Wild Card (Stone Barrington #49)(21)

“Looks like Sherry’s boss thinks she’s worth the trouble of killing,” Rawls said.

“Killing?” Jamie asked, appalled.

“They didn’t hunt her down to spank her,” Rawls replied.

“Maybe if we leave them alone, they’ll get the next ferry back,” Stone said.

“Dream on,” Rawls came back. “That Cessna of yours is at the airfield. They could know it from Rockland. They know you’re on the island, and pretty soon they’ll know where.”

“What’s your advice?” Stone asked.

“I’d kill ’em and put ’em at the bottom of the bay,” Rawls said, “but I know you’re not going to do that.”

“They’d just send somebody else,” Stone pointed out.

“Good point.”

Jamie spoke up. “I can’t believe you two are standing around talking about killing people.”

Rawls sat down. “There, is that better?”

Stone sat down, too. “Are the state police on the island today?”

“Nope, not until the weekend. If you had a good enough reason, you could call them, and they’d chopper in.”

“Were the two people packing?”

“The man was. I don’t know about the woman. Women hide things.”

“He’s probably got a Maine carry license,” Stone said.

“Probably. You could wait until they take a shot at you, then kill ’em,” Rawls said. “Trouble is, they might kill you first.”

“I wouldn’t like that,” Stone said.

“Neither would I,” Jamie echoed. “Why don’t we just get the hell out of here?”

“And go where?” Stone asked. “Back to New York? The Thomases have people thick on the ground there. If we have to fight them, I think I’d rather do it here.”

“Shoot first,” Rawls said. “Think later.”

“Good advice,” Stone replied.

“Call the state police,” Jamie said.

“If I did that, they’d arrest Sherry. The Parkers have reported the van stolen, and after all, she assaulted Hurd with a rock.”

“She was in fear of her life on both counts,” Jamie said.

“She’d still spend a couple of days in jail before we could get her released,” Stone pointed out. “She’d be vulnerable inside—there are no rocks.”

“I can try to scare ’em off,” Rawls said.

“If you did, they’d come back with reinforcements,” Stone said.

“Why don’t you just get your ass aboard Breeze and get your party the hell out of here?” Rawls asked. “I’ll cover you while you’re getting aboard.”

“I like that idea,” Stone said. “They may not know about Breeze.”

Bob and Sherry came down the stairs, looking rested. “Did I hear we’re decamping?” he asked.

“Sherry,” Rawls said, “who at the Camden marina could connect you with Breeze?”

“There was a kid in the dockmaster’s shed who told me where to find her, and there were three or four guys who helped launch her. They were in the big shed, getting out of the rain, when I went looking for Todd.”

Stone got out his phone. “Let me make a call. I’m a pretty good customer over there.” He dialed the boatyard and asked for the manager, Jim Hughes.

“Yes, sir?”

“Jim, this is Stone Barrington. How are you?”

“Not bad,” Jim replied.

“Yesterday, a young lady boarded Breeze in the yard.”

“I heard,” Hughes replied.

“Who else knows?”

“Half a dozen people, I guess.”

“Has anybody inquired about her?”

“No. My people are tight-lipped about who does what on our yachts. And if somebody was asking questions, I’d hear about it pronto.”

“Good,” Stone said. “I’d like to keep it quiet.”

“I’ll speak to the lads.”

“Get a case of beer out of my storage shed, ice it down, and spread it around at the end of the day.”

“I’ll do that. They’ll be appreciative.”

“Thank you, Jim.” Stone hung up. “Okay, that possible leak is sealed.”

“Are we sailing away?” Bob asked.

“After dark. We’ll have dinner here, then go before the moon rises. Ed, you want to join us? A few days at sea would do you good.”

“You could be right,” Rawls said.

“Throw something in a bag and join us for dinner,” Stone said.

“How are you fixed for arms aboard?” Rawls asked.

“Bring your personal weapon. We’ve got a small armory.”

“See you for dinner,” Rawls said, then left.

Stone brought Bob and Sherry up to date, then called Captain Todd and gave him his orders.





17


The moon was just rising as they left Stone’s dock in the yacht’s big tender, purring along at five knots, so as not to disturb anyone sleeping in the moored boats. They heard a loon emit its haunting song from somewhere. Stone looked around; he had heard many loons in Maine but had rarely ever seen one.