Unspeakable (39 page)
“You’re awake.” It was a low, male voice, and the buzzing nearly drowned it out.
He turned away, then back again. Something closed around her upper arm. One of the bees stung her. And then everything faded out.
Elaina gripped the door as Troy whipped into the marina parking lot and screeched to a halt. Her phone tumbled to the floor, and she snatched it up, checking desperately for a message she might somehow have missed.
“Anything from Ben?”
“Not yet,” she said. The tracer was on his computer right now, trying to decipher the latest posting by Grim-Reefer. Late this afternoon, he’d announced a new cache within the zip code that encompassed Lito Island. The GPS coordinates were encrypted, of course—all part of his game.
“We should take two boats,” Elaina said as Troy reached across her and popped open the glove compartment. “That doubles our chance of intercepting him.”
Troy glanced at her, and for a second she thought he was going to refuse to let her drive one of his toys.
“Good idea,” he said instead. “You take the fishing boat.” He handed her a key with a little foam bobber on it, and Elaina eyed it suspiciously.
“You want me in the slow boat,” she said as he collected a second boat key, along with his pistol. “The Supra’s faster. You said so. You’re trying to beat me to him.”
They got out of the car, and Troy looked at her over the top of the Ferrari. “Elaina, gimme a break. The Supra’s harder to drive. And dangerous if you don’t know the bay.”
“I know exactly what you’re doing. Let me remind you that I’m trained to apprehend criminals.”
“Not this kind, you’re not,” he said, and as soon as the words were out, she could tell he wanted to take them back. He turned away from her and cursed vividly.
“Don’t try to sideline me on this, Troy. I’ll never forgive you.”
He spun back around to face her. “He eviscerates women, Elaina! He makes a sport of it! I don’t care how much goddamn training you’ve had. Your father’s right—you don’t belong anywhere near this asshole.”
“And what are you planning to do? Walk up to him and make a citizen’s arrest?”
He shoved his pistol into the back waistband of his jeans, and she knew exactly what he was planning. He intended to end this whole thing tonight, if he got the chance.
“I’m taking that speedboat,” she said firmly. “I’m going after Jamie, I’m going after this subject. And if you get in my way, I’ll arrest you myself.”
The seconds ticked by as she held his gaze.
“Fine,” he snapped. “We’ll take the speedboat, but I’m driving.”
N 26° 14.895 W 097° 12.055
Troy scanned the horizon, looking for any indication of another boat. He saw no sign of life, not even the wild kind, as he neared the northernmost boundary of the 9,600-acre preserve.
He glanced at Elaina, who stood beside him, gripping
the windshield in one hand and her phone in the other. She wore some kind of military pants and hiking boots, and her Glock was holstered securely at her side.
“Anything from Ben?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “He promised to call as soon as he cracked the code. Got a text from Weaver, though. Loomis has requested a hostage rescue team from San Antonio.”
“Good move,” Troy said. A team like that would probably come with a chopper and searchlights, which would enable them to comb the entire coastline in a matter of minutes. But how soon could they get here?
Troy stared out over the horizon. Even with a nearly-f moon, it was difficult to see much. Shiny ribbons of water wove their way into the marshlands. Troy searched for the widest channel, which led into the heart of the wildlife park.
“Pretty high tide,” he commented.
“Is that good?”
“Just means it’s easier to get in and out of here by boat.”
The channel came into view, a silvery roadway, cutting through the reeds.
“Decision time,” he said. “We either go in or not. If he’s in there already, this is our best shot of catching up to him. If he’s not here yet, we’re stuck in a maze and he could zoom right past us on his way to Windy Point or someplace.”
Elaina glanced around, as if the shadowy void would offer some kind of clue.
“Do you hear that?”
“What?” But as he said it, he heard what she was talking about—
the faint, high-pitched buzz of a boat engine. Troy shut off the motor. “It’s coming from the north. Let’s see where it’s going and then we’ll follow.”
He pulled Elaina into a crouch and hoped the silhouette of his boat didn’t stand out against the sky. But the moon was dodging in and out of clouds, making visibility spotty. Someone would have to be really lucky—or really observant—to notice them here.
The noise grew louder. “Not a lot of horsepower,” Troy said. “Sounds to me like a skiff.”
“That means we’re faster, right?”
“Yeah, but he’s smaller, lighter. He can go places we can’t.” As soon as he said this, a tiny white light blinked into view. Troy made out the shape of a boat with a light at the bow and a person-shaped lump at the stern. It was too dark to see the person clearly. What Troy
did
see were a couple of fishing poles glinting in the moonlight.
Was this their guy? Or just some night fisherman looking for a place to cast a line?
The boat slowed and veered left, and Troy muttered a curse.
“What?” Elaina asked.
“He’s turning into the marsh.”
Elaina’s pulse raced as Troy glided slowly through the ever-narrowing channel, using only the moon as a guide. He’d even turned off the navigation system to ensure the greenish glow wouldn’t attract attention.
“You think he can hear us?” she asked.
“Not as long as he’s moving.”
The skiff slipped in and out of view as it meandered through the cattails deeper and deeper into the marsh. They’d
made a mistake by taking
Salt Shaker
. But she’d thought this was going to be a race, not a game of hide-and-seek.
Did he know they were here? Was this some sort of ambush, or was he simply going about his sick work, business as usual, completely unaware that he was being pursued?
“Close in on him,” Elaina said. “If it turns out to be nobody, we need to get back on the bay.”
“I’m trying,” Troy said, and she took a closer look at her surroundings and realized he was doing his best to close the distance without running aground and losing valuable time getting out to push.
They moved across the glimmering water, the speedboat’s motor a low-pitched rumble. Above it, Elaina heard the distinctive hum of the skiff.
Elaina’s phone vibrated in her hand. Ben’s number. She knelt low in the boat and answered it.
“Talk fast,” she said.
“Got the coordinates. I’ll text them over.”
“Did you look them up?”
“Lito Island wildlife refuge,” he said. “In the heart of the swamp.”
Elaina’s pulse skittered. That was exactly where they were right now.
“Okay, call Weaver and Cinco. Give them the coordinates, and tell them I need backup at that location right now.”
She disconnected just as the noise up ahead of them changed pitch. Troy responded immediately, cutting his motor off mere seconds before the other boat went quiet.
Some clouds moved in front of the moon, and everything went black.
Elaina glanced around frantically. The only light she could see was the arc of the causeway bridge and the flickering smokestack of the refinery across the bay.
Something touched her arm, and she jumped.
“You hear that?” Troy whispered.
She listened intently. She heard nothing but a chorus of insects and water lapping softly against the boat. She could see nothing, not even Troy, who was standing only inches away.
And then she heard it—a quiet splash. Followed by another. It was him. And he was getting out of the boat. A slight rustling in the reeds up ahead, then nothing.
Elaina imagined him dragging Jamie out of that boat. He imagined him laying her out on some thorny patch of weeds.
“We need to follow him.” She clutched Troy’s arm. “Let’s get out. Quietly.”
Without a word, Troy swung himself over the side of the boat and lowered himself into the water. She felt his grip on her arm, and he helped her position herself on the side. His hands closed around her waist, and he lifted her down. Water immediately filled her boots.
The moon peeked out from the clouds, offering a stingy bit of light. She glanced around but saw no boats, no people. Just endless marsh.
“Where’d he
go
?” she whispered.
“No idea.”
“We need to split up.” She looked around again and used the causeway to get her bearings. “You go north,
I’ll go south. He doesn’t know we’re here, so one of us should be able to sneak up on him.”
“I want you with me.”
“We’ll cover more ground this way,” she said. “We have to find him
now,
Troy. He could be starting—”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. But don’t break cover, you hear me? And if you see him, shoot to kill.”
Elaina waded through the swamp, on alert for even the slightest noise. The terrain had changed from mud to water and back to mud again, which was unnerving. The air smelled of sulfur and rotting leaves. And it was black. Pitch. She no longer had Troy’s touch to anchor her, and she would have traded anything for a pair of night-vision goggles.
She remembered the blackout room at the Academy, where her defensive tactics instructor would make them spar in the dark.
Use your senses,
he’d told them.
See with your mind, not your eyes.
Elaina tried to use her senses now, but all she felt was fear. Water squished inside her boots. She tried to move soundlessly. In her right hand was her Glock. Her left hand was empty, and she held it out in front of her, although the chances of bumping into anything tall out here were pretty nonexistent. She moved one foot in front of the other and kept her senses on alert.
Her shin slammed into something hard. Pain zinged through her, and her body hurtled forward as her feet stayed planted. Her left hand landed on something soft.
A body?
Fear spurted through her. She groped frantically and realized she’d crashed into a boat. It was smooth and metal, and on the floor of it was a silent, motionless body.
Please, please, please.
She felt an arm, a shoulder, a neck. Her right hand gripped her gun as the other searched desperately for a pulse.
The body shifted. A slight groan.
Elaina breathed a sigh of relief. And in the distance, an unmistakable
plop.
She froze. Her heart pounded. Her skin tingled right down to her toes. The sound was northeast of her, about sixty feet out. The length of a volleyball court. She processed the information objectively, but the fear was an icy claw that closed around her heart and made even the soles of her feet itch.
She listened. Another
plop.
The sound was closer, clearer. But something struck her about it. It wasn’t footsteps. More like a rock, being tossed from a distance.
The skin between her shoulder blades prickled, and in her mind’s eye she saw him.
Just as a powerful arm snaked around her neck.
Troy moved through the darkness, alert for any sound, the slightest hint of movement.
A yelp, somewhere behind him. He whirled around. Splashing. Thrashing. The sounds of a struggle.
He cocked his gun and sprinted toward it.
She was underwater. Giant fingers closed around her throat. She kicked. She flailed. She clawed and punched at the arms holding her down. She’d dropped her
weapon. He was on top of her, drowning her. A wave of panic brought a rush of water straight up her nose.
Pop!
The noise echoed through the water, and suddenly the weight was gone, and she was up, breaking the surface, gasping for air.
A motor roared nearby. A spray of water doused her and she sucked in gasoline fumes. She coughed and sputtered, and then an arm was back, around her shoulders this time, and she clawed at it like a demon.
“Elaina,
breathe
!”
Troy. She choked and gasped and tried to cling to him, all at the same time. He lifted her by the armpits and dragged her to higher ground, then dropped her onto a mound of sand. Just a few inches of water. She’d nearly
drowned
in just a few inches of water.
“Where—” she wheezed, unable to even finish the thought.
“I shot him, and he took off.”
He got away.
And then another thought hit.
My Glock.
And then a worse thought smacked into her.
Jamie.
Elaina scrambled to her feet. “She’s in that skiff. We have to go after them!”
“Are you sure you’re—”
“Yes! Where’s your boat?”
He grabbed her hand. “This way.”
They sprinted and splashed and stumbled through the cordgrass until they reached the channel where he’d left the speedboat.
Only he couldn’t find it.
“Shit!”
And then in the first bit of luck they’d had all night, the clouds drifted, and everything brightened, and he whirled around, hungry for information.