Tainted (30 page)

“I promise. Where are you going?”

“Upstairs. I need to get a compass for the fog. There's one upstairs. I'll be right back.”

She ran for the stairs, leaped up them, looking, for a split second, like a little girl.

Like Katy.

Jack had had Katy for a while now. If Holly was right and they'd gone to the Bad Boy's Island, they'd have been there for a while already. He saw the blood on the sheet, Henry's mangled chest, the awful, bloodstained knife.

Don't go there. Don't go there until you have to.

They set out for Billy's house, but before they'd gone two minutes down the road, Holly heard the sound of a car approaching them.

“Quick, get down,” she whispered, taking his hand and dragging him with her into the bushes bordering the road. “Hide. It could be Farley or the other one.”

They crouched together as a police car came around the corner and passed them.

“Shit,” Billy swore. “I think it was Farley. He might be going to find us.”

“We have to run. Come on.” She stood, set off racing toward his house. He overtook her a hundred yards before the beginning of his drive; by the time she reached his car he was in the driver's seat and had started the engine.

“Great. Good.” She was panting. “We just have to pray we don't run into another car on the road here. Once we hit the paved road we should be OK. No one will be looking for this car.”

They took a left-hand turn at the end of the driveway onto Birch Point Road.

“We hope. If Farley came looking for us and didn't find us—”

“I know. But he might have gone to Henry's.”

“Why the huge windbreaker? It swamps you.”

“I told you—I'm cold.”

“Where's the compass?”

“In the pocket. But I won't need it. I can find my way there. And I know how to steer a Whaler. I'll be fine.”

“No way, Holly. Not I. We. I'm going with you.”

“That's the same as having the cops with me. You know how much Jack hates you. It won't work. The minute he sees you—”

“I've already thought of that. Because of the fog he won't be able to see us until we get really close. If he's there.”

“He's there all right. I know it. I can feel it.” She kept checking the road ahead and behind, listening out for any sound of a car.

“Anyway, as soon as we see Henry's boat, I'll slip off the stern of the Whaler into the water. I can swim around the side; he won't see me. You know how good a swimmer I am. I can go around the side of the island, sneak up from behind. If it goes wrong, if you can't talk him down—I'll be there.”

“It's not a good idea. It's not safe.”

“It's happening, Holly. I have the keys to the boat. You're not leaving without me.”

She clenched her fists. It could be the worst possible idea ever. But what choice did she have? She could see how hard he was gripping the steering wheel of the car; she knew she couldn't dissuade him.

I'll figure out how to make him stay in the boat when we get there. I'll figure it out then.

They'd reached the end of Birch Point Road: no cars had passed them. She turned around: no car was following them. Billy pressed on the accelerator.

Six, maybe seven minutes to the dock if they drove fast enough. And then? It was calm. The boat could go full throttle. Twenty minutes and they'd be at the Bad Boy's Island. If she was right and could find it in this fog.

Shit.

“Does your boat have gas?”

“Yes. I filled it up a couple of days ago. Full tank.”

Thank God.

“Billy. Thank you. Thank you for doing this.”

“As if I wouldn't?” He was racing down the road, looking straight ahead. “I'm not as much of an asshole as you think I am.”

“I never—”

“Yes, you did. Forget it, OK? It doesn't matter. None of it matters now.”

No, it didn't. Nothing mattered. Nothing except Katy. How had Jack explained it to Katy? “
Princess, we're going on an adventure. A little boat trip like our car trip that night.
” Is that what he'd said?

Why hadn't she listened? To Billy—to Anna. To Henry most of all. How could she have thought him taking her out like that was innocent, harmless? Why hadn't she listened?

“You fucking idiot.” She pounded her forehead with her fist. “You've been such a fucking idiot.”

“Stop it, Holly.”

They were going past the graveyard now, turning left to head for town.

What did you wish for that first night, Jack? I wished for you. Do you believe that? I wished for you.

“What are you going to say to him?”

“I don't know. I have to make him understand he can't hurt Katy, that hurting Katy won't help him.”

“Shit—that's your phone. Is it Farley?”

Holly had pulled the cell out of her pocket.

“Yes. What do I say?”

“Give it to me.”

“Hello? . . . Yes. Yes. She got worse again. Like before. I'm taking her to the hospital. I know, I know you said that but Jack knows her cell number too if he wants to call and she's in bad shape. Have you heard anything? . . . Really? I see. OK. Thank you.” He closed the phone, handed it back to her.

“They were seen in Cumberland Farms—Jack was buying food. And they're getting in touch with all the buses that left from the Mill Pond.”

“Did he buy the hospital story?”

“Yes. He still thinks they're on a bus. They're concentrating on the Boston buses.”

“That gives us a little more time. When was he seen in Cumberland Farms?”

“He didn't say.”

Within minutes they were at Cumberland Farms themselves. Billy signaled, took a sharp left-hand turn toward the marina, so fast the tires squealed. When they reached the car park he cut the engine and they both leaped out, not bothering to close the doors, racing to the pier.

“Jump in,” Billy yelled when they reached the Whaler. She leaped on board, immediately began to untie the ropes holding the boat in its berth while Billy put the engine down, started the motor. “OK—we're going. Hold on.”

He reversed so quickly she lurched forward, but got hold of the side, righted herself until he put it into forward, gunning it so hard she lurched to the other side.

He wasn't paying attention to any speed limits, was blasting through the calm waters, heading out of the Shoreham River. People on board boats coming in the other direction were yelling at him to slow down, but he kept going, zigzagging between the buoys marking the channel.

There had been some visibility when they were near the land, but as soon as they got out of the channel into open water, the fog became so dense it was palpable.

“
A real pea-souper,
” Henry would have said.

Henry. I need you. How could he have done that to you? I thought I knew him. I thought he loved me. And you. And Katy. How could he have done that to you? He must have known he was killing a part of me when he murdered you. And now he has Katy, Henry. Our Katy. I will not let him hurt her. I won't let him.

Peering through the fog, trying to see the end of the dike, she felt sick. It was a joke. She couldn't see more than a few feet in front of her. There were no more buoys marking the channel.

“Where's the compass? I'm thinking if we head northwest we'll be in the right direction.” Billy stood at the steering wheel, straining to see ahead.

“I couldn't find it.”

“But you said—”

“I know. I couldn't find it.”

“Shit.”

“Keep straight ahead. I know the way. I can remember. I know I can.”

“We don't have a prayer. Jesus.”

“Just go straight—we'll see the dike in a little while. A few minutes. Go straight and to the left a little.”

“Fuck!” Billy swerved the wheel. “A fucking lobster pot. Shit. I almost ran over it. And then the engine would have been fucked.”

“It's OK, it's OK, you're doing well.”

“We should call the harbor police. They can get out more boats, they can—”

“No. Just a few more minutes, you'll see. We'll see the dike. If we don't you can call.”

They were silent as the boat plowed ahead. Holly kept staring, looking and looking for the familiar sight of the dike, but there was nothing. A lone seagull flew above them, flapping its wings, gliding.

Like some albatross. I wish it would make a noise. It's deathly. This fog is gray and deathly. It's like a shroud. What is he doing with her? What is he doing with her on that island? Is he on the island? Am I right? Or has he taken the boat into the middle of nowhere, stopped in the middle of the ocean and . . .

“Holly—I can't see it. I can't see anything. We have to call—”

“Wait. Wait.” She could see it. Or was she imagining it? A shape of something ahead. Something real, solid, looming in the distance. Or was it a mirage? “Keep going. I think I see something. Head a little to the left. That's it. Now straight. It's there—see?”

“No.”

“Look—the lighthouse. The lighthouse on the end of the dike. Do you see it?”

Billy leaned forward, concentrating.

“I think—wait. Yes. I see it. You're right. I can see it now. We're heading straight for it.”

“Swing the boat around so we're parallel to it.”

He turned the wheel. Holly stood beside him, reached out, turned it a fraction more. “That's it—if we keep on straight now, we should get there in about . . .” She checked her watch. “In about ten minutes if we keep at this speed.”

“There's nothing between here and Nantucket except that island. If we miss it . . .”

“We won't. I sailed there so many summers. I never landed on it, but I know it. I know this is the right course.”

“How could Jack find it in this fog?”

“It wasn't that foggy before. Remember? It was drizzling but the fog didn't really set in until just a while before we left.”

They were silent for a few minutes, until Billy said, “What's she like?”

“What?”

“Katy. I want to know about Katy.”

“Why?” She already felt as if she were stretched out on a rack; this comment of his turned the notch even tighter. “Because you don't think you'll ever
get
to know her?”

“No. Because I want to know.”

“She's . . .” Holly thought of adjectives. So many adjectives, none of them coming close to doing justice to Katy. “She's perfect, Billy. She's the best, the most perfect girl in the world.” She paused. “It's this love. I don't know how to say it. It's not just that I'd die for her. Mothers say that, parents say that, I know. And it's true. It's a given. But that doesn't begin to cover it. The love I feel for her is in every bone in my body, every cell in my body. A world without Katy—it's—it's not possible. But I can feel her. I know she's alive. I'd know if she weren't, you know?”

“I guess I can imagine.”

They kept going, silent again now, both of them constantly scanning the horizon.

“A little . . .” She reached over again, turned the wheel a tiny bit to the left.

“Are you sure?”

“I think so.”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing was in sight. Turning around she looked back to the lighthouse but it had disappeared.

“I don't know.” Her eyes went to the left, to the right. Where were they? They must be on the right course, but now she wasn't sure. Now she had lost all sense of direction. “Wait a minute. Slow down.”

He pulled back on the throttle.

“I think this is right. It must be. We've gone straight from the lighthouse, right? A little to the left but straight. I don't know.” She spun around in a circle. “It has to be right. Unless we're too far to the left.” She checked her watch. “We've been going seven minutes. So we should hit it in three. But shouldn't we be seeing it? At least an outline?”

“This fog is unbelievably thick. We might not see it until we hit it—literally. Or if we miss it by a few feet we'll miss it totally. What do you want me to do?”

“Put her in neutral. Just for a second. I need to get my bearings again.”

She could see from the look on his face that he didn't think it was possible. He slowed the boat further, put it in neutral; they sat on the still, glassy water, adrift.

“We're lost, aren't we?”

“I don't know, Billy. I know we were headed in the right direction. I don't know.” She wanted to throw herself off the boat into the water, swim for it. But swim where?

Katy. Where are you? Katy?

If she called out Katy's name would Katy hear her and call back? Or if Jack heard her? What would he do?

Why? Why is this happening? How could this have happened? How could I have done this to Katy? If only I hadn't gotten on that bus. If only he hadn't sat down beside me. If only I'd listened to people when they told me. I've been so selfish. So disgustingly selfish.

What have I done to Katy? How can I save Katy?

The seagull had caught up with them; she saw it hovering above them with its beaky little eyes. Still gliding soundlessly, another harbinger of doom, this one a silent one. The image of Bones lying across Henry's chest assaulted her, that sad, lost look in his eyes.

“Oh, my God, Billy. I don't know where we are.”

“We have to call the police now.”

As she reached for the cellphone in her pocket she heard the familiar cry of a seagull. Looking up, she saw that it wasn't the one following them that had cried out, but another, a smaller one. It circled around the boat then headed off, flying off to the right, the first one following it.

“Go after them. Quick. That second one came out of nowhere. It might have come from land. It might have come from the island and it might be going back.”

“That's a lot of ‘mights'—are you sure?”

“It's our only hope now. Yes. I'm sure. Go—quickly.”

He pushed the stick forward, took off after them.

They'd gone thirty seconds when Billy said in a hushed voice, “Look, I think that's a boat. Look ahead—to the right.”

She saw it: a form in the water, a hull, like a ghost ship stranded for centuries. Henry's
Sea Ox
.

“Cut the engine,” she whispered back.

“I see the island now. I see it. I'm going off the stern. I'll get in the water without making any noise and swim around, OK?”