Rebel Island (Tres Navarre #7)(66)

“The lighthouse,” Garrett said.

Chase paled. “Mr. Lindy.”

“What?” I croaked. I looked around and realized the old man wasn’t in the group. Surely he hadn’t gone in after me?

“I saw him,” Chase said. “He went up that way, toward the lighthouse. He had a gun.”

38

Ty shivered on the beach. His eyes stung from the smoke, but he was glad to be outside. He couldn’t imagine anything better than watching that horrible old building burn.

“Calavera will shoot us now.” Chase paced a rut in the sand. “So what if we got out of the building?”

“Maybe not,” Markie said halfheartedly. “He can’t take us all.” He had a smudge of ash on his jaw like war paint, but it made him look ridiculous. For the first time, Ty didn’t feel afraid of him. After seeing the Mexicans in the boat, Ty found it hard to be scared of his companions. He’d seen the real threat, and it had calmed his nerves. If the Mexicans decided he needed to die, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“He’ll f**king execute us,” Chase insisted. “There’s no help coming. Nothing.”

Ty scanned the ocean. The rain had stopped. He still felt claustrophobic. The island was too small. His skin itched with the need to leave. But it was so much better than being inside that hotel.

Suddenly he knew what he would do. If he got off this island, he would quit school and head back to the ranch. The hell with what his father said. The hell with Chase and Markie. He would work cattle the way his family had done since his great-grandparents’ time. He would live under the open skies again, and if the Mexicans ever came after him, he would see them coming. They would learn how well he could shoot.

A dark spot appeared on the horizon. Ty watched as it got bigger. Then he started to laugh, because he knew either death or rescue was coming, and he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

“What’s your problem?” Markie growled.

“A boat.” Ty pointed to the sleek black cruiser that was racing straight toward Rebel Island.

39

The first gunshot came as I reached the lighthouse doorway.

Normally, this would not have inclined me to rush inside, but things weren’t normal. Benjamin Lindy was standing in the middle of the room, a .22 in his hand. I didn’t know how he’d found a second gun. At the moment, it was not my first concern.

Alex Huff was still sitting at the table. He was hunched over, fingers laced together, like a man in casual prayer. There was a bullet hole in the floorboards between his feet.

“To answer your question,” Lindy told him, “it is loaded.”

Both men saw me at the same time.

Lindy turned the gun on me. “No offense, son. But I’d like you to step outside. You won’t be taking my sidearm twice.”

“Don’t do this, Lindy.”

“Mr. Huff is the only one who can dissuade me,” Lindy said. “And I’m sorry to say he hasn’t done much on that count.”

Alex looked dazed. I doubted he could’ve mounted a rational defense even if he’d been so inclined. And he did not look inclined.

Black smoke drifted into the lighthouse from the burning hotel. The heat on my back was intense. I figured there was a good chance the building frame would collapse against the lighthouse and kill us all—or at least those of us Lindy didn’t shoot first.

“It’s all gone, isn’t it?” Alex tried to focus on me. I wasn’t sure if he realized who I was. “The hotel. Everything.”

“You destroyed it,” Lindy told him. “You killed my daughter. Her two little girls. You tried to kill everyone on this island. You will account for that, sir.”

The smoke stung my eyes. The roar of the burning house was louder than the storm the night before.

Alex swallowed. He looked at Lindy with an expression of pain, maybe even regret. “It’s not the way you think.”

“You deny you killed them?”

Alex looked down.

Outside, a distant voice yelled, “Hey! Heeeeey!”

It sounded like Ty down by the beach, as if he were trying to get someone’s attention. Almost as if he was hailing a boat.

Too optimistic, I thought. I couldn’t be that lucky.

Garrett would be coming up behind me sooner or later. I didn’t know how he would make it up the path, but I knew he would try. I wanted this resolved before he got here. Unfortunately, Lindy still had his gun pointed in my direction.

“Lindy,” I said, “when your wife left you, you know where she went?”

His jaw clenched. “That is none of your business.”

“She left you for another man. Alex’s father. She came here, to Rebel Island.”

Lindy’s gun hand sagged. I thought about jumping him, but his expression made me hesitate. The old man looked like he was collapsing from the inside, like someone had set off a fire-bomb in his chest and any second it would burn through his skin.

I turned to Alex. “The statue you made. That was your mother.”

“She died of cancer when I was young,” Alex murmured. “My father never got over it.”

“Rachel was your half sister,” I said. “After the bombing, you saw her picture in the papers. You realized who she was.”