Forty-Four Box Set, Books 1-10 (44) (40 page)

“Radar,” I whispered as the tears welled up in my eyes.

The boat was heading straight for me. I had no doubt I had been spotted. At the speed they were going they would be on top of me in less than a minute. I had no way to be sure who was back there, but somehow I knew.

I turned toward the lights of the island and kept paddling. There was nothing else to do.

The water all around me lit up as my shadow stretched out in front of me. The roar of the boat motor died down.

“Abby!” a familiar voice yelled out. It was Jack Martin. “It’s over. Give it up.”

But I wouldn’t. It was almost quiet now, the sound coming from my lungs mixing with the gentle lapping of the water against the kayak. I took a deep breath and let it fly.

“Help!” I yelled as loud as I could. “Help!”

I knew that sound traveled farther over water and I was hoping someone on the island would hear my screams. A moment later the boat motor roared back to life, drowning out my calls. The boat started circling around me quickly, whipping up the water.

It felt like I was in a whirlpool, waves coming at me from all directions. Someone jumped in the water and started swimming toward me. I was about to bring the paddle down on them when something caught me from behind. I turned around and saw Jack holding a long boat pole.

“Don’t make me use this again,” he shouted.

From the water, Phil pushed me toward the boat while Jack hooked the lip of the kayak cockpit and dragged me in.

A moment later I was aboard.

“That was incredibly stupid!” Jack said. “You could have died out here.”

He grabbed me hard by the arm and shoved me downstairs into the cabin. He was angrier than I had ever seen him. Maybe he was in charge of security and knew he would face Nathaniel’s wrath. I didn’t know and didn’t care.

I heard Phil cursing and felt the boat pick up speed.

All I could think about was how close I had come. My nose was stinging, but I refused to cry. I couldn’t believe it. The storm had passed, the conditions were perfect. And I had done it, I had escaped. Everything was going so well. The island was right in front of me. And then it had all gone to hell.

CHAPTER 18

The trip back didn’t take long.

“Get up here,” Phil called. “Don’t make me come down and get you.”

I stood on the dock a moment later, looking up at the house in disbelief.

“That’s right,” Jack said. “Take a good look. It might be your last for a while.”

He grabbed my wrist and led me up the path toward the front door.

I was expecting to see Nathaniel when we went inside, but he wasn’t there. In fact, no one was around. Other than the strong smell of coffee, everything seemed the same as when I had left a few hours earlier. I slowly walked up the stairs, more afraid than ever.

I had done my best. But it hadn’t been good enough.

I stood under the steaming water of the shower, trying to warm up. I stayed there for a long time, too tired and scared to come out.

When I finally did, I saw that someone had come in to start the fire. And on the desk was a pot of coffee and muffins.

***

I kept expecting Nathaniel to storm in, but he never came. I watched the night turn to dawn and then crawled into bed. It took a long time to fall asleep, but I eventually did.

I woke up sometime in the afternoon. It was still calm outside. Clear skies, no wind. It would have been a perfect day to be free.

As I stood looking out the window and trying to fight off the hopelessness that closed in around me, I heard the door open.

Nathaniel walked in.

I could see the anger that engulfed him. He walked up, standing close, staring at me.

“Abby,” he said.

I backed up to the wall and he followed me there, putting his face right up to mine, those cat eyes shiny and furious. I could hear him breathing hard. I hoped he couldn’t see me trembling.

“What were you thinking?” he said after a long silence. He stared at me for another moment and then turned and looked out the window.

“You know how lucky you are… that we came along?”

I moved over to the chair and sat down, not taking my eyes off him. I didn’t say anything. I took shallow breaths and bit my lip.

“This won’t do,” he said. “I have tried to be reasonable, tried to allow you to see what was possible here with me. But you’ve left me no choice.”

He left the room, slamming the door.

I went to the bathroom and threw cold water on my face.

A few minutes later, I heard a loud click out in the hall. I immediately recognized the sound of the deadbolt and suddenly found it hard to breath.

I had been locked in.

CHAPTER 19

I stayed in bed the rest of the day. I tried to watch a couple of movies but found it difficult to concentrate. Thoughts of home crowded my mind. Aspen leaves dancing gently in the breeze, the geese flying above, the river running through town. My house and my room and summer hikes up in the mountains.

I ached for home but I was finding it difficult to believe that I would ever see it again, that I would ever get away from here.

My destiny was coming into focus. I was to be an experiment that ultimately wouldn’t work.

I would die here on this island at the hands of a madman.

***

At just past seven that night, I heard the door unlock. It was Simon, carrying a tray. He walked into the room and set it over on the desk.

“Good evening, Abby,” he said. I was still in bed, watching a mini marathon of the old TV series
The Fugitive
with
David Janssen.

He smiled. He wasn’t mad. Not in the least.

“Well, I brought you your dinner. I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s my Chicken Alfredo, one of my best dishes I’m told.”

I looked over and saw there was a vase with a single rose on the tray.

I sat up.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. “And also for the flower.”

“Oh, the flower isn’t from me, but I’ll let him know.”

I cringed.

“Dr. Mortimer says to tell you that he will be working late tonight, so he can’t meet you in the library.”

Such a shame
, I thought.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re safe, Abby,” Simon said. “Maybe I’ll see you down in the kitchen tomorrow.”

“Not with the lock on the door.”

“Oh, he will unlock it in the morning,” Simon said. “And you are free to roam around the house. He does request that you stay indoors though. For the time being.”

I nodded and stared back over at the television.

“Get some rest.”

I heard the lock click and got up and ate dinner.

I would take the rest of the night off. And in the morning I would begin using whatever time I had left to find another way.

CHAPTER 20

I looked out the window at the island for the first time since I’d been back. It seemed smaller in the early morning light. Farther away.

I paced around the room, brainstorming.

How would I get off this island?

With the kayak gone, the boat at the dock was now the obvious answer. I would either have to find a key and take it myself, or sneak on board right before someone else drove off.

I started thinking of other things I could do that didn’t involve leaving the island. I could find a phone, or a computer with internet access. They must have some, somewhere here or in the guest house. But where, and how could I get to them?

The kayak was still a source of hope. They had made a mistake leaving it there, it was a serious oversight. And if they slipped up once, it could happen again. I had to be ready and leave no stone unturned.

I had to assume that any chance of talking to Kate was now out of the question. I couldn’t afford to believe it in my heart. But in my mind I had to be ready. If the opportunity presented itself, what vague clues could I drop into the conversation that would suggest where I was without alerting Nathaniel?

I came up with a few, more desperate ideas. I could send a message in a bottle. I had no doubt I would be dead long before anyone found it, let alone took it seriously. Along those lines, I remembered one of those survival shows I saw once where the host built a raft out of things he found on the beach of a small island. But I was pretty sure I didn’t have the skills or the time for that either.

I could try writing SOS in the sand in giant letters with pieces of driftwood for a plane to see, but would anyone see it through the fog and clouds? And would they take it seriously or just write it off as a lame prank? Then I thought of setting the house on fire. If the flames got large enough, especially on a clear night, it could be seen from a long way.

I remembered the two screams for help I got off before Jack and Phil captured me. There might be the slightest chance that someone heard me. They could have called the police. They could still be looking.

Anything was possible.

In the meantime, I knew it would be smart to pretend that I was beaten, as if the idea of escaping was completely out of my system, so that I could lull Nathaniel and his staff into a false sense of security. So that the next time I tried to escape, I would be successful.

By late afternoon, I decided to go down to the kitchen and see if I could find Simon. As soon as I walked out into the hall, the air grew heavy with the rich smell of meat, rosemary, and something else. Hazelnuts. Simon knew his stuff.

“Abby,” he said, looking over at me as I stood in the doorway outside the kitchen. He was wearing his apron.

“Hey, Simon,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. “The house smells great.”

He was holding a large pot. He put it down on the counter.

“I’m so glad you came down,” he said. “And perfect timing. I was just about to start the risotto. Want to help?”

He opened a drawer, pulled out an apron and handed it to me.

“Sure,” I said as I tied it around my waist. I washed my hands in the sink.

“Risotto is one of my favorite dishes to make,” he said, grabbing two knives out of a locked drawer. He handed one to me and then pulled out a couple of cutting boards.

“It’s full of passion and flavor and you can’t get better than that,” he said. “I start with an onion.”

He started cutting it up like the chefs did on the TV shows as I watched.

“Looks like you’ve had some training,” I said.

He smiled.

“Yes, actually. I’ve taken quite a few specialty classes and I’ve even been to culinary school.”

“What happened?” I asked. “How come you’re not a chef at some five-star restaurant? You’re really good.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve always just considered it more like a hobby. I don’t know if I would want to work in those professional kitchens. They seem pretty brutal.”

I laughed.

“Yeah, you mean like on those reality shows?”

I used to watch
Top Chef
once in a while.

“Yeah,” he said. “Like that one with that Gordon character always screaming at the top of his lungs. I think it’s like that too. But I guess my love for cooking really started to take off when I was in college studying to be a scientist. The dorm food pushed me over and I started learning how to make some decent dinners for myself.”

“Do you like being a scientist?” I asked.

He stopped chopping and looked at me.

“Well, yes, I do. But to be honest, I like cooking more. And here I get a chance to do a lot of it. And in such a beautiful location.”

He went back to the onion.

“Okay, your turn now.”

I started cutting, but I was slow and clumsy. But he patiently watched and didn’t correct me.

“Can you show me how you do it?” I asked. “I’d like to go faster, like you were doing.”

“Of course.”

He gave me some pointers. After a few slices, I got the hang of it and was done in no time.

“Do you mind if I play a little music?” he asked as I wiped the tears out of my eyes and backed away from the counter. “I usually play something while cooking.”

“Sure,” I said. “Do you want me to put it in?”

“That would be great,” he said. “Everything is over on the counter. How about some Tony Bennett?”

I smiled. It reminded me of something Kate would listen to. But it was cool. I liked it.

“I’ll put on the duet with Lady Gaga for you,” I said, smiling.

“One of my favorites,” he said, chuckling.

We chopped parsley and I grated a chunk of parmesan cheese as Tony sang about how the lady was a tramp and later about how his ship had come in. Simon took a bottle out of the wine rack and opened it. He brought over two glasses.

“You too, Abby,” he said, pouring just a little for me. “It’s an important ritual of fine cooking.”

I shrugged and took the glass from him.

“Chianti Classico,” he said. “One of the best wines, in my opinion.”

I smiled awkwardly and tried a little.

“Someday you’ll like it,” he said, studying my expression.

“I have chicken broth warming up over here. It’s important to always use hot liquid when making risotto or it won’t turn out like it should. I used a homemade chicken stock that I had in the freezer, but if you don’t have any, you can use an organic stock from the store I suppose.”

He then went to the pantry and pulled out a large container of rice.

“Always use Arborio rice, from Italy. It’s a must when making risotto.”

He handed me a wooden spoon.

“You know how to sauté, right?” he said.

He brought over the chopped onions and slid them in with some butter. Then, after a few minutes, he dumped the rice in.

The smell of the onion and butter and rice cooking together was amazing.

“We are going to cook the rice in the stock, adding just a little bit at a time and stirring constantly. Each time the liquid evaporates, add some more.”

He poured some of the broth into the pan and it sizzled as it hit the rice. I kept stirring as it cooked and evaporated and after a few minutes added another ladleful of the broth. This went on for about 20 minutes. Simon poured in a little white wine toward the end.