Charmed. Leona Karr
had surprised and rather pleased him. He wouldn’t have expected her to have that kind of determination and self-sacrifice. His annoyance at her lack of faith in his abilities had been tempered by a begrudging admiration. He wasn’t used to having a woman challenge him on any level, but as she matched his step and walking rhythm, he suspected he might have found one.
“This is it,” he said as he ushered her inside. He wasn’t about to make apologies for its stark ugliness. The Greystone police station amounted to two rooms: an office and a small, windowless back room that served as a temporary jail. More often than not, the cell was occupied by someone needing a place to sleep off a hangover. The boatman, Jenkins, had been a guest more than once.
“Sorry, the place is a mess.” He quickly cleared a chair of a pile of folders. “I was attempting to clean the files when the Langdons called about your sister. Have a seat. Coffee and breakfast will be here soon.”
She surprised him with an apology. “I’m sorry if I was out of line going to the café like that. I just couldn’t stay at the house and wait.”
“No harm done. I’ll get started on the radio calls.” He turned his back to her and sat down at an old desk.
“Isn’t there something I can do to help?” she asked, still standing.
“Not at the moment.”
She fell silent as she sat down in a chair behind him. She picked at the breakfast order when it arrived, but Brad barely touched his, only pausing for hurried sips of black coffee.
He kept on the radio, referring to a record of various craft that had listed call numbers with the Portland authorities. He asked each commercial and private pilot to relay any information that might help locate the missing woman.
As the minutes ticked by, he could sense Ashley’s frustration as she began to move restlessly around the small office.
Welcome to police work. Tedious, boring and exacting.
His own exasperation was at a high level when an urgent call came in from a fishing boat heading out into deep Atlantic waters.
“We weren’t sure what we were seeing,” the captain said after giving his location. “Looked like something floating loose and the closer we got, we could tell it was an old rowboat. We weren’t equipped to chase and snag it, but we got close enough to plainly see it. I’ll be danged if there wasn’t a woman lying in the bottom of it.”
“We’re on it!” Brad signed off and hurriedly paged his deputy. “Get the patrol boat ready to go out, Bill. We’ve got a lead.”
He’d forgotten all about Ashley, until he swung around and saw her standing behind him with a face as white as an Easter lily.
“Is it—?”
“Maybe. Let’s go!”
He grabbed her hand as they raced to the pier.
Chapter Three
Brad was at the wheel of the police cruiser, and Ashley and the deputy at the bow of the boat when they headed down the western coast of the island and out into the open waters of the Atlantic.
Stocky, round-faced Bill Hunskut kept a pair of binoculars focused on the water ahead as he firmly planted his thick, muscular legs on the rolling deck. Ashley guessed him to be a little older than Brad.
Ashley was oblivious to the cold mist of water spraying her face as she clutched the railing with both hands. Her body was rigid and her pulse rapid as they searched the rising and falling waves for a drifting rowboat.
The sky was clearing after last night’s storm. Patches of glistening sunlight reflected in the rising and falling gray-blue water were creating illusions. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw a floating object in the water.
She pointed and cried excitedly, “There! There!”
Deputy Bill gently touched her arm. “It’s only a floating porpoise, miss.”
Sometimes it was floating debris or a weathered log that made her chest tighten. With every tortured minute, the hopelessness of finding a tiny boat in a vast sea grew greater and greater.
Lorrie. Lorrie. Her sister’s name was a mantra on her moist lips when the deputy suddenly yelled.
“Starboard! Starboard!”
As Brad quickly swung the boat in that direction, Ashley squinted but couldn’t see anything.
“Where? Where?”
Bill pointed, and her breath caught as a rolling wave brought the floating object into view.
“There it is!” Brad quickly slowed the cruiser’s speed. “Get the hook ready.” With exacting patience, he began to maneuver the cruiser close enough for Bill to try to snag the rowboat.
Ashley clenched the railing with white-knuckled hands. The motion of the police boat kept moving the floating boat away.
Finally, after several frustrating tries, Brad succeeded in bringing the old boat alongside.
Ashley hung over the railing. When she saw her sister’s crumpled, still body lying in the bottom of the rowboat, knife-like pains shot through her.
No, no! She can’t be dead.
Both men moved with quiet competence. They lowered a rope ladder so that Brad could descend into the rocking boat. With his strong arms, he put the inert body into a carrier sling fastened to a pulley from above. Ashley realized what a well-trained team they were to handle such an emergency.
At Brad’s signal, Deputy Bill raised the sling to deck level. Once it had been lowered onto deck, both men instantly knelt beside the litter. Blond hair was matted with blood from a swelling at the back of the young woman’s head, and her arms and legs were motionless.
“Is she…?” Ashley choked.
Brad checked for vital signs, searching for a pulse in the limp wrist and laying his head on her chest to detect any faint movement.
“She’s alive. Get the oxygen ready, Bill. Only a very faint pulse, but we may have a chance.”
He carried her into the cabin, which had been equipped with first aid emergency supplies, and quickly laid her on a stretcher-like cot.
“We’ve got to get her warm.” He turned to Ashley. “Get some blankets out of that cupboard. Bill, set up the oxygen tent. I’ll radio the Portland stationmaster to have an ambulance ready. We can get her to the mainland quicker than returning to Greystone and summoning a helicopter to pick her up.”
The trip was the longest one Ashley had ever made. The minutes crept by as she kept her eyes glued on Lorrie, watching for any sign of consciousness. Almost imperceptibly, Lorrie’s deathly color began to change in the oxygen tent. The feeble sound of air moving in and out of her chest told Ashley she was breathing deeper.
“Reckon we found her in time,” Deputy Bill encouraged in his calm, homespun way. “She’ll be fit as a fiddle, you wait and see.”
An ambulance was waiting on the wharf when Brad eased the patrol cruiser into its assigned berth on the mainland. Immediately, two male paramedics came aboard, took charge, and transferred Lorrie to the ambulance.
“We’ll follow in my car,” Brad told Ashley. “I keep one in a nearby parking area for use when I’m on the mainland.” He told Bill to arrange for the rowboat to be examined for forensic evidence. “You catch the afternoon ferry back to the island, Bill, and I’ll call in as soon as we know something.”
ASHLEY SANK BACK in the seat of Brad’s compact car and stared ahead as he drove in silence to the community hospital. She was grateful he didn’t try to engage her in conversation. Apprehensive and emotionally drained, she was functioning at a precarious level. His firm, solid and unruffled manner helped steady a hurricane of feelings whirling within her.
When