Bermuda Heat (28 page)

Chris shied away from the wall, bumping into David’s chest.

David grabbed him to steady him. He was startled to see a dead gull lying against the stone abutment. Had it lost its way and smashed into the Causeway as it tried to find its own shelter? It looked pathetic, a sodden mass of feathers and dull, lifeless eyes.

The gull’s broken wings twisted in the wind, making it look like the bird was trying to take flight again.

They skirted the hapless gull and pressed on, both of them ignoring their failing strength, neither willing to surrender.

Ahead of them, two dark figures appeared through the gray shroud of rain.

David gripped Chris’s arm so hard he stumbled against him again. Before Chris could cry out, David pointed ahead of them.

“There,” he said. “That’s gotta be them.”

Saturday 8:15pm, The Causeway, St. George’s Parish, Bermuda
Chris crept along the rock wall after David, trying not to do anything that might attract attention. A figure leaned against the bulwark. No longer stylish hair hung down over his face. At his feet Imani had collapsed on the sodden pavement. From his gesticulations, it was plain Daryl was shouting at her. Nothing could be heard above the storm. That was probably why they caught up to the fleeing pair; Imani had put up a fight all the way, slowing Daryl down.

David pulled Chris over into his embrace. David was shaking nearly as hard as Chris. He pulled Chris down against the wall.

“We can’t let him see us just yet.”

“How do we reach him?” Chris asked through chattering teeth.

David considered their options for a minute or two. Finally he said, “We’re going to have to split up.” He pointed to his left, showing a sweeping arc that would take one of them around Daryl, going between Daryl and St. George’s. “I’ll go that way, you approach him more directly. If he spots you, chances are he’ll spook and try to take off. If he does, or worse, tries to grab Imani, I’ll be ready and I’ll head him off.”

“What if he’s armed?” The cold Chris felt this time had nothing to do with hypothermia. “I mean besides his knife.”

“None of his crimes seem to involve firearms. No reason to think he’s got a gun at this date.”

“You like to gamble, don’t you,” Chris muttered. But David was right. They had no proof Daryl had ever had any weapon beyond a knife and the silk tie that he had stolen from David. He hadn’t needed one, had he?

“He’s been out here even longer than us.” David’s speech
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was growing slurred and Chris could hear his teeth chattering. “I doubt he’s in any better shape than we are.”

Chris hoped he was right. But then Daryl was unpredictable in the worst way, a man who may have graduated to murder, even if it wasn’t intentional. Chris could imagine a dozen ways the whole mess had gone down. Daryl had left Florida abruptly, even though from all appearances he was doing well. Why? Had he raped someone there? Killed someone? And if he had, was that what Joel had figured out about the man who was so interested in his daughter? Had he known why Daryl left Florida? In retrospect, it seemed obvious that Joel had been suspicious, and if he confirmed that suspicion, or was about to, what would have happened to Daryl if the truth had come out? Is that why Daryl killed him? Desperate people did desperate things; things they were sorry for later. And if the hot-tempered Jay had let himself be talked into the assault on David and then later reconsidered his action… The way Chris saw it, Daryl had two options: accept the consequences, or eliminate the problem all together. He might even have regretted Jay’s death. But a man facing a lifetime in prison might do unthinkable things to avert that fate.

“Including killing his best friend,” Chris said.

David leaned closer. “What?”

“Nothing.” Chris wiped the water out of his eyes. Not that it did much good, the rain and wind were unrelenting. He broke away from David’s grip and began to beat his way toward the other side of the Causeway. He ignored everything but putting one foot in front of the other.

Wind slapped and howled around him, driving water that felt like a thousand spikes into every piece of exposed flesh.

He swore it took hours, but was probably only minutes, before he reached the far stone wall. He clung to it for several seconds, trying to still his racing heart. Taking deep, lung-clearing breaths, he tucked his chin into his chest to keep the water out of his nose. His mouth was agape in a vain attempt to suck air into his starved lungs. Moving parallel to the wall, he inched along it, using it as support. He could finally see Daryl again, but BeRMudA heAt
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couldn’t make out where David was. Imani remained huddled at Daryl’s feet. Chris hoped his attention would be on Imani, that he wouldn’t be paying attention to things around him.

But Daryl must have seen something. His head snapped back and he grew rigid. Then he whirled and darted toward the airport.

David appeared out of the thundering rain and ran after him.

Chris wondered where he got the energy from. He tried to head Daryl off. Daryl didn’t see Chris right away, but when he did, he stumbled, trying to turn sideways. Chris wondered where he thought he could go. It was a good thing Daryl had no idea how weak Chris and David were.

Daryl either wasn’t paying attention or he was really desperate.

Maybe he figured the water this close to shore was shallow enough he could wade ashore in it. He slammed into the wall, and bent over at the waist. Chris shouted and bolted toward him, even though he knew there was no way Daryl would hear him.

David reached him first. He and Daryl went down as David jerked him off the wall. Their feet got tangled and neither of them could get up. Chris reached them as David threw Daryl off and tried to scramble away on his hands and knees. Chris hurled himself at Daryl, ignoring the snap of overworked muscles and joints. Together the two of them slammed onto the hard pavement. Daryl grunted as the breath was knocked out of him.

He gasped, writhing helplessly under Chris, who wasn’t doing much better. Daryl thrashed around as he caught his breath and tried to buck Chris off.

“Get off me, you fucking faggot!” he roared, wrapping his hands around Chris’s throat. “Leave me alone.”

Chris’s vision grayed and he could feel his consciousness failing. He grabbed Daryl’s wrists, but he was too weak to budge them. Then, in one last desperate bid he rammed his arms in between them and with a shout, dislodged Daryl’s deadly embrace. He rolled free, feeling the bite of Daryl’s boot in his side.

Chris ignored it. He crab-crawled over to where Imani lay unmoving. He pulled her into his arms and smoothed the tangled
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hair off her brow. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey, Imani. You’re okay.”

“C-Chris? Where? How—?”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“Oh, God. Daryl… Daryl came over…” Chris leaned in closer to hear her tiny voice above the roar of the storm. “He wanted to tell me how s-sorry he was about Dad. H-he seemed so sweet. I thought—”

“Don’t,” Chris managed to say. “Don’t talk about it. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I should have known better, should have known David would never hurt anyone…”

She struggled to sit up. “You have to tell him—”

“Hey, he knows. You’re his sister. How could he ever think badly of you?”

Chris’s vision was red-tinged and his throat felt like he’d swallowed rusty nails. He blinked when Daryl appeared in front of him and lunged for Imani. “Bitch,” he roared, and ripped her from Chris’s arms. “This is all your fault.”

Something large and angry flew into Daryl, knocking him sideways. Chris clutched Imani and together they watched David pummel Daryl. Chris was mesmerized by David’s fury. He blinked to clear his eyes of blood and water, and began to grow alarmed when David didn’t back down, even when it became clear Daryl had no more fight in him.

Beside him Imani made a sound. She was staring at David, and Chris could feel her terror.

He crawled across the pavement and grabbed David’s arm as he swung it to pound Daryl one more time. He was dragged between the two of them, knocking them apart. He shouted,

“No, David. Stop. He’s not worth it.”

Finally Chris’s words seemed to penetrate the enraged man.

He shook his head and straddled Daryl’s unconscious body.

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“Please, David. You have to stop. Please.”

David looked from Chris to Imani. He rolled off Daryl, who didn’t move. David crouched on the roadway, his shaggy, sodden head in his hands. Chris was horrified to see his fists were covered in gore and blood. Gently he took one in his.

“Oh, David. You’re hurt.”

David took his hand away. He reached up to stroke Chris’s face, brushing away his tears. “Don’t, hon. Oh, don’t do that.

You know I can’t stand it when you do that.”

Chris snuffled and wiped the snot off his nose, giving David a weak grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to feel sorry for myself.” He shot a glance at Daryl. “Is he…?”

David’s face hardened. “No, he’s okay, more’s the pity.”

“David.”

“I know. Trust me, I’ll refrain from killing him, though it’s only what he deserves.” David glanced over at Imani again.

“How’s she holding up?” he asked softly.

“Better than I am. Your sister’s one tough lady.”

“Hey, what did you expect?”

Daryl groaned and David was immediately on him again. He bent low, checking his pulse. When Daryl opened his eyes, David loomed over him.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

“Get off me,” Daryl snarled. “You fucking fag—”

David leaned closer, pressing his knee into Daryl’s chest. “I’d be real careful what you say,
Mosby
. Until the cops get here, I’m in charge. And if you piss me off I just might dump you in the damn bay and you can show me how well you do the Australian crawl.”

Daryl’s eyes shot over David’s face then flashed to Chris, who tried to look as tough as David did. He didn’t once look at Imani.

He wanted to say, “He means it,” but knew his voice would be too squeaky to be menacing. Instead he put his hand on David’s arm. David rose and turned away from Daryl. He took
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Chris in his arms.

“God, I love you,” he murmured, stroking Chris’s back.

“We’re almost there, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there. I’m going to be glad to go home.

L.A.’s never seemed so sweet.”

Chris leaned back and met David’s eyes. He narrowed his own. “Don’t think for one minute you’re getting out of this holiday.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Imani joined them. David hugged her and they bent their heads together. When they broke apart, Imani was crying. She dashed the tears and rain from her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, David—”

“Don’t.” David’s voice was savage. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of this. This is all his fault. He’s the thief who stole everything from you. Put the blame on him.” He nudged Daryl with his foot. “You need to keep on being strong.”

The storm continued to lash them as they huddled against the wall. Daryl tried to raise his head, but the wind battered him down. He gave up and slumped into semi-unconsciousness.

Chris looked at him, then looked away. He hoped Daryl would be okay, it wouldn’t be good for David if he wasn’t. But there was nothing they could do until the storm abated.

They huddled together, only moving when Daryl stirred, at which point David would crawl forward and inspect their prisoner. When he was satisfied Daryl was as good as he could be under the circumstances, he would crawl back to Chris and Imani. Chris was only half aware of David’s actions. At some point he slipped into unconsciousness, only to wake up when David shook him, calling his name.

Chris stared up at him, bleary-eyed.

“Stay with me, hon. We’re almost there,” David’s voice broke.

“Don’t you dare give up on me now.”

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Chris knew David was talking, but his words were a jumble of incomprehensible sounds, overridden by the roaring wind and surf that kept bathing his face in salt water. He shivered, knowing he shouldn’t be cold. It was July on a tropical island. How could he be cold? But his denim jacket was too thin and too sodden to keep in body heat. He couldn’t stop the shaking. His teeth chattered uncontrollably. David rubbed his arms, trying to work some warmth into his limbs. Chris wanted to tell him he was wasting his time. All he needed was a few minutes sleep. He’d be okay then. Just shut his eyes for a few minutes—

“No!” David stopped rubbing his arms and started shaking him. “Don’t you dare.”

Chris tried to answer, to tell him it was all right. But darkness descended on him and the last thing he saw was David’s concerned face. His last thought: why does he look so worried? We’re in the clear.

Nothing can go wrong now.

Saturday 9:45pm, The Causeway, St. George’s Parish, Bermuda
Frantically David hauled Chris upright. He resisted the urge to shake him again. Instead he stroked Chris’s head, smoothing back the hair on his brow. He stared down at Chris’s face; he’d long ago memorized every line and mark of his beauty.

He heard a choking sound behind him. He’d forgotten about Daryl. He turned to find him pushing himself upright. He grinned at David, showing a broken tooth in his bloody mouth.

Imani gasped. Her hand went to her mouth.

“He’s dead,” Daryl said.

“Nooo—” David moaned. He buried his face against Chris’s neck. A faint pulse beat there.

Daryl’s smile became a ghastly grimace and blood dribbled from his mouth, washed away in pink streaks down his chin.

He coughed, spitting out more blood. It only briefly stained the roadway before the rain slicked it away. “One less faggot. Bye, that stinky.” His laughter turned to a choked gargle.

“Shut up,” David’s voice was low and deadly. Daryl ignored it.