Deceived (12 page)

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As the lower rail of the starboard-side life rails hit the water, Sam half-swam aboard. Through the pilothouse window, he saw Molly slumped over on the floor with water up to her mouth. Sam quickly pulled his way toward the pilothouse door, and with mighty effort, he yanked the door open. Inside, a swirling mess of mud, water, and sand hastily claimed every nook and neat place that had been the pilothouse. Sam lunged for Molly and hoisted her over his shoulder. He grabbed the flimsy water-soiled chart in his other hand and made his way back through the pilothouse door just as more water raced past. Now scrambling, now wading, now swimming, Sam found a foothold on the rail again and pushed clear of the sinking boat, pulling hard, sidestroke after sidestroke, carrying Molly up on his hip, until he was waist deep at the sandbar’s edge. Sam laid Molly down quickly, then checked for signs of life before starting mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

“Breathe!” he screamed at her.

“Dude…” she faintly replied, pulling his face toward hers. “My boat. Is she…?”

The question went unanswered as Sam held Molly upright so she could see for herself. Without a word, they watched the last of the flames shoot up and then sputter as murky water claimed
Hullabaloo
. Sam held Molly tight, from the first tear to the following surge of anger.

As the pale purple sky streaked orange and reached overhead, Molly stood tall. She gently picked up her soaked chart, pushed the dinghy off the sandbar, and gingerly climbed in. “It’s time to go.”

Sam took his place at the oars. Without looking at Molly, he rowed through the marsh and maritime forest of Masonboro Island.

Chapter twenty-six

Dick’s Bay is a wide place amid low-slung islands. Exceptionally shallow, it is a good breeding ground for small fish and mosquitoes. Tonight, a good easterly breeze made Dick’s Bay tolerable as Sam pulled to the lee shore of a smaller island. A single warped wax Myrtle rose from the sliver of sand, and it was there that Sam and Molly stopped for the night. Sleep, if it could be called such, was fitful as Sam leaned against the dinghy, listening intently for sounds that shouldn’t be: a motor, a paddle, a stroke. Molly lay curled up beside his outstretched legs. She muttered in her sleep, woke slightly, cried, and passed out once again.

Morning brought warmth. At first light, Sam gently nudged her.

“Mol, it’s time.”

Molly opened her eyes, tossed the grit from her hair, and stood to stretch.

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Pancakes and bacon,” Sam played along.

“Good. I’m starved,” Molly chirped.

Molly was first to the rowboat now several feet from the water’s edge. She grabbed the painter line and started to pull the boat toward the water, then took her seat at the oars, and pointed to the stern.

“Push off, will you? We’ve got a long way to go on this tide.”

Sam stretched, glad for a reprieve from the oars. Then he pushed the boat off the bar and hopped in.

“Let’s head across the sound. We can hitch a ride back into town and get something to eat.” Sam reached into his pocket, feeling soggy bills and hoping they were something other than ones.

“No, they’ll be expecting that if they think for an instant we’re still alive. We are going to take the town by sea. We can catch the tide’s rush to the inlet, then let the current carry us south to the beach. They won’t expect that.”

“That’s a long way, Molly.”

“What’s the matter, dude? Not up for a little exercise? Besides, I can probably find a friend to lend us some money, and maybe a car to get us to your boat, assuming they didn’t torch her, too,” Molly said sourly. “Then we’d have someplace to stay until we think things through, maybe get a change of clothes.”

“I know just the place,” Sam smiled.

The water’s retreat from marsh to sea was swift, and they made good time. Molly was intent on hugging the shoreline through the inlet to stay out of the way of the charter and pleasure boats that morning, and she handled the oars expertly.

“Let me know when you want to switch,” Sam goaded, knowing there’d be no safe way to change seats in the turbulent and fast water.

Molly didn’t reply.

Once through the inlet’s gauntlet, Molly rowed furiously along the coast. She soon found the slight southerly current she wanted and slowed her pace.

“Where’s this place you are thinking about?”

“Lee’s.”

“And you don’t think they have eyes on that place?”

“Why would they? Lee’s out of the way, and his widow doesn’t know anything. If she did, or if they thought she did, she’d be gone already. Besides, I need to check up on her anyway. There’s the boardwalk…just a little farther.”

“The boardwalk would be a good place to dock. Can we make it to her house on the beach from there?”

“Sure; it’s not far.”

Sam watched as Molly turned the boat toward the outstretched pier. The dinghy slid under the pier, unseen by passersby overhead. A few feet away was a dilapidated staircase with water-weary timbers exposed where there used to be treads. Sam pushed them from piling to slimy piling until they could make the stairs.

“They look rickety, but at least the boat will stay out of sight until we can come back for it,” Sam offered quietly.

From their vantage point, they could see people moving on the boardwalk above, running, strolling, shadows filtering down between the planks’ cracks. They heard children’s screams and anxious parents calling to eager youngsters who raced from Ferris wheel to concession stand to arcade.

“Don’t you think somebody’s going to notice us climbing up from the sea, dude?” Molly whispered.

“That’s the point,” laughed Sam. “Kids do it all the time. And lovers. I’ve seen them. I’ve ignored them.” Sam eyed the steps before lunging on the nearest remains of the lowest tread. “Come on. Time to get something to eat.” He reached for Molly’s hand, and together they tottered on the wavering wood, half-leaping from step to nearly non-existent step.

The boardwalk brimmed with children and their tag-along parents. Shrieks of laughter were muted only by the noise from the arcade’s electronic wizardry and the Ferris wheel’s mechanized organ music. As Sam had suggested, three daring youngsters were scooting away from their parents toward the edge of the pier where Sam and Molly scrambled up, and nobody took notice.

Sam kept an eye out for guys on the police force, hoping there were more good guys than bad among his peers. To be safe, he pulled Molly close to a group of tourists and gently muscled his way into the thick moving group that headed south toward Jenny’s place.

When the swell subsided near a pizza shop, Sam and Molly stopped. Smells of grease met their match in garlic, and to anyone standing near their table, it would appear that the salt-encrusted pair had never eaten pizza before. Gorging on a large garlic, olive, and sausage pizza washed down by an amber beer, Sam and Molly briefly focused on their plates rather than their backs.

Satiated, the two headed back to the sunlight, hopped down on the beach hugging the pier, and walked as casually as they could toward Jenny’s, occasionally weaving their way through bright beach blankets and striped umbrellas to the water’s edge to cool themselves until there was no more pier to hide under.

“Jenny’s place is the fifth one in the row. See the white porch? That’s it.” Sam nodded in the direction of Jenny’s place. “You go to the back door just to be sure there’s no one else there. If there is, just pretend you’ve got the wrong place, and get out of there fast. I’ll join you after I check out the front.”

Two buildings before reaching Jenny’s, Sam left Molly cooling her feet in the waves and ran to the road front to look for signs of an unmarked vehicle parked suspiciously close to Jenny’s condo. Relieved not to see any, he dashed back to the building’s edge and waved to Molly, signaling for her to move toward the condo. Hoping that a lookout might not recognize Molly, Sam stayed put in the building’s shade until she could signal to him that it was safe to enter the house.

Molly strode across the sand purposefully with her head up high, shoes in hand. She counted the units from the right side until she reached number five, the only unit with a white screened porch on the back. Not seeing anyone lurking about, she wondered whether Sam was just paranoid.

“Here’s a recently widowed woman, trying to get her life in order. Cops would leave her alone, wouldn’t they?”

Slowing her pace, Molly saw a slight figure sitting cross-legged on the porch’s floor, lost in a sea of magazine clippings.

“Hello…” Molly called out tentatively.

“Yes?” Jenny looked up from her pile, scissors in hand.

“Are you Jenny?”

“Yes,” Jenny said cautiously.

“I’m a friend of Sam’s. I was in the neighborhood….”

Jenny summed up “Sam’s friend” with a screen door still between them.

“Come in,” she offered, still not moving from her place on the floor. “Are you a sailing friend of Sam’s? His boat wasn’t in the marina when I got back from taking mine out the other day.”

“I guess,” Molly said genuinely. “I know he had to move the boat because of a duck, but I have no idea where the boat is now.” Molly pushed her hair back from her face, aware for the first time that day how crusty she must look.

“Where is Sam now?” Jenny quizzed.

“He’s around. He asked me to stop by first to see if….” Molly paused and looked about Jenny’s place a bit.

“To see if...?” Jenny sniffed.

“To see if you were alone.”

“Very much, as you can see.” Jenny motioned with her scissors to the cool, dark interior of the condo. “But why didn’t Sam come himself, if he’s so worried about me?”

“Because he thought there might be a guard on you or something.”

“A guard? Whatever for? I don’t require guarding.”

“Not for you. A lookout for Sam, maybe. I told him he was crazy, but—”

“What’s happened? Is Sam in trouble?” Jenny was alarmed.

“Yes,” Molly said calmly. She reached for Jenny’s arm to guide her indoors. She stood up but did not move. “I’m trying to help, too,” Molly explained. “But we don’t think they know what I look like, or if I made it out alive.”

“What are you talking about? What’s happened?” Jenny wrenched her arm away from Molly. “Maybe you’d better leave.” Jenny moved toward the screen door.

“Wait!” Sam called, overhearing Jenny’s raised voice. He darted toward the porch before Jenny could reach the door. “Jenny, it’s me. I’m all right.”

“Sam!” Relieved to see him, Jenny opened the screen door to him. “What is going on? Who’s after you, and
who
is this?” She pointed toward Molly, then flopped her arms around his neck in a choking hug.

“It’s a long story, Jen. Molly is, well, she’s in the middle of it, too,” Sam whispered. “Molly’s brother was killed, and we think it was for the same reasons Lee was.”

Jenny spun around and apologized. “Oh, Molly, I’m so sorry! I thought you were…well, never mind what I thought; how stupid of me!” She reached for Molly and hugged her tightly, too. “It’s just been so overwhelming, and when you said Sam was in trouble, well, I just didn’t think I could take any more.”

Molly nodded. “I understand. I didn’t mean to alarm you. I felt awkward, but Sam says we can’t take any chances now.”

“Well, I want to hear all about it. But first, you two get cleaned up. I can see you’ve had a rough time. Come on. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” Jenny grabbed Molly by the hand and led her to the bathroom down the hall. “I’ll get you some clothes. Sam, you can wear Lee’s. Go pick out what you want and use my bathroom to get cleaned up.”

Sam gratefully nodded and headed toward Lee and Jenny’s bedroom. Lee’s clothes hung neatly in the walk-in closet, and though he felt weird about it, Sam chose a pair of khakis and a red pullover. “Preppy, but clean,” Sam smiled, remembering Lee standing in front of the barbeque grill on the beach last fall, wearing this outfit. Lee always did know how to dress.

Refreshed after taking showers, Molly and Sam sat in the living room with Jenny and told her everything that had happened, and everything they thought they knew. Sam had hoped for Jenny to fill in some gaps, but she had nothing more to offer than fresh coffee.

“I don’t suppose it’s safe to use the phone here,” Sam said thoughtfully after some time. “It might be bugged.”

“You think they’re expecting you to call me,” Jenny stated rather than asked.

“Afraid so. I suspect the connections go deeper than just Andy and the boys at Johnson’s. I hate to think that, but all signs point to it.”

“What can I do to help?” Jenny sat forward, hands open on her lap.

“You both need to stay put.” Sam was firm.

“You’re kidding, right?” Molly sneered. “There’s no way I am just going to sit around and wait until you decide something has to happen, dude.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t want you to be seen. You are safer here.” Sam stretched, had another sip of coffee, and fumbled for his still damp sandals. They looked a little odd with his outfit, but they were comfortable. “Besides, if we have to get out of here in a hurry, at least I will know where you are.”

“Well, you can’t just walk out the door,” Jenny pointed at Sam. “Every officer knows what you look like. Come into my studio. I have an idea.”

Sam and Molly followed dutifully to Jenny’s studio. She got out her paints and got busy on Sam’s face. She momentarily vanished into her bedroom, then reappeared with a wig of long platinum blonde hair. She cropped it short, adjusted the wig on Sam’s head, and continued to shape it into a haircut suitable for a preppy college-age kid.

“I wore this one on Halloween and didn’t have the heart to throw it away,” she said as she worked.

Afraid to look in the mirror, Sam patiently sat through Molly’s smirks and Jenny’s giggles. “Glad I can be so amusing to you two.”

“You just look…” Molly started.

“Handsome,” Jenny interjected. “Ruggedly handsome was what I was going for. Take a look for yourself.” She ushered Sam to the bathroom mirror. “Your whiskers are good, but this will hide you better if someone sees you from a distance.”

Sam couldn’t believe the transformation. Though he’d always looked youthful, Jenny’s artful hands made the illusion more real. He looked like a frat boy!

Jenny pulled out a hardware-store For Sale sign from the closet and handed it to Sam. “Now, put this sign in the Mustang’s window,” Jenny said, smiling as she gave the sign to Sam. “It’ll look like you’re just a kid taking a cool car out for a test drive. Where are you going first?” She dug through a few keys in the clamshell on her dresser.

“A pay phone. It’s a long shot, but I want to call a buddy at the fire station.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Molly was skeptical.

“I have to trust someone, Mol,” said Sam, shrugging. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow morning, you and Jenny get out of town as quickly as you can, okay?”

“We will,” Jenny piped up. “We’ll head to my sister’s place in Raleigh and expect you to meet us there. She lives at the bottom of Byrd Street off of Glenwood Avenue. Do you know where that is?”

“Vaguely,” Sam said, “but I will find you when I can. Take care.” He thought about hugging them, but he opted to wave instead as he headed toward the garage where the Mustang waited.