Dark Moon Walking (14 page)

“The dark guy has to be White Hair's pal,” Dan told Hargreaves. “The description's right on.” He looked over at Walker and Claire. “We'll be leaving here in about five minutes. Should be back on board in about an hour. I'll keep in touch.” He slid the radio into his pocket and started down to the shore. “Okay, guys. Follow me.”

He was about to step into the Zodiac when he realized that Walker hadn't moved.

ELEVEN

“You'll be a sitting duck out there!” Dan shook his head in frustration as he took in Walker's imperturbable expression. The man was still perched up on the knoll where he had been when Dan first arrived.

Walker shrugged. “Who's going to care about a crippled Indian in a beat-up canoe?”

A smile masked the cynicism, but Dan heard it. He wasn't buying.

“Oh, bullshit! Don't give me that crap. These guys are serious. We might not know what they're up to, but we do know they don't want any witnesses. If they see you out there, they're going to try to get rid of you.”

Another shrug. “I'll wait till dark. Stay in close.”

“Close to what? There's a mile of open water out there!” Dan turned to the girl. “Can you talk some sense into him?”

Claire blinked at him in surprise. “Me?”

Dan nodded at her, taking in her reaction. Other than a brief acknowledgment when he first saw her, Dan had barely addressed a word to her—the situation they were in didn't exactly encourage the niceties—so it was hardly fair to expect her to jump in now. But Walker liked her, and he might listen to her reasoning. He watched as she looked back and forth between them, silently urging her to add her encouragements to his. Meanwhile, Walker continued to sit on the rocky outcropping above them, a slight smile playing across his face. He was relaxed, at ease, even comfortable. Dan, on the other hand, was so tense his back felt rigid, his arms and legs frozen, hands clenched at his side.

“No,” she said. “I don't think I can.” She met his stare full on. “He knows what he's doing.”

Dan snorted. “Yeah, right.” He turned away abruptly and let his gaze wander out over the water, trying to reconcile himself to the inevitable. There had been a time when he could simply impose his will on others, Walker included, but it seemed that time had passed. Now he had no choice but to respect the decision this taciturn, solitary man had made. Walker would stay on the island, at least till nightfall, and then leave in his canoe. Dan was not even sure where he would go when he left. Walker hadn't said he was going back to his home—wherever that was—but he hadn't agreed to come to
Dreamspeaker
either.

Dan turned back to find both of them watching him and threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. I give up.” He turned and reached down into the Zodiac for the radio he had just taken back.

“Here. You may as well keep this. At least let me know where you are. Call me if you need help.” He scrambled up a few feet of rock and held it out so Walker could reach it.

There were a few seconds of hesitation and then it was removed from his hand.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah. Make sure you use it. I'll be waiting to hear from you.”

Walker smiled but said nothing.

Dan, with Claire sitting quietly beside him, made it back to
Dreamspeaker
in well under an hour. With no radio to keep him informed and no need for a quiet approach, he simply ran full out the whole way. The speed and power helped him deal with his frustration and took his mind off Walker.

He barely glanced at Claire. He knew she was on the edge of exhaustion, her skin wan beneath streaks of dirt, her hair lank, and her eyes ringed with a bruised, bluish tinge. Yet she hadn't complained, either on the island when he had told her they could not take her kayak with them or here in the dinghy, where she was forced to brace herself against the constant pounding. And she had showed spunk when she stood up for Walker. He wondered whether Walker had told her that her boat had been sunk or whether that would become his job. He hoped not. He was not good at giving bad news and he hated having to do it.

Back at
Dreamspeaker
, he helped Claire on board, dug out a towel and a clean T-shirt, and then pointed her to the shower. Once he heard the water running, he returned to the galley, put on a pot of coffee, and made up a couple of sandwiches. He was not sure she would be able to stay awake long enough to eat them, but she needed food. She looked like a starving waif.

While he was waiting for her to finish her shower, he headed forward to the wheelhouse and called the
Lindsay
.

“Any change?” he asked Hargreaves.

“Nope. It's starting to get dark so the guys can't really see well, but it looks like they're either slowing down or close to finished. They've pulled five canisters up so far and they're working on a sixth. They've got them all lined up along the dock.”

“Have they opened any of them?”

“Nope. Just put 'em down real careful and left them. Looks like the guy with the ponytail is in charge of that end of things.”

“So what's the plan?”

There was a pause and Dan could sense Hargreaves deciding how much he should share.

“Figuring it out as we go. Technically, we've got nothing on them.”

Dan got the message. He wasn't going to get much. “Keep me in the loop. I've got the girl on board. I don't want to risk running into trouble.”

“Yeah. Okay. You got the Indian too?”

“No. He stayed with his canoe.”

Hargreaves was quiet for a minute as he considered that, then asked, “Has he got a radio?”

“Yeah. I gave him my hand-held.”

“Huh. You keep me informed too, okay?”

“Yeah.”

He headed back toward the galley. The shower had quit and there was no sound coming from the head. He stuck his head around the open stateroom door and saw a pile of clothes on the floor but no sign of the girl. He found her sitting at the table in the galley. She had already finished half of a sandwich and was well on her way to finishing it off. Her hair had been roughly toweled and it stuck up in spikes all over her head. The T-shirt he had given her was at least three sizes too large and the neck hung down over her shoulders, but her eyes had lost some of the bruised look and her color was better.

She held the half-eaten sandwich up in the air. “I hope this was for me?”

Dan eased himself in to the other side of the table. “I figured you might be a little hungry.”

She grimaced. “Hungry? I'm starving! I could eat wood chips and grubs.”

He smiled and pushed the other sandwich across to her. “Want some coffee?”

The corners of her mouth lifted in the beginning of a smile, and once again he found himself responding to some unidentifiable magnetism. He felt ridiculously pleased that he could put her at ease, but at the same time he felt perilously close to his own demons. He knew he'd have to be careful.

“I'd love some, but I think I might fall asleep before I can drink it.”

He shrugged and stood up to reach the coffee pot. When he turned back to the table, her smile had disappeared again and she was staring up at him, her eyes huge and dark.

“Will they find us here?”

He sat down and slid a cup across the table. “No. Not likely. They have no reason to come this way. And even if they do, they won't know you're aboard. I talked to them back there at Annie's boat—you know Annie, right?” He didn't wait for an answer. “They think I'm just a guy passing through on my way down south.”

“You talked to them?” Her voice rose in pitch.

“Relax. It's okay. I don't know how much Walker told you, but I'll fill in all the details after you've caught up on some sleep. You're just barely keeping your eyes open sitting there.” He reached out a hand and helped her up, then led her down the passageway.

He thought she might have been asleep before he closed the door to the stateroom.

Walker didn't answer until his fourth call, and Dan worked hard to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Where are you?”

“Heading your way.”

“You going to make it tonight?”

“Probably not.”

Dan shook his head. “Where the hell do you sleep? Under a rock?”

He didn't expect an answer and he got none. “I'll leave the radio on. Be careful. Call me if you need me.”

He dug a beer out of the refrigerator and turned on the stereo. He figured Claire would probably sleep through a brass band playing a Sousa march on the deck, but he kept it low anyway. Didn't need volume to let the sweet sounds of Coltrane's saxophone seep into his soul, and it helped him think. He dragged a notebook out of the drawer and started to make some notes.