I continued along the shore towards the rising cliffs at the end of the point. Fortunately, numerous rock falls had provided a narrow, boulder-strewn passage between the rock wall and the edge of the water. With one hand clutching the sack of money and the other the wall, I picked my way carefully over the slippery granite.
Partway along, my head knocked against an object jutting from a break in the rock. Thinking it was a piece of deadfall, I reached up to remove it and discovered, much to my amazement, the painting I’d jettisoned in the final act of ridding myself of Gareth. I smiled. Perhaps I should keep it as a reminder of my newfound courage. I tucked it behind a large rock for later retrieval and continued on.
After another hundred yards of scrambling, I finally rounded the point. Before me stretched the dock and the way to safety. Unfortunately, I’d have to walk the entire unprotected length of the dock to where my motor boat was tied up at the end.
For several tense minutes I stood in the shelter of the cliff wall, listening for sounds to tell me if the gunman was watching. But above the cliff edge, only silence and darkness prevailed. I waited until convinced he remained on the verandah. However, a last upward glance before heading to my boat saved me. A sudden flare from a match lit up the railing at the top of the stairs and then went out. He was there!
I squashed myself against the cliff wall, knowing safety lay in its shadow. I was prepared to wait there all night. But it took only a few minutes before I heard his footsteps retreat towards the house. I waited a few minutes longer, then crept along the wooden dock to my boat.
Fearful the least noise would bring him back, I silently lowered the sack and myself into the old wooden boat. I untied the boat, gave it a forceful shove to let it drift as far as possible from land before I signalled my escape with the start of the engine. It moved sluggishly with the current as the aura from the cottage lights rose behind the black cliff face.
Without warning, the boat’s hull suddenly scraped over a sunken rock with a teeth grinding noise. It came to a sickening halt. Feet clattered down wooden stairs. I frantically stabbed the oar into the water and shoved as hard as I could. With a last shattering screech, the boat sprang free. I yanked the engine cord. Nothing! Not again! I yanked again. I heard a rifle bolt hammer home. Engine, if ever there was a time to behave, now was it. I yanked again. With a husky roar, it caught.
I aimed the boat towards the Fishing Camp. With an alarming thud, a bullet slammed into the side of the boat. I ducked. I twisted the throttle completely open. But the fifteen horsepower motor couldn’t get me away fast enough. Frantic, I rocked back and forth, willing the boat to move faster. A flash of orange erupted from mid-way down the cliff an eye-blink before the bullet ripped through the water behind me. I waited for the next, but there were no more. I was out of range.
I raced down Forgotten Bay to Eric, frequently checking behind to make sure the gunman wasn’t coming after me. I kicked at the sack in the bottom of the boat and considered its implications. I blew on my freezing hands in an attempt to warm them. Unsuccessful, I stuck them in my pockets and felt something other than tissue in one of my pockets.
I pulled out a rock. It was caught in a strip of what looked to be a piece of nylon fabric. For a moment I was puzzled, then laughed perhaps a little too shrilly when I remembered where I’d picked up this piece of flotsam. Returning it to my pocket, I looked up just as my boat was about to ram the Fishing Camp dock.
FORTY-THREE
Intent on getting the police to Three Deer Point as fast as possible, I jumped out of my boat and raced along the Fishing Camp dock to the bar, where country music blasted through half-lit windows. But that was the only sign of life. The rest of the sprawling timber building lay shrouded in darkness.
It looked as if Eric had given up waiting for me. Only one car stood in the parking lot, and it didn’t belong to him. Unless he’d parked his motorbike around the back, it wasn’t here either.
I stepped into the dimly lit lounge where the glow from the stone fireplace revealed an empty room. Not even John-Joe stood behind the bar.
“Hey, where is everybody?” I shouted above the blare of the music.
I walked towards the door leading to the main part of the building. But before I reached it, John-Joe came rushing through, his head bare of its orange cap, his brow furrowed in worry.
“Sorry, I—” He started to say and stopped when he saw me. “The damn pump’s broken again.”
“Eric here?”
John-Joe blinked in puzzlement. “He not with you?”
“Nope, why should he be?”
“How am I suppose to fix this friggin’ thing?”
“Did Eric go to my place?”
“Yeah, you didn’t see him?”
“Shit,” was all I could reply. He probably ran right into Marie’s killer. “When did he go?”
“I dunno, guess about a half hour ago or so, soon as he got the pump going, eh? Now it’s stopped. Christ, our biggest customer is coming—”
I didn’t wait for John-Joe to finish but picked up the phone and dialed the Migiskan Police. I quickly told Chief Decontie about the killer and my fear for Eric. Although Three Deer Point was outside his jurisdiction, he and another officer would go immediately. He would also alert LaFramboise. I, on the other hand, was to remain at the Fishing Camp. As soon as he knew anything, he’d call.
“Why did Eric go to my place?” I asked.
“He got tired of waiting. He even called, but when there was no answer he got worried, eh?”
If he was dead because of me . . .
Unable to sit, I paced back and forth in front of the fire. The seconds stretched into minutes, which seemed to stretch into hours. But probably not more than fifteen minutes had actually passed, before I suddenly realized someone was walking through the outside door.
I glanced up and saw Eric.
For a second I didn’t want to trust my eyes, then as the anxiety drained out, I cried, “Why couldn’t you wait?”
“Thanks be to the spirits,” he said. “I thought you were dead. When I discovered your house empty, you missing with your truck parked out front, I–”
“Wait a minute. You didn’t see anyone?”
“No one. Why? He came after you, didn’t he?” He shoved his thick mane from his face. “Damn, if only I’d gone sooner.”
“Before I tell you what happened, just tell me Sergei’s okay.”
“He isn’t with you?”
“You didn’t see him?”
“No, and he would’ve come when I called out for you.”
“We’ve got to go back,” I said, starting for the outside door. “The police should be there by now. You probably passed them en route.”
“Nope, I came here to call them. Your phone cord was ripped from the wall. Another
