Whisper of Bones (Widow's Island #3)(27)

They broke into a run, stopping at the sagging door to the boathouse. Logan peered through the crooked gap at the hinges. The boathouse had three slips, each with its own boat lift to raise the boat out of the water when not in use. Wooden walkways separated the slips. Only one lift was occupied. A small outboard runabout hovered above the water. Roger had put the child down and was dragging her by one arm toward the boat. The old structure groaned under their weight, and black water lapped at the pilings.

Abby had found her voice and her spunk. She dragged her heels, resisting. “I don’t want to go. You’re hurting me.”

Roger brandished the knife in her face. “Shut up and do what I say.”

“I hate you!” she cried. Despite her brave front, her voice trembled.

“Stand right there. Don’t move.” Lowering the knife, he shoved her ahead of him. She stumbled, almost falling into the icy water.

“Don’t fall in!” Roger yelled. “That water is cold enough to kill you.”

Logan startled as Tessa tapped on his arm. She motioned for him to circle around the boathouse. Leaning close to his ear, she breathed, “He’s not holding Abby right now. It looks like there are some missing boards on the other side of the building. See if you can sneak inside and grab her. I’ll distract Roger.”

He started around the building. Despite the cold air blowing off the water, sweat ran down his forehead as visions of dead children danced in his head.





11


Tessa waited for Logan to disappear around the building. She looked through the crack again. Roger had put the knife in his pocket to free his hand to work the lift levers. A soft hum sounded, and the boat began to lower.

Where was Abby?

Tessa spotted her standing in front of Roger. Tessa had no shot. The child was in the way.

The boat was almost in the water. Tessa needed to stop Roger now. She could not let him take Abby away on the boat. There were hundreds of islands in the area. He could hide on any one of them. Who knew how long it would take for the coast guard and sheriff to go after him? Roger might dump Abby overboard when he no longer felt he needed a hostage.

Tessa opened the door to sneak inside, but the hinges squeaked. Roger whirled, grabbing Abby by the hair. The boat bobbed as its hull settled into the water. In her peripheral vision, she saw Logan crouching on the opposite side of the boat.

Time to distract Roger.

Just inside the doorway, Tessa yelled, “Hands up!”

About fifteen feet away, Roger dragged Abby across his body again, but he didn’t have the knife out. He fumbled in his pocket.

“Ow!” Roger’s bandaged arm jerked. Abby had bitten him. His gaze went from the child to Tessa. In one quick movement, he shoved the little girl into the water of the empty slip. Abby hit the water with a splash. Roger hit another switch, and the overhead door that led to the water began to roll upward. He jumped onto the boat.

Tessa looked over the edge of the walkway. Inside the building, with no light, the water was black as ink. Panic bubbled in her throat. “Abby?”

Where is she?

Bubbles burst on the surface of the water, and then Abby’s head broke through. Unable to reach the child from the walkway, Tessa jumped in. The shock of the cold water closing over her head paralyzed her for a few seconds. Then she kicked to the surface, her boots and clothes dragging at her. Abby was treading water a few feet away, her hair plastered to her head, her face white. Her head went under; then she resurfaced, sputtering.

Tessa swam to the little girl. “I’ve got you. Can you put your arms around me?”

Abby flung her arms around Tessa’s neck, nearly taking them both under. Tessa adjusted her grip and kicked toward the dock.

The boathouse door went all the way up. Roger was going to escape—for now. But Tessa could live with that. Abby was safe. Logan plucked Abby from the water. Next, he pulled Tessa onto the walkway. Her body shook with a bout of uncontrollable shivering.

“Shit!” Roger shouted from the boat. He was twisting the key, but the engine wasn’t turning over.

Confusion filled Tessa as Logan took the handcuffs from her belt. Why wouldn’t the engine start?

He jumped onto the boat. Roger’s hand went to his pocket, and he fumbled for his knife. Logan didn’t bother drawing his weapon. He punched Roger in the face. Roger’s head snapped back, and blood spurted.

“How dare you use a child as a shield!” Logan punched him again. The turmoil on his face alarmed her. He cocked his arm to throw another punch.

“Logan, that’s enough!” Tessa shouted.

He froze, then lowered his arm and took a deep breath. Blood was smeared across Roger’s face. Self-control reestablished, Logan twisted Roger’s arms behind his back and handcuffed him. Then he patted down Roger’s pockets. Finding the Swiss Army knife, Logan put it in his own jacket pocket. Then he dragged Roger off the boat.

Relief flooded Tessa. “What happened?”

“He’s wasn’t going anywhere without this.” Logan pulled a coiled red cord from his jacket pocket. He’d removed the engine kill cord, a piece of plastic wire connected to a switch on the dashboard or engine of small boats and Jet Skis. The driver of an open boat wore the cord attached to his wrist or clothing. If he was thrown overboard, then the engine would stop, and the boat would not run over him.