The Devil's Triangle (18 page)

A warm feeling of relief flooded through her body as she realised she was not going to get caught, but the sense of reprieve was short-lived. To her dismay, the initial rush of warmth did not disperse as she expected. Instead, it lingered, focusing into a burning sensation in her bladder as she continued to stay as still as she could. Her relief at evading the policeman, combined with the physical pressure from the branch against her belly, made the urge grow with unnatural speed into an intense need. She could not stay here long.

Every second stretched as Niamh’s discomfort intensified over the following few minutes. Ideally, she would have waited much longer before moving, but once she had started thinking about needing to go to the toilet, it became impossible to think about anything else. She couldn’t hear the policeman any more, but neither had she heard the car leaving. Would she hear it from here? Probably not, she decided. Had she waited long enough? It was impossible to tell, but she didn’t feel she could stay even a moment longer.

Tipping her body off the branch, she hung for a moment by her fingertips before dropping lightly to the ground. For a moment, she remained in a crouched position, one knee on the floor and senses alert for any sign that she might have been detected. The change of position had relieved the immediate pressure, but the desire had not gone away. Did she dare go home? There was a spare key hidden at the back of the house. The drive to the Sheriff’s Office building at Key West would take at least fifteen to twenty minutes. By the time they got there, booked in her father, gathered a search party and returned, Niamh estimated it would be at least an hour before they came in force to search for her. Even so, going to the house seemed risky.

‘I need a way to get off Summerland Key – and fast,’ she breathed.
But I’m not going anywhere until I’ve been to the loo
, she added in her mind.

Moving silently, she flitted from bush to tree to bush along the line of the canal until she approached the Mitchells’ house. There was no sign of the policeman anywhere. From her concealed vantage point near the Mitchell’s mooring, Niamh could see Moira moving around her kitchen, presumably making breakfast. On seeing her, thoughts of hiding in the shed vanished. With one final look around, Niamh raced up to the window and tapped urgently on it with her fingernails.

Moira looked around in surprise, but her expression turned immediately to a smile as she recognised Niamh. First she waved and then crossed the living area to the patio door to unlock it.

‘Mornin’, honey,’ she said. ‘Any news of the boys?’

Niamh shook her head. ‘No news yet,’ she said.

‘Really?’ Moira said, sounding genuinely worried for the first time. ‘I’d have thought they’d turn up by now. You been walkin’ the canal? Come in, come in! Don’t stand out there like a stranger.’

‘Had to stretch my legs.’

Moira nodded. ‘Well, I’m just heatin’ up some waffles for breakfast. Mitch is just gettin’ dressed. He’ll be right through. Would you like to join us?’

‘That would be wonderful, Moira. Thanks,’ Niamh replied. ‘But can I pay a quick visit to your rest room first?’

‘Sure. Go right ahead. You know where it is. Oh, that’s a nasty scrape! How did you get that?’

Niamh looked down at her leg to where Moira was pointing. She had been so focused on getting away from the policeman that she had completely forgotten the graze she had got from hurdling the fence earlier.

‘I tripped and scraped it down on the path,’ she said quickly. ‘Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt much. I’ll clean it up.’

‘You do that, honey,’ Moira agreed. ‘And I’ll have some antiseptic cream ready for you when you come back out.’

Niamh nipped across the living area to the far door and out into the hallway.

‘So has Matt gone out and left you alone already?’ Moira called after her.

‘Pretty much,’ she called back. ‘I don’t think he’s going to be back for a while. He’s gone to the Sheriff’s Office in Key West.’ Niamh hated lying, but this was close enough to the truth that she did not feel too uncomfortable.

‘So are they searchin’ in force yet?’

‘Oh, yes!’ Niamh called back, thinking of the charges that had been made against her father. ‘I’m pretty certain everyone is out looking for the boys now.’

‘Well, that’s somethin’ then. Don’t worry. They’ll turn up, honey. You’ll see.’

By the time Niamh returned to the kitchen, an idea had begun to form in her mind. Could she fool Mitch and Moira for long enough to make it work? Her heart began to race just thinking about it.

‘What do you like on your waffles, honey? I’ve got strawberry jelly, maple syrup, peanut butter . . .’

‘Maple syrup would be lovely, thanks,’ Niamh said quickly. ‘Good morning, sir,’ she added as Mitch entered through the far door.

‘Mornin’ Niamh,’ he replied. ‘And please – I’m no “sir” these days. I get all twitchy if folk call me anythin’ but Mitch. Gets me thinkin’ I forgot to retire.’

Niamh laughed nervously. ‘I can see how that might be disturbing,’ she said. ‘Um, Mitch, would you be able to go out and search for the boys again today? My dad and I would really appreciate it.’

‘So they didn’t come back last night then,’ he said, looking worried. ‘Of course, I’ll be happy to go out again. Did Matt say where he’d like me to go lookin’ ?’

‘No, he shot off to the Sheriff’s Office in a bit of a hurry this morning, so I was hoping that I might be able to come with you today. I told Dad that I’d be coming over here to ask.’

Mitch looked across at his wife, who nodded.

‘I don’t see why not. The forecast is pretty good. We should be able to cover a lot of water. Did you bring the glasses with you?’

Niamh’s heart dropped into her stomach and she knew her face must be reflecting her internal reaction as she struggled for an excuse not to go back to the house. ‘I think I left the binoculars you gave me in Dad’s car,’ she groaned.

‘Don’t worry, Niamh,’ Mitch assured her quickly, holding up a hand to stop any attempt at an apology. ‘I’ve got another set on the boat. We’ll just grab a bite and then we’ll get right on out there.’

‘Thanks.’

Breakfast with the Mitchells proved a severe test of nerves. Moira insisted on smothering her graze in antiseptic and made a big fuss over her as she did so. The cream stung, but not too badly. Niamh then struggled to eat her waffles, spending the entire time fighting an inner battle to keep from looking at her watch every thirty seconds. The maple syrup tasted sickly sweet, but she forced it down. Once she got away from Summerland there was no telling when she might get hot food again.

As she ate, she tried to second-guess what the police might do next. Would they radio ahead and call for a search team to come out? If so, there could be patrol cars arriving within just a few minutes.

‘All right then, Niamh,’ Mitch announced suddenly, making her jump. ‘I can see you’re itchin’ to get goin’, so let’s go down and fire her up, shall we?’

‘Great!’ she replied, leaping to her feet. ‘Sorry for all the trouble.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ he assured her. ‘I’d have only been out fishin’ or playin’ golf. I’m sure the fish’ll wait, and the real golfers’ll probably thank you for keepin’ me away. I don’t play well and I think I irritate ’em with my attempts at hackin’ round the course.’

‘If you hold fire for two minutes, honey, I’ll put together a pack up, so you’ve got some food with you,’ Moira offered.

‘That’d be great, dear,’ Mitch said, giving his wife a peck on the lips as he headed for the door. ‘I’ll just go and get the boat ready. I’ll be back for it in a couple of minutes.’

Niamh could not help taking a good look round as they left the house. To her relief, there was no one else about and Mitch didn’t seem to notice her furtive glances.

The Mitchells’ boat was a beauty. It was slightly bigger than her dad’s and it boasted a proper cabin below the deck, complete with a bed, a tiny fridge and some storage space. The name emblazoned along the stern read
Aloan Again.
She smiled. It was very in keeping with Mitch’s sense of humour.

‘Hop on in,’ he said, extending a hand to help her down.

Niamh did as she was told and watched intently as Mitch went round the boat, checking the engines, the cupboards, the fenders and the stowage bins. He worked methodically, appearing to check that every last thing was where it should be.
It must be his military training
, she thought.
Dad never checked half the things that Mitch is looking at.

Her chance came sooner than she expected. Mitch started the twin engines, switched on the radio, did a couple of further checks and then leapt up onto the bank, leaving the boat running at idle.

‘Back in a sec,’ he said. ‘Just goin’ to get our lunch from Moira and we’ll head on out.’

‘No problem!’ Niamh replied, heart pounding hard again. Could she do this? Was there enough time?

She stood up and watched Mitch cross the patio to the door. As he entered, she leapt up on the bank and ran to the front mooring rope. It was looped loosely over the concrete mooring post. She unhooked it, threw the rope onto the front of the boat and ran to the one at the stern. This one was similarly secured.

‘Hey! What are you doin’, Niamh?’ Mitch called from the doorway. ‘Don’t release the ropes, honey!’

Even at idle, the boat was pulling against the final mooring rope. Niamh hauled on the rope, pulling the boat back to gain the slack she needed and then, carrying the end of the rope with her, she leapt down into the boat.

‘NIAMH!’

Mitch’s voice had turned angry now as he realised that she knew exactly what she was doing. She grabbed the wheel with her right hand and the throttle with her left. A single glance was enough to realise that Mitch was sprinting towards her, face like thunder. There was no decision left to make. She was committed.

‘NO, NIAMH, DON’T!’

He was too late. Niamh pushed the throttle straight to half open and turned the wheel to the right. The boat responded instantly, surging away from the mooring with a guttural roar of power. Having pulled far enough from the bank to ensure there was no way Mitch could jump aboard, Niamh cut the throttle to idle again and looked over her shoulder to where he had skidded to a halt at the water’s edge.

‘Sorry, Mr Mitchell,’ she called. ‘I need to borrow your boat for a while. I haven’t got time to stop and explain, but I’ll bring it back as soon as I can, I promise.’

‘Don’t be a fool, Niamh,’ he shouted back, clearly trying hard to control his anger. ‘This is stealin’. Think what you’re doin’. You don’t want to be gettin’ lost like your brother. Don’t make me call the Sheriff’s Office. Get back over here and we’ll go out lookin’ for the boys together like I promised.’

‘It’s not that easy, sir,’ she replied. ‘There have been . . . complications. Sorry, but I’ve got to go now. Please don’t think too badly of me.’

Turning away, she pushed the throttle forward as far as she dared. The engine roared, the prow rising as the boat surged forward. There was no time to worry about speed limits. She wanted to get as far from Summerland Key as she could before the police returned. Niamh had never driven a boat before, though she had seen her father and brother do it on lots of occasions. It did not seem hard.

Moira added her voice to Mitch’s, but Niamh closed her mind to both of them and concentrated instead on the waterway ahead. She could see the end of the canal and the open water beyond. She had never really paid much attention to what the boys had been doing when she had gone out with them on her dad’s boat. Where should she look first? Where
could
she go that the police would not find her?

As she sped from the canal into the shallow open water beyond, the realisation of what she had done began to sink in. A cold shiver ran down her spine. She had stolen a boat – and not just some little rowing boat, but an expensive cabin cruiser! There was no escaping the scale of it. Stealing something like this was a serious crime.

Niamh was awash with feelings of guilt, yet she was also inexplicably excited. She had stolen the Mitchells’ boat! The more times she said it to herself, the less real it seemed. She tried to imagine what Beth would say when she heard.

‘I haven’t stolen the boat,’ she corrected herself aloud. ‘I’ve just borrowed it. I’ll take it back just as soon as I find the boys.’

She closed her eyes and tried to picture her brother. It was not as easy as it had been before he and Callum had disappeared. Although she still felt the gaping hole inside her where a part of her brother had apparently resided, the vague wisp of him still haunted the darkness. It was not much, but Niamh felt sure Sam was still alive. Could she use that wisp like a compass to find him? She didn’t see how, but given time she might be able to figure it out.

Time. It was all about having enough time. How much did she have? It was hard to tell. The search effort for the boys would be increased this morning. Now it would be extended to include her. Had she done the right thing by running? If she had gone with the police, she could have explained how going out on the boat had been the boys’ idea and nothing to do with her father. Maybe they would have released him and they could have continued the search together. But her dad had said he’d been out flying in the seaplane with Geoff that morning, so he would be able to provide a credible alibi and clear his name easily without her help. Had running made things worse? Perhaps she should turn back now and apologise to Mitch . . .

Explaining. Apologising. The police. All would eat precious time. No. Her mind was made up. She would follow her instinct and try to use the faint link she could feel with her brother. She might be Sam’s only hope. Opening the throttle even more, Niamh turned the boat in a gentle arc until she was driving directly out to sea.

There was no time for regrets now. Her focus had to be on finding the boys. If she could do that, then everything could return to normal. They were out there somewhere. She was certain of that much. Narrowing her eyes against the spray, Niamh set her mind to the task ahead.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN