Dark Passage (28 page)

‘How'd you do it, then, Channing? Drugging those girls – drugging Julie, I mean. It had to have been in the soda straws, but the bartender told me only she and Jack Westfall touched them.'

Incredibly, a slow, sinister grin spread across
Channing's face. Now it was his time to boast. ‘Sleight of hand, Warren, my stock in trade. You redirect their attention here …' His left arm shot out, the cuff of his shirt sleeve flashing white in the deck lights. ‘… when all the action is really over
here
!' Using his right arm, he swept the sword that David held aside.

The trick might have worked, too, if Channing hadn't been balanced precariously on the chair.

With a desperate glance over his shoulder, Channing teetered backwards and tumbled over the railing.

‘No!' I screamed, and threw the life ring I had been holding over the side.

Behind me, I heard pounding footsteps, at last. ‘Man overboard! Man overboard!' Pia was back on the deck, running flat out, waving her arms.

Behind her, also moving at full speed, was Officer Martin, his phone pressed against his chin. ‘Oscar Oscar Oscar Starboard Side.' His voice was steady, controlled. Clearly he'd practised the man overboard procedure hundreds of times.

Almost immediately, his call was repeated, blasting from the loudspeaker mounted on the bulkhead directly over my head, echoing from other loudspeakers all around the ship.
Oscar Oscar Oscar Starboard Side!

Whooo! Whooo! Whooo!

As the deafening sound of the ship's horns died away, the ship shuddered, slowed, and began to turn.

With icy calm, David lowered the sabre and pulled down on the handle on his side of the barrier that would open the gate. I started to step aside, but as he approached me he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out his iPhone. ‘Hannah,' he said. ‘Take it. I recorded it all.'

‘Oh, David, why …?' I managed to croak as he pressed the phone into my outstretched hand and folded my fingers protectively over it.

Then he altered course, heading directly for Pia. ‘This is yours, I believe,' he said, handing her the sabre. ‘I wasn't going to push him off, Hannah, you have to believe me. I just wanted to scare him so he'd come clean about Noelle, Charlotte and Julie.'

Despite finally having his questions answered, David didn't look any better for it. If anything, he looked more broken. I believed him; he may have forced Channing onto the chair, but it wasn't David's fault the magician had stumbled over the side. I remembered the look David had given me; clearly he hadn't foreseen the outcome – Channing actually tumbling over the side.

My heart ached for my friend as he staggered to the railing, sagged and rested his head on his arms. Then, suddenly, more quickly than I believed possible, he had one leg over the rail.

‘No!' I screamed, but it was too late. Without so much as a backward glance, David launched himself over the railing and flew overboard, too.

I rushed to the railing and looked down. David's jacket had caught on something. Instinctively I leaned over and stretched out my hand, but he was too far below me for it to do any good. David's jacket held for perhaps a second more, then ripped away. I watched in horror as my friend plunged into the sea.

Someone had grabbed another life ring. I felt the breeze as it sailed past my face. I leaned over the rail again, straining my eyes, trying to pick out David's face in the inky blackness of the water.

I should have known it would be fruitless. The ship had been traveling at twenty knots. Thomas Channing and David Warren would already be floating far behind. Strobe lights attached to the life rings – there were more than a dozen of them floating in the water now – blinked in the distance like lighthouse beacons.

From the bow, flares shot into the air as the huge vessel continued its slow turn, heading back to the area where the two men had jumped.

Islander
decelerated until she was barely moving. I was now only one of several hundred people crowding the rails as we watched a speedboat being launched from several decks below. I could see the white uniforms of the crew that manned the tiny vessel as the engines revved and the boat sped off, following the trail of strobes which were bobbing like breadcrumbs on the dark, oily water.

‘Do you think they'll find him?' Pia sobbed.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, unsure who she meant. ‘Who? Thomas Channing or David Warren?'

I felt her shrug. ‘Both, I suppose. I just can't
believe
it, Hannah. I thought I was close to Tom – as close as anyone ever got to him, anyway. But I guess I really didn't know him at all, did I?' She swiped tears away with the back of her hand. ‘It's partly my fault, too,' she sniffed.

‘How can
any
of this be your fault, Pia?'

She turned a tear-stained face to me. ‘Remember the night I was injured? Before the show I told Tom about my conversation with David. I thought Tom was out of sorts that night but it never crossed my mind that that could be why …' She paused. ‘And David … I really care about David, Hannah. He seems like such a lost soul. Everything he loved most in the world, taken from him, and now a cruel twist at the end. He deserves better than, than …'

I considered the dark surface of the sea and knew what she was thinking. ‘I think David died the day his wife died, Pia. His life had only one purpose after that. Find his daughter's killer. And he succeeded. After that … well, what more did he have to live for?'

‘Suicide is never the answer, Hannah.'

‘I know. Back when I had, well, health issues, I learned that life is too precious to be given up willingly.'

The sky lit up like the Fourth of July as more flares were launched from the rescue vessel. Spotlights mounted on its pilot house switched on and began slow sweeps, combing the water.

‘I guess I'm out of a job,' Pia said, leaning her forearms on the railing, peering off into the distance where rescue lights were dancing around on the waves.

‘There's always the Oracle,' I said.

‘Hah! My goal in life. Serving wine to knitters. You know what I want to do right now, Hannah? I want to go home and hug my parents.'

I wanted to do the same, but my mother had passed away more than a decade before and Dad had moved away. ‘Where do they live, Pia?' I asked.

‘Boston. North End. They own a restaurant.'

‘Italian?' I wondered aloud.

In the light from the flares, I saw Pia smile. ‘How did you guess?'

We stood in companionable silence for a while, until someone shouted, ‘Look! They're coming back!'

Pia and I leaned forward, straining our eyes. Indeed, the launch was returning. As it neared the side of
Islander
, we noticed white-shirted crew members performing CPR on someone lying on the deck at the stern. ‘Is that David or Tom?' I asked, straining forward, trying to get a better view. ‘Where are my binoculars when I need them?'

‘I can't tell.'

Neither could I. David had been wearing a jacket over a blue oxford shirt, but the victim's chest seemed to be bare. The rescue launch drew up to
Islander
, port side kissing our starboard, so close that we couldn't see it anymore. But they must have offloaded the victim, because the launch zipped off almost immediately, heading back into the sea of strobes.

For more than an hour
Islander
idled. In the distance, lights swept the water continually, then suddenly they seemed to multiply, divide. I blinked, refocused, blinked again.

A man standing nearby who had been viewing the rescue effort through binoculars shouted, ‘It's the Coast Guard!'

The cavalry had ridden to the rescue! Everyone on deck began to applaud and shout encouragement.

According to the gentleman with the binoculars,
Islander'
s launch would be handing over responsibility for the search to the Coasties, who were ‘much better equipped.' I watched with a heavy heart as the launch returned, empty-handed, to the mother ship.

Gradually,
Islander
reversed course and picked up speed. I kept my eyes on the strobes as they grew farther and farther away, watching with deepening sadness as they winked out one by one over the dark horizon.

The spectators began to disperse, heading for their cabins, or the casino, or perhaps to one of the bars where they could argue with alcohol-fueled confidence about the events they had just witnessed. By the following day, I knew, Facebook, YouTube and Twitter would take the news viral.

‘When do you think we'll find out?' Pia wondered as we lingered at the rail.

‘Tomorrow morning, I imagine, at the captain's daily briefing.'

‘Think you can pump Ben Martin for information?'

‘No,' I said with certainty. ‘Officer By The Book will either be adhering to federal patient confidentiality laws or that good old standby, “pending notification of next of kin.” Maybe both.'

‘What the
hell
happened here tonight, Hannah?'

I didn't speak for a few minutes. ‘Tom and David had a scuffle. Tragically, one of them fell overboard. Then the other one jumped in after him.'

Next to me, Pia stirred. ‘Of course,' she said in a quiet voice. ‘That's exactly what happened.'

A few minutes later, as we turned to go, Pia asked, ‘Where's Julie? She said she wanted to see me after the show.'

My heart did a quick
rat-a-tat-tat
. ‘Oh my God, I've forgotten about Julie! Come on!' As we raced back to the theater, I explained briefly about Julie's clever hiding place. ‘She's been hiding in there for over an hour! What is
wrong
with me?'

But I needn't have worried. We found Julie sitting on the lip of the stage, feet dangling. On the stage next to her sat Connor Crawford.

‘Julie!'

My niece beamed. ‘I got tired of waiting, so I peeked out through the little …' Her eyebrows shot under her bangs, and she looked straight at Pia. ‘What?'

Pia placed a finger to her lips, wagged her head from side to side and said, ‘Shhhh. Magicians' code.'

After the drama of the evening, it felt good to laugh.

The atmosphere quickly grew serious again as I told Julie and Connor what had just happened. ‘We lost them both overboard,' Pia said. ‘But one has been rescued.'

‘Oh my God!' Then, ‘I'm praying that it's David,' Julie said quietly. ‘He always believed in me.'

Connor launched himself onto his feet. ‘I just came to say goodbye to Julie. I hope you don't mind.'

‘Of course that's OK, Connor. Julie owes you a great deal of thanks. We all do.'

He turned to Julie. ‘Well, bye.' He patted his pocket. ‘I have your email.'

She looked upward at him through her lashes. ‘'Bye.'

Connor studied his shoes for a moment, then turned and walked out of the theater.

‘Well, Julie,' I said. ‘Do you suppose he's planning to wait four years until you turn eighteen?'

Julie flushed. ‘Something like that.'

‘He'll be twenty-five.'

‘Aunt Hannah! You're embarrassing me.'

‘I'm just teasing, sweetie. Come on, it's time to find your mother. After all this excitement, do you think she's still in the hot tub?'

‘Will I see you in the morning, Hannah?' Pia asked as we prepared to go.

I looped my arm through hers. ‘I hope so. But if not, let's keep in touch. Do you Facebook?'

‘I do.'

‘I'll friend you, then.'

‘I'd like that.'

I was too strung out to sleep.

Long after Julie and my sisters had gone to bed, I sat on my bunk in my pajamas, staring into the depths of my suitcase, wondering what the following day would bring.
Had David survived? Maybe he'd be better off
… I shook away the thought. Nobody, in my opinion, was better off dead. There should always be a tomorrow, a chance to start a better life.

Ruth coughed, tugged at her duvet and opened an eye. ‘Are you all right, Hannah?'

‘I'm trying to gin up the energy to pack.'

‘Well, the elves aren't going to do it for you, and if it's not out in the hall before two, you'll have to carry it off the boat yourself.' She rolled over, faced the wall. ‘A word to the wise,' she murmured.

I dumped the contents of my half of the closet into the suitcase, tucked shoes around the edges, laid a couple of paperback books on top and zipped it shut. After making sure that the luggage labels were secure, I set the bag out in the passageway with hundreds of others, extending for what seemed like miles in both directions.

That done, I snagged a bottle of water and let myself out onto the balcony. I picked my favorite of the two chairs, slouched down in it comfortably, and propped both feet up on the balcony rail.

On moonless nights, the sea is as black and sleek as a raven's back. I stared into the inky darkness, then blinked. Where the blue-black sky met the black of the sea, lights were strung like an amber necklace along the horizon. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. We were approaching the mouth of the Bay.

I nipped inside for my iPhone, powered it on and when a three-bar signal appeared, I took it out on the balcony and telephoned Paul.

The meeting with the F.B.I. had gone well, he thought. Based on what the Baltimore agents had told him, Paul fully expected them to meet the ship in the morning.

‘There's a possibility that Channing might not be aboard,' I told him.

Paul snorted. ‘No? So what happened? He sprout wings?'

‘He jumped overboard tonight, in a manner of speaking.' I explained about David forcing Channing on to the chair, Channing's tumble, and then David jumping over the side himself. ‘Maybe it was some sort of crazy rescue attempt,' I added. ‘Or maybe not. They picked up one of the men, but we don't know which. They're still out looking for the other – at least, they were a couple of hours ago.'