Every Vow You Break(74)

Something streaked in the sky, and she stopped paddling for a moment, searching the glittering expanse above her. Then another shooting star caught her eye, a brief line of light. She repositioned her stinging hands on the paddle, then instinctively looked over her shoulder, her neck creaking. There was no sign of the island she had left, just a black stretch of ocean. And there was nothing in front of her, either. She reached down to touch the screen of her phone, and nothing happened. It was out of power. She was out in the open, and for a moment she felt not just scared but overcome with horror that seemed to empty her out, that squeezed at her lungs. She told herself to keep going, that there would be time in the future for her to have a breakdown.

Wiping her hands on her thighs, then getting a new grip on her paddle, she began to steer in the direction she’d been heading, keeping her eyes on the stars above her, recognizing three in a row that made up Orion’s belt. The constellation was slightly to her left, and she focused on keeping it there as she paddled as hard as she could. The faster she went, the less chance that she would veer off course.

Twenty minutes later she spotted a lighthouse, a dim sweeping beam of light. Its appearance ratcheted up her dread of hearing the sound of a plane, or of another boat, but none came, and the lighthouse got closer, close enough that she could make out its shape against the purple sky. It was built on an outcropping of rock, barely an island, so she kept going. She thought she was in Casco Bay; she could see shoreline now, and another lighthouse.

Her muscles burning, she picked up the pace, dipping the paddle deep into the water, gritting her teeth. Soon she could see scattered lights along the shoreline, even the sweep of what looked like a car’s headlights. Everything was blurry, and she realized that her eyes were watering in the cold wind, tears streaming down her cheeks. She kept paddling toward the lighthouse.

Just as she neared the shore, she saw a faint glimmer of dawn light on the horizon, the sky lightening to gray. The lighthouse was like something from a postcard. White with a black top, below it a lightkeepers’ house, painted red. And in front of the house she could make out a lone car, its lights off, along the edge of what was probably a visitors’ parking lot. Was someone waiting for her?

She turned south and began paddling as hard as she could. She was hoping to spot a better place to come onto shore, less rocky, and not someplace where she might be spotted.

The kayak was moving slowly, a rip current working against her, but soon she spotted a tree-shrouded cove, a strip of sand visible in the dawn light. She pointed the kayak toward the shore, slapping against a flat rock just under the water, then the bow of the kayak slid up onto the beach. She stood, lost her balance, and fell out of the kayak into three inches of icy water. Her elbow hit something sharp and her arm went numb. She grunted, then quickly stood, pulling the kayak a little farther up on the beach.

The sky was now a pearly white, and the air was filled with dawn mist.

A man stepped out of the tree line about ten yards from her, a long rifle in the crook of his arm.





CHAPTER 32

Abigail reached inside the kayak, trying to get hold of her own gun with numb fingers.

“Can I help you?” the man said. His voice, the calmness of it, was startling.

“Stay right there.” Abigail found the gun and pulled it out, pointing it at the man. He was heavyset, wearing a fleece hoodie with a camouflage pattern.

“Shit,” he said, and dropped his own gun, which had been pointing at the ground, then put his hands up.

Abigail had begun to shiver, but she kept her finger on the trigger and kept the gun pointed at the man. “Step back,” she said, and he did. She let her eyes flick toward the ground in front of him and saw that it wasn’t a rifle he had dropped but a metal detector, an elaborate handle on one end, a flat disc on the other.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“I was here yesterday. My wife and I were fishing, and she lost her wedding band. I’m here to look for it.” His voice trembled.

Abigail believed him, but she didn’t want to take a chance and kept the rifle pointed in his direction.

“Do you have a phone?” she said.

“Yeah. It’s in my front pocket.”

“Reach in slowly, okay? And pull it out.”

He did as he was told, pulling out a flat black phone from the front of his baggy jeans.

“Toss it to me.”

He threw the phone in a low arc and it landed three feet in front of Abigail on the sand. “Sit on the ground, okay, and keep your arms above your head.”

“Okay,” he said, and awkwardly lowered himself onto a hump of grass at the edge of the beach. Once he was settled, Abigail picked up the phone. The screen was asking for a four-digit passcode, but on the lower left was the word EMERGENCY, and when she pressed it, the phone dialed 911.

“Where are we?” Abigail said quickly to the man, once she heard the ring in her ear.

“What?” he said.

“What location are we at? What street?”

Before he could answer, she heard a click, then a female voice.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“I’ve just kayaked from Heart Pond Island,” Abigail said into the phone. “There are men there, they were trying to kill me. I’m at …”

She looked over at the man, who was sitting cross-legged, his arms still above him, and he said, “Hannaford Point on Cape Elizabeth.”