Course of the Heart (13 page)

The woman had been deceased for better than three years now, and any memory of her would soon vanish, if not gone already. Samantha had gone to great lengths to become Elizabeth Randal, who would have been near her age had she lived. She had even found a way to get and use the woman’s social security number, which she would use to get a Tennessee driver’s license and a new picture ID. Hopefully before the money ran out, she could use the name to get a job, banking on the fact that the real Elizabeth’s death was not registered with the Feds. And even if it were, it would buy her time to make some money and perhaps buy a new identity, if needed.

Finally, a new life, free from the horrors of Brad. She laid her head back onto the pillow of the queen sized bed and for the first time since leaving Drew, she relaxed.

The feeling was short lived and died quickly with the rapid knock on her hotel room door.

Drew killed the engine of his dinghy and watched from a safe distance with horror as the scene unfolded—the same scene he’d witnessed a short while ago from the deck of this boat–his boat. There were four of them, same as before, and they silently tied the skiff off and crept onto the deck of
Sail Out.
This visit would be different, if it was the same group of pirates, because they would be bringing with them the anger and humiliation of their last failure.

He quietly paddled closer as three of the men went below, while the fourth stayed on deck. Within seconds he heard a man shout in protest. Drew stripped the shirt from his back and removed his boat shoes, then slipped over into the water, stuffed his knife into his pocket, and gave the dinghy a shove toward the beach of the island. There was little wind or current, and with any luck the dinghy would remain close by for when he needed it.

Silently, he breast-stroked to the stern of his boat, keeping an eye on the pirate still on deck, and ducking from the man’s periodic scan of the waters. The conversation below deck was loud enough to provide cover for Drew as he pulled himself up onto the transom, crouching below the gunnels of the stern, and waiting a few minutes to drip dry. He timed the man’s steps, then jumped him when he took another rotation around the deck. Grabbing his rifle, he slapped a hand across the guy’s mouth, then just as quickly moved his hand to the pirate’s belt loop, retrieved the pistol tucked there, and placed it at the man’s temple.

“Make one sound and it will be your last,” Drew whispered in the ear of the much smaller man, moving closer to the hatch that led below. Hiding behind the pirate, with the pistol on the back of his neck now, he aimed the rifle toward the cabin, until the other three were in sight. Drew spotted the man he assumed to be Walters gagged and tied on the floor.

“Kill him,” the leader said—the same man from the previous attack. Walters began crying and begging. Another of the pirates lifted his rifle to carry out the sentence.

“Pull that trigger and you’re dead.” Drew snapped, keeping his gaze on the leader. Neither of the others looked familiar. Apparently, this die-hard leader had recruited new troops.

“Ah, so we meet again,” the leader said calmly in broken English, but Drew saw the fear in his eyes. “And I suppose you think you can take us all out before one of us takes you and your friend out? Hey, amigo, you think you can shoot all four of us?”

“Not really,” Drew countered. “Just you,
amigo
, and your friend here.” Drew jammed the pistol into the temple of the pirate he’d captured. “And the man on the cabin floor is not my friend. Shoot him if you want, but try not to bloody up my boat.”

The color faded from the leader’s face. The gagged man’s eyes grew big and he mumbled. The leader slowly lowered his rifle and raised his arms.

“You know, I’m feeling charitable today. Drop your guns on the cabin deck, untie this man, and I’ll allow you to be on your way.”

“I recall the last time you allowed us to go on our way, you left us for dead.”

“Somehow, I think assholes like you always live. So if you want to live to see another day, do as I say.”

The pirates lowered their weapons and slid them away, then untied the man. Drew glanced at the guy as he ripped the gag from his mouth.

“I take it you’re Walters.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, after you make sure they aren’t hiding any other weapons I want you to take their guns into the aft cabin.”

“Yes, sir.” It seemed to be all that Walters could say.

When he had done as instructed, Drew made the pirates file up the ladder into the cockpit, as before. After tying their hands behind them, Walters loaded them all into their skiff.

“Now take the outboard cover off and rip out the spark plug wire. I’m sure your remember how to do that, don’t you Walters?”

Walters’ face flushed and he looked down. Another,
yes sir
.

“Now, drop their anchor and untie the skiff.”

Drew took his foot and shoved the bow of the skiff away from
Sail Out.
Drew nearly laughed as the leader braced himself for gunfire. He handed the pistol to Walters, who began to get color back into his face. “Now keep an eye on them until I can radio to get someone out here to pick them up. These guys need to get taken out of commission.”

“But, amigo, you said—”

“I lied.”

After getting the marine patrol on the radio and giving them their position, Drew returned to the cockpit with a tall glass full of scotch. Walters eyed the drink and swallowed hard. Drew held his hand out and took the gun from him. “Go below and make yourself a drink. You look like you need one.”

Walters smiled nervously and disappeared below. In a matter of minutes he returned with a drink and sat across from Drew. “I want to thank you, Mr.—”

“No names,” Drew interrupted.

“Right.” Walters took a heavy pull from his drink. “I want to thank you for saving my life.”

“You should know, I had to think about it first.”

“I . . . I can understand that.” Walters appeared to be deep in thought. “Look, I have to be honest with you. I’m way out of my league, motoring around in these waters.” He looked nervously over to the pirates, who appeared to be lusting over the drinks.

“Hey, I get it. I realize you’re only doing your job. But you pissed me off, taking off without giving me a chance to get my stuff.”

“I don’t think you get what I’m saying. You saved my life. That’s worth a lot more than my fee for bringing your boat in. You can have your boat back. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve earned it. I couldn’t give a crap about the bank or the fee. What they’ll hear from me is that I never found you or your boat. If you’ll just get me to an airport, you’ll never hear from me again. Deal?”

“Deal. Now let’s get out of here. Just in case these assholes have friends.”

Without hesitation Walters stood. “Tell me what to do to help.”

Drew didn’t answer. Within minutes, he motored over and picked up the dinghy and headed out of the inlet.

The image of the skiff of pirates quickly faded in the distance.

Sam’s hands were sweating and her heart raced, as she ventured a look through the peephole in the door.

A man she didn’t recognize stood outside.

“Yes?”

“Miss Randal?”

“Yes?”

“Miss Randal, you dropped your hat in the hotel lobby.” The hat appeared through the peephole and then fell away.

Samantha released the lock and opened the door slightly, leaving the chain in the slot. The man handed her the hat and turned away.

“Thank you,” Samantha said, but the man was gone.

She closed and locked the door and leaned up against it, her heartbeat finally slowing. The day’s events all paraded through her mind, starting with leaving Drew, and tears found their way back to her eyes. She slid down the door, pulled her legs against her arms, and placed her face on her knees.

Try as she may, she could not stop the tears.

It had been a trying day.

She took a deep breath and resolved to compose herself. A good night’s sleep and she would be as good as new.

Retracing the route he had taken a few days earlier, Drew reached Exuma in the late afternoon the next day. Sam had been gone only twenty-four hours and it seemed like years. The image and feel of her lingered.

Walters had a bad night. The shivers started soon after leaving the pirates, and remained throughout his night of drinking everything in sight. Drew couldn’t get him off the boat soon enough. As a potential crewmember, he was worthless.

Little words were spoken as Drew tied up again at Emerald Bay. Walters was gone within seconds of reaching the dock. No need for goodbye or thank you. Drew chuckled. He suspected the man might be looking to get into a different line of work.

After topping off the tanks, he bedded down for the night. While fixing dinner, he listened to the chatter on the radio. His amigos, the pirates, were taken into custody and became the talk of the night. Hopefully, they would be out of commission for good.

Drew doubted their removal would end piracy. There would be scads of others to replace them. But at least these guys would be out of the way long enough for Drew to make it to the BVI.

After a good night’s sleep—if that were possible with the memories of the last night in his stateroom with Sam—he would be setting a course for those very islands.

Chapter 11

To celebrate her success at finding a new place to live, and the further good news of finding a job, Samantha decided to stay on a roll and apply for her license before checking into a hotel closer to Gatlinburg. She had been surprised to see several ads in that famous resort town and had been even more surprised to find a job there. She checked into an inexpensive hotel in Sevierville for a couple of days, in hopes it would give her time to get into the chalet she had found and get to an apartment store for clothes conducive to her new locale.

There was only a few ahead of her in the line at the motor vehicle office. Apparently the people of the great state of Tennessee were happy to have her there, because the process took less than an hour and she walked out with a brand new license and directions to a Big K. On the way to the department store she noticed a gun shop and decided to check it out. She found a handgun to her liking and filled out the application to purchase. The clerk said to come back the next day, after the application was checked out. Sam was sure Elizabeth Randal wasn’t a felon or had a past that would prevent her from purchasing a weapon.

Being alone was not what it was cracked up to be.

Funny, for Drew’s entire life, he had longed for solitude . . . well at least after an occasional tryst to keep him happy. In the past, the pattern had been to have the pleasurable company of a woman for as long as he wanted her, and then to be on his way, back to the solitude. But now solitude was the least of his desires. For nearly two days, now, he had thought of nothing other than Samantha. He must have replayed their time together a hundred times over in his mind.

Still a couple of weeks out from the BVI, the trip was unbearable without her. For any other person, and at any other time, being alone on the beautiful waters of the Atlantic, heading for the azure seas of the Caribbean would be a dream gig. Yet all he could think about was a woman he had known for little more than a week.

He tried not to think about never seeing her again. It was an exercise in control. The heartache was rooted in not knowing where she was, or if she was okay. The solace was knowing that if something ever happened to her, he might thankfully never know it.

The money that would buy his freedom from his father was less important to him now. True, when he received the bequeath, he could pay off the boat and his other debts and be free. With a half million in newfound money, he could lead any kind of life he wanted. A week ago, this eventuality was appealing. Now the idea held less luster. He would have enough money to sustain him for years, and if he was wise with what was left, he might never have to go back to Fairhope at all.

So, why was he not thrilled?

Because he would have no one to share it all with. He couldn’t imagine leading the life he had lived any longer. The past week had changed all that. Samantha had changed everything. She had given him a taste of what it was like to have a meaningful relationship with that special person, the one you wanted to be with forever.

He smiled as he thought of that first moment he had seen her. His heart hurt when he remembered the cuts and bruises. Those thoughts were interrupted by a splash near the bow of the boat, as a dolphin jumped, the late afternoon sun glistening on it skin. Drew set the autopilot and moved up to the bow. There below in the water, a dark skinned dolphin—nearly as dark as a remembered jumpsuit worn by a beautiful woman—swam along just under the water’s surface.

His stomach clenched as the hopelessness of it all sank in.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

Samantha was waiting at the front door of the gun shop when it opened. Knowing she would feel much safer with a gun made her anxious. She had slept little the night before. Would she ever feel really safe again? Without a single reason to feel ill at ease, she remained fearful. Finding her here would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Not even the likes of Brad could trace her under a different name, could he?

Yet memory of the man at the Knoxville airport kept surfacing in her mind. Was it only a fluke? Had he been talking to his wife, bidding her farewell before his business trip? Getting a list of things to bring home from the airport? She had no reason to believe his existence or his appearance at the airport was sinister, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him. A tiny bell of alarm had been ringing for the last couple of days.

As she opened her car door and moved toward the entrance of the shop, the flicker of a cigarette in the early morning dimness caused her to flinch. She jerked her head toward a car parked in front of a building next door. The man sitting in the car turned away quickly, started his car, and backed out of the space and onto the highway. Samantha strained to get a better look at him.
Was it the man from the airport?

She shook her head and opened the door to the gun shop. As she approached the counter, the same clerk from the day before greeted her.

“Hi, Elizabeth Randal?” She rubbed her hands against the chill. “I applied for a hand gun yesterday?”

“Oh, yes. Hold on.” He pulled a card box from under the counter and flipped through the three by five cards. “Randal, Randal . . . ah, here you are. Yep, everything checked out just fine. You can pick your handgun up in fifteen days.”

“Fifteen days? The guy just said to come back today.”

The clerk started shaking his head before she finished. “I’m sorry, Miss. That was just to give us a chance to check out your application. You have to wait fifteen day in the state of Tennessee to get a fire arm.”

“But I read there is no waiting period required in Tennessee.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. That’s not correct.”

Samantha was already out the door.

And not very happy.

The next day brought a warm-up. Although roads through the Great Smoky Mountain National Park were normally closed during most of the winter months, the thaw brought the need to feed the tourism revenues, so the road was partially opened, nearly half way to Clingman’s Dome.

Unable to move into her apartment for another twenty-four hours, Samantha soon felt the need to get out of the hotel room. Toddlers and Tiaras and America’s Top Model were holding less interest to her through each thirty-minute segment. And none of the programs were helping to lessen the sting from memories of Drew. When she flipped to a local station and learned about the thaw and partial opening of the park roads, it gave her the incentive to move out of the bed.

Nothing like a long hike to cure what ails you. Or at least that’s what her father had once said. And what a bonus to get to try out her new boots and back pack, much earlier than she had hoped.

Within a half hour, she was packed and ready to go.

With any luck at all, she’d be in the park and at Chimney Tops before noon.

Most of the snow at the parking area was gone. More of it remained as Samantha gained elevation during the two-hour hike to the top. It had been nearly twelve years since she had made the hike. As she trudged up the rocky trail, she thought of her father and it made her miss him. She had loved two men in her life, who were about as opposite as two men could be. Yet both treated her like royalty. She knew her father had loved her and only hoped that Drew loved her also. She found herself wanting to tell both of these men that she loved them. Her dad was long gone. Her lover was lost in a vast body of water, en route to deliver her best friend’s ashes.

Although it was Saturday, and the weather had warmed, there was only a scattering of hikers that day. By the time Samantha approached the top, the scant numbers had all but dried up. All the better for her, since she was looking for solitude to clear her mind. At a little after two in the afternoon, the summit was in sight. The afternoon sun had melted the snow and ice on the southern face of the last rock climb. Samantha knew the best views were from the top. To get there she would have to test the validity of her boots’ traction claim. She was up to the challenge.

The shoes preformed to standard and before she knew it, she was at the summit. As she stood atop the southern pinnacle of Chimney Tops, she took in the splendor of the mountains, sprinkled as far as she could see with gray and white. The higher the peaks in the distance, the whiter and brighter the scenery. The rock face on the north side of the summit was still covered with ice and snow. Although she wanted to continue the hike to the second summit, just to the north and below her, there was no way she could risk it, great shoes or not. She had reached the end of the line. She pulled the lapel of her jacket tighter and sat on the summit, drinking in the scenery. She glanced at her watch and realized she couldn’t tarry long, if she wanted to reach the parking lot before dark.

“Hey, baby, long way down, huh?” Brad’s voice rang out in her ears like a horror film.

She jerked her head around to see him standing at the base of the summit. Her first inclination was to run, but she was trapped. The only way to get by him was straight through where he stood.

“No.” The word came out more like a whimper. Samantha knelt down to keep from fainting.

“Why don’t you shimmy on down from there and give me a hug.” Brad put his cigarette between his lips and opened his arms. His hands revealed a slight tremor. “Surely baby, you didn’t think you could just disappear from my life, now did you? You oughta know by now I got a lot of friends all over. I’ve had people tracking you ever since you got off that plane in Atlanta.”

From his back pocket, he produced a flask and took a pull. It was then Samantha remembered his fear of heights. He must have read her mind. “Don’t be thinking you can wait me out, baby. I’ve got plenty of anti-freeze and all the time in the world. One way or another, you’re coming down from there. It can be with me the easy way, or without me the hard and fast way.”

Samantha found a rock near her fingers and picked it up. “Go to Hell, you son of a bitch.” With all her strength she hurled the rock at him. It found the side of his face as he ducked and turned away. To Samantha’s horror, he laughed, as he dabbed his face and looked at the blood.

“Well, bitch, I guess you just made your decision.” He took another pull from his cigarette and flask and took a deep breath. I guess I’ll have to come up and get you.”

Samantha looked around for another rock. There were none.

Brad approached the rock face and lifted his leg to an indentation in the dark rock. It held for a moment and then slipped. On his third try his footing held and he lifted his body about five feet from the base of the rock face.

Samantha’s heart hammered. She looked in every direction. “Help!” But her voice was lost in the thin air of the summit.

“Ain’t nobody gonna help you now.” Brad was slurring, but the alcohol was also giving him courage to make the slow climb. He was progressing, now only twenty feet from the top. He looked up with more fear on his face than she had ever seen.

“Baby, I miss you. And . . . and I’m willing to forgive and forget. All I want is for us to be together.” The fear had softened him. Was he trying to talk her down, realizing he couldn’t find the courage to go any further?

“So you can beat the shit out of me again, you bastard?”

“Baby, I won’t do that ever again, I promise. Did you know that I’ve been getting help about that? And I’ve been going to church.”

Samantha couldn’t help but laugh. “Church? That’s a good one.”

“No, honest, baby.” He moved up another step, ten feet away. It was now or never. If she kicked him, he might grab her foot. She stood and looked north toward the narrow, snow-covered trail to the lower summit. Even if she could make it there, she would have no other place to go. It was straight down, several hundred feet in all directions. And all Brad had to do was wait her out. As the temperatures grew colder, the walkway would become impassible. She would be trapped. She was out of options, but had to figure out a way to get away. With all the calmness she could muster, she looked him right in the eye.

“I’d rather die than come back to you, asshole.” She eyed a narrow ledge on the north face of the upper summit, where a small tree protruded. It was a long shot, but her only chance. She had to convince him that she had jumped and then hope he wouldn’t come close enough to the edge to see that she hadn’t . . . that is if she could even make it to the ledge.

“Don’t do it, baby. We can make this work, I swear—”

Samantha took a deep breath and jumped, pitching her scream from loud to distant. Her foot caught the ledge and slipped. She feared that her new scream had given her position away. With her arms she caught the trunk of the tree. She clung precariously to the trunk, desperately seeking purchase on the rock face below to allow her to get back up to the ledge, not daring to look down at the gray abyss that would spell her death.

“Samantha, no,” Brad shouted from above. Within a minute or two, Samantha glanced up, in time to see his wide eyes and hear his scream as he tripped and fell, his body flipping comically as it zoomed by her and downward. Unlike her, he didn’t scream. The only sound was his body hurling through the air.

The tears came, although she didn’t know if they were for Brad or for the fact that she was hanging onto a tree trunk for her life, growing more tired and colder by the moment.

She cried out for help, but there was no one there to help.

As the wood of the tree cracked and her grip weakened she cried out Drew’s name.

The tears that came next were easy to identify. They were because she realized she would never see Drew Richey again. Her heart pounded with the fear this thought brought and the adrenalin surged. She cried out in anguish and with all her strength lifted herself high enough to move one of her hands to a thicker limb, just as the smaller one her hand held snapped. With her boots she found purchase between rocks in the face of the cliff and was able to slowly step her way up to a narrow ledge.