Spirit of a Champion (Sisters of Spirit #7) (12 page)

“Come on in. I’m Isabelle.”

“I’m Victoria Drake.”

“What’s this all about?”

“It’s about my brother, Jerry. He’s preparing to fight Killer
Kyle in three days and I have reason to believe Jerry has what is called soft
spots on his brain. His personal doctor said he would die if he boxed Kyle.”

“That’s awful. So why is he boxing?”

“I don’t know. For some reason, my brother feels compelled to go
through with the match. I hoped your husband could stop it. At least examine
Jerry and see how bad off he is.”

“I’ll call Anthony and see if he can come home early. Sometimes
he stays afterwards at these conferences just to visit old friends.”

They had been walking as they talked, and the woman left Stormy
standing in front of a large view window overlooking the lake while she took
out her cell phone. She dialed, waited a moment and looked at the phone.

“He’s got his turned off. Shall I leave a message?”

“Don’t bother. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind. Or in the car.”

“It’s too hot to wait in a car. At this time of year the sun
rays are intense.”

Stormy thought about Hugo. He wasn’t in the car, but she needed
to see what he wanted her to do.

“Could I use your restroom, please?” she asked.

“Of course, dear. It’s right down that hallway, second door on
the left.”

Once inside, Stormy freshened up and then called Hugo.

“Go ahead and wait for him,” he said. “I’m used to this climate
and have found me a nice shady spot to rest. You’re in the house, he’s due
back, so wait. Spend the night if you have to. I can sleep in the car. It might
be too late for him to do anything when he gets back. Stay with him until it’s
settled. If he has to return to Vegas, ride with him. I’ll follow. Just act
like I’m not here.”

“Okay.”

Stormy hung up and rejoined the woman in the living area. “What
a lovely home you have,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“With a beautiful view of the lake.”

“It’s almost three miles wide here. I’ve always lived near
water...either a lake or a river. I prefer the lake because there’s so much to
do. We’ve got a sailboat and jet skis, and a motorboat for waterskiing, down at
the marina.”

“I grew up near Coeur d’Alene Lake in Idaho. So I know what you
mean.”

“Do you waterski?”

“Yes. But I like to jet ski the most.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“Oh, yes. Lots.”

“Would you like to go out?”

“Now?”

“Yes. If you feel up to it. I absolutely love to go, but Anthony
is getting to the age where he would rather sit and watch me. I’m only
sixty-two. He’s twelve years older and there are some things he’ll still do
with me, but reluctantly. He won’t take a jet ski out anymore and I really miss
it. I have to wait until I get some young company who knows how to. Like you.”

“I’d love to, but I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“I have plenty. In all sizes. My friends come over, see the
water and before you know it we’re down there.” She motioned Stormy to follow
her and led her into what looked like a guest bedroom.

“Here.” She opened up a drawer showing Stormy suits of many
colors, sizes and styles. “They were having a clearance at one of the stores
and I just bought a batch.”

She left and Stormy found a bright neon-green one-piece suit
that fit and put it on. Her hostess was waiting for her, wearing a pretty pink
suit and carrying two large towels.

“This will be fun,” Isabelle said. “When we’re through skiing,
we can have lunch on the patio.”

“I’m not putting you out, am I?” Stormy asked.

“No. I was rattling around in this big house with nothing
planned and no one to do anything with. And I promised not to go out on the
water by myself. So you are definitely not putting me out. Just the opposite.”

She looked delighted, so Stormy relaxed for the first time in
many days.

They walked down to the small lake-side marina, topped up the
fuel tanks, got the jet skis ready, put on lifebelts and took off down the
inlet and into the main lake.

It was exhilarating and relaxing. Stormy hadn’t jet skied since
last summer, wearing a dry suit on a cold Idaho lake. Here the water felt warm
and the air even warmer. It was perfect.

Her skin was rough from the dry air, and it felt like it was
breathing in the moisture on its own.

Isabelle was proficient and they jumped each others’ wakes and
did figure eights. Finally Isabelle stopped her craft and Stormy came up beside
her.

“I think that’s it for me,” the older woman said. “You can stay
out longer if you wish.”

“No. I’ll go in, too. No sense overdoing anything.” She needed
to be on her toes when the doctor got back. Not half asleep. “Where’s your
dock?”

“There. See the big yellow windsock on the pole. That’s our
marker, where the inlet is.”

The sound of a speedboat caused Stormy to look behind her. It
was bearing down on them, fast.

“We need to move,” Isabelle shouted. “That nut doesn’t look like
he’s paying attention.”

They started the skis skimming over the water, and veered off to
the right, out of the boat’s pathway.

The boat turned, too.

“Circle,” yelled Stormy, but Isabelle didn’t hear her and went
straight ahead. Stormy tightened her circle until she could get a better view
of the boat, which had continued to turn tightly and was now bearing down on
her.

It intended to ram her.

Ever since Stormy had avoided the car explosion, she’d been
expecting another attempt. How had they found her out here in Lake Havasu?

Fighting back the urge to panic, she unbuckled her lifebelt and
unhooked the tether kill switch. At the same time she expelled all the air in
her lungs. Took a deep breath, expelled again. Another breath. Out again.
Get rid of the used
air.

The boat was less than twenty feet from her when she dove into
the water, straight down, going as deep as she could to avoid the propellers.
Down deep, as if looking for a drowning victim.

Under the boat. The water churned as it passed overhead. She
leveled out and swam underwater as fast as she could away from the area,
staying deep. The neon green of her suit wasn’t made for camouflage.

She could stay down over five minutes after putting fresh air in
her lungs.
No
need to panic.
Just
swim deep and swim away.
She needed to put distance between herself and the speedboat,
which was probably circling, waiting for her to surface.

Had Isabelle made it to shore?

A strong swimmer, Stormy still hadn’t covered much distance when
she was forced to surface. She had expelled all the rest of her air as she
swam, and now lifted her head above the surface just long enough to grab a breath
and get her bearings.

She was headed out toward the middle of the lake. They were
searching closer to shore. If they looked this way, they’d see her.

She dove down again and kept swimming, out toward the middle.
Another breath, straightening out her course. She did this several more times
before she felt comfortable in swimming shallow, just under the surface.

They had enlarged their circle, but were still close to land.
They probably expected her to make for the shore, if she had survived the
impact.

It was hard to see a swimmer in the water. Once she felt she was
far enough away that they couldn’t see her head, she switched to a survival
stroke, a “dead-man’s float” with a kick at the end. It took longer, but
allowed her to rest and still keep her body under the water.

The head was the heaviest, and was the part of your body that
you needed to let the water support. By letting most of her head stay in the
water, she didn’t have to fight trying to keep it up. Just forward kicks and
strokes to move, and take a breath now and then. In mid-lake she checked to
make sure they weren’t headed her way, then switched to a relaxing backstroke.

She had just started doing the backstroke when the boat pulled
away from the search area and headed out into the lake.
Had they seen her?

She switched into vertical, ready to start swimming underwater
again. The boat turned north and headed up the lake, then turned into the inlet
with the yellow windsock and disappeared from sight.

Were they checking out the doctor’s place to see if she’d gone
back there?

With them gone for now, she started a crawl stroke, getting more
distance covered. Nearing the other side of the lake, she checked for
boats...there was now a group of them around the “accident site” but so far
away they were hard to see. Ahead of her was a resort-type marina of some sort.
She wanted to avoid that. It might be the place where the killers’ boat came
from.

There were homes north of the marina, so she headed south using
a back stroke once more. She could see no homes along this stretch of the lake.
It looked rugged, but she should be able to find somewhere to climb out.

She would like to continue on her back, all the way to land. But
it was less than a mile away, and someone might be there, watching.

She was a fish. She would just have to start swimming underwater
again as she got closer.

She was doing fine, except
that her right leg had started to cramp. She went into float mode once again
and reached down to work on it. She wondered what Hugo was doing.

Kyle finished his workout and got into his rental car. He went
to put it into gear and the wipers swiped mightily until he turned them off and
found the gearshift. It reminded him of Stormy. He didn’t want that. He clicked
on the radio to take his mind off her.

“...oria Drake, sister of the boxing contender, Jerry Drake, is
missing and presumed drowned on Lake Havasu.”

What was this? Stormy?
A cold chill swept over him.

“
The
contender is in seclusion right now and will not talk to anyone. Elston “King”
Drake, who is both his father and trainer, is going out to the site to look for
his daughter.”

An exploding car and now this? Someone was actually trying to
kill her?

“Evidently Ms. Drake was visiting at Lake Havasu and went jet
skiing. Witnesses said a boat hit her jet ski. They have found remnants of the
ski and also her lifebelt. Police are looking for the boat and driver to see if
alcohol was involved. Again, that is Victoria Drake, missing and presumed dead
in a boating accident.”

Kyle swerved over to the side of the road and stopped, his body
shaking. This was no made-up faery tale. He listened for the details.
Why was she out
there?

“Another update on that boating accident on Lake Havasu. It was
reported by a doctor’s wife who had been out jet skiing with Miss Drake.”

The doctor. Of course.

“A boat ran over the jet ski with Miss Drake on it. They are
conducting an extensive search, but haven’t found the body. It was reported as
a hit and run accident. The boat stayed around for about ten minutes, then left
the scene. Police say the boat was just reported as stolen.”

Kyle couldn’t breathe. A sickness churned the pit of his stomach
and black spots appeared before his eyes. He fought back the desire to faint
and struggled against an overwhelming sense of loss.

He waited until he could see again. He could barely drive, but
he pulled out into traffic and took the road south towards Lake Havasu instead
of going to the hotel and eating his evening meal.
He had to know what
happened.

She had said her car exploded. He hadn’t taken her seriously. He
hadn’t listened to her. What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he paid more
attention to the plight she was in?

What if he lost her now, now that he had just found her?

He couldn’t believe that he’d been so intent on the upcoming match
that he had ignored the potentially deadly situation she had put herself in.

What was wrong with him?
It sounded like a lie, but he should have checked it out.

His manager, Leon, had downplayed things, claiming Stormy made
up diversions to help her brother.
Was he just telling me that to get me to focus on the match
again? It was only four days away.

Still there was no excuse for him. No excuse.

His foot was pressed on the accelerator and he forced himself to
slow down. His getting in a wreck, or a speeding ticket, wouldn’t help any.

He had a press conference tonight along with Jerry. Jerry
wouldn’t be talking to anyone, so he guessed someone would have to stand in for
both of them.

It wasn’t important. Nothing else was important. Only Stormy.

He started praying. If only he weren’t too late.