Out of the Deep (9 page)

“T
he
police?
” Ashley cried.

“I already know you stole from Smokey's Bar,” the voice barked. “My name is Officer Norton, and I'm with the Bar Harbor Police Force.” Pounding again, he said, “Don't make it any harder on yourself. Open the door! I've got my badge right here—look through the peephole, and you'll see it.”

Jack felt his insides turn to ice. So the police already knew. Now he couldn't go to the bartender and beg for mercy and smooth it all over—no, thanks to Bindy, it was too late for that. He'd been caught stealing, something he'd never done before, something he'd never do again. What would his parents say? He stood there, numb, as Officer Norton banged again. “Kid, I know you're in there! Give me that suitcase!”

“I don't see any badge,” Ashley said, peering out.

Pound, pound, pound.

“Jack, we can't just stand here,” Ashley told him.

Pound, pound, pound!

Officer Norton's voice became deeper, more insistent. “If you cooperate, I might forget the whole thing. Smokey just wants his case back.” There was a pause, and then, “Did you hear me?
Open the door!”

“Should I let him in?”

“I don't know!” Jack cried. “I don't know what to do!” His mind had gone blank. Hide the case and deny it all? Get it back to the bar on his own? Call his parents? Or just confess and take his punishment? Ashley moved to the door and waited, her hand hovering over the doorknob.

“You're only making it worse! Open up!” Officer Norton demanded.

“Jack, we've got to let him in. He's a policeman.” Opening the door a crack, Ashley peered outside. Suddenly thrust backward, she let out a cry as the door almost knocked her off her feet. The man had pushed himself inside. His eyes quickly scanned the room.

“That's a smart girl,” he told her, slamming the door shut. It made a sickening thud behind him. “So there's two of you. Anyone else?”

He looked nothing like the police officers Jack had seen. Tall and thickly muscled, with a large, bulbous nose, he stood with legs planted far apart. Greasy hair had been slicked back, and he smelled of cigarettes and diesel fuel. He wore no uniform, just a long black coat that skimmed the top of heavy boots. Just like—just like—the man on the pier! Jack was almost sure of it! This was no detective, it was the man from last night! And they'd let him waltz right in. Jack's palms got wet with sweat.

“I asked you kids a question. Is anyone else here?”

“My parents. They'll be back in a minute,” Jack lied. “They just went down to get a newspaper.”

Ashley glanced at him sharply, then looked away. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she held herself so tightly her shoulders seemed to swallow her neck.

“That so?” the man answered coolly. He opened the bathroom door and peered inside. “There's a newspaper in here. How many newspapers do your folks need?”

Jack didn't answer.

“Don't try to play me, kid. I get real angry when someone jerks me around. And you don't want me to be angry, do you?”

Jack tried to keep his face smooth as he asked, “Why aren't you wearing a uniform?”

“I'm working undercover.”

“Could I see your badge?”

The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a leather wallet. He flipped it open quickly, but when Jack moved closer, he snapped it shut and slipped it back inside his pocket.

“We didn't get a chance to look—” Ashley began.

The man ignored her. “Where's the case?”

She pointed. “Right there, Officer Norton.”

“Go get it for me.”

Grunting at the weight, Ashley snatched up the case and handed it to the man. He tried to open it, realized the tabs were still locked, and grinned. “So, you didn't mess with it. That's good. Smokey'll be real happy to hear you weren't diddling with his stuff.”

“We didn't touch it,” Ashley assured him. “Are you going to arrest us?”

“Now that depends. Smokey's a friend of mine. I was just two blocks from his bar when he calls me all panicked. He says some blond kid told him there was a flood out back of his place—busted pipe or something. Told me the boy walked right in and lied to him, then ran off with his case. That was you, wasn't it, Jack?”

“How'd you know my brother's name?” Ashley asked.

“Oh, I'm a very good detective.”

Jack wondered how long the man would keep up the officer myth. Ashley still seemed to believe it. Well, it might be better that way. Don't challenge him, and maybe he'll take the case and leave, Jack hoped. Right now, that was the only goal in his mind. Get this man out of their room.

“See, I'm smart,” the man said, tapping his temple. “I remember all kinds of things. Like, for instance, last night. I met young Jack on the pier. He told me he was staying right here, in this motel. I remember that. And I remember telling him to mind his own business. Too bad you don't listen, huh, Jack?”

He pulled out a knife, a long switchblade, and flipped it open. Calmly, he began to run the tip beneath his fingernail as if he were cleaning it. Jack felt hairs rise on the back of his neck.

“But what I don't understand is why you took the case in the first place. It troubles me. How'd you know about Smokey's? How'd you know anything?” He leaned against the door, blocking it with his heavy body, and continued to flick the knife's tip around his nails. “So, why'd you take it, Jack?”

“I don't know.”

He shook his thick head. “See, I think you're lying again. I warned you not to do that. Looking at Ashley, he asked, “What's your name?”

“Ashley. I'm his sister.”

“Ashley, I think you need to tell brother Jack here that he's got some explaining to do. There's booze under Smokey's bar. And money in the cash register. But your brother Jack goes right for the silver suitcase. Can you tell me why?”

“I—I….”

“Give me a reason, Ashley, and I won't arrest either one of you. Tell me why he wanted the suitcase. That's all I need—a simple explanation.”

“Ashley—
don't!”
Jack cried, but it was too late. His sister's words were already tumbling out of her mouth.

“We thought the silver case had some sonar stuff in it—there are whales dying and we thought some Navy guy named Alex was using sonar and we were trying to get the sonar so we could prove that the whales were being killed—”

“
Alex?”

“I think that was his name. Anyway, we didn't know if it was true, but we thought we could check and then put the case back—”

“How did you hear about Alex?” The man's eyes suddenly grew charged with fury. “Tell me!” he thundered. “How did you know? It was that fat girl, wasn't it? The one in Smokey's last night. She must have been the one you were looking for on the pier, right, Jack? Where is she?”

“Gone,” Jack lied. Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember all the instructions Bindy had given him about acting.
Look confident. Make eye contact—don't let your glance shift away from the person's face
. “She never came back last night,” he said, staring at the man. “She's a foster child, and she ran away before I saw you on the pier. We never found her. We looked all over the place, and then my parents reported to the police that the girl was gone.”

“Jack….”

“Ashley—
shut up!”

Ashley stared at Jack, ready to say something. Then, all at once, she got it. This was no policeman standing in front of them!

“Does anyone else know about this?
Does anyone else know about Alex?”
he shouted.

“No one. She only told me,” Jack said, not wanting to reveal Bindy's name, if the man didn't remember it from the night before. “She told me right before she ran away. I—I might have mentioned a little bit to Ashley, but she doesn't understand anything. She just heard the words, but they don't mean anything to her. I swear!” He was shaking inside, but he prayed it didn't show, prayed that the man would believe him. Jack, who'd hardly ever lied in his life, was making up for it now—big time! “You said if we gave you an explanation, you would let us go. We told you what happened. We're supposed to meet our parents by the front desk. They went to buy a newspaper.”

The man laughed at this. “Well, now, Jack, looks like you and me have a lot more in common than you thought.” His eyes widened so that Jack could see tiny red veins, and when he leaned close, Jack could smell stale cigarettes on his breath. “You're lying about where your parents are, and—guess what!

I lied, too.”

With a motion as fast as a snake, he caught Ashley, pulled her back against his chest and jerked her upward, the blade within an inch of her throat. Ashley recoiled as she tried to pull her neck away from the knife point. For one nauseating second Jack realized how small his sister was. Her legs dangled above the floor like a rag doll's.

“Jack, I want you to listen carefully. When we walk out that door, we will be one big happy family. Understand? We will all take a stroll to the pier. Then the three of us are going on a boat ride.”

“Boat ride?” Jack asked hoarsely.

“Yeah. You messed up the pick-up arrangements, so now I have to deliver it myself, and you two are going with me. If you try anything, Jack, anything at all….”

He pulled the knife away from Ashley's neck and set her back onto the floor. “I'm not a violent man, not unless someone makes me that way. Don't make me hurt your little sister.” He touched her cheek with the blade of the knife, the other hand still clamped onto her shoulder. “I'd hate to have to teach you a lesson, Jack. But I would. Remember that. Now pick up the suitcase.” He waved the knife toward the door. “You go first. My little girl Ashley will be right by me—” Suddenly, he froze. “What was that?”

Jack heard it too. A scraping noise came from the balcony. Bindy! He'd half forgotten she was out there! Had she listened in? Did she know what was happening? Jack's heart felt as if it would explode right out of his chest as the man zeroed in on the glass door. The curtains, which were half shut, hid most of the view. There was no place to hide out there. Jack could feel himself stiffen as he pictured the man finding Bindy.

“Are you still playing games with me, Jack? Is someone out there?”

“No!”

“Well, now, this will be your first test. Let's see how well you do. If you are lying, your sister pays the price.” He narrowed his eyes at Jack. “Don't move a muscle.” Clamping Ashley around the neck, the man dragged her toward the balcony, yanking open the glass door with the hand that held the knife. As the man's head swiveled from side to side, Jack held his breath until the blood pounded furiously in his ears, as loud as drums. He waited for Bindy to be discovered, but a moment later, the man pulled his head back inside.

“There's a bunch of ducks out there, that's all you heard,” Ashley babbled. “No one's out there. Let me go! You're hurting me.”

“Shut up and move,” was all the man said.

Bindy had escaped! The scene flashed through Jack's mind like a neon sign—Bindy must have climbed over the balcony into the adjoining room, the one she shared with Ashley. She would call for help, and the police would catch up to them before they had to enter the boat! Call, Bindy, call! Jack willed her. Hurry!

Herded through the door, along the front deck and down the motel stairs, he tried to buy time by pretending that the heavy suitcase slowed him down even more than it did. The man had tucked Ashley beneath his left arm, his overcoat practically swallowing her like a blanket.

His right hand, still clutching the knife, was hidden in his pocket. Anyone watching would have thought it all looked perfectly normal. A father, daughter, and son enjoying one last view of the ocean before they checked out of the motel. Jack looked around, desperate to see anyone who might help. He heard wheels clacking along a walkway, and moments later saw a mother pushing a blue stroller, her child's round head bobbing as the woman maneuvered around a corner, disappearing without a glance in their direction.

“Go to the pier,” the man ordered. “If anyone looks your way, just smile and nod. Smile and nod.”

They followed a narrow path strewn with crushed shells and gravel all the way to the water's edge. An elderly couple returning to the motel strolled past them on the path, close enough to touch, but they were deep in conversation and didn't look their way even once.

The rest of the beach was empty except for the gulls. A steel-gray wave curled, then crashed onto the beach, licking the sand with foam before slipping back to the sea. It smelled like fish and damp wood here. Jack strained to listen for the sound of a siren but heard nothing save the screeching gulls. They were utterly alone.

“Now climb onto the pier. You remember the pier, don't you Jack? It holds a special memory for me.”

Without a word of protest, Jack stumbled along the boards, followed by Ashley and the man. Shadows from the railing made a pattern on the bleached wood pier, black on gray.

 

“Move it!” the man said, shoving Jack in the middle of his back.

The pier seemed different in late afternoon light. At its end, he saw the wooden steps—gallows steps, he thought now—and something else that hadn't been there the night before. Tied to a wooden piling, a speedboat bobbed like a seagull in the black water, only inches from the landing.

The man hurried them down the rickety steps, gestured to the boat, and ordered Jack, “Put the suitcase in there first. Then you get in.”

Where were the police? Surely Bindy had called them by now! Jack didn't want to climb into the boat, but when he hesitated, the man moved his arm under his overcoat, and Ashley cried out in pain.