“Drag her over here, and put her back on the tarp. I don’t want her ass in sand. What a mess, she’s got blood all over. I told you to be careful.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t willing to put your ass out there. I had to do the whole thing myself. No time to be dainty.”
Suddenly Sabotny was standing above her, looking directly into her half open eye. “Good morning, darling,” he sneered. “You’re probably wondering how we figured this out.” He bent over and snapped his fingers an inch from her good eye. “Easy, once we found that GPS. Had to be someone local. And new people don’t go unnoticed, darling. And as luck would have it, Chris, here, serviced the back-up generator at your house, something you asked your realtor to take care of. That’s when we heard about the rich woman from California. And then there was the Subaru, seemed to be around too often. Besides, I always knew you’d be out there sometime looking for revenge. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Why don’t you pull the tape off? Let her talk,” said Brewler.
“Don’t mess with a good thing. I don’t care what she has to say.”
Brewler knelt at her side. She saw the flash of steel, the fire reflecting off a knife. He ran his hand under her shirt, then pulled the stretchy material against the jagged serrations of the blade. Then he slit through the bra, severing the band between the cups. He looked up at Sabotny, “I told you she had big tits, nice and hard with big nipples.”
“Too bad you fucked up her face.”
“Get a flag or roll her over. It’s all good. Should we tell her about Terry before we fuck her?”
“I think we should have a drink, then flip for who gets sloppy seconds,” said Sabotny. He tossed an empty bottle on the fire. Mackenzie watched as he walked to the Range Rover, returning with a fresh whiskey bottle. He stood near the fire, using a knife to cut through the foil, pulling the cork, then passing the bottle to Brewler.
“Too bad Jim ain’t here for the party,” said Brewler after taking a long hit.
“Yeah, too bad the stupid drunk cooked himself. He was just fucking drinking himself to death.”
“This shit is good,” Brewler said, passing the bottle back.
“Should be. Seventy bucks a bottle,” Sabotny said. “Drag her over near the hole. Make it easier to toss her in when we’re done.”
Mackenzie felt the tarp under her sliding over rocks and clumps of dune grass. She clawed against the ties, trying to free her hands.
“I think I should have first crack,” said Sabotny.
“Why’s that?”
“Well, for one thing, I’m holding a gun. And I want her from the front. I’m not like you. Cut loose her ankles and wrists, then hold her down. And give me the knife so I can cut off her pants.”
Mackenzie was pushed onto her stomach, and she felt Brewler’s knee in her back. A knife ripped through the nylon ties, releasing her wrists and ankles. Then he rolled her on her back, violently pinning her shoulders to the ground with his knees, his hands pressing down hard, painfully holding her wrists near her shoulders.
She tensed her body, getting reading to make a move, focusing all her energy on breaking free.
Then, she saw the flash, followed by the roar of a pistol. Brewler’s grip weakened, he fell backwards. Sabotny kicked, then pushed him toward the deep trench until his lifeless body tumbled to the bottom.
Then Sabotny came back for her, moving slowly, staggering. Mackenzie reached for the Rohrbaugh, fumbling with a numb hand, surprised to find the pistol still in its holster on the inside of her boot. She swung it toward him.
“What the….” he threw himself at her.
She squeezed the trigger. He kept coming. She continued pulling on the trigger until the explosions stopped and the only sound was a mechanical click.
Crumpling to his knees, Sabotny fired back, one shot, and fell face first into the sand.
Mackenzie felt a burning sensation in her chest. She clawed at the duct tape covering her mouth, pulling some of it free, filling her lungs with the cold air coming off the lake, and falling, falling.
47
It was after 6 p.m. when Ray slowly rolled to a stop at the top of his drive. Hannah Jeffers, leaning against the side of her car, was waiting. Ray could see that once again his kayak was strapped to the top of her Subaru.
“Get in the car. Let’s not waste any sunlight.”
“I’ve got to get my gear,” he protested.
“Everything is packed. Your dry suit, fleece, and gear bag are in the back.
“Where will I change?”
“In the car or next to it. It’s not likely that anyone will be around. It’s not like I haven’t seen you au naturel. Besides, I’m a doctor. You can trust me.”
“What about dinner?” asked Ray, continuing to protest.
“Quiche. I ate mine while I was waiting for you. There’s a bottle of mineral water, too. You can eat while I drive. Get in. We’re wasting time.”
Ray pulled off his sport coat, threw it on the back seat, and slid into the passenger seat. “I’ve still got a gun and a badge.”
“Stash them under the seat.”
“That’s not secure enough,” he said.
“Okay, we’ll stuff them in a dry bag and put it in a hatch.” Hannah was already rolling down the drive. “Put your belt on. I don’t want to get pulled over.”
“So what’s going on?” asked Ray, noting Hannah’s agitation.
“Lot’s of stuff. I need to get on the water and drain some of this energy. Eat your quiche before it’s completely cold.”
Ray attacked the food, trying to remember if he had eaten lunch.
“There’s some dark chocolate in the bag, too. Ninety-three percent, just what you like. I only ate half the bar, total self control on my part. Plus I like you.”
Between bites, Ray counseled, “Slow down. The lake’s going to be there.” After a long pause, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“When I’m on the water, I’m okay. I need big, empty places.”
“Me, too,” said Ray.
“I’ve learned a lot by watching you.”
Ray looked across at her. She briefly turned in his direction.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“You know how to control the static. You own a TV, but it’s never on. Classical music is usually playing, the local NPR station. You read more than almost anyone I’ve ever met, and faithfully reflect on your day every evening in a journal. You always have your mind chewing on something. In between, you’re focused on food, making sure the next meal is worth eating. And at the edge is always the lake, the water, paddling or walking the shore. You seem to be able to keep the bad stuff in perspective.” She paused briefly. “I’m not sure how women fit into that scheme, but thank you for letting me into your life, at least a little bit.”
Ray pondered Hannah’s statements. He had never thought about his life in those terms before. She had seemed to nail it. He was still savoring the last bit of chocolate when she pulled into a circular parking area at a road end.
“I’ll undo the boats while you change,” she said, climbing from the car.
After carrying the boats to the water’s edge, they sat quietly for a while, watching the surf, each lost in their own thoughts.
Hannah slid behind Ray, putting her arms around his neck. She pulled him tight and playfully nibbled at an ear, then stood up. “How much light do we have?”
Ray looked at his watch, then at the horizon. “Two hours, with the gloaming, then some moonlight. The lake should be flat by then, and we can paddle in the dark. North or south?”
“South. Get your GPS going. Do five or six miles, then turn back.”
They launched through the surf, Hannah first. Ray pushed her into the waves, then followed. They settled into an easy rhythm, more relaxed than usual. The sun moved toward the western horizon and slowly sank into the gently curving lake.
The light was almost gone when Ray and Hannah neared the take-out point. Ray’s phone, in a protective case under his front deck lines, started to ring.”