CHAPTER 91
Mr. Wilson’s protection seemed to turn into a hug. “It’ll be okay, Daria,” he murmured, his lips on her hair.
But how, how could it ever possibly be okay if Kallias perished? She would never be okay again.
“I have to do something,” she said, pushing to stand, but Mr. Wilson held her down.
“And get shot? Have faith in your husband, Daria. I do.”
She wasn’t sure she did, not because of anything that Kallias had ever done but because she had never truly had to rely on anyone before, not since she was a small infant with her father.
But from the moment she could remember, from five or older, she had mostly been alone and taking care of herself—the daughter of a father far too busy.
Even with the shipping company, with her devices to purify sea water and her fishing, she chose not to trust their shipments.
They were ever faithful, but trust was far better left to oneself.
“Let me help,” she almost begged. “I’ll go up over the rocks and get my gun. There won’t be much danger.”
“There will be some.”
“His aim is not that good.”
“And yours is?”
“Just let me go.”
But it didn’t matter because with a violent hit from below, the boat and Mr. Runington were tipped. He staggered back as the boat lurched, and backing up, he threw off the tilt even more with his weight. The little boat nearly went on its side, and it catapulted him out, landing him in the water.
It was all Kallias needed. There was a froth of white in the water, like when a shark thrashed a fish. There was a gunshot. And then there was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. No sound but the waves. No witnesses but the lighthouse. Nothing.
Far too much nothing.