Shimmer (26 page)

‘The ocean.' Grace spoke suddenly, raising her voice to be heard above the engine. ‘He's taken him out to sea.'

‘Perhaps,' Sam said. ‘Or he might have—'

‘It's the ocean.' She was insistent.

‘We'll get out there,' Sam said, ‘but we have to take it slow.'

‘I
know
it, Sam.' Grace's voice was shrill now. ‘I don't know why, but I do.'

Sam took a look back at her, could see her eyes, almost wild, in the light from Martinez's flashlight.

‘Better get out there, man,' his partner said, having learned through the years, same as Sam, to trust Grace's intuition.

His radio clamoured and he lifted it to his ear again, screwing up his face, trying to listen.

‘What?' Sam asked.

‘Suspicious activity at Flamingo Marina a few hours ago.' Martinez spoke fast, keeping pace with what the dispatcher was reporting. ‘Disturbance on a cruiser moored there.'

‘What time?' asked Sam.

‘Around two a.m. –' Martinez went on listening – ‘and not the first time it's happened.' His dark eyes glinted with anger and frustration, because it had taken the fucking idiot witness so much time to call it in. ‘Boat got taken out a while back,' he said. ‘It's an old white Baja cruiser name of
Baby.
'

‘Where's Flamingo?' Grace wanted to know.

‘South of Belle Island,' Martinez said. ‘If it's him, the bastard could have been cruising right by us when he called.'

Right under their noses, maybe, beneath Broad Causeway or even closer, beneath Kane Concourse, heading under Collins Avenue through Haulover out into the Atlantic.

‘He might have gone south, not north,' Grace said.

Sam shook his head. ‘He'd never go through Government Cut, not with the Coast Guard Station right on top of him.'

They heard the sound then.

Raucously loud and welcome.

‘Chopper.' Martinez looked skyward.

‘How did Miller say I make this goddamned boat go real fast?' Sam called over his shoulder.

‘Just push the throttle forward.' Martinez leaned forward, pointed at the lever. ‘Further you push it, the faster we go.'

Grace shut her eyes and said a swift prayer.

Sam pushed the throttle all the way.

The
Windswept
roared into life.

102

The helicopter sounded to Cal like the wrath of God.

Not long now.

He didn't know
how
it would go from here on, just that it would go.

The terror had receded again, because some things were meant to be, and there was no fighting them.

Some people were meant to die.

And if his hell was going to be Jewel, at least Cal knew it probably wouldn't be that much worse than too much of his life had been.

Not going back to jail – that much he'd decided.

No way.

103

The waters in Haulover were rougher than they'd anticipated, Sam riding the powerboat too fast, Grace and Martinez both hanging on as waves pounded and rocked the
Windswept
, but the three friends on board were way beyond caring for themselves, their goal, they hoped and prayed, somewhere out in that ocean up ahead, the expanse of darkness now starting to become more easily definable from the lighter grey, early dawn sky.

They could hear two choppers up there now, both getting louder, their lights visible, one ahead to the east, the other still farther north.

The radio began to crackle again, and Martinez jammed it tight against his right ear, struggling to hear.

‘They've seen the cruiser,' he yelled.

‘Where?' Sam yelled back as they roared out into the open Atlantic waters.

‘What's
that
?' Grace had let go of the rail, was straining now to see through the binoculars, leaning forward, her heart thumping hard, her body wedged tightly against the side of the boat to give her better balance. ‘Straight ahead.'

‘That's
it
,' Martinez shouted. ‘Has to be.'

They all saw it. A small white cruiser a couple of miles ahead, due east.

Motionless, it seemed, rocking in the water.

Windswept
still pounding on.

‘Need to start slowing down, man,' Martinez told Sam.

‘Sam, slow
down
,' Grace yelled.

He was already throttling back, the boat responding swiftly.

He was aware of other boats on their way, coming from north and south, aware of light and sound and movement on the waters, everyone coming to help, and the crackle from the radio was constant now.

‘Maybe we should leave it to the Coast Guard,' Martinez yelled.

Knowing, sure as snakes spat, that Sam would not do that.

104

B
  
aby
was dead in the water now.

Going nowhere.

This old cruiser had seen a lot of living, Cal figured.

And dying, too.

No place left to go.

Time
.

105

They were about a quarter of a mile away now, and Sam had the
Windswept
all the way down to a crawl.

‘Al, take over,' he called, dragging off his shoes.

‘What the fuck you doin', man?' Martinez stepped up and grabbed the wheel.

‘Going to get our son.' Sam was already at the side, clambering up.

‘Sam, I don't
know
.' Grace grabbed at his arm.

And then she let it go again, her thoughts suddenly crystal clear, knowing damned well that if he weren't heading overboard, she would be.

‘Please be careful,' she told him. ‘I need you both back.'

Martinez glanced up at the chopper, could see its green and white markings, almost overhead now. ‘Better get off if you're going, man.'

And Sam took his dive.

He was halfway there when the world erupted.

He felt the shockwaves pound his body and reverberate in his head, ripping through ocean and air, dragging him under for too many long, horrible moments, and then he came up again, choking and coughing up salt water.

He could see stars in the sky, fiery stars everywhere.

Not stars at all.

‘
Joshua
!' he screamed.

Too deafened by the explosion even to hear his own voice.

‘
Sam
!' Grace screamed.

‘Jesus,' Martinez said, feeling
Windswept
rocking and rolling beneath them, wondering abruptly if there might be more to come, if he should be taking Grace away from here.

And then the powerboat began to settle.

A curious kind of silence hung heavily in the air.

‘I can't
see
anything!' Grace cried, because the smoke was like thick fog.

‘
Sam
!' Martinez yelled.

The smoke cleared a little, shifted by the breeze.

They were both at the side, close together, peering through, struggling to see.

‘Jesus Christ,' Martinez said, quite softly.

Because the
Baby
had gone.

Fragments and shards and atoms of Lord knew what else were still descending in an eerie slow kind of rain, settling on the surface of the water.

‘Joshua!' Grace screamed. ‘Sam!'

She moved suddenly, scrambling up, trying to get a hold, wanting to get over the side and into the water.

‘No!' Martinez grabbed her round the waist.

‘Let me
go
!'

‘I can't do that.'

And then he saw.

‘There!' he yelled. ‘Sam's
there
!'

Grace froze, seeing him too, his dark head there one minute, mouth open, gulping air, then diving again.

Realization hit Martinez first.

‘Oh, Jesus,' he said.

Because there was nothing left to dive for.

‘Joshua,' Grace said, her voice very quiet, just before she folded at the waist and started to go down.

Martinez caught her.

It had been a long while since he had wept.

Sam, coming up for the fifth time, his heart exploding with grief and rage, saw it before the radio dispatcher reported the sighting from the helicopter.

‘Dinghy north-east.'

He trod water for a moment, gasping for air, rubbing salt out of his eyes, lost his bearings, frantically twisted and turned in the water.

‘Where'd it go?!' he yelled.

‘There!' Martinez's voice was hoarse but loud enough, just reaching Sam over the noise of the chopper and the waves. ‘To your left, man!'

On board the
Windswept
, Grace heard his voice, dragged herself up off the deck, shook away the dizziness, saw the dinghy, saw Sam almost there.

‘Oh, my God,' she said. ‘Oh, please God.'

Sam's eyes were stinging and the wounds on his chest were burning up.

Best pain he'd ever felt in his
life
.

Almost there. Two more strokes of his arms and his right hand touched rubber, then a kind of handle, grabbed hold.

‘Joshua, I'm here, son.'

He began to haul himself up, knowing he had to be careful, terrified of causing a capsize, started to slide off again, heard Grace's voice cry out in fear, managed to hold on, get a firmer grip.

He saw the wicker basket.

With Joshua inside.

Best sight he'd ever seen.

His son's dark eyes were wide open, gazing calmly at his father.

‘Thank you, sweet Jesus,' Sam said.

And scrambled into the dinghy.

106

‘
Tough little kid,' one of the doctors at Miami General told Sam and Grace with something like admiration.

They kept him in the hospital for observation – and because Dr David Becket, whose opinions they respected, had made a forceful request that they err on the side of caution – yet Joshua, remarkably, seemed little the worse for his ordeal, picking up quickly despite the antihistamine that Cooper had put into his system and the time – however long it had been – that he had spent in that dinghy.

His parents had never been so grateful for the warmth of Florida nights.

Jerome Cooper was gone, along with
Baby
, the most likely theory, shared by all concerned in the hunt, that he had probably chosen to end his lousy life along with the cruiser, possibly inspired by the youthful Bang Gang, by stuffing a rag in the boat's gasoline tank and igniting it.

One grisly piece of evidence had been swiftly found in the debris: human remains still to be officially identified. Part of a woman's finger with a white-polished nail, yielding the strong probability that Roxanne Lucca – who they now knew had flown from Chicago to Miami just a little ahead of Sam – had been on board with Cooper when
Baby
had exploded.

Mother and son both missing, presumed dead.

No one on earth, so far as the Beckets knew, mourning their loss.

‘I'm so glad Jerome's dead,' Grace told Claudia on the phone on Thursday evening, calling her from the paediatric floor. ‘I'd be afraid, otherwise, of what Sam might want to do to him.'

Miami General calling Westlake Hospital in Melrose Park, where Claudia was still doing what little she could for their father.

‘I'm sure Sam would leave it to justice,' Claudia said.

‘Maybe it's me then I'm not so sure about,' said Grace.

‘I wish I was back there with you,' Claudia said.

‘Don't you think it's about time you went back home, sis?'

‘If Dan still wants me.'

‘Just get back there and find out,' Grace said.

107

Mildred was doing much better.

Sam had been doing his best to visit with her most days, his father standing in for him when his son couldn't make it in.

‘She's a very special lady,' David agreed with Sam.

‘She seems quite taken with you, too,' said Sam.

Eight days had passed since the abduction, and Grace had roasted two chickens in honour of Friday night, Saul taking his turn – Becket family style – to light the Sabbath candles. And right now, dinner over, Saul was in the kitchen, washing up, while Grace was upstairs in the nursery, checking up on Joshua for the fifth time since they'd sat down at the table.

The older father and son were out on the deck, Woody – given the all-clear less than a day after his own ordeal – lying contentedly at Sam's feet on the planks.

‘Has Mildred mentioned her plans after she's discharged?' David wanted to know. ‘She surely can't go back to living rough.'

‘I think we'll have a tough time talking her out of it,' Sam said.

‘Maybe it's up to us then,' his father said, slowly, ‘to come up with some kind of workable alternative.'

Sam was intrigued. ‘What kind of alternative?'

‘Give me time,' said David.

108

Elliot Sanders gave Sam a call at the office the following Monday morning.

‘I thought I should tell you myself,' he said.

‘What now?' Much as he appreciated the doc, Sam had found over the years that he seldom had cause to enjoy calls from medical examiners.

‘There was only one body on the
Baby
,' Sanders said. ‘There's a whole lot of stuff it's going to take a long time to sift through and analyse, but every piece of flesh and bone and tooth spared by that explosion belonged to the mother.'