she’s going
to be okay.”
“We’ll have to take her in.”
After carefully stabilizing her,
they transfer her to a stretcher. Rick helps them carry her up the steep staircase
to the top.
“I’m leaving. Are you going to be
okay with Abby?”
“I checked on her. She’s still
asleep. Zoë, you shouldn’t be heading out. We don’t know who these people were;
it’s not safe for you to leave here.”
“I’m going.”
“Miss Jenkins, then you must let
Rick take you,” Lucas says.
Morgan hugs me. “I’ll be there, or
I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Okay.” As I step off the boat, I
yelp in pain.
Morgan steps behind me. “What’s
wrong?”
I lift the leg of my jeans and
realize I now have a huge blue bruise on my knee.
“Baby, how did this happen?”
“I fell when I was rushing up the
stairs to tell you about the men.”
“Fuck! What is that bruise on your
neck?”
“When I fell to the floor, the man
tried choking me with his foot.”
“Zoë, stay here. I need to look at
your throat, and you need to rest that knee. It looks like you might have a
contusion.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m not
going with Peaches. If I have to go on a stretcher then so be it.”
“You can be a stubborn mule
sometimes. Wait here.” He goes back onto the boat and returns a few moments
later with a kit. “Lucas, I want you to go with her, as well.”
“Sir, are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t let anyone
near her, and get her back here safely. I have my weapon and the police are
here. We’ll be fine.”
After giving me some
anti-inflammatories and fixing me an ice pack, Morgan helps me into the SUV
with Lucas and Rick. We follow the vets to the animal hospital.
I wait nervously for news. Staring
at the tiled floors of the waiting room, my mind drifts back to what happened
tonight. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken her up to the flybridge. If I hadn’t, she’d
be fine. Who were these people? Why were they after us? Abby could have been
hurt. She could have been the one that fell down the stairs. What if something
had happened to her? I’d never forgive myself if something had happened to Abby
because these people were after me.
“She’s going to be okay,” the vet
says. “She has minor internal bleeding that we’ll need to monitor and treat
over the next few days, but we think she’ll be fine. She was in shock after
falling, but all her x-rays and scans look good.”
“Any surgery?”
“At this time, no. Unfortunately,
sometimes bleeding develops later, so we’ll have to monitor and treat her
accordingly.”
“Will you please call me if there
is any change at all?”
“We will.”
“Can I see her before I leave?”
“Sure,” she replies, escorting me
to the room.
Peaches lies on her side on an IV.
When she sees me, she wags her tail with a little more energy than the last
time I saw her.
“Hey, I know you’re not feeling
well right now, but you’re going to be fine. Be strong, and I’ll come back to
get you as soon as I can.” She wags her tail again, and I scratch her ears, “I
love you, my Peaches.” I give her a gentle kiss before Rick and Lucas take me
home.
Ten minutes later, I open the front
door in time to see Morgan coming down the stairs.
“Hey, are you okay? How’s Peaches?”
He folds me in his arms.
“She has some internal bleeding, so
they need to observe her for a few days.”
“I’ll check with them tomorrow, and
depending on the treatment, I’ll see if I can handle it myself. We’ll all be
more comfortable having her here.”
“Thanks. Is Abby okay?”
“I just put her to bed. She was
fast asleep the entire time. She has no clue what happened. How’s your knee?”
“Painful.”
“Come, I’ll get you another ice
pack. Sit down and put your knee up.” He helps me to the sofa and heads to the
kitchen. “I also need to take a look at your throat.”
Morgan returns moments later with
an ice pack for my knee and his medical bag.
“Zoë, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear
you when you called.”
“It’s not your fault. We could have
never anticipated something like this. I felt like I was watching a movie scene
play out—only we were in it.”
He hands me some water, and I take
a small sip.
“Are you having problems
swallowing?”
“No, but my throat still hurts.”
“Were you ever unconscious?”
“No.”
Pulling a flashlight from his
medical bag, he gently tilts my chin up.
“Open your mouth wide and stick out
your tongue.”
I do as he asks. He examines my
throat.
“Any headaches or dizziness?”
“Dizziness no, headache yes.”
“Did you ever have difficulty
breathing?”
“Only for a short time when his
foot was on my neck. The boat tilted to the side, and he lost his balance. That’s
how I was able to get up.”
“It looks like you’ll be fine. You
don’t have any swelling or signs of obstruction. I just want you to rest for a
while.”
“What did the police say?”
“They took my statement. Detective
Bradshaw came over for a while. It’s possible that one of the men on the jet
ski was shot. They’ll be keeping an eye out at the hospitals and checking all
gunshot victims to see if they can find a suspect. They’re still looking for
the one you said fell over in the bay. The good news is, because you injured
him, there was more than enough of a blood sample to use as DNA evidence. They’re
going to run it through their system and see if they can find a match. They
also need your clothing for evidence.”
“Were they able to track down the
man on the second jet ski?”
“One of the men jumped off, and
they’re out searching for him. The other was arrested. Last we heard, he wasn’t
talking.”
“So they’re searching for three in
the bay?”
“Yes. They had better find them or
hypothermia will kick in and kill them.”
A knock sounds on the door. Morgan
steps aside for a female police officer.
“Hello, Miss Jenkins,” she greets
me kindly. “I’m here to collect your clothing.”
Nodding, I smile politely at her.
“Baby, why don’t I help you upstairs.
I’ll help you out of your clothing then run you a warm bath.”
“That sounds great. I feel filthy.”
Ten minutes later, I soak in the
tub. My knee is elevated with an icepack on top.
Running his fingers through my
hair, Morgan says, “Are you going to be okay by yourself for a while? The
police are still on the pier. I need a moment to wrap up with them.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Rest that knee. I’ll be right
back. I’m sure they will want to talk to you, too.” He kisses me on my cheek,
and with my clothing in an evidence bag, he heads out the door.
I think about Morgan yesterday, and
how distracted he was. Then I think about the gun. Did he get it because of me?
Does he always carry it around?
He returns a while later with the
police. Downstairs, they ask me a few questions and take my statement. I give
them all the details from the moment we left the house to when we returned then
they leave.
When we’re alone, I ask, “What was
going on with you yesterday?”
He joins me on the sofa, putting my
stretched leg on his thighs.
“Nothing. I was a bit tired and
stressed about Deandre.”
“Did tiredness cause you to have
that weapon handy? What happened yesterday morning after we came home from the
airport? And what was in that envelope you put in the side table?”
He hesitates, “I didn’t realize you
saw that. Zoë, I will protect you and my family at any cost. With what’s been
going on, you shouldn’t expect that I’d let these people have the upper hand
against me.”
“Did you always own that weapon?”
“Soon after Abby was born.”
“Do you always carry it with you?”
“Whenever you leave the house with
me, yes.”
“Is it legal?”
“Of course it is, Zoë. In fact, I
have two. They’re both legal, and I have a permit to carry them.”
“What’s in the envelope?”