She started to head for the spiral staircase.
“No, the other way”
They filed down the hal past doors to rooms whose decor Pix could merely imagine. She had no doubt that had Jim not been around, Valerie would pul the trigger in a moment just because she was having to leave her fabulous house. And given her treatment of husband number one, Jim ought to be looking around a great deal, Pix thought rueful y. Her hands were tied behind her back and she gave a little wave to Samantha. Jim didn't want to leave two bodies behind. Pix was convinced they would remain alive, she told herself fervently. The question was, where?
They marched through the kitchen and out the back door. It was very dark. The moon had not risen yet and Pix stumbled on the stairs. If she broke a leg, would they shoot her?
“Down to the dock," Jim ordered.
As they left the house, lighted up like a Christmas tree to indicate occupancy, Pix wondered what they had done with her car. Another thought struck her. What had they done with Duncan? He was stil on the island as far as she knew.
They reached the dock. Jim's Boston Whaler was pul ed up.
“We're al going to take a little boat ride," he said.
"Honey, you get in first." Pix was pretty sure he didn't mean either of them. Valerie slid by them awkwardly. She was struggling with a heavy canvas bag that she must have picked up on their way out. She was dressed for the voyage: heavy pants, jacket, and a kerchief tied over her hair. Pix gasped in surprise. Not at Valerie's outfit, but at what she was wearing on her feet—running shoes with twinkling red lights that flickered on and off as she got into the boat.
It hadn't been Duncan at al .
Why hadn't Pix tripped her, pushed her body straight over the side—this monstrous woman who had knocked Samantha to the ground, leaving her injured, with no more compunction than she would have felt swatting a mosquito?
It was al Pix could do not to yel out every filthy name she had ever heard. But even if they didn't kil her, they would surely tighten the gag, and if she had sent Valerie sprawling into the sea, Pix herself might have fol owed her.
No, there was absolutely nothing she could do.
They got in the boat. If she had been in the mood, Pix would have been amused at the sight of a large wicker picnic basket—a few bottles of the bubbly and other assorted goodies for a midnight feast on the bounding main? Valerie set her bag next to it with a defiant look at her husband. The silver after al ?
“We should be in Nova Scotia before dawn," Jim said with obvious pleasure, anticipating the trip. He was where he was happiest—on the water.
“Duncan won't be back until late—if he comes here at al . He'l probably sleep in his moldy old cabin as usual."
“I liked that `good mother' touch." Jim chuckled. "How he wouldn't be seeing his friends for a while and you wanted to treat them al to pizza and the movies. Here, you steer. I've got to change my shoes.”
Valerie took over. She was in a boat, steering a boat.
The phobia, like everything else, had been fake.
Jim sat beside Pix companionably. They could see Valerie at the helm, shifting her feet every once in a while, causing the lights in her shoes to flash. Jim chuckled.
"Technology. What next? Shoes that talk or sing? Sorry about Samantha, incidental y. Valerie must have pushed her a bit harder than she'd planned. We had merely intended to give you a scare so you'd stop sticking your nose into things. We hoped Samantha would see the lights and assume it was Dunc. It al worked out perfectly.”
Depending on one's viewpoint. Pix was reaching the boiling point.
She saw they were headed for a smal island that she knew belonged to the camp. It was a long way from shore.
They used it for overnights, teaching the kids survival skil s.
Now it appeared it would test Pix's own. Valerie cut the motor and eased the boat into shal ow water. Jim jumped out, pul ing them farther onto the beach. The hul scraped along the rough sand, then al was quiet. The only sound was that of the waves gently breaking to either side.
“Last stop," Jim said heartily. He reached in the boat and picked Pix up, depositing her more or less upright on the sand. Samantha was next.
Pix had never noticed how strong he was. She'd never noticed a lot of things about Jim.
“Toss me the rope, Val. I won't be a minute." He pul ed a gun from his pocket. "Okay, up the path”
Pix couldn't imagine where he was taking them, and although the night was stil warm, she felt a cold sweat break out. Was it real y going to be the last stop? Behind her, Samantha moaned.
They walked to a clearing in the middle of the island.
Some summer's campers had built a lean-to and it was this that was apparently their destination.
“Get in and lie down. Let's not make things hard. I do so wish you two had not become involved. Believe me, I hate doing this," Jim said as he began to expertly bind Samantha's feet together again.
Pix thought about trying to kick the gun from his hand.
She could do it easily, though with her hands behind her back, it would gain her nothing. Every plan she had devised had come to naught. She had failed miserably. But she would not cry, she told herself angrily. She would not let the bastard see her cry.
He finished with Samantha and went to work on Pix. In a moment, he was standing up.
“Wel , good-bye, I guess. There's real y nothing else to say.”
A few minutes later, they heard the boat start up again.
Mother and daughter started talking at once. "Mom, they're gone!”
“Are you al right?”
They were almost giddy with relief. They were alive.
But, Pix soon realized, taking stock of the situation, not in good shape.
The island was uninhabited, and tied securely the way they were, there was no way they could attract attention tomorrow morning from a passing boat. When the Athertons didn't turn up at the camp and it became apparent that Pix and Samantha were also missing, a search would be made, yet it was unlikely that anyone would think to come here. There were countless islands of varying size dotted throughout Penobscot Bay. It could be days or even weeks before they were found.
Jim wasn't going to be directly responsible for their deaths. Obviously, he'd come up with a plan that effectively kept them out of the way while the Athertons headed for the Canadian border and stil kept his hands clean. Pix could almost hear him explaining it to "sweet-cakes,”
“That's al we need, a few hours. If they're found, fine. If not ...”
If not .. .
“Samantha, we have to try to cut these ropes with something. Can you stand up?"
“I don't know" She strained to bend her knees and get into a sitting position. "It's no use. He's tied our hands and feet together."
“Maybe I can untie the knot. My fingers are free.”
Pix rol ed over to Samantha and began to pick at the knot at her ankles. Her fingers soon began to ache and she wished she hadn't kept her nails so short. Manicures didn't last long gardening.
“At least one of us has to get down to the shore and start yel ing. There's always the chance that a boat could have pul ed into the cove for the night. Distract me. Sing.
Anything." The pain and frustration were intense.
“Al right. What shal I sing?" Samantha's mind was suddenly blank. She and Mom had rather different tastes in music. The latest from the Indigo Girls would not do much to speed the process. "I know—what you and Daddy used to sing to me when I couldn't get to sleep." Her voice started out shakily and got stronger. "Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird.”
By the time Papa had purchased the sixth horse and cart, Pix had undone the knot and Samantha's feet and hands were no longer tied together. She stood up.