The Running Girls(82)

“Our little stowaway,” said Mosley, easing Frank down the stairs, his flashlight running over the shape that belonged to Tilly Moorfield.





Chapter Forty-Nine


“I’d ask you to put lifejackets on, but you won’t need them,” said Mosley, placing the flashlight in the middle of the cabin as he retreated up onto the deck of the boat, locking the doors behind him.

“Tilly, are you OK?” said Laurie, struggling against the zip ties that by now had ripped through the skin on her wrists.

“I think so,” said Tilly, her voice the same dry rasp as Frank’s.

“We need some water,” said Laurie, shuffling over to the girl as the boat’s engine rumbled to life.

Illuminated only by the flashlight, Tilly appeared physically unharmed. “What are you doing here?” Laurie asked her, kneeling before her so she could see the girl better.

“I’ve been stupid. I wanted to see him, I couldn’t let him get away with it,” she said, nodding toward Frank, who had collapsed on the bench seat opposite. “I thought he was going to escape when the hurricane struck. I stayed outside his place all night, trying to get the courage to speak to him, and then that bastard caught me outside and did this to me.”

“I thought you and your father were leaving together,” said Laurie. “I haven’t heard anything from him, saying you’d gone missing.”

Tilly began crying. “He made me show him where I live,” she said, in between sobs.

Laurie’s heart fell, knowing where this was going.

“He left me in the van,” said Tilly, “but I think he killed my dad.”

If that was true, then any hope of reasoning with Mosley was surely over. In his twisted mind, he could feel justified in killing Annie, Grace, and Maurice, however nonsensical those reasons were. But how could he possibly justify killing Tilly’s father?

“We don’t know that, Tilly,” said Laurie, shuffling down into a sitting position next to her as the boat began moving. “Let me see your hands,” she added, peering down at the red, raw strips on Tilly’s wrists as the girl leaned forward.

The boat tossed from side to side as it made its way out to open water. Laurie fought against images forming in her mind of being sealed in a tomb, as the water slapped against the hull of the boat. The motion was rhythmic and soothing in its way and Frank appeared to be drifting to sleep. “We need to get these off,” said Laurie, using all the strength in her legs to push herself up, a cramp seizing one hamstring, then flashing into her calf muscle.

She was thinking there had to be something sharp enough to break the zip ties, when the cabin was thrown into darkness. Tilly screamed, waking Frank, who asked where they were.

“We’re in the hull of the boat, Frank, and the flashlight just went out. Nothing to be worried about.”

Leaning up against the small metallic sink, Laurie devoted herself to working the zip tie against the counter, though each movement sent shivers of pain through her. Even if she did manage to get free, the doors were sealed and she was growing increasingly worried that Mosley planned to abandon them in this floating grave, which wouldn’t last long against the elements.

“What’s that?” said Tilly, as above them the familiar, deep, tight rhythm of churning blades reached them.

“Coast Guard chopper,” said Laurie, picturing Patrick and his colleagues hovering above the boat, checking with Mosley that he was safe.

Tilly started screaming and Laurie waited for the sound to ease before telling her she was wasting her breath. They couldn’t possibly be heard, and there was nothing to arouse suspicion about Mosley’s boat. It wouldn’t be the only one out on the gulf on this day after the storm, and even if it was registered to him, she doubted he’d left any identifiable marks on its hull. She hadn’t seen a name on the hull, and the color and style of the boat were similar to hundreds of small pleasure craft she’d seen out on the gulf before. Maybe Mosley would arouse the suspicion of the Coast Guard enough for them to send out a boat to check on him, but there was so much going on just now that it felt unlikely.

The sound of the helicopter faded and Tilly began crying as Mosley throttled back on the boat’s engine. Laurie worked frantically on her ties, but she couldn’t get any purchase on the work surface. Her actions only made the pain that much more acute.

She sat down next to Frank as the door was opened, a blinding shaft of light filling the interior of the cabin as, outside, seagulls squawked and danced in the air.

“I’m afraid your friends are gone,” said Mosley, skipping down the steps to the cabin, jumping the last with an elaborate flourish. “But they might be back any time, so we need to get this over with. On your feet. Here, let me help you, old man.”

“That’s your father,” said Laurie, as if somehow in all the chaos of the last weeks Mosley had forgotten.

“I would say in name only, but he didn’t even give me that, did he?” said Mosley, lifting Frank once more with considerable ease and guiding him to the deck.

“Follow what I do,” said Laurie under her breath as Tilly got to her feet. She didn’t know if she said it for her own benefit, or the girl’s. She didn’t yet have any plan, but she had to remain hopeful that one chance, however small, would present itself.