"If you don't mind--," Reilly said, annoyed at my presence.
"Yeah, I do mind," I shot back at him.
The guy gave me a look like I had just peed on his foot.
"There's been an accident," I said. "Out toward the Foleys' house. I'm not sure of the road, but it's off the main highway. A car flipped."
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Reilly looked like he wanted to cut me off again, but even he wouldn't go that far.
Britt clicked into fix-it mode and went for the phone. "I'll call the sheriff."
"No! He's the one who flipped! He's trapped in his own car."
"Oh my god!" Britt exclaimed.
"Is he all right?" Reilly asked.
How was I supposed to answer that? "I think, but he needs help. We gotta send an ambulance." I decided against saying that he was being possessed and influenced by an evil spirit. That would have taken a little bit too much explaining.
"I'll call 9-1-1," Britt said efficiently. "It's the road between here and the Foleys' place?"
"Yeah, I don't know the name. It's about a mile and a half out."
"There's only one," Britt said as she grabbed the phone.
"The car is about a mile up that road," I added.
Britt called 9-1-1 and gave them the information. I stood there watching Reilly. He kept his head down and finished his paperwork. A few times he looked up at me as if he was nervous about something. Or maybe I just imagined that.
Britt finished her call and came back to us. "Emergency services are on the way, but they're miles from here. Maybe we should go out there and--"
"No!" I shouted, maybe a bit too quickly. "There's nothing we can do. He can't be moved without a fracture board."
"How scary," Britt said.
She had no idea how true that was.
"Done," Reilly exclaimed. He arranged the stack of contracts on the counter and dropped a check on top. "I'd best be going. I want to see the look on those kids' faces when the plane shows up."
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He didn't seem worried about Sheriff Vrtiak in the least.
"Fine, bye," I said, and grabbed Britt's hand, pulling her from behind the counter toward the door. "I want you to show me something."
"Uh, sure." She turned back to Reilly as I dragged her out. "I'm glad everything worked out, Mr. Reilly. Maybe next year we can--"
"G'night!" I called back, and pulled Britt out of the door.
Outside I kept moving along the walkway that ringed the showroom toward the maze of floating docks that stretched out onto the lake.
"Marsh!" Britt exclaimed. "What are you doing?"
I didn't answer until I thought we were out of earshot of the building.
"The boat that kid brought in for repairs. I gotta see it."
Britt frowned. I was throwing too much at her.
"What? Why?"
"Because I think it has something to do with Cooper's disappearance."
Britt's eyes grew wide. Her mouth moved as if to ask a question, but her brain hadn't formed any yet.
"Please, Britt. We've gotta do this fast. Take me to that boat."
She didn't question. She saw how serious I was.
"We'll take a Jet Ski. It's faster," she said, and led me to a row of sleek blue Jet Skis they had for rent.
There were probably ten of them all lined up in a row, looking like floating snowmobiles. I had always wanted to try one out but never had the chance. Or the guts. Britt boarded the Jet Ski on the far end, throwing her leg over the seat and settling in like she had been doing it for years. Which she probably had. The key was under the seat. Not exactly crack security. She put it in the ignition and fired
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the engine. It wasn't as loud as I expected. It was more like a steady, deep whine.
"Hop on," she commanded.
I got on behind her awkwardly, rocking the craft from side to side.
"Just sit," she instructed.
I did what I was told and the wobbling stopped. Britt backed the craft away from the dock, then turned and throttled up. I wanted her to gun it, but there were laws about going too fast that close to shore, especially if you were in a marina. The wake could cause damage when it bounced boats around.
"This is faster than walking along the floats," she explained. "The Reillys' boat is so big, we docked it the farthest out."
There were lights on all the floats, making it easy to see all the boats that were tied up. I saw plenty of fiberglass ski boats with big outboard engines, wooden fishing boats with much smaller engines, and lots of sailboats that could carry three or four people. None of them were like the big, sleek white boat that appeared when we reached the final float. This monster had to be at least thirty-eight feet long. It had a low aerodynamic profile and an enormous V-shaped hull. I had no doubt that there was a powerful inboard engine in back. Or two. I'd heard that they were called cigarette boats because they went incredibly fast and smugglers used them to move cigarettes. Bottom line was, it was a monstrous boat that was built for speed.
"That's a lot of boat for this lake," I said.
"You think? But you don't tell people like the Reillys what to do. Money talks."
"What is their deal?" I asked.
"I think they pretty much fund the camp up there. It's loaded with rich kids from New York. It's not exactly rustic.
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They have maid service to make their bunks and clean their cabins ... all of which have Wi-Fi, of course."
"What repairs are you guys doing on their boat?" I asked.
"Cayden hit some rocks in the shallows. He knew he wasn't supposed to go there, but like I said, you don't tell the Reillys what to do. He freaked, though. He wanted my brother to fix it before his dad found out."
"Did Ron fix it?"
"Nah, he could have done it fast, but you don't tell Ron what to do either." She chuckled. "Money may talk, but Ron doesn't always listen. What's this got to do with Cooper?"
"I want to see the damage," I said.
Britt slowed down. We drifted forward along the length of the boat, headed for the bow.
"I think Cayden's lying," she said.
"About what?" I asked, very interested.
"I don't think he hit any rocks."
"Why not?"
Britt expertly maneuvered the Jet Ski around the bow of the enormous boat.
"Because rocks don't cause that kind of damage," she answered. "And rocks aren't blue."
There was a crack in the fiberglass bow just above the waterline. Deep scrapes were dug along the hull, headed to the water. It was exactly what I expected and dreaded to see. Whatever Cayden had hit with that boat, it was blue. The same color as the Galileo.
"Cooper went out on his boat that night," I said. "His blue boat. I think Cayden ran him down."
Britt gasped. She looked back at the boat, appraising the damage. "Oh my god, that's exactly what it looks like. Marsh, if Cooper was in a small boat and got hit with this monster at full speed--"
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"I think he's out there somewhere, hurt," I said. "The boat hasn't turned up. He could have floated all night holding on to the wreckage."
"Maybe," she said. She didn't seem convinced. I think her mind immediately went to a much worse scenario ... a scenario I refused to accept.
"We can't let the Reillys go home tonight," I said. "Not before somebody in authority sees this."
"I can call the State Police, but that might take a while."
"Call them," I said. "I'll stay here with the boat. I don't want anything happening to it."
"What could happen?" Britt asked.
What I wanted to say was, "I don't want Gravedigger possessing anybody else and taking away the evidence." Instead I said, "Just in case."
"What about Cayden?" Britt asked. "The seaplane is on the way. Once it picks him up, he's gone."
"Can you call off the plane?" I asked.
"Too late for that."
"What about the Nellie Bell? Can you cont
act the captain?"
She gave me a sheepish look. "The radio hasn't worked for weeks."
There weren't a whole lot of options.
"Then get the State Police," I ordered. "Tell them what we think happened. Maybe they can stop the boat or the plane somehow."
Britt maneuvered the Jet Ski to the floating dock. I jumped off with no more grace than when I had jumped on. Britt rolled with the wake.
"One more thing," I said. "Call Sydney Foley. Tell her I found what I was looking for."
"You got it," answered Britt. Before taking off, Britt gave me a serious look. "I hate to say this, Marsh, but if
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you're right, I don't know how Cooper could have survived."
"He's alive," I said with absolute conviction. "And we're going to find him."
Britt nodded, gunned the engine, and took off. She wasn't worried about breaking any powerboat rules anymore. She flew over the water as fast as she could safely go. She was soon out of sight and the whine of the Jet Ski faded. I leaned over the powerful boat to examine the damage. I thought back to the night when the Foleys and I had heard the sound of the cigarette boat on the lake. It was crazy to have such a powerful boat on a lake like Thistledown with all the speedboats and Jet Skis and kayaks. At night it would be worse. The lake wasn't more than seven or eight miles long. This kind of boat could hit a hundred miles per hour. Driving at night was suicide.
Or murder.
I pushed that thought away. Cooper was alive. I was sure of it. He could have been lying on the shore only a couple of miles from the house and we wouldn't know it. I can't explain the cosmic stuff, but I believed Cooper was somehow trying to contact me. Not his ghost . . . Cooper. What I didn't know was why some other force was trying just as hard to stop me. Whatever the answers were, I felt certain that it would all end when we found him.
"She's a beauty, isn't she?" came a voice from behind me.
I stood up quickly to see Mr. Reilly strolling toward me along the floats. Did he know what had happened? Had Cayden fessed up?
"My boy can be reckless, but he's a good kid," Reilly said. "He isn't afraid to take chances. I applaud that. It's why he'll succeed in life. He never looks back."
"He didn't look back, all right," I said. "He didn't stop to see what he hit."
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"I heard it was a rock," Reilly said.
"Rocks aren't blue."
Reilly looked me square in the eye without flinching. He knew exactly what had happened. He strolled along the float to the stern of the speedboat.
"That's true," he said casually. "Things happen."
"How can you say that?" I yelled. "My friend has been missing for days. I think your kid hit him and he's out there somewhere, hurt. Maybe it was an accident, but he should have reported it."
Reilly chuckled. I couldn't believe he was being so casual.
"You think it's funny?" I yelled.
"I do," he said. "You're right about one thing. Cayden did hit your friend, but you are very wrong about something else."
I stared at the guy, not sure of what to say.
He smiled and added, "Why do you assume it was an accident?"
The force of his words nearly knocked me over. Seriously. I had to move my feet apart or I would have lost my balance.
"Cayden tried to hit Cooper?" I said, barely above a whisper.
Reilly reached into the stern of the boat and pulled out a length of rope. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. However, I do find it amusing that you believe there's only one life at stake here."
"What?" I gasped.
Reilly smiled. "I've seen. I know. Soon we'll all be on the road, and what happened to your friend will be nothing more than an inconsequential memory."
Uh-oh.
He whipped the rope out of the boat. In his other hand was the sharp, metal boat anchor. I was frozen, not believing what I was seeing.
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"Enjoy the journey," he said, then raised the anchor . . . and attacked.
He threw the heavy anchor as if it were plastic. I ducked to my right as the anchor whipped past me and crashed onto the deck, gouging out a chunk of wood.
We were on the last float of the marina. There was only one way off. I ran for the next float back, but Reilly cut me off, blocking the way. His eyes were wild. He was breathing hard. It was like George O. and Sheriff Vrtiak. This guy wasn't just out to protect his son. He was being controlled. The guy rubbed his hands nervously. He looked confused, just like Vrtiak had. When he looked at me, I saw fear and even confusion.
"I don't want to do this," he said in a strained whine. It was as if for that brief moment he was trying to fight the demons that were forcing him to attack me. "I'm sorry." He rubbed his eyes. He was crying. He looked to the sky and screamed, "Don't make me do this!"
He turned and started to run off the float but suddenly stopped. I saw why. Standing in his way on the far end of the next float was Gravedigger. The demon hovered a few inches off the dock, floating our way. His silver pick sparkled in the moonlight. Reilly let out a pained cry as if it physically hurt to resist. Or maybe his fear was complete and he had lost his mind.
I wasn't far behind.
Reilly spun toward me. The anguish in his face was replaced by a look that I can only describe as one of rage.
"This will end now!" he screamed . . . and charged at me.
I took a few steps back, but to go where? He was on me in a second. Both his hands wrapped around my throat and squeezed. He was trying to strangle me! The guy was insane. He was crying and laughing and growling in agony
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as he fought with himself. And with me. Reilly didn't want to kill me. Whatever had taken control of him did.
I couldn't breathe. He was crushing my windpipe. I felt the pressure build up in my head like blood was rushing to my brain. I tried to pry his hands away, but the guy was much bigger than me, and strong. I think his insanity made him even more powerful. I tried to knee him where it counts, but he was ready for that. His body was twisted away, so all I did was jam my knee into his leg. If it hurt, he didn't show it.
Gravedigger stood on the float behind him. He didn't move. He didn't react. I had no doubt that he was driving Reilly to do what he was doing. To kill me.
I had never hit anybody in my life, but this was survival. I gave up trying to pry his hands from my neck. Instead I went for the throat. Literally. I made a fist and shot my arm straight out, hitting him square in the Adam's apple. The pressure from his hands released instantly. He made a pained, choking sound and lost focus. I didn't wait to see how long it would last. I drove both my hands between his and thrust them out, breaking his grip. I had bought myself a few seconds.
I couldn't run off the float. Even if I got by Reilly, I'd be running straight into Gravedigger. There was only one place for me to go . . . into the water. Again. I whipped around, ran the few steps to the edge of the float, and dove in headfirst. After what had happened to me back at the Foleys', the water was the last place I wanted to be. I take that back. The last place I wanted to be was on the float, being choked by Reilly. The water was a close second. I surfaced and swam for my life. I didn't even think about the terrifying images that Gravedigger might throw at me. It was all about getting away from Reilly.
The splash behind me said that the guy wasn't giving
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up. A quick look back showed me that he had recovered and jumped in after me, swimming hard. All I could do was put my head down and swim as fast as I could. I ripped through the water, fueled by terror, only looking up long enough to find a place to pull myself out. I didn't even look back to see if Reilly was closing. Seconds counted. I heard the splash of his frantic strokes. The longer I was in the water, the better chance he had to catch me.
I churned past rows of boats that were tied up to floats, making only one turn to try and lose him. It didn't work. He was right after me. I was getting tired. I didn't want to have to swim all the way to shore, wh
ich was still about fifty yards away. I didn't think I could stay ahead of him for that long. I had to find a length of dock where I could pull myself up, but every place I passed was crammed with boats.
Finally, I spotted the gas dock. No boats were tied up there. I pushed hard and hit the empty float within seconds. I grabbed on to the edge with both hands and popped out of the water in one quick move. My arms were tired, but the adrenaline pumping through my system did the job. I took one look over my shoulder to see that Reilly was headed my way. He was only twenty yards out and closing fast. It was time to get lost.
I sprinted off the float, hit the shore, and ran. I had no plan other than to get away from the crazed guy. Once I lost him, I'd figure out how to get back to Britt. The only smart choice was to run toward Main Street. There were places to hide there. I didn't need to turn around to know that Reilly was out of the water and chasing me. I didn't hear him splashing anymore. He was definitely on foot. I hit the row of stores and turned into the parking lot of the mini golf course. Everything was dark and quiet.
I ran into the closed course, winding my way past wind-
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mills, open-mouth whales, and mermaids. Sydney had shown me a break in the fence behind the golf course earlier. Hopefully Reilly didn't know about it. I jumped behind a miniature lighthouse and looked back toward the parking lot. Everything was closed, which meant it was deathly quiet. I didn't see Reilly. Had he kept running straight along Main Street? I waited a few minutes to see if he was creeping up through the kiddie rides but didn't see him. Moving quickly but quietly, I worked my way to the far side of the golf course and into the trees. The break in the fence was right where Sydney had showed me. I snuck through and came out on the edge of the giant parking lot of the drive-in movie. I had to stay near the fence and the trees because there was nowhere to hide in that wide-open field. That was okay. If somebody was creeping up on me, I'd see them.