Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Ms. Langston?” a voice asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Sarah Riley from Unique Interiors.”
The name of the shop was like a stab to Olivia’s chest. She’d been so caught up with her unknown ghost and then with Travis that she’d completely forgotten about her business obligations.
“What happened?” The voice on the phone went on. “We were expecting you this morning.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” she said again. “I got hung up with something. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When she clicked off, she saw Travis watching her. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong. He could read it in her mind.
“You were supposed to deliver a bunch of furniture to that shop this morning.”
“Yes,” and I have to do it. It’s too short notice to call anyone else. Will you be okay if I leave you here for a while?”
He laughed. “As you saw from that FedEx driver, nobody’s even going to know I’m here.”
“Right.”
“Or are you asking if I’ll be okay on my own?”
Maybe I was wondering if I’ll be.
Before she could say more, he was beside her, turning her to face him and wrapping her in his arms. She closed her eyes, clinging to him, wishing that she hadn’t met him, when it was already too late.
He didn’t answer her, only held her close, his hands sliding possessively up and down her back, and she knew his thoughts and emotions mirrored her own. She longed to stay in his arms—stay with him, but she had to deal with the real world now.
“I’d better get dressed,” she finally whispered.
When he let his arms drop, she eased away from him and headed down the hall. Upstairs, she took a quick shower and pulled on clean jeans and a T-shirt.
“I’d ask if you needed help loading the van, but I can’t exactly carry anything,” Travis said.
“At least until we get better at moving stuff around with our minds. Then we can fly it from here to there.”
“A paper napkin isn’t quite the same as a wooden bench.”
“Maybe we can get to that point. But luckily for today, the shipment is already in the van. I had a local guy load it for me. All I have to do is drive it over there.”
“You’re going to St. Stephens,” he said abruptly, and she knew he’d pulled that piece of information from her mind.
When she nodded in acknowledgement, he added, “I don’t like your going over there.”
She’d been trying to put the location out of her mind, but he’d picked it up. It was the town where he’d lived, the town where the kidnappers had chartered his boat. For all he knew, it was also where they’d find Mr. Smith, although he couldn’t be sure of that.
“I’ll finish my business and come right home,” she said, wondering if she was telling the truth, knowing he was wondering the same thing. But there was no point in their discussing it further.
They hugged again before she went outside, and she wanted to cling to him.
She wanted to call Sarah and say she couldn’t come.
Instead, she pointed the van down the driveway.
As she increased the distance between herself and Travis, she tried to hold the mental link with him.
At first, she could still feel it, but by the time she reached the road, she was alone.
More alone than she had been before he’d turned her life upside down.
For Olivia, it was a strange feeling to be disconnected from Travis.
At first, she’d felt like he was stalking her.
Then when she could finally acknowledge that she welcomed his presence, she’d thrown herself into the relationship.
She’d been alone for so long, and suddenly there was this presence who understood what she’d been going through all these years.
He’d lived it the same as she had. Well, not exactly the same, but similar.
She’d let herself start to feel that this was the beginning of something normal.
But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. The rest of the world would never understand the magic of it.
Yet at the same time, it was a relief to be away from him for a while.
There was nothing she could hide from him.
Every thought, every emotion was open to him.
Was there a way to shield her mind? Was that one of the skills Smith hadn’t mentioned because there would be no reason for him to know about it?
The only things he’d picked up on were outward manifestations of the link between the children from the fertility clinic.
When Olivia got to the Bay Bridge, she had to concentrate on her driving.
Like many people who had to cross the bridge, she shuddered over the height and the feeling of being suspended above the water.
As she traversed the span, she kept her eyes glued to the car ahead of her, and when she got to Kent Island on the other side, she breathed a little sigh of relief.
From there, it was a straight shot down Route 50 to St. Stephens. Unique Interiors was on Main Street, where most of the tourist-centered businesses were located. She drove around to the parking area in back and went in to find Sarah Riley.
“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” she apologized the moment she saw the shop owner.
“You’re here now. Thanks for coming right over.”
Two men were on hand to unload the chests, benches, and tables that Olivia had brought over.
She and Sarah inventoried the new arrivals, and Olivia signed a consignment agreement.
She could have opted to sell the items to Sarah outright, but that way, she would have had to accept less money.
When she took the risk of leaving a consignment, she earned a greater share of the profits.
With the transaction completed, she returned to the van.
She’d told Travis that she was coming right back, but even when she’d made the statement, she’d wondered if it was true.
In the back of her mind, she’d been planning to stop by the marina where Travis’s boat was parked.
Maybe she could even slip on board and have a look around.
To pick up clues? Or was that going too far?
Surely the men who’d abducted him wouldn’t have left any evidence.
But they could have overlooked something, another part of her mind argued, like… what about fingerprints?
She made a scoffing sound. If people regularly chartered the Far Horizon, there would be tons of fingerprints. It would be like trying to locate a particular guest who had stayed in a hotel room.
Still, instead of immediately turning for home, she reached into the seat pocket in back of her and took out a sun hat.
After pulling her hair into a ponytail and securing it with a scrunchy, she tucked the gold-red mass under the hat and checked to see if any was showing.
She shoved a few loose strands out of sight before turning toward the marina.
It wasn’t at the main dock in the downtown area, but at a smaller facility on one of the wide creeks that ran through the area.
* * *
Before investigating Brant’s Creek Marina, Gabe stopped at one of the shopping centers that were springing up even in this once remote area.
In a sporting goods store, he bought the cheapest fishing rod he could find, along with a tackle box.
On surveillance assignments, he always kept a change of clothing in his trunk.
He pulled out a pair of well-worn jeans, scuffed athletic shoes, and a plaid shirt.
He used a dressing room at the store to change, then added an Orioles cap to the outfit.
He debated stopping at a bait store to buy some worms, then decided that it was going too far.
Nobody was going to search him for night crawlers.
In his new disguise, he headed for Brant’s Creek.
As he’d done at the house, he checked out the area.
The marina opened onto a parking area that also served several small stores.
In fact, if he still wanted bait, he’d be able to get it right here—also coffee, a sandwich, or some sports clothing.
Maybe they would have been cheaper than at the more modern-looking place where he’d shopped.
As he cruised past the shopping area, he spotted a guy in a green shirt slouched down behind the wheel of a battered Ford.
His face was hidden by the bill of a black baseball cap.
Although seeing the guy wasn’t ironclad confirmation that the area was being watched, it was suspicious, particularly since Gabe had been sure that someone was staking out Carson’s residence.
He drove past, noting that instead of a sidewalk on the creek side of the street, there was a six-foot-wide boardwalk with a sign announcing the marina.
Coming off the boardwalk at right angles were five narrow piers with boats moored on either side.
Some were quite small, but others were probably the right size for the Far Horizon.
Miss Wilder had told him that Carson’s boat was moored along the second pier from the left. He couldn’t see the vessel from the street, but it couldn’t be too far away since the creek was narrow.
He drove past and pulled into a space at the edge of the parking area. He sat there for twenty minutes, watching to see if the man in the car had any obvious reason to be there, but the guy stayed where he was.
Gabe cursed under his breath. If he got out of his car and headed for the boat, he could be putting a target on his back. He debated leaving and coming back by water. But the watchers might have that end covered as well.
He was about to leave when he saw a white van come slowly by. A woman was at the wheel, and he watched her circle the lot, looking for a space. She could be making a delivery to one of the boats or one of the stores.
As he watched her, he had the feeling that she wasn’t familiar with the area. There was no reason to believe he should keep an eye on her, but just in case, he jotted down the license number of the van as she circled past again, then found a space and parked.
She didn’t get out immediately, but when she finally made a decision, she stood staring at the marina sign as though she were psyching herself up to approach.
Her hesitation gave him the opportunity to get a better look at her.
She was slender and very appealing, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and wearing a wide-brimmed hat that didn’t quite match the outfit.
An attempt to disguise her appearance? He thought she was probably in her late twenties or early thirties, with the pale skin that probably belonged to a redhead.
Was she somehow connected to the men who had abducted Carson? Or was she here for the same reason as he—trying to find out what had happened to him?
There was no solid reason to make assumptions about why she was there.
But he’d learned to pay attention to his hunches.
Now her indecisive behavior solidified his feeling that she wasn’t planning to buy fishing tackle.
Was she here because of Travis Carson? And if so, where did her loyalties lie?
With him, or the mysterious men who were staking out his house and marina?
When she finally made up her mind to head for the marina, Gabe saw the slouching guy sit up and take notice.
The woman hesitated for a moment before angling toward the second pier from the left—the one with Carson’s boat.
Grabbing his fishing pole and tackle box, Gabe strode across the street. He let her get onto the boards of the dock. Before she had taken more than a few steps, he made it onto the boards.
“Honey, wait up!”
She turned, confusion plastered across her face.
“This is the wrong marina,” he called out, loud enough for Mr. Slouch to hear.
“I don’t...”
Before she could finish, he added in a much lower voice, “There’s a guy in the parking lot watching Travis Carson’s boat.”
The look of shock that bloomed confirmed his suspicion. She’d been heading for the Far Horizon. And she wasn’t in league with the watchers.
“We have to go down to the Main Street dock,” he continued, taking her arm and leading her away from the water. “That’s where we’re supposed to meet our charter.”
She allowed herself to be led along for a few moments before trying to jerk her arm away. He held firm.
“He’s watching. Bend your head. I think he’s going to take our picture.”
“Who’s watching?”
“A guy in a dark green T-shirt, black baseball cap, jeans. He was here when I arrived.” When she tried to look, Gabe held her back. “Don’t.”
Emotions chased themselves across her face. “How do I know...?” She stopped and started again. “Who are you?”
“I could ask the same questions.”
As they talked, he led her to the far side of her van so that Mr. Slouch’s view was blocked.
In the shade of the vehicle, she raised her head and asked, “Who are you?”
“I was hired by Carson’s aunt to find out what happened to him.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lydia Wilder.”
“Why should I trust you? You could be one of the men who killed him.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, her skin went white, and her features turned sick.
“Killed him? You think he’s dead? What do you know?” He was tempted to grab her and shake her, but if Mr. Slouch came around the side of the van and saw, that wouldn’t jibe with the story he’d been working hard to establish.
She made a moaning sound. Panic flashed in her eyes. “I...don’t know...anything. Let me go.”
A bolt of satisfaction shot through Gabe. Maybe he was finally getting somewhere.