Terrors of the High Seas - DK6 (50 page)

“Yeees?” Dar murmured.

Kerry wondered if it was the Dramamine working that fast. Her nausea eased and she felt her shoulders relax, despite the continued roll of the boat. “Wow. That works,” she whispered.

“Mmhm,” Dar agreed. “A little tough to do to yourself, though.” She put her arms around Kerry and pulled her back against her body. Kerry clasped her hands around Dar’s and exhaled, seemingly very content.

As the meeting time got closer, Dar was getting more and more worried about it. The knowledge that Bud’s safety was resting on her shoulders weighed on her, and she knew they only had the slimmest number of facts on their side.

“Dar?”

Dar rested her chin against Kerry’s hair. “Hm?”

“I’m going in there with you, to meet with DeSalliers,” Kerry stated. “Just in case you were thinking about asking me not to.”

Was I thinking that
? Dar could feel Kerry’s breathing under her hands, a slow and steady motion. “To be honest, I hadn’t really 288
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thought about it, Ker. Does it make sense to risk both of us, though?”

Kerry didn’t answer for a few minutes. Her hands stroked Dar’s, a gently comforting sensation. “I just want to be with you,”

she finally said. “I want to be there.”

It seemed right, somehow, if not logical. “Okay,” Dar said. “I’m gonna need all the help I can get, and you’re the best help I could hope for.” She couldn’t see the grin on Kerry’s face, but she knew it was there from the change in her voice.

“Thanks.” Kerry rested her head against Dar’s collarbone. “So, what’s the plan?”

Very good question
. “I figure we’ll meet with him,” Dar said.

“Try to set some ground rules. I want to get the money straight first, because if he doesn’t go for that, we’ve got a real problem.”

She kept her voice down, out of Charlie’s hearing range.

“Mm.”

“Get him to show us Bud, to make sure he’s on the boat,” Dar went on. “Then, I guess we let out what we know a bit at a time, see what happens.”

“We don’t know much.”

“I know,” Dar said. “Hey, let’s see if we can get that box open.”

They walked across to the console and leaned over the box as Bob watched them curiously. Dar picked up a pocketknife and opened it, starting to pry gently at the barnacles covering the box as Kerry held it.

“You think anything’s in there?” Bob asked.

“Probably not,” Kerry admitted. “I think Dar and I are just antsy and bored, and we want the time to pass faster.”

Dar glanced at her, a trifle startled at having her inner thoughts expressed with such clarity. “Hey,” she pried off a bit of sea life,

“that’s pretty good, Madame Fifi.”

Kerry smiled and fiddled with a clump of the discarded shells.

“How’s your stomach?” Dar asked.

“Fine,” Kerry answered absently. “See if you can get that part off, Dar.”

Bob got up and wandered over to them, peering over their shoulders. Charlie remained poring over the pages of data on the table.

Dar paused to listen to the radio as a weather bulletin crackled to life.

“This is the National Weather Service special advisory number six,
for the Eastern Caribbean islands and surrounding waters. A tropical
depression has formed just south of the island of St. Croix. Minimum
central pressure has been detected at 1008 millibars, and there is some
indication of a developing circulation.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dar cursed with feeling.

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“Marine interests in the area are advised to take precautions.

Highest detected winds are 30 knots, with gusts to 35 knots. The storm is
moving west northwest at approximately ten knots.”

Charlie got up and limped over to them, his brow creasing with concern as he heard the radio. “Damn.” He looked worried. “We left everything open at home.”

“Tell you what, we’ll get Bud and just head over there,” Dar told him with quiet confidence. “You’ll both be home tonight to take care of things.”

Charlie gave her a speculative look and sighed.

A soft crack made them all jump, then everyone looked at Dar.

She blinked at her hands, which had of their own volition continued to work on opening the box. The coral around the lid had broken off under her knife and fallen to the counter. She put down the knife and fit her fingers around the edge of the box, lifting it up and easing it past the last obstructing coral. Everyone clustered around and peered inside.

Bob craned his head to see. “What is it?”

Dar tilted the box to the light. A slim metal case was nestled tightly inside, its surface corroded by contact with the sea. She put her penknife to good use again—inserted the tip between the edge of the box and the case, and pried up. It resisted briefly, then popped free.

As Dar levered the edge up, Kerry reached inside and grasped the case, lifting it free of its wooden case and setting it on the cabinet top. “There’s a catch.” She touched the front side. “Like an old fashioned compact or something.”

Bob leaned closer. “Are those initials in the top?” He reached over timidly and scraped a bit of debris off the container. “I think they are!”

“Wharton’s?” Kerry picked up a rag from underneath the shelf and rubbed the top of the case. Faint indications of a monogram appeared, thinly traced lines that were difficult to interpret. “Could be.”

Dar gently picked at the rust around the catch. Having removed the bulk of it, she set down the knife and curled her fingertips around the front of the case, pushing down firmly on it.

It didn’t budge, and she felt the metal digging into her skin. She flexed her hand to put more pressure on the catch, forcing it in with a soft, sodden crack. As she set the case down, water spilled from the edges, along with grains of fine sand from the bottom. Dar lifted the top and laid it fully open on the cabinet, exposing its contents.

Not unexpectedly, the inside was full of sea bottom. A layer of sand covered whatever was tucked inside. Kerry brushed away the sand with her fingertips and removed the contents, which felt hard 290
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and slick to the touch.

“What is it?” Bob asked eagerly.

Kerry pulled it free and unfolded it. “Something plastic.” She opened it fully and laid it on the shelf. It was a notebook-sized sheet, encased in a stiff laminate, heavily creased where it had obviously been folded many times.

The writing on it was tiny. Even Kerry, whose vision was darn near perfect, had to squint at it. Dar didn’t even try. Instead she angled the light closer and turned, heading back toward the living area. “I’ll get a magnifying glass.”

“It’s been reduced,” Kerry said. “It’s a bunch of pages, laid out.”

The trembling in his hand indicating his excitement, Bob pointed. “Is that a will? That cover page looks like the one that got tossed out!”

Charlie grunted. “That’s a fisherman,” he said. “Knew what he was about in keeping that stuff. Bud ’n I have our important stuff done the same way, ’cept we got it full sized.”

Dar returned with a small, handheld magnifier. She handed it to Kerry, who focused it on the first square of miniscule lettering.

Everyone waited while the blonde woman read.

“It’s a trust,” Kerry murmured. “This part, and yeah—that section’s a will.” She pointed at a third set of pages. “Those are the documents of ownership for the boat. It’s all legal papers.” She looked up at Dar. “And this section at the bottom looks like his float plan for the Caribbean.”

Dar exhaled. “Proof he wasn’t nuts,” she said, “and that he was here for a reason.”

“Yes! Yes!” Bob yelled in elation. “There it is! We got him! We got the damn bastard!”

Dar held the slim, metal case in one hand and stared at it, her head shaking in patent disbelief. “I can’t believe we’ve had this damn thing the whole freaking time,” she cursed, lifting the top of the case and shutting it.

“Damn.” Looking profoundly relieved, Charlie exhaled.

“Damn, damn,damn!”

“I'm damn glad to see this." Dar sighed. "At least we've got something to work with now.”

“What?” Bob said. “Give it to me. That’s Tanya's!”

“Hey!” Kerry covered the sheet with both hands to block his hasty grab.

Dar clamped her fingers down on his wrist. “Leave it. That’s our only real bargaining chip.”

“You can't give that to him! No!” Bob wrenched his arm free from Dar's grip and lunged for the packet. Avoiding Charlie's outstretched fingers, he yanked at Kerry's shoulder.

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Dar reacted instinctively. Her left hand whipped up, tangling with Bob’s arm as she shifted and threw her weight against him.

“Get away from her,” Dar warned, aware suddenly of Kerry’s gently bemused look.

Charlie stepped between them and forced Bob back, shoving him against the wall. “Don't give me no excuses, you gutless git,”

he told Bob. “I don’t give a damn about no money or what you’re gonna get out of this. That there’s the key to me getting my partner back.”

“You can’t take it,” Bob panted. “You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”

Kerry slipped around them and carried the sheet with her over to the couch. “No,” she advised Bob. “
You
don’t understand what’s at stake here. Or what’s worse, you don’t care. Someone’s life is in danger; how can you even think about keeping this?” With a disgusted shake of her head, Kerry used a cloth to pat the sheet dry.

“Dar, I can’t even scan this. It won’t pick up these letters, even as a hi- res graphic.”

“I won’t let you turn that over to him,” Bob warned. “I won’t. I won’t; I…urp.” His eyes bugged out as Charlie got a big hand around his throat and started to squeeze.

The ex-sailor had lost his patience. “Shut the hell up ’fore I toss you overboard.”

Bob glared at all of them, but subsided. Charlie released his throat, staying close by just in case. “You can’t,” Bob muttered.

“You can’t.”

“We will,” Kerry replied steadily. ‘And if you try to interfere, you’re going to get hurt.”

“Damn straight,” Charlie agreed.

“DAR?” KERRY TIED the laces on her sneaker. “I have a question.” They were in the bedroom changing, by only the dim light of the bedside lamp. It was quiet and cool, and presented a last moment of peace before they went to do battle with the weather and DeSalliers.

Dar was fastening the top button on her jeans. “Mm?”

“How are we going to get to DeSalliers’ boat?”

Dar’s hands paused and she looked up. “He’s got a skiff, I think. I saw it hanging off a winch when we were onboard.”

Kerry at her gazed seriously. “What if we need to get back in a hurry? I hate to be at his mercy like that.”

The boat pitched, making them both grab for balance. After it steadied, Dar put her hands on her hips and frowned thoughtfully.

“We could swim, I suppose,” she said. “But in this weather, damn, I hope we don’t have to.”

Kerry stepped closer and slid her fingertips inside Dar’s waistband. “You think we should dress accordingly, just in case?

Not that I don’t love you in jeans, sweetie, because I do, but they’re a bitch to swim in.” She gave the waistband a tug. “Even if they are loose like these.”

“You’ve got a point,” Dar acknowledged, studying Kerry’s own outfit of a T-shirt tucked into shorts. “I could just go in my bathing suit with a pair of gym shorts over it,” she said. “You have a suit on under that?”

“Yes, I do, so that would be perfect,” Kerry agreed. She watched quietly as her partner changed, sliding out of the jeans and folding them neatly before she donned her bathing suit. “Dar?” In the relatively dim light, she could still see the reflections off Dar’s eyes. “Are you scared?”

Dar adjusted the shoulder strap on her solid black suit. “Of doing this?”

Kerry nodded.

“A little.” The dark-haired woman sighed. “Scared something else will happen and someone, us maybe, or Bud, will get hurt. Sure
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I’m scared.”

“I feel a lot better now that we have this.” Kerry touched the plastic coated sheet on the dresser. “It’s not just a bluff anymore.”

Dar nodded.

“Shame he gets to win, though,” Kerry observed. “Kind of frustrating, really. We get the answers at last, and now it’s for nothing. Patrick Wharton wins anyway.”

“I’ve got a theory about that.” Dar pulled a light, cotton short-sleeved shirt on over her suit, leaving it unbuttoned. “What goes around, comes around. He’ll get his one day.” She carefully stored her precious pocket watch in a drawer, tucking it into a fold of one of her spare shirts.

“Like my father did?” Kerry asked quietly.

Dar paused and looked at her thoughtfully. “You could say that,” she agreed slowly. “It catches up to you.” Her eyes dropped.

“Like it did to me.”

Kerry moved closer and her voice rose with her indignation.

“You’re not seriously comparing yourself to either Wharton or my father, are you?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Good.” Kerry bumped against her. “Then what are you talking about?”

Dar circled Kerry’s neck with her arms and rested her forehead against her partner’s. “I’m not really sure. Ask me again later,” she said.

The boat swayed and they both swayed with it. Kerry took hold of Dar’s waist and leaned in to kiss her. “Time to get going,” she said. “I’ll be glad when this is over.”

Dar rubbed noses with her. “Me, too,” she admitted. “Because when it is, I’m gonna kick everyone off this damn boat and put a do not disturb sign on the railing.”

“Right there with you,” Kerry said.

Dar tucked the plastic sheet into her back pocket and zipped it, then put her arm around Kerry’s shoulders and steered her toward the bedroom door. “Know what I was just thinking? The old man was a bastard. Maybe it’s poetic justice the kid took everything.”

Kerry sighed. “That thought had occurred to me. Though I’m not sure that the wife should be punished for the sins of the husband.”