Unfamiliar Waters Page 12

  GARRETT RETURNED two hours later, having found a friendly bartender who charged his battery in exchange for a five. He moved as quietly as he could, checking for anything out of the ordinary as he made his way along the wet, sometimes slippery dock. The rain had stopped, but more promised to roll in. He reached the boat and went below. Nigel sat up as he came in, blinking and watching as Garrett toed off his shoes and slipped off his wet pants and shirt before climbing back into bed.

  “What did you find?” Nigel asked.

  “While I was charging my phone, I found out from the bartender that some men were here looking for two people. No one had seen them, and the men in the bar believe they left this afternoon.” Garrett patted Nigel’s arm. “They seemed to be looking for a man and a woman from the other side of the island who ran away to get married.” He smiled.

  “So those men weren’t looking for Jules and me?” Nigel once again snuggled close.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t sound like it, but that could just be their story.” In the meantime, Garrett would keep a sharp eye out and make a call to the captain with his latest information. Their luck wasn’t going to hold out forever, and the more distance they put between them and the island, the more places Hilliard had to search in order to find Jules and Nigel, which only increased the chances of them getting into the country and under protection.

  “Try to sleep,” Nigel said.

  “You too.” Garrett lay down and closed his eyes, fatigue finally taking over, and he managed to fall into a light sleep, waking every hour or so.

  Eventually, as light shone through the windows, Garrett reluctantly left a sleeping Nigel, checked the radar, and took a peek outside. Other boats were leaving the port, and Garrett thought now was a good time to do the same. He radioed the harbormaster, and cast off the lines, then started the engine at the last minute, guiding them out of the slip and toward the harbor entrance.

  “We’re leaving?” Jules asked as he popped his head out of the cabin door.

  “Yes. The weather has broken and I think it’s a good idea—”

  Garrett quieted. Ahead, the men in the powerboat from the day before passed through the mouth of the harbor. They seemed to be watching each boat as it departed, getting pretty close to a few of them. A flash of the sun on metal told him they were armed and not afraid to show some muscle.

  “Stay inside. Our friends are back,” he said, turning his attention to getting the boat out of the harbor and into open water where he could be under way.

  He continued forward at a reasonable pace, not wanting to look like he was rushing. As he approached the mouth of the harbor, the sleek, expensive boat swung around and came alongside.

  “Hey,” the man said, scowling. “You seen these people?” He flashed a picture of Jules and Nigel that must have been taken on the island about a year before.

  “It’s possible,” Garrett said. “I was in town yesterday—lots of people there. But I might have seen those boys… maybe with a woman? She was scary, gruff, unkind.”

  The men looked at each other. “That’s them. Did you see where they went? Someone said toward the harbor.”

  Garrett pursed his lips, his heart pounding a mile a minute, silently willing everyone to stay in the cabin and keep quiet. He was hoping to pull off a delicate act. “When I saw them, they looked like they’d been shopping for food. Carrying a bunch of bags and such. I thought they went farther into the city.” Garrett shrugged and revved the engines, pushing the boat forward. “Sorry I can’t be of more help.” He waved and continued on, leaving the men to their fruitless search.

  “Stay where you are,” he said softly into the open cabin doorway as he continued steering.

  Once free of the harbor, he turned off the engine and raised the mainsail, getting the boat under wind power. After that, he raised the jib for more speed and pointed the boat north, riding the edge of the wind.

  “Okay, we’re out of sight of the harbor,” he called below as they rounded a bend, leaving the town behind.

  Jules rushed up on deck, breathing deeply, his arms spread out as though he’d been a caged bird.

  “Be careful,” Nigel cautioned as Jules sat on the bow of the boat, looking forward.

  “They were looking for you and Jules,” Garrett told Nigel. “They had pictures of the two of you and were carrying guns. I think I outsmarted them and sent them back to the town, but I don’t know.” He hoped they had made it past Hilliard’s dragnet, at least for now. His heart was still pounding, and it continued as they slid over the water, putting more and more distance between them and their pursuers—he hoped.

  “What’s the plan?” Nigel sat next to him, and Phyllis came on deck as well, sitting in the shade.

  “As long as the weather and our supplies hold, we should make for the US Virgin Islands as quickly as we can.” Garrett pulled out his phone and sent an email to the captain to let him know their location and plan. He wanted to get that done before he left range of the port. Then he powered off his phone, checked the GPS and radar on the boat, and pointed them in the direction they wanted to go.

  “How long do you have the boat?”

  “I’m supposed to turn it in at St. Thomas in a few weeks. There is a couple who want to rent it there. We have time, and that’s probably the best place to contact the US authorities. So my plan was to head there.” Unfortunately, if Hilliard and his goons had half a brain, they would realize the same thing and be on the lookout for them. “We all need to keep an eye out for trouble.”

  “We will be,” Nigel said, exaggeratedly scanning the seas with his hands over his eyes.

  “What can I do?” Phyllis asked.

  Garrett wasn’t immediately sure, and then it came to him. “Why don’t you bring me my blue bag?” he said, and Phyllis retrieved it. Garrett put Nigel in charge of the wheel and dug out a tablet and a pen. “Go ahead and write up a statement of what you did for the last ten or so years, how the boys were treated, the people you saw, and what you know about Hilliard and his plans. Take your time and include as much detail as you can remember, with approximate dates. That will be a big help. Once you’re done, the boys and I can witness your signature.”

  Phyllis took the tablet and went back below. She must have made up the beds and the table as well. Breakfast appeared a little while later before Phyllis said she was going to work on her statement.

  “There are plenty of boats nearby, but none of them seems to be paying particular attention to us,” Nigel said.

  Garrett nodded, checking behind them. “We seem okay, at least for now.” Which was a relief. Garrett had as much sail as he could, the boat slicing through the water at a good speed. Nigel sat next to him, and Garrett put an arm around his waist, tugging him a little closer.

  Jules continued his fascination with the horizon, looking forward, and with Phyllis below, Garrett took a few minutes to be alone with Nigel, kissing him as soon as he turned his way.

  “What did David like to do for fun?”

  Garrett chuckled. “He used to drag me to art galleries all the time. David loved art and modern expression.” He shook his head. “He could stand in front of a canvas of squiggly lines and see so much meaning. Me, I only saw the squiggly lines.” He sighed. “David would spend hours and hours looking at pieces that hung on the walls of galleries and museums. It got to the point that I didn’t go with him much any longer.” That bothered him. David never really asked for all that much, and yet Garrett had been too impatient, too rushed, to just spend the time with him. “I should have.”

  “But you didn’t like it,” Nigel said.

  “Yes. It wasn’t my thing, but it was his. And even though it meant sitting in a gallery staring at squiggly lines, I would have been doing it with him.” Garrett leaned slightly against Nigel. “I miss him still.”

  “I miss my mom and dad. I can barely remember them now.” Nigel leaned more closely. Garrett used one hand to control the boat, thankful they were pretty much headed
in a straight line. They’d need to tack eventually, but for now, they were good.

  “What do you remember?” Garrett asked.

  “My mom was pretty. She had long blonde hair the same color as Jules’s. I remember her singing to me when I was scared. She used to make up all kinds of songs for me, and at night she told us stories. Dad used to take me to the park, and he pushed me on the swings.” Garrett smiled. “The last memory of my dad is him playing football with me at the park. I was really bad, but he tried to teach me how to throw, and we played catch for a long time. Then he took me to one of the carts and got me an ice cream bar.” Nigel turned to him. “I don’t think I’ve had one of those since then.”

  “Really?” Garrett asked.

  “Yeah. We didn’t have ice cream on the island,” Nigel explained. “Fairfield never brought any back. Probably because it would have melted when he had it on the boat.” He shrugged and grew quiet. “My dad used to love sports. I remember that. He took me to a baseball game once. The Mets won that day. Dad was so happy.”

  “What about your mom? What else do you remember about her?”

  Nigel smiled and laughed. “Mom said she hated sports, but she went to the game with Dad and me and screamed louder than he did. Mom was out of control. She bought us all Mets shirts, then had me change into mine in the bathroom and put my old shirt in her purse. She did the same with Dad.”

  “Sounds like those are good memories to have. Hold on to them. It’s what I do with the ones about David. I keep them in a special place in my memory so I don’t lose them.” Garrett smiled and figured it might be a good time to change the subject. “So, you got to see the town and go to the market on Dominica. What did you think?” There had been so much activity while they were in town, he really hadn’t had a chance to ask.

  “It was so busy,” Nigel answered. Garrett smiled, because to him it had felt like a rather laid-back Caribbean town. “There were people everywhere, and they all seemed like they were rushing from one place to the next.” He turned to Garrett. “Don’t they take the time to see what’s around them?”

  “Most people don’t.” Garrett paused to think for a second. “In New York City, there is the Empire State Building. Have you seen pictures of it in your books?”

  “Yes. It looks so tall.”

  “It is. There are ten million people who live in New York, and most of them have never been to the top of that building. Some of them see it every day and have never gone inside. You don’t think about the things you see every day as being special. I live in the city, where there are tall buildings, cars and people, traffic, noise, crime, and lots of restaurants and places to see. So something like this”—he waved his arm—“being out on the water, alone, with nothing to do but listen to the wind and watch the waves roll past and on forever, that’s very special to me. But it was something you saw every day.”

  Nigel nodded. “I suppose. But I think I’d like to see what a city looks like and ride in one of those cars. And if I go to New York, I want to go to the top of that building, so I can look out and see the ends of the world.” He smiled.

  “Sometimes you think you can see that far.” Garrett turned to look behind them, squinting at a smudge on the horizon. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it hadn’t been there the last time he’d looked. At this distance, it could be a freighter or even a cruise ship, but something rankled his gut and he worried while he trimmed the lines a little, changing the sail angle to get a little more wind.

  They picked up some speed according to the GPS, but Garrett had to be careful in case the waves heightened. Right now they were gentle rolling swells and the wind was steady, but it wouldn’t take long for things to change. He set a course for Montserrat, bypassing French Guadeloupe, hoping to make as much distance as possible in a single day. “Can you keep an eye on that boat?” Garrett pointed.

  “I will.” Nigel stood and went to the back of the boat.

  Garrett sailed out into the sea, and their speed continued to increase. Garrett loved the sensation of flying over the water. Under normal circumstances it made his spirit feel free, but knowing there were people out there looking for Nigel and Jules made this trip all the more urgent.

  He stayed behind the wheel, and Phyllis brought him lunch. Garrett ate with one hand and steered with the other, looking back every once in a while at the boat, which was slowly drawing closer. He didn’t want to tell everyone to get inside again. It was hot enough as it was, and being in the cabin would drive the others stir-crazy. Besides, if they were being pursued, it had to be for a reason, and that meant their pursuers had worked out that Nigel and Jules were on board with him.

  “They’re getting closer,” Nigel said, tension rising in his voice. “I don’t know what they were waiting for, but they’re drawing closer pretty quickly now.”

  Garrett turned as the large, sleek cabin cruiser indeed drew steadily nearer. “Get below for safety, all of you.” He leaned close to Nigel. “In the red bag in the left drawer under the bed are the guns. Bring them to me.” He didn’t want to panic the others, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Nigel brought the bag and set it next to him. He let Nigel take the wheel and got the guns ready, checking the number of bullets in the magazines. He had six in one and four in the other. That wasn’t a lot of firepower, but hopefully he wasn’t going to need any at all.

  “Check the emergency kit in the locker right there.” Garrett pointed. “Is there a flare gun?”

  Nigel brought out the contents, and sure enough, a case with a gun and four flares lay inside. Garrett had Nigel bring him the case, and he loaded the gun and handed it back to him.

  “What do I do?”

  “Nothing, and don’t pull the trigger unless I tell you to. Get down in the cabin and stay near the door. I’m not going to change course and see what they do. They may just be on the same route as us and pass right by.”

  Nigel got in the cabin, and Garrett kept his arsenal at hand as the boat drew ever closer.

  A deep voice boomed over the water. “We know you have Nigel and Jules. You are guilty of kidnapping them, and we have come to get them back.”

  Garrett didn’t respond, and the boat drew up alongside about ten feet away. The sailboat rocked in the wake but continued forward.

  “You need to lower your sails and come to a stop, or we will take more aggressive action.” The men from Dominica stood on the deck, arms at their sides, trying to look intimidating. It didn’t work on him.

  Garrett ignored them, glancing at the horizon where the water extended forever.

  The men drew weapons and the boat pulled closer.

  “Give me the flare gun,” Garrett told Nigel, who reached out of the cabin to hand it to him. He had the other guns, but they would be relatively ineffective against them. He needed to take the boat out of commission if he was to really get away, and a fire at sea was a sure way to make that happen. He turned his boat away from them to put distance between them.

  The dark-haired man raised his gun, and Garrett figured he was going to try to take out one of the sails.

  “Take the wheel,” Garrett called, and Nigel jumped out of the cabin and grabbed the wheel as Garrett steadied his aim and fired a flare. It hit the top of the cabin and bounced into the water, startling the men, with one falling backward onto the deck. “Shit.” Garrett grabbed another flare and loaded the gun, lowered his aim, and fired again just as a shot and a ping split the air.

  This time his shot hit the deck of the cruiser, sending up colored smoke that filled the boat. The men dashed around, jumping like idiots, most likely because the flare bounced around the deck.

  The boat veered wildly in front of him, and Garret grabbed the wheel and turned it sharply, missing the tail of the cabin cruiser by inches, the wake rocking the sailboat momentarily until the keel dug into calm water and they surged past.

  Smoke came out of the main cabin of the boat, and Garrett figured the flare must have made its way
inside. The cabin cruiser fell away behind them, and Garrett returned to course, once again putting distance between them.

  “That was awesome,” Jules exclaimed as he came on deck.

  Nigel glanced back as the cabin cruiser bounced in the waves, smoke pouring out of it. “Are they going to be okay?”

  “Probably.” Not that he really cared, but Nigel’s concern for the men who’d tried to hurt them was definitely admirable. Colored flare smoke mixed with black filled the area. It was difficult for Garrett to tell, but he thought the boat was on fire. He had other things to concentrate on, though—namely, getting everyone to port safely.

  The other boat fell away quickly. He wasn’t sure if they were out of commission completely or not. He sure hoped so.

  “The smoke is increasing,” Nigel said, and Garrett turned as a larger plume of smoke rose over the water, carried away by the wind.

  “Good. Let them worry about themselves for a while.” He turned back to the sea ahead of them, then remembered the ping. He looked up and groaned at the nick in the mast about a foot above the cabin. They were damn lucky the man was a bad shot. Either that or the boat had rocked at just the right time.

  “Is everyone okay?” Phyllis asked as she came on deck, handing out bottles of water and sitting on one of the cushions in the shade.

  “Yes. I think so.” The excitement might have been over, but Garrett’s heart was still pounding. Nigel sat next to him, shaking, and Garrett tugged him closer, giving what comfort he could.

  “They really wanted to try to kill us,” Nigel said softly against Garrett’s neck. “They said you kidnapped us.”

  “You’re an adult. Did you want to go with me?” Garrett asked.

  “Yes,” he answered, as though the question were completely stupid.

  “Then you weren’t kidnapped. Now Jules, that could be a different matter. He’s a minor, and presumably in your uncle’s care under the will. However, your uncle broke his covenant of responsibility when he tried to have Jules killed. So….” Garrett sighed and shook his head. At least he knew the kidnapping argument Hilliard was going to try to use. Now he needed to counter it….