Cade and I had figured that if this trap was going to work at all, the killer would surely show up after everyone else in the marina had gone to bed, which on Friday night meant after the weekly party tailed off around two in the morning. I could hear the action in full swing a couple of docks away, so there was oodles of time.
I’d also had time to think about my previous position in the shrubbery. While my phone’s camera function was good, I wasn’t absolutely certain it was good enough to capture the face of someone on my boat from that distance. This time I was going to be up close and personal.
“Minnie?”
I abandoned the picnic basket and poked my head out the door. “Hey, Cade. Come on in. I was just finishing with the provisions.”
He opened the houseboat’s gate and, using his cane for assistance, stepped up onto the deck. “The closer this moment comes, the less sure I am you should be doing it.”
“Me? What about you?”
“It’s my problem and I should never have pulled you in.”
I snorted. “As I recall, I pulled myself in. The next big question is, do I take the basket of snacks, or do you?” He started to protest, but I crossed my arms and stuck out my chin, becoming the immovable object. Cade sighed, clearly choosing not to try to be the irresistible force, and lifted the picnic basket off the counter.
The weight almost toppled him. “Goodness, Minnie, we’re only going to be out here for a few hours. How much did you pack?”
Since he’d lifted the basket with his weak arm, I didn’t want to make fun of him. “Enough to feed a small army. After all, it’s better to have and not need than need and not have.”
He nodded sagely. “Words of wisdom. Now, where is that Eddie of yours? I’d like to say hello.”
“Last I checked, he was napping on my pillow.” I made a move toward the back of the boat. “I’ll go get him.”
“No, don’t.” Cade held up his hand. “I wouldn’t want to wake him.”
I blinked. The man, clearly, had never kept company with a cat. “He’ll go right back to sleep,” I said. “Cats aren’t like babies.”
But Cade was already shuffling toward the door. “Let’s get you settled.”
Outside, I propped the ladder I’d borrowed from the marina office up against the side of the cabin and scrambled up. Cade stood a few rungs up, lifted the picnic basket to the roof, and slid it across. I patted the front pocket of my black sweatpants. Phone. I patted the other pocket. My aunt’s small digital camera for backup. Set and ready.
“Did you look at the weather?” I asked.
“If you believe weather forecasters”—the chaise squeaked under Cade’s weight—“we’re in for a mild evening of temperatures in the low sixties, calm wind, and clear skies.”
I hunted around in the darkness for the cushion I’d tossed up earlier. “That’s a nice forecast. I hope it’s true.”
Cade chuckled. “You, me, and all the merrymakers over there.”
Tonight’s marina party was roaring at full throttle. The two docks and multiple boats between us weren’t doing much to muffle the music and laughter. I sat cross-legged on the cushion, tempted to reach for the picnic basket, but knowing I shouldn’t start down that snack-filled road so early.
Cade and I talked quietly. He told me that he’d always wanted to spend a night in Sweden’s ice hotel; I told him that I’d always wanted to watch a horse race at every track Dick Francis had mentioned in his mysteries. Cade said he’d never been able to cook bacon properly and I confessed that I’d never once made a biscuit worth eating.
It might have been an hour later when Cade stood and stretched. “I’m getting downright old,” he grumbled. “Can’t even—“
Crash!
I knew exactly what had happened. I stuck my head out over the edge of the roof. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I could see well enough, or almost. “That’s my bucket of rocks,” I said. “You must have kicked it over. Leave them for morning. They’re just, you know, rocks.”
But he was already stooping down to pick them up. “Can’t have a mess,” he said, glancing sideways, “now, can we?”
He stopped abruptly. With a rock in each hand, he looked straight up at me.
Chapter 20
I stopped breathing. Looked at Cade’s taut face. Looked at the stones in his hands. Looked at Cade. Had I been wrong? Had all this been a complicated maneuver to get me in a place where he could kill me and blame it on the ex-boyfriend?
“No!” Cade shouted, and pulled back with his arm, cocking it to throw.
I yanked myself back, shouting who knew what, stunned that I’d been so wrong, angry that Cade was trying to murder me, and pumped full of determination that I’d get out of this situation. Somehow.
“Leave us alone!” Cade shouted, and the rock flew across the boat’s deck and crashed against something that went “Oww!”
I lifted my head. Someone was standing on the dock. A male figure, nondescript, not short and not tall, not wide and not thin. He was standing with one foot on the dock and one on my boat, grasping his shoulder where Cade’s rock must have hit him nice and square, but it was an awkward look, because the hand doing the grasping was holding a deadly looking handgun with an attachment that every moviegoer knew was a silencer.
“It’s him,” I gasped, part of me very relieved that it wasn’t Trock, or Greg, or Hugo, or even Randall Moffit.
“Stay still,” Cade ordered. He reached for another rock, cocked his arm again, and let it fly.
Brett Karringer ducked. Cade’s stone hit a piling and splashed harmlessly into the water.
Cade was grabbing stone after stone, throwing, fighting as best he could, but there were only so many rocks in the bucket. All Karringer had to do was wait it out, and then he could come after us with the gun and do… well, whatever he’d been planning on doing.
I was yelling, shrieking for help, but the music from the party was drowning me out.
There had to be a way out of this. There had to be, but calling 911 wouldn’t get the police here anything close to fast enough.
Frantically I looked around for a weapon. I didn’t have an accurate aim—I’d always been one of those kids picked dead last for softball teams in gym class—so even if there were more rocks, it wouldn’t have done us any good. What we needed was to get that gun away from Karringer. What I needed was something… ah.
I lunged for the picnic basket. Sticking out high was the cutting board I’d stuffed in to work as a serving tray. I yanked it free.
“Minnie, call the police!” Cade shouted, still throwing rocks at Karringer.
Rocks weren’t going to work much longer and there was no time to hold a committee meeting about this. Karringer’s head was down and he was fumbling with the gun, trying to bring it up and around into shooting position.
Though the last thing I wanted to do was approach a guy with a loaded weapon, there wasn’t much choice. Well, I could have screamed like a little kid and crumpled into a ball of fear, but that wouldn’t be very productive. It wouldn’t have helped my self-esteem much, either.
I sucked in a quick breath and, as quickly and as quietly as I could, climbed down the ladder. How close did I have to get? I had absolutely no idea.
With all my heart and might I wished that I’d spent more time in the backyard playing catch with my brother. If only Greg Plassey were here to give me some pointers. Then again, if Greg were here, he would have beaned Karringer in the head with that first rock and I wouldn’t have to be doing any of this. An empowerment exercise, that’s what this was.
I was aware of the stupidity of the thoughts running through my brain, but I didn’t try to stop them. If I stopped them, I might start thinking about how scared I was, and there was no way that could be a good thing.