“Oh, all right.”
“Did Enos and Eben Stone sail aboard that day or did they fly their airplane to Islesboro?”
Kip looked abashed.
“Tell me the truth, and we’re outta here,” Stone said. “Otherwise...”
“You want me to rat out two friends and clients, is that it?”
Stone cupped his hands and shouted toward the travel lift, “Okay, guys, crank her up. We’ll motor over there!” He turned to Kip. “Let me have the ignition keys.”
“Okay,” Kip said. “I’ll rat them out, but what do I get?”
“You get to keep your yacht and start the race tomorrow and not be charged as an accessory to rape and murder.”
“They did not sail aboard this boat from Nantucket to Boston. They had their Cessna at the Nantucket airport, and I don’t know where they went.”
“Are you ready to testify to that in court?”
“Court?” Kip asked weakly.
“That’s a good thing for you. They’ll be in jail until the trial, not looking for you.”
“I’ll swear to it!” Kip said.
“Good. You are to keep this conversation entirely confidential. That means you tell no one about it, especially the Stone twins. Understood?”
“Understood,” Kip said, nodding vigorously.
Stone yelled at the crew ashore again. “Never mind, guys!”
The men ashore shrugged and went back to smoking.
“Thanks for your time,” Dino said. “We’ll be in touch when we need you. Be sure to be available at all times, on a moment’s notice.”
The three walked back up the pontoon to their rental car. They waited until they were driving away before exploding in laughter.
“God,” Primmy said. “I hope the U.S. attorney doesn’t hear about this. You guys will be in terrible trouble!”
“Trouble? Us?” Stone said. “You’re the one who said I was the U.S. attorney and that Dino was a federal marshal!”
Primmy looked stunned. “But...”
“No buts,” Stone said, then he couldn’t stand it anymore and started to laugh.
“I’m going to get you for that!” Primmy shouted. She held up her iPhone. “And you better be nice, if you want the recording of what Kip said.”
“Peace!” Stone shouted. He got out his cell phone and called Sergeant Young.
“Tom Young.”
“Tom, it’s Stone Barrington.”
“Not again,” Young moaned. “What now?”
“I have a recording of an interview with Kip Harwood, admitting that the Stone twins did not, repeat did not, sail back to Boston on his yacht on the day of the last murder in Islesboro, and that they left Nantucket on their airplane!”
“No shit? And do you have testimony on where they landed and when, and when they took off again?”
“Not yet. I thought you might want the honor of wrapping it up.”
“Yeah, sure, the honor! Nice try! Tell you what, you get me a written, sworn statement from Kip that puts them on Islesboro at the time of the murder, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re an unreasonable man, Tom. I’m giving you the cake. All you need to provide is the icing.”
“You give me both, and I’ll give you the knife to slice it with.”
“I have to do everything around here,” Stone muttered.
“Now you know how I feel!” He hung up.
“Well,” Stone said, “it was worth a try.”
25
Carly Riggs slid into her desk in class; Tim Scott was already in the next desk. “Are you ready?” she whispered.
“We’re all set,” he whispered back. “My car is on the right-hand side out of the front door, a tan station wagon. We’ll leave separately and meet up there.”
Somebody rapped sharply with a gavel, and the large room fell quiet.
An hour later, in the car, Tim turned down a dirt track and drove for half a mile. They emerged into a small clearing, hemmed in by trees on three sides and open to a beautiful view of the lake on the fourth.
They got out, and Tim retrieved a picnic basket and a blanket from the rear of the wagon and spread the blanket on the thick grass. “Lonely enough for you?”
“Perfect,” she said. They sat down on the blanket and kissed. “Don’t you want lunch?” she asked.
“I want an appetizer first,” Tim said, unzipping her jeans and pulling them off. The thong took only a second longer.
A few minutes later, they lay dozing, his head on her belly. They heard a car door close somewhere.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“What if we’re disturbed?”
“So what? They’ve probably seen a naked girl before.”
“Ouch!” she said.
“What’s the matter?” Then something stuck his back, and he didn’t seem to care what it was anymore.
Carly woke first, just a little. She became aware that she was spread-eagle on a bed, her hands tied on each side and her legs apart, secured at the ankles.
“How was it?” a male voice asked.
“Sweet. It’s a pity we can’t save some for later.”
“We need to get them out of here.”
“I know. First, another shot.”
Something stung her right buttock, then he moved away. “Him, too.”
“Have you got the thing rigged?”
“It’ll let in about a quart a minute. Nobody’s out there at night.”
Carly drifted off, before she could ask her question.
She woke up in cold water. Someone had her by the hair.
“Hang on,” he said. “Can you help pull yourself up?”
She flailed with one arm and made contact with something wooden and slippery.
“Stay on your stomach,” he said, “and hang on. We’re about fifty yards from shore.”
Carly held on for her life, while somebody rowed slowly. She faded again, and this time, she woke lying wrapped in a blanket. Someone brushed her hair out of her face.
“I’ve called for an ambulance,” he said. “They should be here soon.”
“Where’s Tim?” she managed to ask.
“All I saw was you, just an arm draped over the gunwales of a sinking boat. I got hold of your wrist and held on. I’m sorry you were uncomfortable, but there’s little room on a one-man racing shell. I like to come out here and row at night, when there’s a moon. You don’t have to deal with powerboats’ wakes.”
“You didn’t see Tim?”
“I didn’t see anything but your arm. Are you stoned?”
“Not in the way you mean. I was drugged, though.” She felt herself drifting off again. “Tell them something for me.”
“Tell who?”
“The ambulance people.”
“What shall I tell them?”
“Tell them I want a rape kit.”
“What?”
But she had already fallen asleep again.
This time it was daylight, and there was a whirring noise, as her bed sat up. Somebody put a glass straw in her mouth.
“Suck,” a female voice said.
She sucked in water greedily. “I want a rape kit,” she said, when she had slaked her thirst.
“Already accomplished,” the woman said. “Your rescuer relayed your message.”
“Where is he?”
“Around somewhere. He’s only a teenager, but he got you aboard his shell and hauled you to shore.”
“A friend was with me. Tim Scott.”
“No word of him. Were you in a boat together?”
“I think so.”
“You’ve been out for about nine hours. I’ve sent samples to the tox lab, and your rape kit is in the hands of the police.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you hungry? Would you like some soup?”
“Yes.”
She pressed a button on the bed, and a nurse brought in a tray.