Page 44 of Blood in the Water
24
The wind had steadily grown more fierce throughout the day. Bridget watched the encroaching surf with alarm, reminding herself that the house had stood on the beach for nearly a hundred years, that it wasn’t under water yet.
She spent the day with her father, bringing more wood into the house and stacking extra along the back deck, away from the worst of the wind lashing the front. They closed and bolted the shutters on the windows and moved the plywood Harold had laid for Owen to the garage to prevent it flying against the house. They moved the porch furniture into the garage too, then made sure it was locked so the door wouldn’t be pushed up by the wind.
While they worked outside, her mom gathered all the candles and matches in the house, collecting them on the kitchen table where they’d be easy to find in the dark. Nolan had said the generator would kick on in the event of a power outage, but Bridget wasn’t taking any chances with her entire family in the house.
Her mom had worked with Maurice to perform equipment checks on the emergency respirator and oxygen tanksthey’d brought for Owen. Maurice was a calming influence, checking the batteries in the shortwave radio while Bridget’s mom checked the flashlights.
By the time Bridget and her father returned to the house, Bridget had to hold onto her father’s arm to keep from blowing away. Her mother, Owen, and Maurice were waiting in the living room, Owen and Maurice calm while her mother paced.
The house was darker with the shutters closed, although not measurably so given the roiling cloud cover that blocked out the sun. It wasn’t even four in the afternoon and it might have been nightfall.
“Will we be okay?” her mother asked.
Bridget’s father kissed her head. “We’ll be okay.”
Bridget pulled off her gloves and rubbed her hands together. “I’m freezing.” She moved toward the kitchen. “Anyone want tea?”
Her mother and father both answered in the affirmative while Maurice passed. Owen didn’t respond, but Bridget knew it was impossible for him to enjoy sipping at tea when he had to work so hard to get his esophagus to work.
She put the kettle on to boil and then returned to the entry to pull off her coat. A ringing sounded from inside the pocket as she hung it on one of the hooks, and she reached inside to remove her phone.
“Hey,” she said after she’d put the phone on speaker so she could take off her boots while she talked to Nolan. “How’s it going?”
“Bridge… listen… important…”
“Hold on,” she said. “Let me move. You’re breaking up.” She moved out of the entry into the living room. “Say it again.”
“I’m on… way. Seamus’s boat already left… harbor.”
Bridget froze. “There’s a lot of static on the line. Is Seamus coming here?”
It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be…
The water would be dangerous even for an experienced boater, and as far as she knew, Seamus was a recreational boater at best. In fact, she hadn’t known him to take out his boat once in the years she’d been working for him.
“Lock… doors. Don’t move… I get there.”
Everything stilled inside her. She didn’t have time for doubt. For stupid questions. There was only one question that mattered.
“How long?” she asked. “How long before he gets here?”
The line was silent, her phone beeping as the line went dead. She was still holding it in her hand, only vaguely aware of her father moving hurriedly around the house, inspecting the doors and windows, when the lights in the house flickered and died.
25
They were halfway down the dock leading to Nolan’s boat when a security guard in a yellow slicker hurried toward them on the pier, his head bowed against the wind roaring off the water.
“You can’t go out now,” he shouted over the gale. “Harbormaster has closed the port.”
Nolan pulled his gun out of the holster and held it against the guy’s stomach, leaning in to be sure he could be heard. “Just let us go.” He looked the guy in the eye. “Okay?”
The man backed up a step and held up his hands. Nolan shoved past him without bothering to check that the other men were still following.
Christophe, Farrell, and Luca had been ready to leave the hotel less than five minutes after Nolan hung up with Matt Ferguson. Nolan had tried to dissuade them — he wasn’t entirely sure he could pilot the boat to the island safely, he didn’t want to be responsible for killing anyone else — but they’d insisted.
They’d gotten him into this, they’d said. They were in it together now.