Necessary Detour (17 page)

This location was losing its appeal. Connie would be safer somewhere else. He’d suggested they leave for his sailboat, but it hadn’t cleared with the powers that be. Stay put, they’d said. He might have to take matters into his own hands and ask for forgiveness later. Nikki was getting too snoopy.

The picture of him on the dock came close to blowing everything out of the water. Being called Goldy’s new man was an interesting concept, he had to admit, but a picture of him on the internet was not good for business. Connie had had a big laugh over it, and he had to admit it was nice to hear her laugh, finally.

He’d taken some shit for leaving Connie and Tony to go over to Goldy’s house but that had blown over. The department didn’t consider this case high risk. Still, he wanted to go out in style. Clean record. Everything according to protocol. But if things didn’t die down with this high-profile neighbor, they’d have to leave.

As a precaution, Pete had Connie and Tony pack and be ready to bolt at any moment.

****

Patience was a virtue and was needed to achieve the end result. A few more weeks would ensure success. Too many people were watching her. Going to Seattle would leave a hole in Los Angeles that might be noticed. Questioning Quinn would get results. That kid was weak. But the target was Goldy, not the daughter. Focus on the bitch. The airport loudspeaker announced the flight to Seattle and people crowded around the ticket taker like they might not get a seat if they didn’t push and shove. Crowds did crazy things to people. Made them desperate. L.A. did crazy things to people especially when faced with the possibility of fame.

Soon the press would surround Goldy’s lake house. Only then, under cover of the crowd, would the plan work. Soon.

Just as Phyllis predicted, another celebrity’s misfortune took the spotlight when a young actress fell off a sailboat and disappeared during a midnight cruise.

With an equal measure of caution and hope, Nikki held off on an escape plan, knowing she and Elvis could be in the car and gone within fifteen minutes. A bag packed with essentials stayed at the back door. Ready to bolt.

Night temperatures had sunk to the forties, which changed the water temperature drastically. Swimming was over for the season and Nikki missed being in the water. But, today, the sun had come out and she slid the cedar-strip canoe into the water. Jumping in at the last moment, she managed to keep her running shoes dry. Elvis waited in the bow and she set a course for the bay mouth, executing a perfect J stroke to keep the canoe straight. Stroke, turn, lift, stroke, turn, lift. A loon called from across the lake—the only noise, aside from the quiet droplets that dripped from her paddle. Stroke, turn, lift.

It was blissfully quiet as Nikki sliced through the dark water. No wind. No noise. Elvis caught a scent and stood up in the boat. “Sit down, Elvis.” He jumped up on the caned seat and Nikki braced with her paddle. “Elvis, no. Sit down.”

The little dog’s head swiveled. Something was out there, behind the canoe, and Nikki turned slightly to see what it was. As she did so, the river otter broke through the surface ten feet from the boat, and Elvis flew off the seat to perch at the edge of the canoe, barking. “Elvis, no. Sit down.” Nikki shifted her weight to compensate for Elvis. She dropped on her knees to lower her center of gravity.

Her paddle lay braced across the gunwales for stability. They weren’t going to tip, but it wasn’t until that moment that she noticed she’d forgotten life jackets. The little dog barked maniacally and as the otter dove and came up on the other side of the canoe, Nikki attempted to keep the boat steady. As she leaned toward Elvis to try to grab his collar, the boat rocked sideways. She compensated just in time but water had trickled into the boat. “Shit!” She let go of Elvis and flung the paddle off port side to brace them.

The otter dived under the boat, and Elvis jumped to the other side. Nikki stayed low and whipped her paddle around to the far side. Just as the otter surfaced Elvis gave a big shove, at the same time that Nikki leaned, and he flew out of the boat.

The canoe tipped and Nikki fell into the frigid dark water.

Pulled down by the weight of her layers of clothing, she kicked herself to the surface. The shock of the cold water robbed her of breath and as she came up, the pointed bow smacked her head. She heard herself cry out with pain. The extra weight of her wet clothing made it hard to stay on the surface. She kicked and flapped her arms to keep her head above water.
God dammit, Elvis!

She and Quinn had once taken a course on canoe safety and staying with the boat was the rule. Nikki kicked off her shoes and tried to yank her heavy fleece jacket over her head but instead, sank five feet under. Her jeans dragged her down too but they’d be much more difficult to remove. She groped her way to the surface for a breath and trying to think beyond the numbing coldness, she asked herself, what was the most immediate problem—her weighty clothes or grabbing onto the boat?

In the distance Elvis swam toward the shore. The bow had sunk inches below the surface and as Nikki grabbed the stern, it went under too. Nikki knew that if she got it upside down, she could dive under the thing and go into the air pocket she could hang onto the yoke to keep from sinking. But when she did, the canoe didn’t have an air pocket big enough for her head and it rolled over, refusing to offer the harbor she needed.

Without something to grab, she needed to get her clothes off. Nikki wasn’t sure how long she’d survive in this temperature but her arms were starting to numb and the shore was at least two hundred feet away.

Trying to keep her mouth above the water, she undid her jeans and, lying on her back, was able to inch them off but it took a lot of energy. Nikki attempted to pull the fleece over her head again but her arms refused to work. The canoe was almost completely underwater now. Stupid old canoe probably had holes in the buoyancy pockets.

Nikki gasped for breath then went under to try the fleece again. Already her frigid legs were slowing down but had enough left to kick her to the surface. If her arms stopped working, she’d be a goner.

The fleece came off and she was able to gain a few feet swimming toward the closest shore point. The water was colder without clothes, and Nikki noticed her motor reflexes slowing down.

In a short few minutes, an annoying situation had become something much, much more. She was now fighting for her life.
Don’t let this be the end.
Nikki looked to shore and didn’t know how she’d swim to the nearest point. It seemed impossible for someone with legs and arms that were numb with the cold.

“Help,” she yelled. She fought to keep her head on the surface, rolling on her back. Was this how she was going to die—alone in the water, pregnant at thirty-nine years old? She could almost see Quinn’s face when the autopsy stated that her mother had been pregnant.

Nikki was so tired. As she sank below the surface again, the numbing coldness crept up her legs and arms to invade her body’s core. Her arms barely moved now, even though her mind told them to flap and fight. She couldn’t feel her legs.

So cold.

It was surprising how possible it would be to give in and simply sink to the bottom. Like falling asleep. The frigid water was calming her, lulling her. She wanted to sleep. Dying like this wouldn’t be so bad. But, as her head sank, Nikki remembered the life growing inside her belly. There was someone else dying besides herself. Deep inside her was the promise of a person, the beginnings of a baby who had come this far with her, defying all odds of being born. This was an innocent life, totally dependant on Nikki’s ability to keep them both alive. No free will. Before she consciously realized it, she was kicking again.

Like being wakened from a dream, Nikki now had clarity. She needed to fight to get herself back to the surface and to the shore after that. By rocking her body, Nikki was able to kick herself up, up, higher, follow her bubbles…. to the sunlit surface. This child was her gift, her reward at this stage of life.
Kick, move your arms, Nikki.

Kick.

Kick.

She saw her arms float, ghost-like in front of her face and tried to push the water underneath, as she wiggled her body upward. No use, the arms were gone. She was losing the battle in spite of her efforts.

No!

Blackness crept to the edges of Nikki’s vision. Breaking the surface, she gasped for air, and, as she endeavored to pike her body back and forth to hold her surface position, she tipped her head back and with everything she had left, screamed “Help!”

The surface disappeared as she sank again. The fight was almost over. Her vision went black and she sank. Down. Down…
I’m so sorry, little baby, and Quinn...

She felt a yank at the back of her head. Something grabbed her hair.
Women aren’t supposed to wear a ponytail when jogging, because rapists grab that.
Was it
Shakespeare? Water rushed by her face and Nikki broke through to the surface. A gasp. It was her. A force flipped her on her back and she let it take over.

Her body was useless. Blurriness clouded her vision but light and color crept in. She was moving. Breathing air. She wasn’t underneath anymore. The force pulled and yanked at her. Who was it? Connie? She could see Connie’s bare feet kicking beside her shoulders. Blue sky above. Nikki had tried to rescue Connie and now Connie was rescuing her. She tried to say something, but her mouth didn’t work and it sounded like a muffled groan.

Her head bumped something hard, in the same spot where the canoe had hit her earlier, and then Connie grabbed hold of Nikki’s bra straps and lifted. Up and away. Nikki’s head hit the swim step. S’okay. Connie was strong. Stronger than she looked. Then Connie’s big arms had her around the waist, pulling her backward and laying her down on the soft padding at the stern of a boat. Red and white cushioned pads. Nikki saw the word “Sea Ray.” She was on her own boat.
Thank you, Connie
.

But they weren’t women’s arms. They were hairy, and muscular. Of course. Burn was strong enough to lift her. “Thank you, Burn.” Her voice was weak, but the tiny words escaped her lips to linger just in front of her mouth.

Burn loved the boat and he’d loved her. Burn had loved Nikki as well as Goldy. He’d made her into what she became. “Thank you,” she said again in the tiny, faraway voice.

A blanket appeared and she was gathered into Burn’s strong arms. But where were his tattoos? When the red blanket fell away from between their faces, Nikki couldn’t focus. He’d pulled her in too close, trying to warm her with his body. Unable to move her arms and legs, she was entirely at his mercy. She’d been pulled onto his lap and hugged tightly into him. He seemed bigger, stronger now. The divorce had changed him.

Something pressed against her cheek, like a zipper pull and it hurt. Lifting her head slightly, she tried to see what it was. The shape was familiar. It was a metal amulet, suspended on a piece of leather.

“Hang in there,” the gravely voice said.

Only one person had a voice like stucco. Nikki let him pull her limp body in to his heat. Then the shivering began.

“This’ll help,” he said, rubbing her arms and back.

She pressed into Pete and realized he was bare-chested against her skin. He’d been in the water too.

“Nikki, come back, girl. Stay with me.”

Accepting his body heat with gratitude, she pressed against him, letting him stroke her hair.

“Where’s Elvis?” Nikki chattered.

“He’s on shore.” Pete’s voice was whispery.

“My baby.” It wasn’t a question.

“Elvis is fine. I’ll get you back to shore in a minute. Just wrap your arms around my back. It’ll help.” Sinking deeper into him, her thoughts cleared.

“So cold,” she said, teeth clacking uncontrollably.

“I know. Is it getting better?”

Nikki could hardly speak through her shivers. “I think so.”

A minute passed until he shifted her to the chair. “I’m going to take us back to shore. Get you in a warm shower.” He tucked the blanket around her. “Hot tea and a shower are on the way.”

He started the motor and they took off for Birch House. How had Pete gone through the house security system to get the boat key? And the blanket was hers, from the couch.

Elvis barked frantically from shore and, looking through a hole in the top of the blanket, she saw that Pete had a puckered scar on his lower back. It looked old, but nasty. Too low for kidney surgery. It was a rip from something intrusive, not a scalpel.

Pulling alongside the dock, Pete tied off quickly then scooped Nikki into his arms. She greedily pressed herself into his warm chest. Kicking open the door, he took her to the guest bathroom. Nikki dropped the blanket just before Pete stepped into the stream of hot water and stood with her under the nozzle’s stream. His face was stoic and the thin line of his mouth suggested focused and determined. He hadn’t set her down yet, and she wasn’t sure she could stand up if he did.

The involuntary clacking of her teeth made it hard to speak.

“Can you stand up?”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

He set her gently on the shower floor, holding her under the elbows. The enormity of the last thirty minutes struck her like a flash of lightning. She stared up at him and together they shared a frightened look of what had almost happened. Then he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. Just a tentative touch at first, as if he wasn’t sure Nikki was the right person. But when she didn’t move away, it deepened. He tightened his grip, kissed her hungrily then moved to her cheeks, her eyes.