Stranded (30 page)

There seemed to be dozens of creeks and streams that forked off. Each one snaked and curved. Sometimes it looped around what appeared to be a dead end with a sandbar of sugar-white sand or a bank of red clay. Then Jack would point out yet another channel for Otis to take, one that was hardly visible beneath the overhanging branches and the tall reeds.

The forest towered over them on both sides with very few clearings. Water lilies covered the surface of the water in some areas. Birds had quieted, either because of the approaching storm or the approaching madman. The sounds of the water swooshing under the oars would normally be soothing. Now it reminded
Maggie that the farther they went, the farther away he was taking her from civilization.

Otis asked questions, even more soft-spoken out here, as if paying reverence to nature or to Jack.

“Why is the water so clear but it looks dirty, almost like weak tea?”

“The water’s clean. It’s stained from the tannin in the tree bark.” Jack gestured to the bank, where huge trees grew halfway in the water, their roots sticking up like gnarled fingers.

“The color’ll change depending on the depth of the water. Shallow is tea colored. A bit deeper, caramel. Deeper still, almost a cola. The deepest is black.”

Otis nodded like he finally understood. “I get it—that’s why it’s called Blackwater River.”

“Lots of creeks flow into Blackwater. We’re traveling several of them. Juniper, Coldwater. The first time my daddy brought me out here I knew it was the most fascinating and beautiful place I’d seen. I didn’t even mind when he started bringing me out and leaving me. Thought he was teaching me something.”

Otis was nodding. He had his back to Maggie and Tully as he rowed. Jack sat at the bow of the boat with his body turned sideways so he could glance back at his prisoners but also up ahead so he could direct Otis.

“This where he left you out all night?” Otis asked, gently, like he was coaxing a child.

“A couple miles back. Tied me to a tree. Left me for the night. Middle of summer. Mosquitoes were a bitch. There was a thunderstorm, too. Magnificent display of Florida lightning. I told you about Florida being famous for its lightning, haven’t I?”

“Most lightning strikes per year than anyplace else.”

Maggie watched the two men. It was as though Otis had heard this story many times and his nods and questions were just another part of the telling.

“But you weren’t scared,” Otis said.

Jack stared off into the fog and continued, “My daddy told me it’d make a man of me. Staying out there like that. Finding my own way home. Guess he was right because two days later I slit his throat. Cut him into pieces in his own shed using his tools.”

Maggie could only see Otis’s head bob again. With his hunched back to her, she couldn’t see his face. Jack’s expression remained unchanged. He didn’t flinch, didn’t break his gaze. And her panic started to claw around inside her.

Tully stirred. Had he been listening? He sat slumped against her, eyes closed. He was conscious but his breathing was labored. Once in a while he winced when the boat bumped against something.

Maggie had found a roll of paper towels on the floor of the boat, partially damp and water-stained. Surprisingly, Jack let her have the roll to stop Tully’s wound from bleeding, though she had no intention of pressing the musty-smelling paper against him. Instead, she pretended she was cleaning, her hand still smeared with Tully’s blood. It nagged at her that she couldn’t rip open his jacket and see how bad the wound was. She did know that if a major artery had been severed there would be much more blood. That was good news. Bad news was the longer it went unattended the more likely it would get infected.

But there was another reason Maggie wanted the paper towels. She had been drenching them with as much blood as she could from her hand and from Tully’s windbreaker. She wiped Trooper Campos’s blood and brain matter from her face and out of her hair. Jack didn’t seem to mind that she was preoccupied
with cleaning herself and so he didn’t even notice that every time she stained a paper towel, she wadded it tightly in her fist and then dropped it into the water behind them. She only hoped that Creed might have a way to track them if she left a bloody trail.

CHAPTER 61

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

The others were already gathered in the conference room by the time Gwen came rushing in. She was breathless and her pulse had been racing since she got off the phone with Agent Alonzo.

“Aren’t you supposed to be—” But Julia Racine stopped herself, then continued, “Somewhere else?”

“What do we know?” Gwen asked, ignoring the question.

Racine was the only one who knew about the biopsy but that was by default. The entire hour drive out to Quantico, Gwen had been frantic. She had thrown her clothes on and rushed out of the surgical suite before any of the nurses had noticed. Now, as she sat down and rolled her chair to the table edge, she saw that she had not paid close enough attention while getting dressed. Under her suit jacket she could see from the cuff of her blouse that she had put it on inside out. She pulled her jacket lapels together and scooted closer to the table.

“We haven’t heard from anyone,” Kunze told her. “That might mean only that the cell phone reception is not sufficient.”

Gwen tried to make eye contact with the director but he looked
away, and she knew instantly that he didn’t believe a word he had just told her. He was worried, too.

“Tully sent a text message about two hours ago saying they had entered someplace called Blackwater River State Forest,” Agent Alonzo told her.

“The forest must have an office. Has anyone called? They could send someone to check.”

“There is an office, but it’s after hours.”

“What about emergencies?” Was she the only one frantic? How could they all be so calm? Otis had lied to her. He knew Jack. Was still in touch with him. Not only had Otis lied, he’d tricked her. He had tricked them all.

“I’ve called the Florida Highway Patrol. Two of their troopers are with Maggie and Tully,” Agent Alonzo said. But when he didn’t continue, Gwen knew why.

“And the Florida Highway Patrol hasn’t been able to get in touch with them either,” she said.

No one responded. Keith Ganza stared at a spot on the table. Kunze still wouldn’t look at her. Only Racine dared and there was a mixture of anger and sadness in her eyes, something Gwen did
not
want to see.

Alonzo’s phone rang and all of them startled. He checked the caller ID and immediately answered.

“Hello, Mr. Creed. This is Antonio Alonzo. You got my voice message.”

All of them leaned in, anxious but unable to hear the other side of the conversation. Gwen watched Alonzo’s face and watched his eyes dart then go wide. His jaw clamped tight. Kunze stood over him as Alonzo grabbed a notepad and started scribbling a list that Ryder Creed must have been dictating to him. Before the agent
ended the call he said, “Give me a few minutes to arrange this and I’ll call you right back.”

He pushed his chair back and looked up at Kunze.

“Both troopers are dead at the scene,” Alonzo said.

Gwen heard a gasp and realized it had come from her.

“Demarcus is alive, with a bullet wound in his stomach. Maggie, Tully, and Otis—all three of them are gone. Mr. Creed gave me a list of things he needs. And he asked me to call the Coast Guard.”

“Does he know if Tully and Maggie are okay?” Racine asked the question when Gwen couldn’t find her voice.

Alonzo’s eyes dropped to the floor and she could see he was hoping no one would ask that question.

“Mr. Creed says it looks like at least one of them is bleeding.”

CHAPTER 62

When the rain came it did so in angry and relentless torrents. It pounded on the tin roof of the fishing cabin. Maggie could feel the vibration of the thunder through the floorboards and thin walls. The place smelled damp and moldy, but after being in the boat and watching the storm approach in flashes of lightning, the wooden structure felt solid against her back.

With the storm came darkness. Jack had instructed her and Tully to stay on an old, worn sofa in the corner farthest from the door. Streaks of lightning exploded outside the single-paned windows while thunder sent the glass rattling.

Jack lit a kerosene lamp and opened a drawer to take out two flashlights. Otis walked the length of the cabin, hands on his hips, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“This is real nice,” Otis told Jack. “It’s just as nice as you said.”

“No electricity, but you don’t need any.” Jack pulled open the hatch on a cast-iron potbelly stove and started filling it with the firewood stacked alongside it. “Got a chemical toilet through that door,” he pointed.

He opened another door beside it, and through the fading light Maggie could see a bed. Despite the musty smell the place looked well taken care of, stocked and recently used.

“Got everything you need right here,” Jack said.

“How about some water, a towel, and some alcohol?” Maggie asked.

Both men looked at her as though they had forgotten her presence.

She didn’t care. She no longer had anything to lose.

Her heart had been pounding with the rhythm of the rain, both filling her ears. Her panic had settled into a heavy weight that crushed against her chest and left her nerves raw. She had spent the last of her adrenaline. She was exhausted, damp with sweat, and cold. In her hurry she had shoved and snapped her handcuff too tight and the metal had been chewing into her flesh every time Tully jerked his hand. And Tully had not said anything more than what sounded like the mutterings of a man in pain. His skin was hot to the touch. His body was drenched with sweat. The bleeding had slowed but she had no idea how much blood he had lost.

Without a word, Jack went to one of the cabinets and, to Maggie’s surprise, pulled out a small towel. From another cabinet he grabbed a bottle of water, and from a lower shelf he pulled out a brown bottle with a black seal. Whiskey, no doubt.

He brought the three items to Maggie and set them on the floor in front of her.

“You’ve seen what I’m capable of doing,” he told her. “Are you sure it’s worth cleaning him up?”

She ignored him and grabbed the water, hoping in the dim light he couldn’t see how badly her hand was shaking.

“That’s what I like about you,” he said. “You take on a challenge even when it’s thrown at you. We’re a lot alike, Magpie.”

She wanted to tell him to stop calling her that, but it would probably only please him to know it bothered her.

“So that’s what this is about,” she said, but wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Instead she went to work on Tully, immediately finding it awkward to use one hand while the other was tethered. She pretended it wasn’t a problem and continued with her attempt to sound brave.

“You send me running halfway across the country,” she said, “just to get a good look at your handiwork. Then you drag me to the middle of nowhere to show me how much you and I are alike? Am I supposed to be flattered?”

“You want to know what it’s about? I’ll tell you.” He squatted down in front of her, a safe distance away but so that they were eye level. “I knew the first time I saw you that you’d be a challenge like no other.”

She hadn’t noticed how wolflike his eyes were. Narrow set, black, and piercing in an otherwise handsome and amicable face.

“As soon as the rain lets up I’m going to let you go.” He paused, and she knew he was looking for some sign of relief—a false relief. “I’ll let you and your buddy have a chance to run. I’ll even give you a head start. Just like I gave Noah.”

It felt like a jolt of ice shot through her veins.

“But if I catch you, the two of you’ll have to decide who I kill first.” He smiled and sat back on his haunches. “You have a background in psychology. I think you’d appreciate my little …” He searched for the right word. “My study of human nature. It’s quite interesting what a person will actually do or say to get me to kill their best friend first. I’ve heard all kinds of pleas and begging. Even bribes.”

Then his face got serious again and his eyes bore into hers as he said, “What are you willing to do, Maggie O’Dell, to save yourself? What are you willing to sacrifice?
Who
are you willing to sacrifice?”