Deadly Errors (39 page)

Frightened, yet strangely fascinated, Tyler watched, focusing on the glowing red spot. Now he could make out the shape of a crouching man.

Heart pounding harder, he backed up several steps, never taking his eyes off the ember. It brightened again as the person took a drag. Silently, he retraced his path between the shrubs and fence until he was back up the driveway, then headed back toward the park.

In the park, Tyler crouched beside a cluster of Mugo Pines to catch his breath and calm his nerves. After a moment, he started down a short path to the water. His face broke a spider’s web. He brushed at it only to ball the sticky strand on his fingertip. It wouldn’t shake loose. He wiped it on his leg. He listened for footsteps behind him, but heard only waves slapping the shore and followed this sound to a wooden platform above the water.

Three railroad ties served as steps down to a small wood deck a couple feet above the lake. He stepped onto it, the air thickly scented with algae and duck droppings. Across a hundred feet of black water floated Benson’s houseboat. He studied it, wondering if Nancy was inside. Was she already dead?

He quickly returned to the car, locked his wallet and cellphone in the glove box, then used the electronic key to lock up.

Back on the wooden platform he slipped off his shirt, shoes, and socks. Another glance at the houseboat floating out in the black water. In the distance came a clap of thunder. Just a quick look, he decided, to see if he could find tangible evidence to back up his suspicions before going to the police.

Sitting on rough-hewn timbers, he carefully dangled both legs into darkness blindly searching for water. His right toes touched cold slime. He recognized the feel. A log. Probably a small breakwater to keep waves from eroding the shore. Stretching out, barely on the edge of the dock now, his toes coaxed it closer, until he could plant both soles squarely across the slippery surface. He pushed off, sending himself upright into a crouch on the log while allowing momentum to rotate him forward, throwing him into a shallow dive. A second later, he slipped noiselessly into the warm upper surface of water.

Careful to not splash, he breast-stroked toward the houseboat while his eyes searched for any activity in the lighted windows.

A small speedboat and Jet Ski were moored to a small side deck. He grabbed the boat’s coarse bowline and hung there, listening, but heard only small waves slap the white fiberglass hull and the occasional clink as halyards tapped an aluminum mast somewhere off to his left.

Satisfied he hadn’t been seen, he worked, hand over hand, along the rope to a cold metal cleat. He released the rope, grasped the porch, and hoisted his body up to where the deck scraped his belly. He leaned forward, chest resting on dry wood and listened some more. Pilings creaked.

He swung a leg over the edge and rolled prone onto the deck and remained on his stomach, perfectly still, his heartbeat competing with the rhythmic creaks and grinds of pilings against the dock.

He crept to the nearest window and saw only an empty kitchen and a slice of an adjacent room. There was no way to see further into the house so he tried the kitchen door. Locked. From somewhere inside came muffled sounds of a television.

And just what in hell would you have done if it had opened, pal?
He didn’t have an answer for himself.

An outside stairway led to the second floor. Why not see what was upstairs before swimming back to the car? He climbed silently, reaching a small landing surrounded by a white tubular rail. Across the small deck was a sliding glass door into what appeared to be a combination bedroom/office. Someone sat in a desk chair, but it was turned so that the back faced him. He crept forward then froze.
Nancy.

Heart pounding, head about to explode. He tapped a knuckle on the plate glass.

She didn’t respond.
She alive?

He tried again, harder.

The chair swiveled. Arms duck taped to the arm rest, ankles duck taped together, a gag across her mouth, Nancy’s eyes searched for the source of the noise. Her gaze seemed to sweep over him, then snap back, eyes growing wide.

Tyler almost cried out in joy. Instead, he drew in a deep, calming breath and cautioned himself.
Just like surgery, be careful, methodical, make no mistakes.

He pointed at the sliding door handle and mimed pulling it open.

She shrugged.

He mouthed, “Where’s the guard?”

She either didn’t seem to catch his meaning or didn’t know. She wrinkled her brow and tilted her head.

Gently he tugged the handle. The door shrieked a metallic screech. He froze, but heard only a television from another room. He crept in.

He rushed to her, whispered, “Stay quiet,” and tore off her gag. Next he ripped away the tape binding her arms and legs.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She gave an adamant head shake. “Tyler, I can’t, there’s water down there.”

He gave he arm a gentle tug. “Sure you can. You’ve got to. Now.”

“No, I can’t. I’ve already tried.”

“Just close your eyes and let me lead you. There’s a set of stairs out there.”

“I know. I can’t go there, Tyler.”

“You
have to
, Nancy.” He held out his hand to her. “C’mon, we don’t have much time.”

Reluctantly, she held her hand out to him, eyes closed. He grasped it and pulled her gently toward the door. Without a sound they crossed the carpeted floor and through the opened door and started slowly, step by step, down the stairs until they reached the landing.

With both hands on her shoulders, he whispered, “Stand here a moment, just keep your eyes closed.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring pat before moving to the wall next to the kitchen door. Two keys hung there, each dangling from a small red and white plastic float. Had to be for the Jet Ski and speedboat, but which was which? More to the point, which vessel to take? He looked at the speedboat, at the foreign controls and knew he didn’t know how to drive it well enough. The Jet Ski was another matter. He’d driven one before. He pulled it parallel to the dock, climbed on, and tried to slip the first key into the ignition. It didn’t fit. The second one did. Leaving the second key in the ignition, he threw the first one out into the lake then climbed back onto the dock. The wind was picking up, waves now bouncing the small craft against the dock.

He wrapped an arm around Nancy’s shoulders. “Open your eyes,” he whispered, “but don’t say a word.”

“You’re going to have to climb on that Jet Ski.” He felt her body go rigid. “Just take it slow and easy. I’ll get on first, then you climb onto that little seat right behind me.”

“I can’t, Tyler. I just can’t do it,” she pleaded.

“They’ll kill you if you don’t. That’s what they’re planning to do. That’s why we have to get out of here.”

“I’ll die if I have to ride on that thing. I can’t Tyler.”

He took her hand, gently pulling her toward the Jet Ski. She resisted. “No. Tyler, please, I can’t …” He gently pulled again. She didn’t move.

“C’mon
, Nancy. You can do it. Just keep hold of me.” He felt her move forward tentatively, a soft whine coming from her throat as if she were going to cry.

He managed one-handed to wrestle the Jet Ski parallel to the dock again, the other firmly holding her hand. He put a foot onto the Ski, threw the other over the seat, sending the craft rocking side to side with the sudden weight.

“Oh God,” she gasped. “I’ll drown, Tyler. I’ll drown!”

He tugged her hand. “C’mon. We’re running out of time and luck.”

She resisted. He tugged again, felt her lurch forward and realized, to his horror, he’d pulled her off balance. For what seemed like eternity she teetered on the dock edge, her free hand windmilling, struggling for balance. He released her hand hoping to give her more balance. Too late. She screamed, and fell forward toward the water right behind the Jet Ski. He watched in frozen horror as she hit the surface with a resounding belly flop slap, her arms thrashing wildly. He watched, paralyzed, as she sank.

“Jesus!”

Her head broke surface, her mouth gasping for air, both arms thrashing water. “Tyler,” she screamed as she sank beneath the surface again.

She vanished. He leaned over, prepared to dive in but she was gone now.

“Nancy!”

He grabbed the line holding the Jet Ski, the last place he’d see her, and leaned further over.

Her hand broke surface.

Holding a dock cleat with one hand, he reached down, grabbed her hand, pulled her toward him. Her head broke surface. She gasped for air.

“Here, grab hold of me. Let me pull you out.”

From above, “Fuck!”

He glanced up, saw the monster from the underground gawking over the second floor railing at him.

He tugged Nancy’s arm but could only pull her shoulder out of the water. “Here, grab hold of the boat.”

She screamed, “I can’t. I’m stuck. My jacket’s caught on something.”

Tyler glanced over his shoulder. Monster was hobbling down the stairs, anger and retribution glowing in his eyes. Tyler forced Nancy’s hand to the smaller Jet Ski cleat. “Here, hang a moment.”

“No, don’t leave me.”

With her hand now firmly gripping the cleat, Tyler rolled onto the deck and jumped up to his feet. Across the deck, in the corner, a short canoe paddle leaned against the wall. Just then he heard the heavy thump as Monster’s feet slammed the deck and his huge body appeared between him and the paddle. For a moment they half crouched across from each other like Sumo wrestlers, waiting for the other to commit a move. An old basketball juke instinctively took over Tyler’s limbs, causing him to feign right, then break left, with Monster buying into it, allowing him a fluid drive to the side of Monster’s lunge, driving for the oar instead of a two-point slam dunk.

Monster caught himself in time, corrected, and spun around, his left leg obviously in pain. Tyler had the oar now, pulled back like a baseball bat. “Out of our way.”

Nancy was still gasping for air, her mouth barely above water, he realized. He’d filtered the sound from consciousness just as he’d done on the court with spectators’ roars.

“Fuck you.” Monster’s arm was reaching behind his back.

A gun
, Tyler realized.

Without thinking, Tyler swung the oar toward Monster’s leg, the same spot as last time. It connected with a solid, satisfying whack. Monster yelped, fell to his knees, but with his arm still behind his back reaching for the gun. Tyler swung from the other direction, connecting to the man’s right temple, felt the wood connect with a solid impact, then watched as he crumpled to the ground.

He rushed to the deck edge, reached down. “Here. Grab on with both hands.”

Nancy clamped her hand onto his wrist, fingernails digging into skin, then wrapped her left hand around his other wrist. Using his legs to lift, his injured ankle screaming with pain, he willed every ounce of strength into a pull, felt resistance, then release. Without letting her go, he struggled onto the rocking Jet Ski and jockeyed her up onto the passenger seat.

“Hang on.” He settled into the driver’s seat, fired the ignition.

Gasping, she pressed fully against his back, both arms locked so tightly around his neck it was almost impossible to breathe. He leaned forward and to the left, pulling her with him, stretching out until his left fingers could barely fumble with the rope. He slipped the loop over the cleat, freeing the small craft just as he caught a movement with the corner of his eye. He forced his head left against Nancy’s arms. Monster was up on one knee now, shaking his head groggily, trying to clear it.

He triggered the ignition, heard it catch. The engine coughed to life. He cranked the accelerator, shooting the Jet Ski forward, crashing into the side of the speedboat. The impact threw him into the small windscreen, cutting his lower lip. He straightened up, turned the craft right and cranked the accelerator again.

“Hang on,” he croaked, then realized Nancy was sobbing hysterically. Her grip around his neck tightened. He tried to loosen it but her death grip did not yield.

“You’re choking me,” he tried to yell, but just then a thunderclap drowned out his voice. He yelled it again but she continued to sob, both arms locked around his neck.

The craft shot out into open lake as a sheet of rain started pouring out of the dark sky. A moment later, he backed off the gas intent on calming the situation. First order of business was to set a direction, but where to go? Did it matter, just as long as they were free? Directly across the lake loomed Kenwood Air Service. Most likely there’d be people there to help. Maybe he could make a phone call, get hold of Ferguson and settle things so Nancy would be safe. His shoulders sagged with relief. He’d rescued her and that was the most important thing. Later he could focus on getting the rest of this mess straightened out.

Nancy finally let go of one arm and punched his rib, yelled, “Tyler!”

Realizing her voice had taken a different tone; he turned to hear over the engine roar.

“He’s coming after us! And closing fast.”

Tyler glanced over his shoulder and in the process, unwittingly turned the craft right. The speedboat was bearing straight toward them now, the gap surprisingly short. His heart seemed to flat-line then kick in again at a gallop. He gunned the accelerator and turned parallel to shore. No way he could reach the safety of Kenmore Air before being overtaken.

He yelled to Nancy, “Now you tell me.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Then, she yelled, “Tyler, watch out!”

He looked up. Directly ahead came the spinning prop of a seaplane touching down. Tyler cut left, missing the plane by no more than twenty feet but the Jet Ski hit the pontoon wake, shooting them airborne. Tyler gripped the controls and braced for impact. “Hang on.”

The ski slammed down, throwing Nancy to the right, pulling him with her. He fought to maintain balance but at that angle he couldn’t steer the small craft straight, causing it to turn in a short arc, giving the speedboat an advantage. Straining against the weight he pulled them both upright.