Chapter 29 – Lee
Trying to keep a cool head when I was putting Violet at risk, chasing after unknown adversaries, left me with sweat dripping down the back of my neck. The stiff wind off the water turned my neck clammy.
We couldn’t be sure Anya was in danger. Or that the figure we were following was her. But standing back wasn’t an option. If I didn’t try, Drew would never forgive me. Worse, he’d never forgive himself for not being here.
“Coast Guard. Coast Guard. Coast Guard. This is Last Chapter.”
I clicked off. Waiting. Hoping.
“Last Chapter, this is Coast Guard. What’s your emergency?”
“Coast Guard, this is Lee Murphy with San Juan Search and Rescue. I’m in pursuit of a boat heading east from Warbass Marina. Requesting assistance.”
“We’re about twenty minutes from your location, Last Chapter.”
I bit off a curse. Too much damn water and time between us and help. I only hoped we could catch up, then stall that long.
“There’s a boat weaving erratically ahead of us. We’re too far away to see the registration, but it looks like a probable DUI.”
I hoped they wouldn’t question how or why a SAR volunteer cared about a DUI at an hour most people weren’t boating.
But there were still ferries and moored boats to consider.
The risk of grounding. It was plausible-ish.
If it got us back up, I’d sort out any fallout from my lie later.
Claiming the boat carried our kidnapped friend was a little too far-fetched for the Coast Guard without proof. My say-so wouldn’t be good enough.
“We’ll check it out, Last Chapter.”
At least they didn’t scold me for pursuing a boater under the influence. I kept our course, unable to gain on the other speedboat with my outboard. Taking my boat out was better than stealing a friend’s with a bigger motor. Then the Cost Guard would absolutely get involved. Likely to arrest me.
“Vi, I have binoculars and a flare gun under that bench.” I nodded starboard. “Can you see what you can see? If by some chance it’s not Anya up ahead, I’ll turn us around.”
Violet pulled the binoculars from their case, steadying herself against the gunwale.
I waited, heart pounding, for her report, carefully navigating around Reef Point.
Hoping like hell the boat ahead of us wouldn’t try to cross the Haro Strait.
My little motor didn’t have enough power to cut through the currents.
If they headed for Victoria, I’d have to hope the Coast Guard could catch up with them.
“I think it’s her. I see two men, what’s probably a woman, and another figure. The fourth figure is small, about Anya’s size. I keep catching a patch of glittery pink. Probably Anya’s dress.”
“Can you tell who has her?” My voice was already growing hoarse from yelling over the engine noise.
Vi’s head jerked in a decisive no.
Anya’s parents seemed unlikely, though given the news report Vi pulled up, possible.
More probable was that Dr. Underwood and her husband decided to make a break for it.
But why take Anya? Brandon was in the county jail awaiting trial; Jordan died off the cliffs last summer—so who the hell was the fourth?
The question itched at the back of my mind even as I forced myself to focus on the immediate threat.
Brandon Chen and Rae’s cousin Jordan Dawkins had been smuggling out of Canada.
That much was clear. But Brandon should be in jail, unless the legal system was a leaky sieve—not everyone could be on that boat.
I opened up the throttle as far as I could, glad it was my habit to gas up at the end of every trip.
Did the captain in front of me do the same?
We cut through the water after them, bouncing hard enough to make my teeth rattle in the choppy waves.
Up closer, I could tell the other boat had an aluminum hull. Easily over twenty feet long, with a small cabin. At least two people were inside, but two additional figures huddled on seats behind.
The Last Chapter gained steadily on the other vessel. We were lighter with a crew of two. I had to hope it’d be enough to keep us in the game until the Coast Guard could take over.
At least the other boat didn’t seem keen on crossing to Victoria. Instead, they cut in around Pear Point. I couldn’t figure out why until I spotted the pontoon plane.
“Dammit.”
We might not have time for the Coast Guard.
Sea planes on this end of the island were uncommon, meaning it probably belonged to Anya’s captors.
At least it settled the question of why they’d bothered with the boat: in most scenarios, it wasn’t the most efficient getaway plan.
But on an island, our options were limited.
It made more sense that they’d tucked a plane somewhere out of the way, where it couldn’t be accessed easily from land, to protect their escape route.
“You see it?” I called over the engine noise to Violet. She nodded, her expression grim.
“We have to get there before they can take off.”
If only my boat could go faster. I picked up the radio.
“Coast Guard. Coast Guard. Coast Guard. This is Last Chapter.”
“Last Chapter, this is Coast Guard. What’s your update? Still in pursuit?”
“Yes, but they’re approaching a plane in the cove near Pear Point. Can you check with the FAA? Anyone file a flight plan recently?”
My guess was that Anya’s captors would fly low, hugging the water. If their destination was in Canada, maybe they’d filed a flight plan as a red herring and would revise it mid-air. Either way, we needed to reach that plane.
“Last Chapter, there are a few flight plans filed for this evening. We have a crew five minutes from Pear Point. Will meet you there.”
Vi and I exchanged grim glances. The boat ahead had turned into the cove, getting closer and closer to the small plane. A plan formed.
“How do you feel about swimming?” I asked Violet with a tight smile.
She shuddered, her arms covered in goosebumps, her entire body trembling as icy wind whipped off the water, tangling loose strands of her hair.
“Like I’m not into polar plunging.” She grimaced. “You sure about this, Murphy?”
I was terrified. But SAR had taught me to keep a cool head, and keeping her safe was my top priority.
I gave her my most charming grin. “We’ll just call this adventure book research.”
“It’s only research if you live long enough to write about it later.”
I held her gaze. “No matter what, I’m not letting anything happen to you, Violet Fenwick. Not now that you’ve finally noticed all my finer qualities.”
Her attempt at a snort was forced, but I appreciated the effort.
“Wait a minute. You have finer qualities? Murphy, we need to come out of this in one piece. This, I’ve gotta see.”
I gestured to the flare gun. “You know how to use that?”
“Point and shoot?” She shrugged. “I’m so cold, I doubt I can aim worth shit.”
“Fuck, Cupcake. I’m sorry.” I shrugged out of my jacket, handing it to her. “Put this on.”
We drew closer until we could make out the figures in the other boat.
They’d had to slow down in the cove to avoid rocks.
Chaz Underwood was easy to make out. His wife was harder to spot.
At least Anya’s parents weren’t abducting her.
Chaz and Megan were crooks, but as far as I knew, they wouldn’t resort to murder.
The second man shifted, revealing his profile, and I stilled. Shit. Anya’s ex-boyfriend looked all too calm, maneuvering the boat closer to their plane. Was he their pilot? It all still begged the question: what did they want with Anya? Was this Owen’s twisted idea of revenge?
We needed to rescue her, or we might never know. I pushed the Last Chapter harder, using the memory of umpteen previous trips to remember where the rocks were on this side of the cove. Guess wrong, and Vi and I would need our life jackets. Luckily, at this distance, we could swim to shore.
It’d be cold and miserable, but we’d live.
I set a heading for the plane. If I could get close enough, I could cut off its ability to take off by blocking the step.
Without room to gain speed along the water’s surface, the plane wouldn’t be able to get airborne.
Or that was my theory. I’d only flown in seaplanes a couple of times. My knowledge was limited at best.
The other boat beached in the cove. The figure I thought was Owen grabbed Anya roughly by the arm and forced her onto shore.
My gut lurched—if they hurt her, Drew would never recover.
None of us would. Chaz and Megan grabbed suitcases, wading out and tossing them into the back of the plane.
This wasn’t meant to be a confrontation.
It was an exit strategy. They were running.
Owen lifted his arm, and I yelled, “Duck!” I grabbed Violet and forced her to the deck.
A sharp ping carried over the wind, metal on metal, the bullet glancing off. It’d serve the bastard right if the ricochet clipped him. I sheltered her with my body, my breath coming in gasps. “Asshole is shooting at us.”
Another crack split the air, punching into the glass windshield.
A spiderweb of cracks bloomed, but the glass didn’t shatter.
A third shot struck the windshield. The crack was louder this time, a heavy whump before the glass gave way.
Either the impact was more than the glass could handle, or Owen had found a weak spot – fragments rained down, stinging my skin and tinkling across the deck.
Vi’s eyes darkened, her expression sharpening. Not quite shock, not quite fear. I was one breath away from full-blown panic, but not Vi. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, righteous anger where terror should have been. She was pissed. Damn those Fenwick vengeance genes.
I clamped my hands over her shoulders, trying to keep her low, my body a wall between her and the gunfire. If even a single piece of shrapnel hurt her, I’d never forgive myself. “Stay down,” I grated out, low and fierce. Even as every instinct screamed to protect her, she resisted.