The Devil's Triangle (8 page)

The boat plunged so deep into the next wave that the tip of the wave came straight over the prow and for a split second, it was all Sam could do to hang onto the wheel as the blast of water hit him. Suddenly, the deck was awash. Water sloshed round his ankles, leaving Sam in no doubt just how easy it would be for the sea to claim his life. Sturdy though
Dream Chaser
was, she had not been built for these conditions.

‘Cal! Grab a bailing bucket. Front hatch. Down there,’ Sam ordered, sparing a hand to point at the storage locker for a brief moment. ‘If we take too many waves like that, we’ll go under.’

‘Are we going to be OK, Sam?’

‘Of course we are,’ Sam responded automatically. Inwardly, he was shocked. Callum’s voice sounded more despondent than he would ever have believed possible. ‘Just hang on tight and trust me. I’ll get us back.’

The words sounded as hollow as he felt inside. Was he making empty promises? Another enormous wave reared, lifting the front of the boat to an alarming angle. It crossed Sam’s mind that for the first time in his life, he would actually welcome the sound of Niamh’s voice telling him, ‘I told you so!’ He was not looking forward to facing the wrath of his dad, but even that confrontation would be better than staying out in this storm.

Where was the land? By all rights, they should be in shallow water by now.

He gripped the wheel tighter as the rain pounded his head, shoulders and back with increasing fury. The rain felt icy, and the seawater sloshing around the deck, even colder. The combination of salty spray and driving rain stung his eyes, making it hard to see. His T-shirt and shorts were plastered to his body and his muscles were tightening, partly in reaction to the drop in temperature, but more from fear. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Callum locate the bailing bucket. Within moments, his friend began emptying bucket after bucket of water over the side.

‘I will get us back!’ Sam swore under his breath. ‘I will.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘
Dream Chaser
, this is Mitchell Home Base, how do you read? Over.’ Moira released the transmit button and waited. There was a long pause. She tried again. ‘
Dream Chaser
,
Dream Chaser
, this is Mitchell Home Base, can you hear me, Sam? Over.’

Nothing.

Suddenly, the radio receiver crackled into life.

‘Hi, hon! Is there a problem? Over.’

Moira smiled and gave Niamh an encouraging look. ‘Hey, Mitch, yeah! Matt Cutler’s boy Sam and his friend have taken Matt’s boat out and Niamh’s worried about them. We don’t seem to be able to raise him from here. Can you try, please? Over.’

‘Wilco, hon. Stand by . . .
Dream Chaser
,
Dream Chaser
, this is Mitch. Sam, can you hear me? Over.’

Pause.

‘Dream Chaser, Dream Chaser
, this is Mitch Mitchell. Please respond, Sam. Over.’

Nothing.

‘Home Base this is Mitch, no response, hon,’ Mitch reported. ‘Do you want me to go look for ’em? Over.’

Niamh nodded at Moira. ‘Please!’ she mouthed.

‘That would be great, Mitch. Niamh tells me they were planning to go out just beyond the edge of the reef. Over.’

‘No problem. I’ll call you back when I get out there. See you later, hon. Out.’

‘Thank you so much, Moira,’ Niamh said, her heart pounding. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

‘You’re welcome, honey,’ she said, giving a broad smile that flashed her perfect white teeth. ‘Come on. Let’s go back in the house and get comfortable for a bit. It’ll take Mitch a little while to get out to the edge of the reef. He doesn’t normally head that far out.’

Every thirty minutes for the next two hours they went back out to the garage and called Mitch. Each time, the answer was the same. He had seen and heard nothing of the boys.

Although the sensation was strangely remote, Niamh could feel that Sam was in terrible danger. In her mind’s eye she could feel him battling the boat through monstrous waves. He was terrified, but alive. She looked out of the window. The weather was fine outside. Was she imagining it? The feeling was so faint that she was not sure if it was real or her mind was playing tricks on her.

In the past when she had sensed her brother’s emotions, they had been much clearer. Often she found herself literally feeling his pain, or experiencing his emotions, as if they were her own. This was different. It was as if a dense veil had descended between them. The sensations were strangely detached and the hollow feeling inside her remained, gnawing at her mind in the same way that hunger sometimes chewed inside her belly.

Niamh felt something of that hunger now, but she couldn’t eat. Even the thought of chewing made her stomach churn. Moira had made her a beautiful fish salad for lunch, but as she held the fork in her hand and looked again at the food, Niamh realised that she had done nothing but push it round the plate. How could she eat when the boys were in such danger? She should have tried harder to stop them. As soon as she had realised what Sam was intending to do, she should have taken the keys to the boat and hidden them. Could she have done that? There must have been something she could have done to keep them from going.

Was this what Dad felt like when Mum disappeared?
she wondered. She had no solid proof that anything had happened to the boys. They might come back at any minute, but she couldn’t help thinking about how her mother had vanished off the Keys in a boat of similar size. Something about today felt horribly familiar.

Suddenly, her mobile phone rang. Its loud, warbling ringtone made Niamh jump. She scrambled to dig the handset from her pocket. It was her father.

‘Dad! Thank goodness! Why haven’t you been answering my calls?’

‘Sorry, darling. I went up for a quick trip in the seaplane with Geoff, so I had to turn my phone off for a while. I should have rung and told you first. Sorry about that. I just got your message. What’s the problem?’

‘It’s Sam and Callum, Dad. They took the boat out.’

‘They did WHAT! Where are they? Put Sam on. I want to talk to him right away.’

‘That’s just it, Dad – I can’t. They haven’t come back. I was expecting them back by now. I’ve got a really bad feeling . . .’

‘I’ll be back in about five minutes. Don’t panic, Niamh. I’m . . .’

‘Dad, I’m at the Mitchells’ house,’ she interrupted, sensing he was about to hang up. ‘Mr Mitchell’s out looking for them.’

‘Oh! OK. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.’

Niamh looked up at Moira Mitchell who was giving her a sympathetic look.

‘Don’t worry, honey,’ Moira advised, her voice as upbeat as ever. ‘I’m sure the boys’ll turn up. Boys are kinda irritatin’ like that. Believe me, there’ll be times when you’ll wish they stayed lost for longer. I sometimes think that God must have somethin’ in for us womenfolk, inflictin’ the likes of them on us.’

It was hard not to smile. Moira’s irreverent humour had an infectious quality. Mrs Mitchell put her hand to the side of her mouth and added in a conspiratorial stage whisper, ‘Of course, some of ’em do have one or two redeemin’ features.’

‘Which are?’

‘Give it a few years, honey,’ she answered with a smile. ‘I feel sure that with looks like yours, you’ll find one who’ll show you. Just you wait an’ see if you don’t.’

For the next few minutes Niamh sat perched on the edge of the couch, nervously twisting her empty glass round and round in her hands. With Dad on the way, she began to feel sick again. What would he do when he got here? Would he blame her for not stopping the boys? He seemed to expect her to mother her brother despite the fact they were exactly the same age. It wasn’t fair. He expected too much.

‘I’m just goin’ to see if Mitch has any news for us yet,’ Moira announced. ‘Do you wanna come?’

‘Absolutely,’ Niamh said without hesitation. Then she glanced out through the front window.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll leave the garage door open. Not that we wouldn’t hear him arrive from in there. Come on, honey. Hopefully, we’ll be able to put your mind at rest before your pa gets here.’

Why Moira thought this radio call would be any more fruitful than the previous ones, Niamh didn’t know. The woman seemed to be an eternal optimist. It had been nearly half an hour since their last communication with Mitch. Maybe Moira was right to be positive, but Niamh knew inside that Moira was chasing false hopes.

Rather than turn on the lights in the garage this time, Moira pressed the button to open the main door. Even as the door began its clanking ascent, she crossed straight to the workbench where the metallic-grey radio box was neatly positioned. Sitting down in the swivel seat, she flicked on the power, checked the settings and picked up the microphone.

‘Mitch, this is Home Base. Over.’

There was a slight pause and then the unmistakable sound of Mr Mitchell’s voice responded. ‘Home Base, this is Mitch, go ahead. Over.’

‘Any news of the boys, Mitch? Over.’

‘Negative, Home Base and I’m runnin’ low on gas. Returning this time. Over.’

‘Roger, Mitch. See ya shortly, honey. Out.’

‘ETA Home Base in ten minutes. Out.’

Moira replaced the hand microphone in its holder and turned to Niamh with an apologetic shrug. At that moment, Niamh heard a car approaching and turned to see her father swing on to the driveway in the hired SUV. The car skidded very slightly as it stopped too abruptly. Niamh glanced at her watch in surprise. He had not wasted any time in getting here. The car had barely stopped before the door was open and Matthew Cutler was out, his face a picture of worry.

‘Glad to see ya made it in one piece, Matt,’ Moira drawled. ‘Hope you didn’t frighten too many locals on the way. They get kinda testy if you screech around like a lunatic.’

‘Hi, Moira,’ he replied. ‘You know I don’t normally drive that fast, but needs must when the devil drives.’

‘Oh, you don’t wanna let him drive,’ she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘The devil makes for a lousy driver.’

‘Yes, well . . .’

Niamh ran to him and wrapped her arms round him, clasping him tight to her. He looked frantic with worry, and as she hugged him, she could feel the tension throughout his body. Moira was trying to lighten the moment with her humour, but Niamh knew it was unlikely to get through to her father now. The circumstances would be touching all sorts of raw nerves within Matthew Cutler, but she knew that if anyone could work out what was happening, he could. Now he was here, she felt instantly better. He would know what to do and where to look. He knew this area intimately.

‘Moira, thanks for looking after Niamh for me,’ he said eventually. ‘Is there any word from Mitch? Has he found them?’

‘’Fraid not,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘He’s on his way back now to pick up gas, but I’m sure he’ll head on out again as soon as he can. Would you like a beer while you’re waitin’?’

‘No thanks, Moira,’ he said, his eyes distant. ‘Have you rung the coastguard yet?’

‘And tell ’em what, Matt? “My neighbour’s son and his friend’ve taken a jaunt in his pa’s boat an’ not come back yet.” The Key West coastguards are busy people. We can’t prove the boys are in trouble. They’ve only been gone a few hours. The weather’s still fine. They could be messin’ about on Picnic Island for all we know.’

‘If they are, then there’ll be hell to pay when they get back,’ Matthew growled. ‘Sam knows the weather’s due to turn stormy later.’

‘Something’s
happened to them,’ Niamh said firmly, locking eyes first with Moira and then with her father. ‘I
know
it has. They’re in danger. I can feel it.’

Moira caught hold of her hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. ‘I believe you, honey,’ she said. ‘But what do you think the coastguard is goin’ to make of your feelings? They get a lotta hoax calls.’

‘Are you saying you think Niamh is making this up?’

Niamh was surprised to hear the threatening tone in her dad’s voice. He rarely got angry, and certainly not with someone as well intentioned as Moira.

‘Of course not, Matt!’ she said immediately. ‘I’m just tryin’ to stop you from jumpin’ the gun, that’s all. No use in irritatin’ the good folks before-times. You want ’em on your side, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do!’ Matthew replied. ‘But I can’t just stand here and do nothing. Niamh has always had an uncanny sense when it comes to her brother.’

‘I had a feelin’ you might see it that way.’ She beckoned to Niamh. ‘Come on, honey. Let’s leave him to his call.’

Niamh watched as her dad took out his mobile and dialled 911. Moira opened the door from the garage into the house. She waved Niamh to follow her in, and hit the switch to close the garage door, flicking off the light switch at the same time.

‘Hello. Yes, coastguard, please. Thanks.’

Niamh hesitated at the threshold. She didn’t want to be rude and let all the cool air inside the house escape into the garage, but at the same time she didn’t want to miss her father’s conversation with the emergency services. The garage door was making its noisy, clattering descent. Her dad had placed a hand over his free ear to better hear the person on the other end of the line. Just as the door completed its descent with a final clash of metallic slats, he looked up and saw her pleading look. With a nod and a weak smile, he followed her into the house.