Course of the Heart (12 page)

Chapter 10

The ride back to the marina was the longest ride of his life. From the taxi window, he strained to see a plane as it flew over at a low altitude. Was it her plane? Anger welled within and he couldn’t quite figure out who or what he was mad at. Was it because she was gone and he could no longer protect her? Was it because he had failed to convince her to stay? Or did it have to do with the way he felt about her? How had he lost her? The answer to his anger soon became apparent.

He was angry at himself for leaving her with the impression that he was still a free spirit, wandering from bed to bed. What did he expect? This had been his life up until meeting her. But she had changed everything. He would never be the same. His life-long desire for the conquest of women had been so juvenile. Why could he not have seen that sooner? Why had he not been able to better explain his feelings to Sam?

The sun began its decent across the western sky as he paid the taxi driver and turned toward the marina. His thoughts meandered back to the day before, holding her as that same sun set. He began the long slow walk out to his assigned slip, deep in thought about her, relishing in the lingering memory of her kiss, the smell and feel of her. As he arrived at
Sail Out
’s slip, his heart sank.

There before him, in place of the Morgan Out-Islander, was only the dinghy.

The sailboat was gone.

The plane ascended directly over a marina. Was it Emerald Bay? Samantha strained to see below, franticly searching the myriad of boats for a glimpse of
Sail Out
before realizing the futility of her effort. The thought of never again seeing Drew or
Sail Out
brought the tears once again.

She leaned her head back to relax, but couldn’t. Half way through the flight she became aware of an obsessive habit of looking at the back of the heads of the people in the seats in front of her. Despite the warmth of the cabin, a chill traversed her spine. Without him near, she felt naked, vulnerable. Was that the only reason she missed him? She was only kidding herself, it was so much more. She was in love with him and with every passing minute, the distance between them grew. What had she done? Why hadn’t she been more assertive and stayed with him like he’d asked—at least to give it a try? Sure, maybe he wasn’t ready for someone like her, but wouldn’t it have been better if she had let that play out. If she had pushed the issue and he had backed away, at least she would have had the satisfaction of knowing she had tried. At least she would have known that she’d given it her best.

Yet her uneasiness refused to loosen its grip. She fought to understand a feeling of impending doom. Her fear of confronting Brad was there, without denial. But there was more. She feared for Drew, even though she knew he could take care of himself. More than ever, she was aware that she wanted to be with him, even as the miles between them continued to grow.

She wiped a tear away, leaned back, and closed her eyes once again.

She woke as the wheels of the plane touched down in Miami, bringing her ever so much closer to decision time. Unable to broach the subject of what to do next, she sat in her seat bewildered. In a matter of minutes she would deplane and be faced with deciding where to go. And she was no closer to making up her mind than she had been days ago, when she first thought of where she might want to start a new life. As the door opened and passengers began to exit, she donned the hat and sunglasses and gathered her belongings. She stepped down the stairs and walked to the tram, which would take her to the main terminal. As she made her way to the back of the bus, the nerves returned. Even though the odds were in her favor that Brad would be nowhere in sight, she fought the urge to stay on the bus as long as possible, before realizing her best bet was to exit in the middle of the crowd, hoping to blend in.

As darkness settled in, she arrived without incident to the ticket counter in the main terminal. She found a seat in an obscure corner of a food court and resolved to collect her thoughts and decide where to go from there. With plenty of money left in her stash and a new passport in her purse, she could go pretty much anywhere she wanted to go. The range of destinations was endless.

Even with her newfound freedom and the means to start a new life, she sat hopelessly lost as to what to do next. And then her emotions provided her with the next option on the agenda that was one Samantha Jane Bartlett’s life. It soon became apparent what was next.

She leaned her head back and began to cry.

Scowling, Drew stepped onto the dinghy and tore off the business card taped to the throttle of the outboard motor, then read the raised print on the front.

Terrence C. Walters

Special Services

Below was a number, with the area code for greater Miami. On the back was a scratchy hand-written note.

Mr. Richey, your boat has been repossessed. To claim your provisions and personal belongings, call the number on the other side. Have a nice day.

His blood began to boil.
Have a nice day?
What the fu—

Crushing the card in his fist, he brought his other hand up and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to decide what to do next. He slapped his stomach and realized he had made a good decision in strapping his money and the extra sailboat engine key in a flat pack around his waist. Yet how foolish he’d been to think no one would take off with the boat. He silently cursed himself for not locking up and disabling the engine. He had been so fixed on Sam’s leaving, he’d dropped his guard. He straightened the crumpled card and shoved it in his pocket.

Okay, assume this Walters guy had been tracking them and was waiting at the marina when they arrived earlier that day. And if that guy could have done it, why couldn’t Brad?
Too late to worry about Brad.
He looked at his watch. He and Sam had left the sailboat about five hours earlier. Further assume Walters would be taking the boat back to Miami to arrange return to Fairhope, or await disposition by the bank. At seven knots,
Sail Out
would be about twenty-five to thirty miles from the marina at present. Even though it was getting dark, the boat would be running with lights and fairly easy to locate. In the dinghy, Drew could run faster, and dark, although not silent. Also assume Walters might not be a sailor, but would have to know at least a few things about boats. No doubt he would be motoring and not sailing, given Drew had topped off the gas tanks earlier. He would have enough range to make it all the way to Miami, if he ran the engine efficiently at about five knots.

Walters might not be careful to protect
Sail Out
, once he arrived in Miami. Drew wasn’t prepared to run the risk of losing anything else from the boat, especially his ticket to the big payoff. Although the urn was tucked away securely in a locker, without it he was dead in the water. He doubted Walters would have an issue with him getting it back, but he wanted that to happen before the boat reached Miami. There was no way he could get
Sail Out
back, at least legally, but by God he would get that urn back.

Drew tested the weight of the gas tank. It was full. He made his decision quickly. He was going after
Sail Out
. Climbing back onto the dock, he headed for the marina store for supplies. With any luck, he could locate the boat, make his deal with Walters, and be back to Exuma in time to catch a flight to San Juan and onto Beef Island in the BVI. One way or another he was going to get there with the urn for that payoff.

In less than an hour, he was ready to shove off. He stowed the flashlight, extra clothes, food, and water under a tarp in the bow of the dinghy and hit the start button.

Nothing.

Son of a bitch.

Walters had disabled the engine. Drew took the flashlight and removed the engine cover.

The spark plug wire was missing.

Samantha barely made the last boarding call for the flight from Miami to Atlanta. The Delta flight was to arrive at 8:45 p.m., giving her an hour to catch her final connection to Knoxville, Tennessee. Why she had chosen Knoxville eluded her, other than the fact she loved the Smokey Mountains. Her father had taken her there when she was ten, for hiking and camping. It was, after all, as good a place as any. She had never mentioned her love for the mountains to Brad and doubted he could make the connection, given her father was no longer alive.

She settled back into her seat in the near empty plane, relieved that it had been fairly easy to check out the few passengers as they boarded, to assure herself Brad was nowhere to be seen. She tucked a blanket around herself and imagined it was Drew. She drifted quickly into sleep, escorted by sweet thoughts of him and how his body felt next to her. How his warm strength had filled that yearning space inside of her, and the feel of his rigidity filling her.

When she awoke the flight attendant was gently nudging her. After stretching, she gathered her belongings and struggled to become awake enough to deplane. The concourse brought her abruptly back to reality. Even at that late hour, a myriad of travelers hustled to make connections, pulling luggage and weaving in and out of traffic. As she prepared to join the hordes of travelers, and feeling a little braver, she folded the shades and slipped them into her purse and placed the hat in one hand and hoisted her handbag over the other shoulder. The thought of Brad was only a lingering memory, far in her past.

“Trouble?”

The voice rang out from an adjacent pier, as Drew contemplated what to do. He had been the last customer at the marina shop, hurrying to get his supplies before they closed for the night. And without land transportation, Drew weighed his options to get the missing wire and be on his way. He looked up and noticed the man standing on the next pier over, facing him from across the water.

“Yeah, somebody made off with my spark plug wire.”

“Looks like they made off with more than that.” The man eyed the empty slip.

“Hasn’t been my day, I guess.”

“Sit tight. I have a similar outboard on my dinghy. Might have a wire in my spare parts.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll buy it from you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just a boater helping another boater.”

Within an hour the wire had been replaced and Drew started the engine, while his new friend stood on the pier above him.

“Works great. Thanks. Sure I can’t pay you?”

“No problem.” He brushed the offer aside. “Glad I could help. Hope you get that boat back.”

“Thanks.” Drew untied from the cleat and engaged the gear, idling out into the marina basin. Walters now had about seven hours’ head start. Once out of the marina channel, Drew took a compass from his pocket and set his course toward the direction he suspected Walters would be heading
.
If he didn’t run into the boat after enough time to catch it, he would span out five or ten degrees in each direction until he located it. With any luck at all he could find the boat within a few hours. The dinghy would have a distinct edge in speed and Drew planned to use it to his advantage.

Around midnight he got a break, as the anchor lights of a sailboat came into view in a cove of an out island north and west of Exuma. As he got closer, his smile faded.

It was
Sail Out
all right. But apparently he wasn’t the only one who had been looking for the boat.

At ten forty-five, the Delta flight reached the gate and its final destination. Unlike Atlanta, the smaller airport at Knoxville was nearly deserted at that late hour as she walked from the ramp into the concourse. Only a few scattered people stood near the gate. A chill ran down Sam’s spine as she glanced at the signs above to determine where to claim her baggage. A man stood in the recesses of the gate area across the concourse, staring at her and talking on his cell phone. When she looked at him, he turned away, and hung up his phone.

Easy now, Sam. Don’t be imagining things.

Thankfully, when she reached baggage claim the man was nowhere in sight. As she waited for her bag, she looked again at her phone and memorized the address of an inexpensive hotel near the airport. She would take a taxi there and start looking for a place to stay until she could determine what was next. Thoughts of her last run-in with Brad at a hotel ran through her mind and caused her to shiver. She gathered her belongings and stepped outside the terminal in search of a taxi.

A different reason to shiver promptly presented itself.

It was snowing. She had not thought about the weather and had no idea that several inches of snow had accumulated, with apparently more on the way. Despite the cold, this excited her. She had seen snow only a few times in her life, but nothing as heavy as this. She hailed a cab and gave the driver the address, and watched as the falling snow drifted past the car window en route to the hotel. It seemed like only hours earlier that she’d made love with Drew in the balmy air of the Atlantic. She yearned to make love with him again under covers, isolated from the cold weather and snow. Her smile faded as she realized what a picture that created for her of Drew. He would truly be like a duck out of water here. That vision did little to reassure her that she had made the right decision leaving him. If anything, the more time went by, the more she missed him and wanted to be with him.

After checking into the hotel, she picked up a local paper from the lobby and walked to the room. After a good night’s rest she would start the process of finding a place to live, and more importantly finding a job. Once settled in the room, she took a notebook from her purse and reviewed the papers she had folded and placed in an envelope. She’d given little thought to this since the night of her escape from Brad. In that envelope was her new life. From the moment she’d arrived in Knoxville, she was officially Elizabeth Randal. After considerable research, through mountains of obituaries from all across the country, she had arrived at this identity. The original Ms. Randal was now deceased. She had lived in a remote area of Montana, never married, had no children or surviving relatives, and had apparently lived off a trust fund, so she’d never worked. It was as if she’d lived and died without existing.