Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
A shley tripped over every tree root she could. She was not about to go quietly. However, she didn’t make any voluntary sounds. Having a dirty hand clamped over her mouth or a piece of tape was not her goal. She did her best to thwart the kidnapping by slowing them down.
Steve was a patient person until he wasn’t. After the tenth stumble, he yanked her hard. He lifted her off the ground. She couldn’t drag her feet.
Her ribs connected with his belt and holster. She winced, swallowing the groan. Was he wearing a gun?
“We’re here,” Carl said.
Light spilled onto the ground.
She blinked. They’d made it out of the woods to the boathouse.
“Inside,” Steve said, lifting her arm again before flinging her forward.
She righted herself in time to hear a gun cock. Hands raised, she stared at father and son. Did she look scared? She hoped so. Hiding her anger from them to portray herself as weak went against every instinct she had. But she had to survive.
Steve waved the gun towards the door.
With a nod, she turned and stepped over the threshold, entering the building and skirting along the back wall. If they wanted to shoot her, she planned to leave blood splatters on every surface she could. Her DNA would speak on her behalf. She would be avenged. She shivered. What a horrible thought after a surprising evening. I should have kissed Christopher when I had the chance.
The truth about her allowance stung her pride. She’d wasted valuable time with her husband by feeling sorry for herself. She couldn’t change the past. By focusing on what she couldn’t fix, she’d lost track of the most important part of the explanation. Her husband loved her and never gave up on her.
Unfortunately, her carelessness would lead to her death. Did she value righting the wrongs in the afterlife more than apologizing to the living? She hated the dire circumstances that forced her revelation.
Carl strode toward the office, passing the two tour boats, and opened the door.
With faded paint on the hulls and battered and scratched awnings, the tour boats didn’t look like the once gleaming vehicles she remembered. In her memory, the boats sparkled under the sun, their decks filled with smiling tourists.
Ashley glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t see the new dinner boats.”
Steve continued to wave her on.
She assessed the bigger threat. Carl was a known hothead. But Steve’s cold behavior was an unwelcome discovery. Her survival depended on her correct calculations of their dark souls.
“Sit,” Carl said, pointing at a chair opposite the desk. He walked around behind the solid piece of furniture to claim his spot.
She did as she was told, sinking into the seat and darting her gaze. She spotted a desk calendar and froze. She’d been home for a little over a week. In sixteen days, her husband could claim the Inn free and clear. If the Prims killed her, she’d really clear Christopher’s path to her inheritance. In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t want it.
Steve entered the room, shut the door, and stood with his back against the solid panel.
The office had no windows. No other means of escape besides the door behind the armed man.
Steve frowned and motioned for her to turn.
She shifted in the chair, turning toward Carl.
Now you’re meek and mild? Now you do as you’re told?
As clear as if he stood opposite, Ashley heard Dad’s voice. She dug deep, infusing her backbone with steel. If she had to charm her way out alive, so be it. Her story wouldn’t end here. “Listen, don’t do this. Let me go. No one will notice I’m gone.”
Steve’s hardened gaze softened. The man she’d known since childhood lurked somewhere inside him still. Good. She had a chance. She turned toward Carl. “We can pretend this never happened. I support your family’s business. I believe in your new idea. We can be great partners.”
Carl rolled his eyes. “The dinner cruise? That wasn’t real.”
“It wasn’t?” she asked.
“No,” Carl snapped. “We wanted to egg on Christopher. Get him to act rashly, show he’s unhinged without the old man steering the ship.”
She bit her lip. The old man hadn’t had his hands on the wheel for years. Admitting that wouldn’t buy her time or safety. She needed another stalling technique. “Okay. You riled up Christopher. Mission accomplished. What happened next? Did you put Mr. Willie on your payroll?”
“Mr. Willie?” Carl threw back his head and let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I wish. That man is practically a guard dog, constantly prowling the perimeter. He made our reconnaissance so much harder. As did you with your lighthouse stunt.”
Reconnaissance for what? She was missing some deeper part of the play. “The treasure was never real.”
Carl scoffed and rolled his eyes. “We’re not idiots. We know that. Something was taken from us almost a hundred years ago.”
“By my family?” she asked. Her stomach twisted. She didn’t shy away from her feelings. She embraced every ounce of emotion, savoring the end of her life as she stalled for more precious seconds.”
“Stole the land the lighthouse sits on. The island had been the site of operations for the Prims. But the handshake agreement was voided by one of your ancestors.” Carl sniffed.
“What would you do with it now? You’ve set yourselves up here very nicely. Why go through the hassle?” she asked, hoping she’d instilled enough empathy and concern into her tone.
“Because the island is an asset, and we need every one we can claim,” Carl said.
“How could you possibly take over property that is legally part of the Inn?” she asked.
“Eminent domain.” Carl lifted an eyebrow. “We have a shell utility company ready to stake the claim for the land.”
“Another ploy?” She curled her lip, unable to stop herself.
“No, it’s very real,” Carl replied. “It’s under the guise of updating infrastructure and getting the town up to modern standards for internet connectivity.”
“And you think you’ll have town support?” she asked.
“I won’t need it, but I will have it,” Carl said, smirking. “We thought everyone in Loon Lake played by the rules. But not your family. They take and take. We’re reclaiming what is rightfully ours. The town will understand.”
“They took from me, too.” Her voice cracked. “My family, I mean.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not like my father. I didn’t even go to his memorial or whatever it was.” She swallowed the awful, sour taste in her mouth, forcing down the rising bile. Lying to save her skin. She’d never thought her character would crack, but in this life-or-death scenario, she was determined to save herself.
“I didn’t know you were on my side,” she said. “But now I do. What can I give you to prove I’m all in for our partnership? The island? Is that what you mean by what was stolen?”
“We wanted that. But now?” Carl leaned his chair back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll take nothing less than everything.”
“Come on, that’s not how allies work.” She forced a chuckle.
“You are no ally. All you’ve done is complicate and delay our plan. Your little stunt in the lake. We could have teamed up then. But you ran off. You left the hospital while Steve was getting me. You chose your side.” Carl narrowed his gaze. “And we’ve made our decision. It’s better for everyone if you are out of the way.”
A mechanical whirring saved her.
“What’s that?” Steve hissed.
“Sounds like the rolling door,” Carl said, sighing. “Slip the gun into your waistband, and go check it out.”
“What about?” Steve tipped his head. “Her.”
His voice cracked. At least some part of Steve’s heart remained.
Carl opened a drawer in his desk. “I’ve got her.” He approached and slapped a pair of handcuffs, tethering her right wrist to the chair. “Listen. The door malfunctions. A lot. That’s not your rescue. You make noise while we’re gone? We’ll shoot you when we get back. Yes?”
Ice poured through her veins, chattering her teeth. She studied Steve.
He gulped but made no other move to stop his father and indicate the threat was idle.
“Yes,” she murmured, meeting Carl’s glare. She’d reached the end. With no leverage, she couldn’t buy her safety.
Steve opened the door.
Carl strode out, all pomposity and ego, shutting the door behind him.
“Steve,” she hissed as soon as the door shut. “Don’t do this. You’re better than him. You’re not a criminal, and you’re not a murderer.” She gulped.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. Steve locked eyes on her and glanced away.
In the second of meeting her gaze, she spotted a dangerous desperation. His father’s approval drove his actions. Only Carl’s opinion mattered. Steve would take her life as directed.
“I don’t have a choice,” Steve murmured.
“Yes, you do. You are your own person. Don’t let him bully you.”
“Without my dad, I’m nothing,” Steve said.
The words punched her in the gut. She understood better than anyone else. If not for the restraints holding her in place, she would have doubled over. She struggled growing up with only one, overbearing parent. But she had a clear advantage over Steve.
Her dad loved her. Her heart broke that she hadn’t said goodbye and mended their rift. But she never questioned that his hard-headedness about her choices was driven by his unconditional love and worry for her. Steve couldn’t say the same. Carl was all about control.
“Listen to me,” she said, her chin trembling and teeth chattering. “You are a whole lot of something. He doesn’t deserve your loyalty. I know all about how lonesome it is standing up to a parent. You won’t be alone. You’ll have me and the support of everyone in town.”
“Steve,” Carl barked through the open doorway.
“I’m sorry, Ashley.” Steve hung his head and walked away. He didn’t quite shut the door, the panel swinging slightly ajar.
Could she wheel herself out of the deathtrap? She frowned at the wheels under her rolling chair. The front wheel was cracked. She probably couldn’t roll an inch. She strained for any sound of rescue.
“Hey, Carl? You here?” Zach Jenkins called.
She widened her gaze. Wasn’t he supposed to be behind bars? Her chest rose and fell. Christopher hadn’t given up on her. He’d realized she was missing. Her rescue was close.
“Zach?” Carl yelled. “What’s all the commotion? I heard sirens.”
“Is Steve with you?” Zach replied. “I’d hate for him to get swept up with Inn nonsense. Some sort of fire or something over there. You know they’d love to pin this on any of us as arson.”
“I’m here,” Steve shouted.
Heavy footsteps clanged against the decking, seemingly from all directions.
“HANDS UP, HANDS UP, HANDS UP,” someone shouted.
“You’re both under arrest for the attempted murder and kidnapping of Ashley Hale Lewis,” Sheriff Hanks said. “You have the right to remain silent…”
The rest of the Miranda rights became background noise.
Ashley screamed and wheeled herself to the door, forcing the cracked plastic to turn.
The door opened, slamming against the wall.
Wide-eyed and with hair standing on end, Christopher filled the doorway.
She collapsed against the seat. “Oh, thank goodness.”
He dropped to his knees, pulling her into his arms.
“Ouch, ouch, stop tugging,” she squeaked. “I’m handcuffed to the chair.”
He pulled back to frown at her arm. “Deputy. Keys for handcuffs,” he yelled over his shoulder.
A youngish man appeared, fumbling with the keys as he knelt behind the chair and twisted the lock.
She exhaled the heaviest breath of her life as the cuffs released. “Thank you.”
The deputy nodded and rose.
Crossing her arms in front of her body, she hugged herself. She didn’t feel any tears in her shirt or bleeding from her adventure through the forest. She circled her aching wrists. She hadn’t been secured for very long, but all of the manhandling on the journey to her supposed demise, followed by the total release of all her adrenaline, left her shaky.
Christopher held out a hand.
For once, she didn’t argue as he played the hero. She was too lucky to discount his actions as showboat behavior. She placed her fingers in his.
He tugged her to her feet and didn’t let go, wrapping her tight. “I thought you were…”
His voice was so low, muttered into her hair, she felt the words in the soles of her feet, the deep vibrations wracking through her. “Dead?” She shuddered. “You thought I was dead?”
He nodded.
“Almost,” she sniggered, her gallows humor resurfacing. “You got here just in time. Saving me again. Just another punchline in the ongoing joke that is my life.”
She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. Her resolve to make amends in the present crumbled. She was raw, and she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t shield behind a smile anymore. She’d been locked to a chair. At her most vulnerable, she understood how utterly useless and totally hapless she’d always been.
“What are you saying?” Christopher asked softly, pulling away.
“I’m a joke to you.” She sniffed.
“You’ve never been a joke. You make me laugh. You astonish me with your off-the-wall way of looking at something. But never you.” He tipped up her chin, tenderly holding her face in both hands. Like she was something fragile and precious. “You matter to me. You mattered to him. You were all he thought about, and he knew what I was doing. I never meant to deceive you.”
Her chin quivered. “I guess I’m no saint. I did leave.”
“Come back? Let’s figure this out together?”
She nodded.
He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with every ounce of promise and vulnerability. Their past and the future unshakably tied to the present. And in every moment, each other. Two halves reunited to make something better. To become whole.
* * *
Christopher tightened his grip on Ashley. He was too aware of their surroundings and the crowd hovering only a few steps outside. The office was hardly a sanctuary. His eyes and nose itched from the dust bunnies kicked up on his entrance. The room smelled like mold and mildew and fish. But he couldn’t let her go. Not again.
His fingers dug into her waist, clutching as much as touching. With his mouth, he laid claim to her just as she gripped his heart in her hands. The world faded away as he shut his eyes and focused solely on kissing her, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The soft press of her body against his lured him to seek more, to cling to her.
She broke away. Pulling her head back and sliding his hands off her waist. She interlaced their fingers and squeezed.
He took in a shuddering breath and searched her smiling face. She was safe. That was what mattered. The Prims hadn’t succeeded in their dastardly plan. Lonnie and Zach hadn’t been part of a conspiracy to kill his wife.
As the facts shook loose from the fiction in his mind, he kept circling the main point. She was safe. She was alive. He wouldn’t waste another moment. He couldn’t wait to get her out of here.
A throat cleared, the loud guttural sound breaking through his peace.
He turned and frowned.
Zach stood nearby.
Close enough, Christopher could see every tiny tell that the man was scared. From his quickly darting gaze to his constant weight shifting from foot to foot, nerves radiated off Zach.
“Ashley, I’m so sorry,” Zach said in halting spurts as he tiptoed into the space.
Christopher might have growled. He felt his upper lip curl in a sneer. And she squeezed his hand again, hard. He’d made a truce with Zach while the other man was behind bars. Now freed, he’d helped Ashley and upheld his end of the deal. Christopher had to accept the treaty.
“Did you know what the Prims were up to?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.
Her voice was far steadier than Christopher’s. He was glad to let her take the lead.
“No, I swear, I didn’t. They were unhappy with the Inn. They contributed to some of our informal meetings when we discussed our frustrations. But I had no idea how deep the animosity went. I would never wish anyone harm.” Zach turned to Christopher. “Even you.”
Christopher fought an eye roll and a snigger. “Can you admit that while you weren’t involved in radicalizing the men, your constant bombardment of negative and false information stoked a raging wildfire?”
“Yes,” Zach said. “I am truly, deeply sorry for how my words twisted them.”
“I accept your apology,” Ashley said. “Because I think we all need to heal and move on. I trust your sincerity and that you didn’t want everything to get so far out of hand. But we have to come together as a community. At the end of the day, we—” she motioned a finger between the three of them “—have shared history, and that accounts for a whole lot more than petty disagreements. We have to do better. Everyone else will follow. It’s finally our time. Our generation is in charge, and instead of tearing each other down, we should build each other up. Let’s leave the discord and strife behind us.”
Zach extended a hand.
Christopher stared at it hard.
“Please?” Ashley elbowed him in the ribs.
He sucked in a sharp breath, rubbing his side. Her bony elbows were the only thing he hadn’t missed. In the morning, when he would have inevitably woken up with one of her sharp points poking into his back, he’d have remembered. He stepped forward and shook Zach’s hand.
“I suppose I’d better get back to the officers and let them take me back to jail,” Zach said heavily.
Christopher crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze. But he didn’t move away from his wife. And she poked him again.
He sucked in a breath and rubbed his ribs. He was going to have a bruise. Meeting her gaze, he frowned, scowling with every ounce of rage and frustration he possessed.
She met his gaze with a hard stare of her own.
She was determined to be the bigger person. He’d forgotten how magnanimous she could be. He held his grudges tight to his chest like a lifejacket when, in reality, the petty grievances were only links on a chain dragging him down. “I’ll drop the charges,” Christopher bit out. “We have to give statements anyway. Did the Prims say how they managed the hauntings? The fire?”
Ashley’s lower lip trembled.
Christopher’s stomach dropped to the floor. The ghost was real? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. We’ll go talk to the officers and straighten out the details. Let’s get home. We can talk about the rest in privacy.”
“What will happen to the tour business?” Zach asked. “It’s in everyone’s best interest that it keeps running.”
“I’m sure we can work out something with the Prims’ lawyer,” Christopher narrowed his gaze. He hadn’t stepped foot inside the boat house in years. “Or maybe I should talk to their bank. Looks like they are on the verge of foreclosure. I haven’t been inside this building in years. I haven’t been on one of their boats either.” He stroked his chin.
“They hadn’t started operations for the summer yet,” Zach said.
Christopher nodded. “I wonder if they had plans to open at all.”
“I heard?—”
“Enough shop talk.” Ashley stood in between the pair, holding up both hands. “Maybe I like you two better as enemies instead of co-captains of industry.”
“You’re right,” Zach said. He bowed and left the room first. “We can discuss business later. I’m sorry again. For everything.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Her voice sounded heavy and weary. Christopher had so much to question. In a night, he had been tossed from his peaceful perch into chaos. He had a feeling he would never be the solitary head of his little kingdom ever again. Wasn’t he lucky?
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re right. Let’s give our statements and get sorted and head home.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed.
He hadn’t been home in almost a decade. Home wasn’t a place but a person. Finally on the same page, he could return. She was right. Shared history erased many minor sins. They could build something strong as a community. They could step up as leaders. A team.
He tugged her close.
She slammed into his chest, hitting her head on his chin and widening her eyes.
She chuckled, her laugh low and heavy and shaking straight through him. “Don’t you want to get out of here?”
He embraced her, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he could, gripping his opposite elbows. “In a second,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hers.
Stronger together than they’d ever been apart, he was eager for a new partnership with her and the entire business community. Was this why Dad included the odd terms in his will? Had he seen what could be, if only Christopher and I got out of our own way? Had he pulled some strings to ensure we reunited?
Maybe Xavier was the ghost. Christopher hoped so. He wasn’t taking any chances. He’d hold on to her for the rest of his life.