I kept my eyes glued to Diane as I slipped the tips of my fingers into my pocket and began to slip the phone out from inside. She continued on her diatribe about her poor, unfair life, but I only heard enough to offer the smallest of replies. Instead, my focus had shifted toward my phone.
I pressed to unlock it—thankful I’d disabled the passcode—clicked the FaceTime app icon, and placed a call to Octo-Cat on my iPad.
Fingers crossed he wasn’t too mad to help save my life.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The call went through, and Octo-Cat answered after just a couple rings. I swear I’d never been happier to hear anyone’s voice in all my life.
“Let me guess,” he said, sounding almost bored. “You’re in danger and need the cat to come save the day.”
Yes! I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t alert Diane to the call without causing serious trouble for myself. Instead, I needed to find a way to keep her talking until my cat could come up with a way to rescue me. Seriously, of all the things my life could hinge on, it all came down to a talking cat with a bad attitude—one whom I’d recently made very, very angry with me.
I needed to find a way to keep the conversation going, but Diane wasn’t paying any attention to me as she ripped through drawers and containers in search of whatever it was she needed. A couple minutes later she found what she’d been searching for all this time and strode back across the room to show me. Oh, how I prayed Octo-Cat was still with me!
I pushed the phone behind my back by making a big show of struggling against my bonds, managing to get it out of sight just in time.
“I’d stop that if I were you,” Diane warned, holding up the newly acquired object so that I could see it clearly. An old revolver caught and reflected the light of the fire in its smooth metal body, and no matter how much it terrified me, I just couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“That’s right,” my captor said with a smirk. “You’re going to die.”
My mind reeled, turning back to Octo-Cat once more. I couldn’t hear his voice anymore. For all I knew, we’d lost the connection or he’d gotten bored and given up waiting. Still, I had to press on with my plan, hoping he was there and listening with Nan.
“I can keep quiet,” I pleaded with Diane. “I don’t have to tell anyone you murdered Ethel. You can take the money and leave. Or I can leave. Please. Just let me go.”
“Oh, Angie,” she said with false pity. “You’re forgetting that I know you. You can’t even keep the results of a TV singing competition secret. What makes you think I’d trust you with something like this?”
“Are you going to shoot me?” I asked, my voiced tremoring with fear. I’d like to say that it was put on for effect, but that would be a lie. I had no idea whether my lone escape plan was working or whether I’d survive this horrible experience to live another day. If I did, I’d sure take a lot less for granted going forward.
Like people’s guilt or innocence, for one thing.
Diane kicked my leg and lowered the gun from my head to my chest. “That’s plan B,” she revealed coldly.
“What’s plan A?” I whispered as my heart galloped wildly in my chest.
“You like swimming. Don’t you, Angie?” she asked, kicking me again. “I figured we could go for a nice night swim at Deadman’s Wharf. What do you say?”
“Deadman’s Wharf?” I repeated loudly. “But the undertow there… I wouldn’t be able to… I’d…” I cried openly now.
“Oh, I know.” Diane’s face flashed with sick delight as she loosened the bonds on my ankles. “Now get up.”
“I don’t want to go to Deadman’s Wharf,” I wailed. Please, Octo-Cat. Please be listening. Please understand what I’m trying to tell you.
“Now it’s about what I want.” She kicked me a third time. “Get up.”
Somehow I had to find a way to get up without her seeing my phone on the floor behind me. I made a big show of struggling to my feet then stumbled forward, knocking Diane over in the process.
“Oh, you’re going to live to regret that,” she growled before breaking out in a creepy laugh. “Luckily it won’t be very long.”
She pulled us both to our feet, stuck the gun into my ribs, and led me outside. It looked like we were on our way to Deadman’s Wharf.
I just hoped we weren’t the only ones.
Despite driving in Diane’s large luxury SUV, the ride over was bumpy and painful. Well, I wouldn’t be volunteering to lay tied up on the floor again any time soon—that is, if I even managed to reach tomorrow with my life intact.
She’d tied my ankles tight again after forcing me onto the floor of her vehicle, then kept her eyes on me through the rear-view mirror the entire drive over. Even if I’d had the strength to mount an escape, carrying it out would have been impossible under her watchful eye.
By the time we arrived at Deadman’s Wharf, I had already lost feeling in my feet. Well, except for the mess of tingles that had taken up residence and made it so that I no longer trusted myself to stand without the very real risk of toppling over.
Diane parked near one of the darkened buildings dotting the wharf and did a quick search of the premises before finally forcing me out of the car.
Wind whipped violently at the waves as Diane dug her nails into my wrist and yanked me toward the nearest pier. But my ankles were still bound too tightly for me to shuffle along. I had to hop along instead, which was especially difficult given the fact my feet had fallen asleep and my brain had gone crazy with fear.
“I did like you before,” Diane muttered when we reached the midpoint of the pier. “It’s going to be much harder killing you than it was to kill Ethel.”
Gee, thanks. She was still going to kill me, but at least she’d feel a little bit bad about it.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said with great difficulty before falling face forward on the old, weathered planks below when one of my hops failed to land properly.
“Stop being dramatic,” Diane hissed in my ear as she put an arm beneath each of mine and pulled me back to a standing position with a series of insulting grunts and groans. “I’d tell you to maybe try a diet, but…” She made a flippant gesture and actually laughed.
“Fat shaming me, really?” I ground out. My legs burned beneath me. The new wounds on my face stung from where my cheek had hit the pier. “I’m sure you’ll feel way less guilty about killing me now.”
Diane said nothing but quickened our pace toward the end of the pier.
I tried to glance back over my shoulder to see if Octo-Cat and Nan had gotten my message to come out and help. Maybe some lone lobsterman would be out checking his traps. Maybe a car would just randomly happen to pass by…
Or maybe no one was coming.
Maybe I was really going to die.
We were less than ten feet from the end of the pier now. The tide was high and the waves crashed so violently that they lapped at the edge, sending ripples over the wood. I was a good swimmer, having been raised near the ocean, but not nearly good enough to escape waves like this when both my hands and feet were tied tightly.
I had one last chance to make it out of this alive, and it was time for me to take it. Drawing in a deep, labored breath before my next hop, I angled myself so that I landed partially on Diane’s foot, knocking us both sideways across the pier.
“Oh, you’re going to pay for that!” she whisper-screamed while clutching her jaw from where it had hit on the firm wood planks. I was banking on her to scream and curse at the top of her lungs, but that didn’t happen. We didn’t both pitch off the side, either.
I glanced around frantically, searching for someone who could save me. Octo-Cat, I begged in my mind. Please, please help me!