The Crimes of Jordan Wise (25 page)

"No, the bathroom . . ."

"Stay right here."

" . . . spinning . . ."

"Close your eyes. Lie still."

I held her down until she stopped struggling, then turned her onto her side and knelt beside the bunk. Her eyes were slits, the lids drooping. Her breathing was already fast and ragged. Sweat plastered strands of her hair against the mottled skin of her forehead. I remember thinking that it was astonishing I could ever have loved this creature. I didn't even hate her very much in that moment. It was like looking into the face of no one I'd ever seen before.

"Annalise, listen to me."

". . .so tired . . ."

"Don't go to sleep yet. Listen. I know about Fred Cotler."

". . . What?"

"I know about Fred Cotler. I know you told him about me; I know you were part of the blackmail."

I had to say it three more times before the meaning penetrated the drug and alcohol haze. Her body twitched; her head came up. She said in a clear, vicious whisper, "You son of a bitch!" and then she sagged back and her eyes closed and she was still.

I poured a triple shot of Arundel and went topside. For a long time I sat on the foredeck and watched the harbor lights and listened to the seabirds and the night music. Two hours, three, four—I had no sense of time. When I went down to the cabin again to check on her, I thought she might have stopped breathing. I couldn't find a pulse, but I still wasn't sure. I took the pillow out from under her head, lowered it over her face. And then I was sure.

The difficult part of the wall was finished.

"Good-bye, Annalise," I said.

Happy? Sick? Sad? Remorseful?

None of the above.

I felt nothing.

I'd done what I had to do, and it had burned me out and left me empty inside.

I sat on deck again until long after midnight. The marina was quiet by then, everybody asleep on the nearby boats, the scattered nightlights the only breaks in the moonless dark. I stirred myself and went down the companionway again.

I'd draped a sheet over the mound on the berth, so I wouldn't have to look at her anymore. I double-checked the curtains over the portholes to make sure they were tight-drawn. Then I packed all of Annalise's belongings into the one suitcase and the cosmetic bag. Every single item, every last trace. When I was done, I added the heavy lead sinkers to both bags, locked them, took them to the forward sail locker, and padlocked them inside.

Before I dragged the mizzen out from under the bunk and spread it open on the deck, I put on a pair of gloves. The dead weight was much easier to handle than Coder's had been; I left the sheet in place as I lifted her down onto the Dacron. I brought the ice chest from the galley, took out half of the Freon packs, laid them down alongside her, and rolled her onto them. The others I arranged on top, then wrapped the sail around her and the refrigerants. Half a roll of duct tape sealed the bundle as airtight as I could make it.

I keyed open the aft sail locker. There was nothing in it now except for the lengths of anchor chain and the extra padlocks. The bundle was heavy, but I hoisted it over my shoulder without too much struggle and carried it to the locker and wedged it inside, in a position that would make getting it out again fairly easy. The entire business took less than five minutes.

I remade the bunk, sprawled out on it, and fell into an exhalisted sleep.

"You look beat up, Cap'n," he said.

"Didn't sleep much," I said. "Annalise packed up and left yesterday. Sooner than I expected."

He nodded. "Better it happen quick."

"Yeah. I'm relieved she's gone. Reason I didn't sleep much is that I'm still kicking myself for letting her come back in the first place."

We headed out north-by-northwest, on a starboard tack through the Windward Passage. Brisk trades at about twelve knots, light cloud cover—another fine day for sailing. It was cool out there with the trades blowing strong; the Freon packs probably hadn't been necessary. Bone had little to say once we were under way. He was like that sometimes, taciturn, self-contained. His silence was all right with me. I didn't feel much like talking, either.

The course I'd set took us up past Sandy Cay, off Jost Van Dyke Island, then along the Tortola coast on a broad reach past Guana Island. Familiar territory. And tonight we'd be well away from land, in waters where we weren't likely to encounter many other vessels.

Bone went below to fix the noon meal, came back up again a couple of minutes later. "No beer, Cap'n," he said. "Ice chest's empty."

"Damn, I thought we had some. I guess I forgot to check. We can put in somewhere and load up—"

"No need. Plenty of rum, enough ice in the fridge."

The wind died in the late afternoon and we were down to about two knots, riding close-hauled, as the sun began to sink. I lashed the wheel and went below to pour us a couple of Arundels in preparation for the sunset. It was spectacular that night, the clouds a puffy mix of cirrocumulus and altocumulus, the colors vivid bronze and burnt orange, smoky grays and deep purples. The long day's sail and the sunset had leached the tiredness and most of the tension out of me. Once I was finished with the night's chore, I felt sure the emptiness would be gone—that I'd feel a measure of peace again.

My turn in the galley, and I dawdled over the meal so it would be close to eight o'clock before it was ready. We ate on deck, still without exchanging more than a few words. When we were done, I took the plates and empty glasses down to the galley. The coffee pot was on; Bone liked a mug of sugared coffee laced with rum after his evening meal. I poured another Arundel on ice for myself, fixed his coffee—a generous dollop of rum, plenty of sugar, and two of the remaining Valium tablets. I debated making it three, because Bone was a light sleeper, but I was afraid of doing him some harm. Two ought to be enough.

Six-hour watches in clear weather like this. It was my boat, so I had first option; I told him I'd take the nine-to-three watch. He was still quiet, but he hadn't tasted anything wrong with his drink: he'd drained the mug. He was yawning and rubbing his eyes by nine o'clock. I pointed out the time, said he'd better get himself some sleep. He nodded and took himself below.

I waited two hours before I lashed the wheel and tiptoed below to check on him. He was sprawled face down on the vee bunk in the fore cabin, snoring loudly. I opened the forward sail locker and got the suitcase and cosmetic case and carried them topside. Before I dumped them over the side I made another scan for running lights in the vicinity. Nothing but black, starlit sea.

Belowdecks again I opened the aft locker and dragged the bundle out and propped it against the bulkhead. I put the extra padlocks in my pocket, looped the lengths of anchor chain around my wrists and arms. It was awkward getting the bundle over my shoulder, a strain on my back and legs carrying it up the companionway. Topside, sweating in the cool night air, I lowered the bundle against the starboard rail and held it there while I wrapped the lengths of anchor chain around it, top and bottom, and snugged them tightly in place with the extra padlocks. My grasp slipped a little as I lifted the bundle up onto the rail; before I could set myself, one of the damn chain links scraped a furrow into the smooth mahogany. The bundle made a splash that seemed very loud in the night's stillness. The weight of the chains took it into the depths almost immediately.

I went below again. Bone was still out, still snoring; he hadn't moved.

Now the wall was complete.

I got the flashlight from the cockpit and checked the mark in the starboard rail. It wasn't deep, noticeable only when you were up close and looking. If Bone spotted it, he'd know it hadn't been there when he turned in. I'd think up a story to explain it if he questioned me.

I put the flash away and sat against the deckhouse wall to rest and and watch the night. I couldn't seem to enjoy the starstruck vastness, couldn't find any of the peace I'd hoped for. The burned-out emptiness remained. I shouldn't have expected it to fill up again so soon. After all that I'd been through, the healing was bound to take a little time.

Bone didn't come up at three to take his watch, so I went down to call him. He was still asleep, but thrashing restlessly now. I shook him awake, told him the time. It took him a few seconds to shake off the grogginess. His mouth worked as if it were dry and foul-tasting; the way he heeled his temples told me he had a headache.

I said lightly, "Too much rum last night, Bone?"

He didn't answer. He stood, pulled a T-shirt over his head, and headed up the companionway.

As soon as I saw the position of the sun, I knew that we were heading in the opposite direction from the course I'd set the day before. Bone was standing at the helm, stiff-backed, staring straight ahead. He didn't answer when I said good morning. I extended one of the mugs; he shook his head without looking at me, so I set it down on the chart table.

"You changed our course," I said. "How come?"

"Heading back, Cap'n."

"Back to St. Thomas? Why?"

"Heading back, Cap'n."

"What's the matter? Are you sick?"

"Yeah, mon. A little sick."

I laid a hand on his arm, the way you do. He shrugged it off as if it were an annoying blowfly.

"What the hell, Bone?"

His gaze rounded on me, and there was a look in his eyes I'd never seen before. As if something had cought fire in their depths. As if he were looking at somebody he'd never seen before. He said nothing, just stared at me.

He knows, I thought.

He knows!

Moment of panic. Involuntary reflex because of it. A sudden roll as we plowed through a wave trough. All three of those things caused the mug to slip out of my hand. It tilted in Bone's direction as it fell, splattering him with hot coffee on the way down. More coffee splashed his pantlegs when the mug shattered on the deck.

I don't know, maybe he thought I did it on purpose. Or maybe something just broke loose inside him. Whatever the reason, his reaction was snake-sudden.

He spun toward me and grabbed two handfuls of my shirt. I said something, I don't remember what, and clawed at his wrists. He had a grip like an iron fllike. He crowded in close and swung me around and slammed my back up hard against the mizzenmast. Pain tore a yell out of me; I folight him but I couldn't pull free. He had me pinned tight against the spar.

At some point in the brief struggle one of us must have kicked down on a leeward spoke, causing the wheel to spin counterclockwise.
Windrunner
's bow fell off to port. Wind hammered into the lee side of the mains'l with a crack like a big Umb breaking off a tree. The main boom swung inward as the yawl jibed. Bone and I both saw it an instant before it swept across the cockpit. He was the one in harm's way, his body shielding mine, and there wasn't enough time for him to twist aside. The boom smacked him on the shoulder with enough force to send him staggering into the starboard rail, and the rail catapulted him overboard.

The end of the boom missed me by no more than two inches. I heard the sound of him hitting the water and instinct sent me lurching back to the helm. I spun the wheel hard to bring her up into the wind, then ran forward and ripped the life preserver off the starboard shrouds and flung it back into the wake.

Bone had surfaced a dozen feet from where it landed. He bobbed there for a few seconds, not making any move toward the doughnut. I thought he might be hurt or too dazed to see it and I yelled above the wind, "Bone! In front of you!"

No answer. But then I saw him start to swim in a strong crawl toward the preserver and I knew he was all right. I scanned the sea around him. No dorsal fins, just white-flecked blue water.