Chapter 58
As another wave broke, swirling white water across the bow, Jo stole a glance at Ethan. Turning and spotting her, he gave her a look that suggested, despite the rough seas, all would be well.
Jo wished she could share his confidence. The Angel was braving the waves all right, it was her own courage, she felt, that was lacking.
Ivan, standing behind her in the small cabin, hadn’t made a sound during the pitching and rolling, but from the corner of her eye, she could see where his white-knuckled hand was gripped to prevent himself from being thrown about.
‘The beacon’s almost out,’ Ethan said, pointing.
Jo had to take his word for that, because she could see nothing through the wave-splattered windscreen.
She realized she had no idea where the sea ended and the land began.
Instead, she fastened her gaze on Ethan’s face and his hands on the wheel and knew that, despite his words of confidence directed at her, he was as worried as any fisher or ferryman would be in such circumstances.
At this moment the bow of the Angel suddenly rose, throwing her backwards, water rushing round her feet. She realized she was about to fall, but could grab for nothing, her eyes blinded by the spray.
Then a hand caught her life jacket and dragged her upright again.
‘Hold on to me,’ Ethan ordered, taking her hand and fastening it around him. ‘I’m about to turn into the bay.’
Holding on tightly, Jo felt the power of his attempts to turn the Angel and hold her on course, despite the strength of the surge that tried to claim her. Pressed now to Ethan’s back, she couldn’t see Ivan, but as Ethan completed the manoeuvre, she heard a shout of success from behind.
They were now in the lee offered by the small rocky headland, each wave urging them towards the shore.
Loosening her grasp on Ethan, she checked on Ivan and found his cheeks even ruddier than usual, his grin even wider.
‘Bloody hell. That’s why I never wanted to be a fisherman,’ he announced with gusto.
‘Keep a hold, both of you,’ Ethan ordered. ‘The surge is still strong here and I need to drop the anchor.’
Trying hard to focus, Jo thought she could make out the jumble of buildings and the wall where they’d ducked out of sight of the drug boat.
‘The beacon was lit on top of the hill you climbed to get a signal,’ Ethan reminded her. ‘It’s definitely out now and we don’t know as yet who lit it,’ he warned. ‘Or why.’
Ethan was right. They had fastened their hopes on the possibility that Kris Mowat was not the burnt body on the beach at Lyrawa, but was instead alive here on Cava with the missing Rachael.
Mackie’s utterings in the hospital together with the jottings in Ivor’s notebook had planted that hope. But that’s all it was, a hope.
Ethan was only reminding them that it might not be true. What if whoever lit the beacon had done it for nefarious reasons? After all, the visiting drug boat hadn’t taken kindly to their previous outing here.
‘You ready?’ Ethan said as he offered up his hand to help her down into the dinghy. ‘There’s room for the three of us,’ he told Ivan. ‘Just go canny.’
The wind was still strong even in the sheltered bay. Jo tasted salt on her lips and tongue and thought again of the image of Ethan disappearing beneath the waves as she had scrambled over the rocks in her desperation to get to him.
‘Hey,’ his voice said encouragingly. ‘We’re in the shallows now.’ He got out, then offered her his hand again. She took it gratefully. Ivan was on his feet now too and all three trudged towards the beach, where Ethan fastened the line to a nearby rock.
‘Right, so what’s the plan now, Detective Sergeant?’ he said.
Jo was saved from answering by Ivan’s sudden shout. ‘There’s someone coming,’ he said, pointing.
Following the line of his finger, Jo thought she could make out the bulky figure of a man. Tall and broad-shouldered, and not looking remotely like the photograph she’d seen of Kris Mowat.
‘That can’t be Kris,’ she said, feeling her keen disappointment. ‘A tourist must have come to Cava and got stuck here.’
‘It definitely isn’t Kris,’ Ethan said, his tone cautious, ‘but it could be a Mowat by the height and build. Or maybe one of the drug dealers.’
The sky had turned a blood red with the approaching dawn, accentuating the dark bulk of the solitary man now come to a halt on the grassy edge of the beach.
‘There’s only one of him and three of us,’ Ivor said, belligerence in his tone.
‘He doesn’t know who we are either,’ Jo said, before making her announcement.
‘Detective Sergeant Green here, plus Constable Tulloch,’ she called out. ‘We answered a beacon you or someone else lit. Who are you?’
The returning voice reached them despite the wind.
‘Hugh Mowat,’ it boomed. ‘Thank God you’re here.’
The explanation came as he led them away from the beach.
‘They were camping at the Muckle House, but when the boat appeared, they moved up to the lighthouse. Kris managed to gain entry. They’re in there now, but the lass isn’t great,’ he told them.
‘And their boat, the one Ivor had stashed at Lyrawa, got holed in rough seas against the rocks at the south end of the island when Kris brought Rachael back.’
‘How long have you known they were here?’ Jo demanded.
‘Since I visited Mackie yesterday.’
‘You attacked Mackie?’ Jo said angrily.
‘What?’ Hugh halted suddenly in his stride.
‘An intruder attacked Mackie. Left him unconscious and took his mobile.’
Watching his expression as she said this, Jo read it as completely shocked. Then it turned to anger. ‘The bastard,’ he muttered. ‘The stupid bastard. I told him it had to end. All of it.’
‘Told who?’ Ivan demanded
‘It’s his fault my girl’s dead. My stupid brother’s fault. All of this.’ He was upping his pace. Not yet answering the question, he told them instead that the lass wasn’t well. ‘She’s bleeding and should be in the hospital.’
‘The baby?’ Jo said, immediately concerned.
‘We should have brought the Angel up closer to the lighthouse,’ Ivan said.
‘It’s too rocky there,’ Ethan told him. ‘We’ll carry the lassie back between us.’
As they approached the lighthouse, the door opened a little and a male appeared.
Jo took in the image of Kris Mowat, dark-haired, young and slightly built, and felt joy that he was alive.
‘Take me to Rachael,’ Jo said. ‘She told me about the baby.’
Now she could see how pale and worried he was at what he thought was happening.
Rachael was sitting on a blanket on the floor. In the dawn light streaming in at the now open door, Jo could see that her face was even whiter than Kris’s.
Kneeling down beside her, Jo took hold of her ice-cold hand.
‘Is there much blood?’ she said.
Rachael shook her head. ‘Only a little.’
‘Pains?’ Jo asked.
‘Everything hurts, I think from lying on the concrete floor.’
‘So no cramping?’ Jo checked.
Rachael shook her head. ‘But I’m afraid, if I stand up . . .’ Her voice was an anguished whisper.
‘You’re not going to stand up,’ Jo told her. ‘We’re going to carry you to the boat.’
At that moment, her phone rang and, answering, she heard Erling’s voice.
‘You’re in range again, Sergeant. Where are you exactly?’
When she explained about the lighthouse and Rachael’s condition, Erling ordered her not to move the girl.
‘An air ambulance is on its way,’ he told her. ‘I called it out when you went offline. I’m on the police launch. We’ll be there shortly too.’