Freefall (34 page)

The ambulance took a weeping Misty away. Sabrina hoped she would be all right, but suspected it would be a long time before she was back to the way she'd been before stumbling into Harlan's sick and deadly web.

Or maybe this would turn out to be a life-altering event for Misty. Perhaps, having survived an experience that so many others hadn't, she would realize she'd been granted a second chance at life.

As Sabrina herself had.

Although she'd protested, Titania had allowed Nate to take her to the clinic, where she'd been given some ice for her bruises, then sent home and told to rest. To which Nate had responded that he would be sure she stayed in bed.

Something she'd had no intention of arguing with.

"I can't believe I'd forgotten turning on my Black-Berry when I got edgy about the way Harlan was acting," Sabrina said after they'd taken John back home, where the team had gathered to plan the rescue mission.

They'd picked up the Viper and were on their way to Zach's rental house in the marsh. Although Sabrina still loved Swannsea, she wasn't quite prepared to return to it tonight, knowing that both her grandparents had been killed beneath its slate roof.

"It's probably a good tiling the drugs he gave you made you forget." He laced the fingers of his right hand with her left. "If you'd thought of it after waking up in the cage, you might have shown a tell."

"A
tell
?"

"Yeah. The little signs people give that tell others what they're thinking. Like when you're playing poker and the guy across the table tugs his ear when he draws a bad card. Or taps his finger on his leg beneath the table if he's bluffing. That sort of thing."

"Oh." She thought about that for a moment. "So what are your tells?"

"I don't have any."

"I don't believe that."

"It's true. Which is why I almost always win."

"Except when your father takes you to the cleaners," she said.

"He told you about that, did he?"

"Not just me. I think everyone on the island knows who the big kahuna of poker is in the Tremayne family."

Zach shrugged. His lips curved. "He's not getting any younger. I figured his manhood might be in danger if he was publicly beat by his kid."

"Yeah. I noticed how old he looked the other day nailing those forms together. There were guys out there a third his age who were having trouble keeping up with him."

"It's a ruse. We all get together and do it for his ego."

"Right," she scoffed.

"He loved her," he said suddenly. "My father, your grandmother."

"I think I always sensed it. There was something special between the two of them. He'll miss her."

"Yeah, and he'll regret that he didn't figure out what was happening and save her. But he'll deal with that. Because he's a survivor. And that's what survivors do."

"I guess we both know something about that."

"I guess we do," Zach agreed.

"It's amazing that Harlan got away with all those murders for so many years." She shook her head, still stunned by the idea of the family's own Ted Bundy living among them. "Do you think all the stress of having the golf course built by his burial grounds and Lillian's illness was what had him spinning out of control?"

"Who knows?" Zach shrugged. "The guy was a nutcase for a long time. Makes sense that he would eventually unravel." He glanced up at the rearview mirror. "Shit."

"What?"

"You're going to think I'm crazy."

"Let's see. My grandfather's spent the past fourteen years buried in my grandmother's garden. My grandmother was killed by her insane cousin, who murdered not only his wife but apparently scores of other people that the police will probably start digging up any day—"

"Which will probably send Sumner's golf community property values into the crapper."

"Proving that there's always a silver lining," she added. "I myself have been drugged and kidnapped, forced to write a Unabomber-type manifesto, and have all these parts of my memory that seem to have disappeared, like soap bubbles. So, given all that, who am I to call anyone crazy?"

"Okay, maybe a better word is 'paranoid.' "

"Have I mentioned that I don't think I'll ever look at a fish delivery truck the same way again?"

"No, but that makes sense. Because you've got a reason. I could swear that every time I go out, someone follows me."

"Undoubtedly one of those infamous SEAL groupies," she quipped. When he didn't immediately respond, she looked over at his grimly set face. "Oh, wow. You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I am."

"Well, why don't you pull over? Not everything has to be planned to the nth degree. If the guy following you pulls over too, you can ask him, or her, what the hell's going on."

He glanced over at her. "That's not such a bad idea."

"Thank you."

He twisted the wheel, scattering gravel as he pulled onto the narrow shoulder.

"You might have thought about slowing down first."

"What fun would that be?" He leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips.

A pickup truck pulled up behind them. And stopped. But did not cut the lights.

"Stay put."

"You're still wearing your gun," she said. Although she'd been really glad he'd brought it to Whispering Pines, it still made her nervous.

"That's the point," he said. "I'm going to leave the car running. If anything bad goes down, you get the hell out of here."

"Like if you're in trouble I'm going to leave you out here in the middle of the night in the marsh? Think again, Tremayne."

"I'm serious, Sabrina."

"Yeah. I can see that from the way your jaw juts out. Which is, by the way, I believe, a
tell
. Besides, if I let anything happen to you, who's going to father my children?"

"Children?"

"Your father and I had a little chat while you and Nate were talking to the state guys who showed up after you called in the shooting. He thinks we both missed out, being only children. So he's suggesting at least two. I thought three is a nice round number. Well, maybe not exactly round. But it
is
prime."

She glanced past him out the window. "Oh, look. It's the bulldozer guy."

"Who?"

"The man who's been driving the bulldozer digging up the garden. The one who found my grandfather. Which, I suppose I should thank him for, because, as upsetting as it admittedly was, in the long run—"

"Fuck!"

"What's the matter?"

"Do you know what his name is?"

"Of course not. I haven't said more than ten words at a time to him. You know—good morning, nice day, great job. Does it make you feel powerful to drive such a great big machine? That sort of thing. Why?"

"Although he goes by Gunney, which is short for 'gunnery sergeant' in the Marines—"

"Which explains the cap. The USMC cap," she said at his look.

"Yeah. But I've taken over writing the payroll checks the last few weeks, and that guy's real name is R. L. Cunningham."

"So?" Comprehension, when it dawned, was stunning. "Oh, my God. It couldn't be…"

"Richard Cunningham? I'll let you know."

He opened the door, flooding the interior of the car with light for a moment. Allowing her to see both the hardness and the dread in his blue-gray eyes.

She watched the two men walking toward each other, like they were reenacting
High Noon
or something.

And remembering all the weapons the former military men who'd shown up to rescue her had been carrying, she had not a single doubt that R. L. Cunningham was armed with more than a cap pistol.

She cut the engine. Both men turned toward the light as she opened her passenger door and came around the wide red front of the car.

"I thought I told you to stay put," Zach said.

"You did. And I told you I wanted children."

She held out a hand. "Hello. I've watched you work. You're so amazing at what you do. I'd be afraid to even climb up that high."

She gave him the same smile she'd used to break the news to Brad and Angelina that their three-bedroom suite wasn't going to be available quite yet because the pop star currently in the room with members of her entourage had read her horoscope that morning and taken the warning about not making any sudden lifestyle moves way seriously.

"You're the Marine's father. Richie."

His eyes narrowed, going from her to Zach and back to her again. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Well, the name, for one thing. And from what Zach has told me about your son, there's a very strong family resemblance." She reached out and touched a hand to his arm. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Uh, thanks."

"No. Thank you. And your son. For your service."

She turned toward Zach, who had remained silent, apparently willing to play this out. She did notice, however, that his hand stayed close to the holster he was wearing on the back of his jeans.

"I imagine Mr. Cunningham has come here to hear about his son," she said to Zach. "About how brave he was on that mountain. And how he took out those tangos and saved so many lives."

"He told you about that?" Gunney asked sharply. "About the battle?"

"A bit. Not all the details, of course, because I'm not sure I'd fully appreciate them, being a civilian and all. But he certainly told me about how brave Richie was."

Her smile was soft, sincere, and warmed her eyes. "Although… I hope you won't be offended, but he called him Opie."

To Sabrina's dismay, the big tough Marine's eyes turned bright with suspicious moisture.

Oh, great. Make him cry, idiot.

"His mother and I called him that," he revealed.

"I didn't know," she said simply. "I'm also sorry you lost your wife so tragically. And so young. I know the pain of losing family members, Mr. Cunningham, having lost both my parents and more recently my grandmother. I also know, as I'm sure you do, that the pain never goes away. But you do get so you can live with it."

She thought of Lucie's dream of her walking down the stairs in her wedding gown and felt her own eyes grow moist as it struck home that her grandmother wouldn't be here to see her come down those stairs to a waiting Zach.

"I'm sorry." She brushed at a tear with the back of a finger. "I guess I'm a little emotional. I've had a rather difficult day." Week. Month.

She turned to Zach. "Why don't you invite Mr. Cunningham to go out on your boat, Zach? I'll pack a lunch, and you can tell him about his son." She looked up at the older man. "I've recently discovered, thanks to you and your bulldozer, that knowing the truth, however difficult it might be, is vastly better than not knowing. And wondering."

The two men looked at each other.

"There's not going to be any work done on the site until SLED takes that tape down," Zach said. "I haven't been out on her since I got back. I'd be glad to have some company."

Gunney took a deep breath. Dragged his broad, scarred hand down his weathered face. "Yeah. Sounds okay to me."

"I'll meet you at the pier at noon."

"I'll be there." He shoved his hands in his back pockets and looked back and forth between Zach and Sabrina. "Would you mind, ma'am, if I have a word with Mr, Tremayne?"

Sabrina hesitated.

"I promise I won't shoot him."

She nodded, her expression as serious as his. "I'd appreciate that, Sergeant. Given that I have plans for him."

Both men watched her walk back to the car, climb in and shut the door, casting the interior back into darkness.

"I came here to the island to kill you," Gunney said.

"Yeah," Zach said. "I figured that out."

"Then I figured maybe I'd kill
her
. So you'd know what it felt like to lose someone you loved more than your own life."

Zach shook his head. "Never happen. No way would I have let you touch a hair on her head."

"Yeah. I got that tonight. Good job taking that Honeycutt guy out. Put a nutcase like him into the system, and you never know what's going to happen. Maybe he escapes. Maybe he cops an insanity plea. Maybe he gets put in some hospital for the criminally insane and one day, twenty years from now, he's back on the streets. Threatening your wife. And kids."

"We're definitely on the same page there," Zach said.

"So." The Marine blew out a long, slow breath. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Noon," Zach agreed.

He was halfway to the car when Gunney called his name. "Yeah?"

"Better hang on to her. Because, although I don't know how you did it, being as ugly as you are, and all, and a fucking frogman to boot—but you caught yourself a keeper."

"Roger that," Zach said with feeling.

"So?" Sabrina asked as they sat in the car on the side of the road and watched the truck's taillights disappear into the night. "Can you tell me what he said?"

"He thinks I'm ugly."

"Well. They say beauty's in the eye of the beholder."