Last Exit in New Jersey (25 page)

Gary crept backwards, trying to climb clear of the wet bilge.

“Stay where you are, and we’ll both be happier. I don’t want to kill anyone, but I’ll do what I have to.” She held up the power cord. “Fascinating how lethal standard alternating current is. Muscles contract and freeze, you can’t scream or move, and your heart just stops. Cardiac arrest, then death. Quiet, neat, and simple.”

“Yeah, aside from the burn marks and the sizzling flesh,” Micah added helpfully.

“What do you want?” Gary mumbled.

Hazel swung the cord in a lazy arc. “Answers. Starting with: where’s Hammon?”

“I don’t know.” Gary glanced from his wet feet to the cord in her insulated hand. “He disappeared. He does that a lot.”

“What was Stevenson trying to pull last night?” Micah asked.

Gary looked from Hazel to Micah and back. “What happened last night?”

Hazel sighed. “Hammon didn’t tell you? Stevenson claimed he had our truck, but it was just a look-alike.”

“What truck?” Gary’s eyes followed the exposed wires. “Don’t take this wrong, but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Micah leaned forward. “Look, we know Stevenson sent Hammon after us. Why?”

Gary shook his head. “Hammon hasn’t spoken to Stevenson in years.”

“Really? Then explain this.” Hazel pulled the envelope from her pocket, holding it out for him to read. “There’s over seven grand in here.”

“Yeah,” Micah said. “And according to your computer, Stevenson’s put a lot of cash into your business.”

“You were in my office?” He glared at the dogs. “Why do I even feed you two?”

“So what’s your dealings with Stevenson?” Micah said.

“He’s a customer…with lots of money to spend.”

“And what about Hammon?” Hazel asked.

Gary slumped back, looking uncomfortable with the question. “It’s a long story, and it doesn’t make any sense.”

Hazel glanced at Micah, who looked around and nodded. “We’re listening.”

Gary shrugged and shook his head in defeat. “Five years back I’m working at this boatyard, and I find the kid holed up aboard a derelict boat. He’s a mess, all scarred up, afraid to let anyone look at him, he won’t even come into the light. I figured he’s some runaway. I tell him he can’t stay there but he won’t leave. He says if he buys the boat, then could he stay. I tell him the boat’s wrecked, it’s too far gone to bother fixing. I give him half my lunch and try to find out who he is.

“Next morning he’s still there, but now he’s got papers showing fifty grand wired into my bank account. Payment in advance, he says, for fixing the boat. Says if I need more, he’ll get it. I don’t know how the hell he got my bank account, but he knew everything about me. Then I get a call from someone named Stevenson. You know what he says? Fix the boat. He says if I need more money, just call him, but whatever I do, don’t tell the kid. Hammon says the money’s his, Stevenson stole it, and he’s just stealing it back. No explanation, no clarification. Ask him, he shuts up for days.”

Gary sat back across the engine, rubbing his forehead. “You got to understand, the kid’s not all there. He thinks people are tracking him with microchips. He hears voices, he sees…” Gary looked at Hazel. “He’s got this hallucination he calls Annabel. That’s why he was on the boat to begin with. He’d never been on a boat in his life; he can’t even swim, but Annabel told him ‘go to the boats.’ He does whatever Annabel tells him. He says you’re identical to her, and that’s another part of the conspiracy.”

“He may be more right than he realizes,” Hazel said. “Stevenson said something about someone named Annabel. I had no idea what he was talking about and I didn’t ask.” And suddenly her first conversation with Hammon, when he refused to believe she was real, made so much more sense.

“He says you’re in danger and he wants to help you.”

“He said he wants revenge,” Hazel said.

Gary almost laughed. “That’s his goddamned boat. The one I found him on. The boat you stole. That’s
Revenge
.”

Micah said, “And the tarp and shovel in his trunk?”

“That’s Annabel again. She can’t deal with dead animals in the road, says they deserve proper burial. Look, I know the kid’s got some serious mental problems, but he’s not violent or dangerous.”

“He killed Stevenson last night,” Hazel said.

Gary looked like he’d been struck; it was obviously news to him. A boat motored past and small waves slapped the hull while Hazel waited for a reply. It came in the form of a soft hiccup.

“One, I didn’t do it, and B, he’s not dead.” Hammon gave Micah a quick salute as he limped toward the boat.

Hazel started to speak but found herself without words. The last twenty-four hours had taken a heavy toll on Hammon. In direct daylight he looked less like a boy scout and more like an escaped psychopath. His clothes were wrinkled and stained, his hair wild and tangled, his breathing quick and shallow. But beneath the strain, Hazel could still see sadness in his gray eyes.

“Last night,” he began, swallowing nervously as he stood beside the boat. “I…uh…I didn’t…I wanted to tell you…” He blinked, eyes wide as he struggled for the right words. “I had to…” He stared at her helplessly. “I…I’ll…”

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a slow, deep breath, pressing his palm to his forehead.

“Last night,” he said again, each word slow and deliberate. His eyes opened, locking on Hazel with unnerving intensity, and he pushed his hair back, tucking it behind a disfigured ear. “I didn’t shoot him and he isn’t dead. Even if he wasn’t wearing Kevlar, he’d need a heart to hit in the first place.” He sat on
Temperance
’s gunwale, swinging his bad leg over as he climbed aboard. The corner of his mouth curled upward as he approached Hazel.

“I missed you,” he told her, his voice low and steady. He stopped, inches between them, eyes practically aglow. His hand came up, fingers gently tracing across her cheek, sending a strange thrill surging through her. “I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been. I had to see you again.”

“Uh…Zap,” Gary said. “You might want to stay back. She’s sort of armed.”

Hammon regarded the power cord and grinned. “She’s bluffing. She wouldn’t do it.”

Hazel glared at him, color rising in her face. “Don’t test me.”

“I’m not. You wouldn’t risk hurting the dogs.” His fingers moved down to her throat. “You know, my dear, last time I saw you, I didn’t get to say a proper good-bye.” His other hand slid back around her waist, pulling her against him. “You’re trembling,” he whispered, his hand lingering along the small of her back.

“So are you.”

“You do that to me.” His hand slipped beneath the waders. “By the way, now you’re grounded.”

Her eyes narrowed defiantly. “You like living dangerously.”

“You have no idea.” His fingers followed the curve of her throat. “And besides, the circuit’s off.”

Heat rose in her face. “What makes you so sure?”

“The plug glows when there’s current. I like what you did with my boat. She was right there in that shed, and I never even realized. I found
Revenge
and I found you. I missed you so much, Hazel. Did you miss me?”

Hazel dropped the electric cord in disgust. “Go to hell.” Gary scrambled clear as Hammon reached down, picked up the end and brushed the bare wires against his palm.

“You did! I saw it in your eyes when you hit me and when you stuffed me in my trunk! You were hurt. You wouldn’t be hurt if you didn’t like me. Like now…you’re only upset because you can’t decide if you want to hit me or let me kiss you.”

“You really believe that?” she snapped, her voice faltering.

He nodded brightly, hair falling in his eyes. He pushed it back, exposing his scarred temple. “More than ever.”

“You’re insane.”

“One way to be sure.” He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her close, gently kissing her. Her lips parted, initially in protest, but her words were smothered. She felt his breathing, his pulse, and she felt herself kiss him even as she pressed her knife to his throat. He paused as she increased the pressure, laughed for a moment, then his kiss turned serious: hard, deep, and passionate, sending disturbing shivers of pleasure through her. She knew she shouldn’t have been responding the way she was; she knew she could have stopped him, but instead she melted against him.

“So I’m right,” he said, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. “As usual.”

Gary coughed. “Uhmm, Zap. You do know she’s got a knife to your throat…”

“You bet I do.” Hammon grinned. “Talk about a turn-on.”

Hazel stepped away in frustration; Hammon hooked his fingers in the wader straps, pulling her right back. “I like the outfit: kinky. Good thing you’re wearing these. It might be dangerous, you getting…” He paused, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Wet.” He kissed her again, even more powerfully. “Or is it already too late?”

Behind her Micah cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles the way her father did whenever he was reaching his limit. Hazel’s mind went blank; she was still back on that kiss; she could hear her pulse rushing in her ears, and she couldn’t decide how she felt or why. But she had to stay focused. She staggered slightly as the deck swayed beneath her.

“Otto, why are you following us? It’s more than just the boat, isn’t it?”

Pain washed across his face. He blinked, staring at her in confusion. Color rose in his cheeks. “What…no!” He coughed and swallowed. “Uh…no, I mean, yeah.” He rubbed his forehead, taking several deep breaths. “There’s way more to it than you realize, and Stevenson isn’t dead. Pure evil doesn’t die that easy. But I didn’t shoot him, and neither did the guy behind the flatbed. There was someone else.”

“What guy behind the flatbed?” Micah said. “And
who
else?”

“I don’t know; I didn’t see them, just the one guy. Big. Mean looking. He had…” Hammon turned to the emptiness. “What’s the word?” He held his arms out dramatically. “He had a sea monster…”

Gary groaned and Micah shook his head.

“I’m serious!” Hammon insisted, his voice breaking.

“And we’re leaving.” Micah reached across and guided Hazel to the dock. He released
Temperance
’s bow line. “Hon, get
Mardi
started.”

She stood, hesitant, wanting to say something, anything, but unable to. Hammon stumbled after her, but Micah stepped between them.

“Back off, Hammon.” Micah unhitched the stern line and gave
Temperance
a firm shove away from the dock. A breeze caught the disabled boat, and it drifted toward the channel.

Hazel boarded
Mardi,
still somewhat dazed. She turned the battery switch and started the engine as Micah brought in all the lines. Hazel tweaked the throttle as they motored past
Temperance
, keeping them parallel to the disabled skiff.

“You might want to drop anchor,” Micah suggested while Gary studied
Mardi
in disbelief and Hammon gazed at Hazel. “I’m sure someone’ll tow you back in.”

Hazel pushed the throttle forward and they left
Temperance
bobbing in their wake.

“Another low-speed getaway,” Micah said. “I’m telling you, if this was a movie, it’d be real boring.” Then he chuckled. “You see Gary’s face? You had him scared shitless, at least till your boyfriend got there.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Sucks that he’s the bad guy. You make such a cute couple. Strange, the way he looks at you. Somewhere between the purest, most innocent love and the darkest obsession.”

Hazel nibbled on the edge of her nail. “I should have…” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure what she should have done. “Someone else was there last night besides Hammon?”

“Other than the guy with the sea monster?” Micah sighed. “Bat-shit crazy, that’s what he is. What I don’t get is how he keeps showing up. We’ve been through every inch of this boat. If something’s sending a signal, it’s hiding real good. Not that it matters anymore. They’ve seen her. They know our speed. She was invisible so long as they were looking for something else. We might as well paint her florescent orange.” Micah put his arm around her shoulder. “Sorry, kiddo. I know you like this thing, but it’s time we take some of Hammon’s cash and get something white, plastic, and anonymous.”

One hour later they docked in Point Pleasant. Hazel received a call from Chris, who reported that her father came through surgery smoothly, with a grocery list of pins, screws, and bolts securing bones in place. Micah placed the next call to Joe and swore he was doing a fine job of keeping Hazel clear of all unacceptable activities; she mouthed “liar” in the background. He glared at her and dialed Atkins. Listening intently, he scribbled down “NJ, KLE-865” then hung up, working out the equation.

Hazel looked at the final number. “One seventy-two. The last exit in New Jersey.”

“What did I say about you getting morose? Cheer up.” Micah grinned. “We need a car again, and I know just the one I want.”